Grim Reaper
Mar. 31st, 2007 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dedalus_1947I was paging through an old journal the other day, and I found an entry from March, 2006:
“…After the inspirational presentation by our Leadership students, at the Board of Education, I was called up to the podium to answer questions about the school’s academic improvement. Later that week, as I watched the videotape replay of the Board meeting, I did not recognize myself! Who was that man on TV? I saw a well dressed principal who looked shockingly, sad and grim. His forehead was furrowed, and lips tightly pursed. He looked stretched as tight as a drum. I saw a very serious and dour man on the television screen. Is this what I look like as I perform my duties as principal? This is not the man I see in all the family photos at home and in my office. In those pictures, I look relaxed, happy, and smiling. Which is the real me?”
I had forgotten about this journal entry and the observations about my grim and humorless appearance at that board meeting. It occurred to me that I had seen that same serious look on other photographs in professional situations: times when I was giving a formal speech; answering questions in public forums, like Board of Education meetings, press conferences, parent meetings; or when introducing local or State dignitaries. I think my face showed my worries, anxieties, and fears at those moments. It is a mirror to the emotions I feel when I find myself in these stressful situations. These are events that I consider irrelevant to teaching, learning, and dealing with students and teachers in a school environment. They are the political aspects of my job that I dislike because they call for skills that I do not practice: “No Child Left Behind” rhetoric; trendy, educational glibness; and visionary boosterism. When called upon, I can perform these functions, but I now conclude that my face reflects my true sentiments. I also suspect that my visage turns equally dour in other tense or stressful occasions at school: at those unstructured and potentially antagonistic meetings and encounters with teachers and parents.
Many things make teachers and parents unhappy and angry. I think I can provoke most of them by my decisions, actions, and neglect. When I call a teacher to my office, or when a teacher walks in, it is rarely to exchange greetings and provide good news. It is usually to express concerns, ask questions, or air grievances. When teachers or parents enter my office, I am ready for anything, and when I suspect conflict or confrontation over some issue, my body becomes tense, rigid, and alert. I sometimes wonder if I am breathing at all, during these encounters, because I find myself inhaling and exhaling so deeply when they end.
Unstructured gatherings, or meetings, without formal agendas are also unpredictable with parents and teachers. The loose format of these occasions makes me the principal speaker and the focus of everyone’s attention. They are unnerving because, without an agenda, a parent or teacher can highjack the meeting and use it as a platform to air personal issues and concerns, which are usually energized by anger, outrage, or indignation. There is a huge difference in my body tension (and face?) when I’m facilitating an agenda with other speakers, and not the focal point of the meeting. I am comfortable, confidant, and relaxed when questions, concerns, or accusations are directed at OTHERS. It gives me time and distance to reflect, think, and respond without engaging the emotions of the attacker. I can rescue and redirect the budding conflict by treating it as a puzzle to be solved, and not a personal problem.
I always assumed that my face and appearance were consistently open, friendly, and professional. Now, I’m not so sure. I imagined myself as the smiling, relaxed, and happy person reflected in photographs with family and friends. Was I simply posing when these photos were taken? Is that the reason for my different looks; I smile when I’m conscious of the moment and want to appear happy? In fact, I think students have even brought this grim and serious look to my attention, when they occasionally ask, “Mr. D, are you mad, or sumptin’? You look different!” When children ask this question, the clouds of concern and distraction clear from my visage and I smile, reassuring them that I was just “thinking”.
Students make me smile. They provoke in me the same spontaneous feelings of joy that my own two children did when I watched their innocent and unconscious behaviors as they grew up. The one ritual I insist on performing as principal is standing at the entrance to school each morning greeting and shaking the hand of every student who enters between 7:05 to 7:27 a.m. This practice sets the tone for my day. I cannot help but feel happy and optimistic by the parade of wide-awake innocence, placating their “weird” principal by shaking his hand and saying “Good Morning, Mr. D”. After this uplifting ritual, I’ve thought of practicing my smile for the rest of the day, and letting my lips and mouth direct my mood. What is that saying, “smile and the world smiles with you”? I’m not sure of the exact wording, but the intent is clear. If I could remember to smile in nervous, anxious, and scary situations, then perhaps my pretend smile would influence my mood and feeling. It’s worth a try. Anything is better than showing that pained, unhappy look on my face, as on that day at the Board of Education.
“…After the inspirational presentation by our Leadership students, at the Board of Education, I was called up to the podium to answer questions about the school’s academic improvement. Later that week, as I watched the videotape replay of the Board meeting, I did not recognize myself! Who was that man on TV? I saw a well dressed principal who looked shockingly, sad and grim. His forehead was furrowed, and lips tightly pursed. He looked stretched as tight as a drum. I saw a very serious and dour man on the television screen. Is this what I look like as I perform my duties as principal? This is not the man I see in all the family photos at home and in my office. In those pictures, I look relaxed, happy, and smiling. Which is the real me?”
I had forgotten about this journal entry and the observations about my grim and humorless appearance at that board meeting. It occurred to me that I had seen that same serious look on other photographs in professional situations: times when I was giving a formal speech; answering questions in public forums, like Board of Education meetings, press conferences, parent meetings; or when introducing local or State dignitaries. I think my face showed my worries, anxieties, and fears at those moments. It is a mirror to the emotions I feel when I find myself in these stressful situations. These are events that I consider irrelevant to teaching, learning, and dealing with students and teachers in a school environment. They are the political aspects of my job that I dislike because they call for skills that I do not practice: “No Child Left Behind” rhetoric; trendy, educational glibness; and visionary boosterism. When called upon, I can perform these functions, but I now conclude that my face reflects my true sentiments. I also suspect that my visage turns equally dour in other tense or stressful occasions at school: at those unstructured and potentially antagonistic meetings and encounters with teachers and parents.
Many things make teachers and parents unhappy and angry. I think I can provoke most of them by my decisions, actions, and neglect. When I call a teacher to my office, or when a teacher walks in, it is rarely to exchange greetings and provide good news. It is usually to express concerns, ask questions, or air grievances. When teachers or parents enter my office, I am ready for anything, and when I suspect conflict or confrontation over some issue, my body becomes tense, rigid, and alert. I sometimes wonder if I am breathing at all, during these encounters, because I find myself inhaling and exhaling so deeply when they end.
Unstructured gatherings, or meetings, without formal agendas are also unpredictable with parents and teachers. The loose format of these occasions makes me the principal speaker and the focus of everyone’s attention. They are unnerving because, without an agenda, a parent or teacher can highjack the meeting and use it as a platform to air personal issues and concerns, which are usually energized by anger, outrage, or indignation. There is a huge difference in my body tension (and face?) when I’m facilitating an agenda with other speakers, and not the focal point of the meeting. I am comfortable, confidant, and relaxed when questions, concerns, or accusations are directed at OTHERS. It gives me time and distance to reflect, think, and respond without engaging the emotions of the attacker. I can rescue and redirect the budding conflict by treating it as a puzzle to be solved, and not a personal problem.
I always assumed that my face and appearance were consistently open, friendly, and professional. Now, I’m not so sure. I imagined myself as the smiling, relaxed, and happy person reflected in photographs with family and friends. Was I simply posing when these photos were taken? Is that the reason for my different looks; I smile when I’m conscious of the moment and want to appear happy? In fact, I think students have even brought this grim and serious look to my attention, when they occasionally ask, “Mr. D, are you mad, or sumptin’? You look different!” When children ask this question, the clouds of concern and distraction clear from my visage and I smile, reassuring them that I was just “thinking”.
Students make me smile. They provoke in me the same spontaneous feelings of joy that my own two children did when I watched their innocent and unconscious behaviors as they grew up. The one ritual I insist on performing as principal is standing at the entrance to school each morning greeting and shaking the hand of every student who enters between 7:05 to 7:27 a.m. This practice sets the tone for my day. I cannot help but feel happy and optimistic by the parade of wide-awake innocence, placating their “weird” principal by shaking his hand and saying “Good Morning, Mr. D”. After this uplifting ritual, I’ve thought of practicing my smile for the rest of the day, and letting my lips and mouth direct my mood. What is that saying, “smile and the world smiles with you”? I’m not sure of the exact wording, but the intent is clear. If I could remember to smile in nervous, anxious, and scary situations, then perhaps my pretend smile would influence my mood and feeling. It’s worth a try. Anything is better than showing that pained, unhappy look on my face, as on that day at the Board of Education.
