Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
In thinking about telling this story, I wasn’t sure where to begin, but Dr. King’s quote seemed like a good place, because even though I haven’t known it for long, it has stuck and his message resonated strongly with me. It both provides a concept and suggests a way to place our focus. It signals a choice, in how we see and respond to things and, to that end, it’s as good a place to start as any.
Before jumping in, I should provide a little backdrop. I believe there are moments that shape our lives, that influence our character, and that play a role in informing the person we will ultimately become. I’ve participated in offsite meetings as a professional where, as part of the “ice breaker” and/or team building activity, people are asked to share a story about their life that has influenced them. For me, this is one of those stories. While it’s not a particularly significant one, it is something I have reflected on many times in the thirty plus years since it occurred. That being said, as with any time I’ve written and shared my perspective, I’ll note that, while the underlying story is true to the best of my recollection, my point of view on it is merely that… my opinion. Others could easily see the same thing from a different angle, disagree with any or all of my reactions, and be completely correct in doing so. The goal of sharing this story was to take a moment to relate an experience and my reflections upon it in the hope that it stirs thinking for others in the choices we make, the words we use, and the impact those things can have… sometimes far beyond what we’d ever assume at the time.
As a student in middle school (“junior high” in my time), we had a teacher who had the phrase “Life is not fair” permanently displayed on her classroom wall. My recollections of her, quote aside, were that she was a very unpleasant person, who seemed to have a scowl on her face a good percentage of the time, and who seemed to feel that pointing at her sign was a way to drive a point home with students that, whenever they didn’t like something, she had a ready-made, blanket excuse for why whatever she had just said or done was ok… because, after all, Life isn’t fair. In truth, I didn’t know her particularly well, I had her for one class in seventh grade, and my focus the entire time was probably spent looking forward to the time when I’d be out of her classroom.
At one point during the school year, we had a “project” to hand in related to Greek mythology (not one of my favorite subjects). For reasons I can only assume related to not really wanting to do it, I procrastinated until the last possible minute, but came up with what I thought was a relatively creative solution to the assignment, rushed to complete it, and handed it in. My grade? Zero. No credit. Nothing. There was no partial credit, nothing to show that coming up with a solution and doing the work (albeit in a hurry) was any different than not having done the assignment at all. Absolute, 100% failure. To make matters worse, somehow as a result of the situation, my parents had to come to the school and meet with the teacher. Whether that was initiated by the teacher, me saying something to my parents about feeling it was unfair, them responding… I honestly don’t remember at this point. The point was that they had to go, and as the youngest of eight kids in an Italian family, one thing I can say without hesitation is that you never wanted to be in the situation where whatever you were doing was bad enough that our parents had to stop what they were doing and go to the school exclusively because you screwed up somehow. Not a good thing, and the guilt and embarrassment of that alone was something that would have consequences to it for longer than whatever the actual event was.
In any case, the day came for my parents to attend the conference, and it is one of the few times (other than a band concert) when I remember my father actually going to the school along with my mom. His participation generally meant something was a big deal, or he would’ve left my mom to deal with whatever it was. Not surprisingly, that only would also add to the gravity of whatever it was and how it would play out at home, because if it was on my dad’s radar, it couldn’t be a good thing and had escalated beyond the ordinary-level issue.
I remember going into the classroom with my parents. Thirty-three years later, I can’t honestly say that I remember exactly what was said, but I do remember a few things in particular. First, how ashamed I felt that I was the subject of the discussion at all. I had obviously failed or we wouldn’t have been there. My parents expected better of us, and I had let them down. Throughout the discussion, I couldn’t look at anyone and remember I just looked down, with tears in my eyes, feeling like a failure. The second thing I remember was the teacher, telling my parents I was lazy, a poor student, that I wouldn’t ever accomplish anything, and that I simply ‘didn’t get it’. The final thing I remember was my father’s reaction, which was to tell the teacher that I was a good kid… and if I didn’t get it, it was because she wasn’t doing her job as a teacher… to educate me.
In sharing the last part of this story, it’s important to note that my father wasn’t in ANY way soft on us with regard to his expectations growing up, especially in terms of accountability. He was as black and white about right and wrong as anyone I’ve ever known in my life, and he could and would unload his form of discipline at a level that you understood when you screwed up without any shade of doubt being left in your mind. That being said, there were moments like this where he felt one of his kids was being attacked, and he sprung into motion at a level it was very clear he wasn’t going to stand for it. There are a few moments where I saw my father act like this in my life, and it was always clear to me that he had my back, and would walk through fire if it would keep me out of harm’s way. It was just the nature of his character and how strongly he felt about protecting his family. He always had a way of making us feel safe, even when he wasn’t immediately present, which is something I think all of his kids have struggled with since we lost him over twenty years ago.
Going back to the teacher and the situation, looking back on it today, it’s hard to equate to our current culture and environment. Maybe our heightened sense of political correctness is part of the reason, but it’s difficult even now to understand what drove the words and behaviors of this woman, both in that moment and in how she approached her job as a professional educator overall. What good could have resulted in calling me out in front of my parents at the level she did? I really can’t imagine. Certainly she didn’t anticipate the reaction she ultimately got from my father, because to the best of my memory, she was speechless in response to his comments. In her defense, that was probably also the best course of action, because my father had a certainty in his voice whenever he’d argue that, even if he was dead wrong, you knew you would probably never win the argument, and he could be formidable in that regard. It took a very confident person to ever argue with him, because he always approached situations with passion, conviction, and a strong belief he was right… and that could be a lot to take on.
At a personal level, one reason I know that I remember this experience was that it is one of only a few times in my years of schooling where a teacher suggested I would fail, and how strongly I feel about someone EVER offering that level of judgment on someone else. She had no right nor any foresight to say that to me or to my parents and it was simply wrong. To express concern and offer suggestions or assistance is one thing, but to attack someone’s potential, with all the possibilities that life can bring, is ridiculous and irresponsible. Many years later, in completing my engineering degree, it was absolutely the case that I thought about her and the couple other teachers who said such things, and felt the strong desire to give them a call to give them the proverbial finger. No one defines our character or our potential as human beings but ourselves, in the choices we make, in the effort we put forward when life challenges us, and in the way we engage with others on an ongoing basis… It is, however, frightening to think about how irresponsible some people are in what they say to others who are impressionable, the weight that can carry, and the negative consequences that can result, especially if the person receiving the information doesn’t handle it in the right way. It’s true in more circumstances than just the classroom… and it’s a sad reality in life. As an alternative, think about all the possibilities that would exist when the people tearing others down took the exact opposite approach and offered optimism and hope… if they built confidence instead. What an amazing thing that could be.
In an overall sense, I’ve told my daughters about the teacher and her “Life is not fair” sign more than once before, because I have never fully understood what drove her to put it on the wall of her classroom in the first place. She had so many choices for the message she could convey, and yet she chose that. As a kid, it seemed like a built-in excuse to get smacked down by a teacher. As an adult, it seems like the sign of a bitter person who is mad at life and who isn’t self-aware enough to realize that’s the message she’s projecting to a bunch of children every single day, every year that she is ‘educating’ them.
What if she had Dr. King’s words on the wall, something like “Be the change you want to see in the world”, or any one of so many other inspiring quotes? If that was too optimistic, maybe something like “You are the sum total of the choices you make in life”, giving kids a point to reflect on in terms of how our decisions affect us over time.
The optimist would say that she taught me a valuable lesson through her ineffectiveness, which is that poor leadership can have a lasting effect well beyond what you’d expect, and that we learn more from our challenges and failures sometimes than our successes. That being said, looking back, I feel sorry for her that she likely didn’t realize the negative impact she was having, through something she probably viewed as a mechanism to either maintain control in her classroom or “teach kids a lesson” on the harsh realities of life. I’d like to believe she cared enough to not want that to be the case. As an adult, it would’ve been interesting to sit down, talk to her, to understand what she was thinking in having that on the wall, and to try and offer her a different perspective on it. Unfortunately, my memories of her are so negative and tainted, that I suspect she would’ve immediately checked out of the discussion, told me she was going to do what she was going to do, and it would be over with. Some people can’t be reached and won’t change, and it’s sad, especially when putting words like that up for public display seems ultimately like a sign of an unhappy person to me. I wonder how things could have been different had she tried to express a more hopeful and positive message. Certainly it would’ve taken some of the constant negativity out of the line of sight of her students, but I wonder if it also wouldn’t have helped her just a little bit too…
So much of what we say and do, what we make a habit of, influences our thoughts and outlook. Our viewpoint matters, whether it’s positive or negative, optimistic or pessimistic. Whether we believe the universe is unfolding as it should, or is a perpetual manifestation of chaos…
In either case, as I said at the beginning, my goal in writing today was simply to share a story that influenced me and my reflections upon it. Looking back, I suppose the experience is both about a person I remember as fundamentally negative and hostile, and how much I wish she saw the error in approaching her life (and all the students she influenced) in such a negative way, and about my father, and one of the moments when he reminded me that, no matter what I did, he would be there to protect and defend me… and how much I miss his strength and that sense of safety he managed to create when he was with us.
I hope this provided some food for thought. We don’t need to be in a classroom for our words and actions to carry weight. Our opportunity to make a positive difference is in the choices we make every day; in the way we relate and interact with others, in whether we want our message to be a positive and hopeful one, or something else… and those things matter in my opinion, sometimes far beyond what we consider at the time, and sometimes with a far greater impact than we’d ever expect, or I wouldn’t be writing about one of those experiences over thirty years after it happened.
I hope this was worth the time spent reading it…
-CJG 03/30/2017
Structured Chaos 