Tag: untoldteachingtruths

I’m releasing this chapter of Hallway Leadership because it is just so beautiful.  Shari epitomizes not only the type of leader you should strive to be, but the type of person you should strive to be.  She cares deeply about the state of public education, and she has some amazing tips and heartfelt wisdom in this chapter… Thank you, Shari!  Lead On, Warrior! 

-Katie

Put Your Oxygen Mask on First

Shari Gateley

For those of us who have been on an airplane, we’ve heard the safety speech by the flight attendant, “In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, put your mask on before assisting others.” This is because a loss of cabin pressure can lead to hypoxia – an inability for your body to continue to function in a normal manner. This safety measure is one that none of us question. We know we have to be able to breathe in order to help those around us breathe. In fact, we accept this as a perfectly acceptable and reasonable expectation. Yet taking care of ourselves before taking care of others seems diametrically opposed to what we have told ourselves servant leaders do – serve others at all costs. Servant Leadership, coined by Robert K. Greenleaf, is first about serving first. However, somewhere along the line we have morphed the idea of servanthood into total abandonment of oneself for the sake of others. While this comes from a place of well-meaning intentions, I would argue that serving others while not taking care of ourselves leads us to a state of metaphorical hypoxia where we will develop an inability to serve others well, function normally, and make the best decisions for those we desire to lead. 

Servant leadership at the cost of oneself is an easy trap to fall into. In schools, our job is urgent. If we fail, kids fail. If we succeed, kids succeed. We put such an intense pressure on ourselves because we love the kids, families, and communities we serve deeply, and want nothing more than to open the door to equity, opportunity, and access. I, too, entered the profession to make an impact, to empower, and to inspire, but the more I watch teachers, administrators, friends, and colleagues run out the door because of very real, very understandable burnout, the more I want to scream “we are doing it all wrong!” We need to, no we HAVE to, listen to the safety message from flight attendants. The only way we can do the work in a sustainable and meaningful way is to put our oxygen masks on first. That’s right, we cannot serve others well if we don’t take care of ourselves first. For myself, this means I have to surround myself with people who get it, a solid dose of therapy, and learning to manage my time in a way that allows me to do the work that is important and not be consumed by tasks that can wait. 

Find Your People and Ask for Help

Leadership can be both rewarding and exhausting – exhausting in different ways the higher you move up. It can also be incredibly lonely. When I first considered the jump into school leadership, I remember a colleague telling me how different it is to “sit on the other side of the desk.” It didn’t take me long to realize the truth in that statement. Quickly I realized the higher you move up, the fewer people understand exactly what you are going through, the decisions that have to be made, the messes you have to clean up, or the information you are privy to. One of the best things I have done as a leader is finding my people- people who understand the job, understand the pressure, understand the difficulty and the nuance, and people who mentor me along the way. And, for the sake of all the people I love, I also realized that the burden of being “my people” can’t just be on them. There, at times, has to be some separation for the sake of keeping those relationships healthy and whole. Just as our students’ trauma can wear on us, our own stress, frustration, and hard days can wear down those who love us and make the job an all consuming part of our lives. 

There is also something uniquely special about developing a network of people who “get it.” When I reach out to my people, they tend to know exactly what I need at that moment whether it be a listening ear, advice, or a simple “yeah, I feel you.” Knowing I’m not alone in this really difficult human work can be the breath of fresh air that allows a moment of grace, peace, and clarity. These people have also become a safe group to ask for help because the reality is we all need it, we cannot do it alone, and we are better when we work together. 

Get a Therapist 

For some reason, as servant leaders and educators, we absolutely understand that those we serve need to be emotionally healthy. Putting our oxygen mask on first means we must first make sure we too are emotionally healthy. Education is a helping profession, it’s human business, and it means we get the joy and the heartache impacting and doing life with kids, families, and communities. Being in a helping profession not only requires a significant giving of your time, energy, and self, but it also means learning about and responding to the hardships others go through. In some cases it also means being situated in pockets of an immense amount of trauma, racism, poverty, bigotry, xenophobia, and more. Some of us, even those of us with an immense amount of privilege, also have generational and childhood trauma we carry into the profession. We cannot, and should not, expect ourselves to carry the emotional baggage with no outlet or no release, and we cannot, and should not, think we can successfully help others work through their trauma without working through our own. 

Therapy has been a saving grace for me, and a moment every other week I have come to believe is as important as exercising, eating right, and drinking enough water. It is the time I learn to process, breathe, re-center, and actually learn to lead better. Through therapy, I’ve learned how to navigate difficult situations from a place of empathy, vulnerability, and shared understanding. 

Is the Fieldhouse on Fire?

One day as I was sitting at my desk debriefing with one of my assistant principals at the end of a very long day, I got a phone call from another assistant principal. He said, “So I think the fieldhouse is on fire.” I started laughing, clearly this was a joke based on the craziness of the day, but he said, “I am actually being serious.” Immediately, I knew exactly what to do and jumped into action. We have trained for this, it was an urgent situation, and we have very systematic responses we train and practice for in these situations: evacuate the fieldhouse, call 911, let district leaders know, and go from there. 

As I moved up in leadership, a mentor said to me “separate what is urgent from what is important. If everything is urgent, you will never get to what is important.” It took me a minute to really figure out what that looked like in the day-to-day. I am a fixer, and when someone steps into my office I have a sincere desire to help “fix” whatever situation they bring to my desk. I want them to feel important and supported, so we can accomplish what we set out to. However, one thing I learned pretty quickly is the more “urgent” I make things that are not urgent, the less time I have to do the work that is truly important (and the work that brings me joy). 

Very few things in education actually require an immediate decision or response. While something may be very important to another individual, it cannot and should not derail the important work that drives our WHY or the vision and mission of our school. I’ve learned to ask myself, “is the fieldhouse on fire?” when a situation arises, and if it is not a situation that requires an immediate response, I give myself permission to schedule time for that later so I can stick with doing the important work. I’ve learned to say “I’d really like to give this my undivided attention, but I cannot right now. Can you send me an email and we can find a time to sit down and discuss this when I can be fully present?” The win of this is that it actually allows me to be more present, more engaged, and more authentic when things need my attention. 

Education is absolutely the foundation of strong communities, and schools are the places where change begins and hope is realized. The best schools and classrooms are run by people who, because they love those they serve, put their oxygen masks on first. 

-Shari Gateley  

Shari Gateley is a high school principal in Oklahoma. She started her career as a high school English teacher where she earned the honor of being her district’s Teacher of the Year and a top 10 finalist for Oklahoma State Teacher of the Year. Shari received her Master’s degree from the University of Oklahoma and is a current doctoral candidate at OU. Her research focuses on the school-to-prison pipeline and the use of restorative justice in schools. Shari is the proud wife to Joshua and mother of two incredible boys, Griffin and Jordan.

Find Shari on Twitter:  @ShariGateley 

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A few weeks ago, a former student of mine reached out about helping her with her senior narrative.  I helped her edit, and this is what she came up with.  It is beautiful, and teachers, this is who you are to our students who need you so desperately.  Teach on, warriors, and enjoy this narrative about an innovative and wonderful teacher I had the pleasure to work with for years!  ______________________________________ 

When I was eleven, I had long brown hair, wore my favorite pair of sparkly earrings, and my book bag weighed as much as I did. I picked out my outfit the night before the first day of school; I put on my favorite pink Converse shoes, a brand new shirt, and slipped on my new high top shoes.

I entered my first day of sixth grade with a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t feel old enough to be in middle school, but here I was, all full of hormones that I didn’t know what to do with, and still feeling like I should go back to elementary school.

 The day went by in a blur of procedures, syllabi, and anxiety. The only time during the day that seemed to come into crystal clear focus is when she walked in and introduced herself to our 6th hour drama class.

“Hello Class,” her blue eyes sparkled with delight and mischief, “I’m Mrs. Stafford.”  To me, she was like a dream, her face alight with passion and magic, and her hair put in a haphazard ponytail while wisps of her blonde hair stuck out all around her face. I loved her instantly.

 Throughout that first year of middle school, Mrs. Stafford’s class was the only hour of the school day I anticipated with great enthusiasm. Her classroom, decorated with sparkles and sequins, was my favorite place to be, and I often asked my other teachers if I could do my work in her room – which didn’t work as often as I would have liked. Like clockwork, every morning, I would stop by her room to announce my presence to her; so much so that she had it perfectly timed almost every time!

My last day of 6th grade came in a flash and I found myself wishing to not go on summer break because I would miss my routine, but most of all, I would miss Ms. Stafford.  The months of summer break felt like they were taking an eternity, and when it was finally time to go back to school, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic.  I got to see my favorite teacher again!  And there she was on the first day of school anticipating my arrival.  She gave me the biggest hug, and I felt home in her presence.

7th grade was a very different experience for me than my 6th grade year.  I was older, my body was filling out, and I had even more hormones rushing through me than before!  Middle school is a tumultuous time in the lives of students and it was no different for me.

 Each day in the student drop-off line of the school those first few days, I rambled endlessly to my mom about how this was going to be the best year yet, but I could not have been more wrong. 7th grade was rough!

My attitude got me in trouble quite often, but instead of my teachers sending me to the office, they’d send me to Ms. Stafford’s room because they knew that she’d fix whatever was going on and send me back like I had never been snarky in the first place; I was there more than I’d like to admit. To my parents and other teachers, I was seen as the rebellious teenager filled with attitude, but what they didn’t know was that I was fighting battles that were much bigger than most students my age. They didn’t take the time to see anything other than the ornery kid that stood in front of them, but Mrs. Stafford did.

In such a short timespan, she learned more about me and my life than anyone else ever had. She was the person that I could be my truest self with, good and bad parts combined, and before I knew it, she saved me and became my hero when I was going through the worst time of my life.  She listened as I struggled to end my relationship with my biological father, and she understood and helped me through a place of severe depression.  Living with extreme depression is scary at any age, but being only thirteen and having to navigate those waters seemed insurmountable.  But Ms. Stafford saw me, and I would not be here today if it was not for her walking beside me in a time of hardship and trouble.

My behavior took a nosedive, and when everyone else saw a petulant teenager, Ms. Stafford treated me like a human being, and still managed to make me feel like I was important and that I mattered to someone, even if it was only her. I learned a lot from her that year.  Anything from acting tips to learning various coping skills that I could use when I felt like I couldn’t continue living my life, she was the one to step in and help me through.

One evening, I was sitting alone in my dark bedroom experiencing what I can only describe as one of the worst mental breakdowns I have ever lived to talk about.  At this moment in time, it felt like my life was not worth living.  My whole world felt like it was crumbling into tiny pieces, and I was terrified of the dark place I found myself in.

I knew in my heart of hearts who would help me, and I trembled as I reached out to Ms. Stafford.  Despite it being way past her teaching contract hours, she answered my plea for help.  She patiently talked me through what I was feeling and said something that I will remember for the rest of my life.

In her gentle, but magical Ms. Stafford, voice, she said,  “Sweet girl, even the messy parts of life are worth living and loving,” referring to myself and loving everything that made me, me.

From that night forward, I lived by that statement in every way that I possibly could. I made it through my last year of middle school with a completely different mindset, and I truly was changed as a human being. I learned to be loving and caring, not only for myself, but for everyone else as well, and to always put every ounce of my effort into anything that I did, which is why I am so hardworking and dedicated to the things I do today as a senior in high school.

As I get older, I often find myself reminiscing about the past and realizing how much I have changed as a person, from being a nervous, little 6th grader to being an adult in only two short months, who is still very much nervous for what life has planned for her in the future. But to this day, I will forever tell people MY story and how Ms. Stafford saved my life and helped to form me into the person that others see today. Ms. Stafford has made the biggest impact on me and will forever be a valuable part of life for as long as I shall live.  Even the messy parts of life are worth living.

-LS