I do a thing with my staff called a “Skiddy Daddle” where I give them a 15-minute break from class and spend my time reading to their students.
This most recent time, my daughter was in the class and rather quickly I noticed something peculiar about my 15 minutes. I treated the class differently. All because my daughter was sitting in one of the seats.
Which reminded me of a similar story.
A few years ago I heard a story about a world-renowned speaker who stopped inviting her mother to her speaking engagements because whenever she saw her mother in attendance, she saw herself as a daughter, not a world-renowned speaker. She wasn’t doctor so-and-so, she was Emily the daughter of her mother, and it impacted the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, and presence she commanded on stage. She acted based on how she was viewed, not on who she was.
In much the same way, I did the same when reading to my daughter’s class. I acted as how my daughter saw me, not on who I was. How I viewed me.
And that realization was deeply convicting.
When I entered my daughter’s class, I didn’t want to disappoint her. I didn’t want her friends to think I was mean or boring or whatever. I wanted them - and her - to be entertained, inspired, and encouraged. So I raised the bar on almost everything. I was more fun, more relaxed, and more interactive. I was what I normally am at home. I was acting more like a father, and it made me a better person. It made me a better principal.
Later that evening, a fellow principal - Mr. Ty Moore - encouraged me in much the same way, “See yourself as a dad,” he said, “Not merely a principal.”
For most educational leaders, this isn’t anything new. Because it isn’t. Even for me! I just forget it, at times. And every now and then, I need a good reminder of how I can improve and where I can do better. And this week, the lesson of seeing my children in the eyes of every interaction has been deeply convicting.
When speaking to kiddos or walking down the hall, how would I treat my own children?
When discussing poor behavior or inappropriate choices - when enforcing discipline - how would I engage the situation if it were my child? How would I reconcile and restore?
When talking about students with staff members, how would I talk about my own children?
When considering a child’s future and potential, how would I encourage, believe, and hope in the potential if it were my child?
If at any point the answer is something like, “Not like that,” then I need to do better.
And when I fail, just like I do at home with my own children, I need to make it right. With the student, the staff member, or the school at large. I need to acknowledge where I blew it, make it right, then do what is right. I need to do better.
Especially when I remind myself that for many kiddos in my school, I am one of the only constant and reliable father-figures in their lives. Day in and day out.
No matter how tired, how frustrated, distracted, or insecure I may feel, there are kiddos who need the best of what I can offer. And if I can muster it up for my own kids, I can muster it up for them, too.
Day in and day out, I need to do better.
That’s what has been on my mind lately.
Happy Friday!
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