Trust in a Responsive Process

As a fairly new academic dean, early one winter morning I received a phone call from the school nurse who had the chair of  the history department at her side and a junior girl in her office.  In a nutshell, the girl was being sent to see me as she was claiming to be ill – abdominal pain – and both adults knew it was to avoid a history test.  My job was to hold her accountable and to ensure consequences.

As I waited for the student to arrive, I pondered.  When she arrived, I asked her to explain what was going on.  She was of course unable to sit up straight as she was doubled over holding her abdomen and complained bitterly about the abominable way she was processed by the nurse and her history teacher the -terrible way they would just not take her seriously.  So, I said you are right. It is terrible. I am calling 911 because treating what is hurting you at this time is the most important thing.  I reached for the phone dialed 911 and as I began to speak the student sat up straight in her chair and said you can hang up Ms. Londergan. 

She shared her story - and then I sat with her while she spoke with her history teacher about her problems.  Then she called home from my office.  As she left me she hugged me and thanked me for believing her after all.

As a Montessori school head, one spring day I noticed a dad and his son at their car.  The dad was standing outside the car and a lower elementary teacher was leaning into the vehicle speaking with the son, her student.  I asked the dad what was going on.  He explained that his son did not want to go to school and did not want to get out of the car.  I said that I did not know if it would be of any help but that perhaps if we did not ask him to go into the elementary building he would at least get out of the car.  I indicated that I would be in the community room for a while and that he might share that with his son and let him know that if he wanted to speak with me I would be happy to speak with him.  As the new head of school I did not expect to see them.

As it turns out, fifteen minutes later they arrived in the community room and the dad (as surprised as I) said that Evan wanted to speak with me.  So, I welcomed them both and began by asking Evan if he knew who I was and he said yes.  We established that I was in layman’s terms ‘the boss of everybody’.  And then I told Evan that I wanted him to know that I heard him that he did not want to go to school today and that I wanted him to know that I was not going to make him go to school today under one condition only.  I told him that I needed him to help me and his teachers understand why he did not want to go to school and let us see if we could help him want to come to school tomorrow.   He agreed to my terms.

We discussed his story that pertained to home life issues and separation from dad in particular who was about to go on a trip.  We made a plan of action for his concerns and dad eventually departed for his day. Then in keeping with my earlier assurance, I set him to work in the school office.  Within an hour he came to me and asked to return to his class and did.

As I contemplated Evan’s predicament, I called the East Coast and my son (just out of college and working himself) at his office to thank him for teaching me how to respond meaningfully – even if unconventionally – to students who did not want to go to school.  He had his fair share of school refusal moments in elementary school himself.

These moments, these three people each taught me how important it is in schools to meet students where they are, and together we learned how vital it is in schools – and in life – to trust in a responsive process even if and as it takes us beyond our comfort level.

The School Commitment

This is the time of year in independent schools when parents, teachers and students alike start thinking about the future.  This is when schools start asking for our commitment as a community member and like any other renewal of commitment it provokes reflection and consideration in each of us.  I have made this commitment for my children, for me and I have kept company with many students and parents over my twenty-five year career as they made their commitments.  In all that time, I have learned that the value added of an independent school for each of us is a subtle but very present factor in how we choose.  

I chose to leave an independent boarding school where I had served and taught children for ten years after completing a parent child outward bound Hurricane Island course.  I made the decision because the course demonstrated to me the little ways in which I had put up defenses and - in essence - walled myself in – unintentionally- to cope with living and working in a residential community.  I saw that for my growth I needed to move ahead in my life.  This is my story and may be distinct from another faculty member.   So, for me a value added is a community that encourages me to grow and learn and then creates space wherein I can do that.

When my son (now an adult) was ten years old, he moved from a traditional elementary school to a progressive Dewey based Day School.  We reached this decision because he had arrived at a place  in school where he did not like school and this translated into not enjoying his learning.  He did his work, he did not get ‘in trouble’ but as his parent and an educator I could not see joy in his learning and wanted for him to have that experience.  He did not believe that it was possible to find joy at school.  He visited three schools that we researched together and when he left the progressive school he wanted to try being a student there.  At the end of his first week at the new school when I picked him up he got in the car and asked me: “How was your day mom”?  In asking that question of me for the first time it was clear that at last he was content enough at school to think about something other than his discontent.  I knew we were in the right place.  My sense of that never faltered and I credit that school with my son’s voice as a learner and his affirmed sense of self and life’s possibilities.  So for us, the value added was a community that met him where he was and empowered him to further himself as a learner and a person in his own right.

As an administrator working with faculty, parents and students alike, I have many conversations with the constituents of my school and appreciate the insights these exchanges provide into the value added of this school experience for community members.  Insights about curriculum, school services, processes, professional growth, personal concerns and resolutions help us engage with each other meaningfully. So in this school community, connection -feeling heard, feeling appreciated, being responded to, finding accountability and feeling validated - is a value added. 

It is important in committing to a school to identify clearly what the value added is for you and your child and to recognize how schools uniquely offer and provide that to both of you - even when they share an educational approach.  It is the best way to know what you are receiving from an educational experience in a school and to differentiate between schools.  It is an intrinsic and qualifying part of the learning journey that profoundly informs how and who we choose to be. It is the basis of a lasting commitment.

The Children Are Well

A dear friend of mine who is a retired head of school living by the sea in southern Maine, occasionally joins me for lunch to hear how my life and career are going.  We knew each other when I was first an administrator and it is fun to swap stories about the challenges and joys of leading a school.  It is awe inspiring to listen to his stories from the sixties to the eighties in schools.

When we consider the sometimes overwhelming demands of running a school he chuckles and shares that in those moments he picked himself up and walked to the kindergarten or preschool classroom to soak in some ambiance - the way life should be.  He would read to the children and sometimes just observe but either way he felt the magic and the magic worked wonders and helped him reconnect with the meaning of education and regain some balance.

Many are the gifts educators receive from being in the presence of children.  I wonder how it might be if we lived life with that sense throughout society.  But then I am not the first to speculate about that.

The Story: ‘How Are the Children?’ Adapted by Pat Hoertdoerfer

Among the most accomplished and fabled tribes of Africa, no tribe was considered to have warriors more fearsome or more intelligent than the mighty Masai. It is perhaps surprising, then, to learn the traditional greeting that passed between Masai warriors:"Kasserian Ingera," one would always say to another. It means, "And how are the children?"

It is still the traditional greeting among the Masai, acknowledging the high value that the Masai always place on their children's well-being. Even warriors with no children of their own would always give the traditional answer, "All the children are well." Meaning, of course, that peace and safety prevail, that the priorities of protecting the young and the powerless, are in place. That Masai society has not forgotten its reason for being, its proper functions and responsibilities. "All the children are well" means that life is good. It means that the daily struggles for existence do not preclude proper caring for their young.

I wonder how it might affect our consciousness of our own children's welfare if in our culture we took to greeting each other with this daily question: "And how are the children?" I wonder if we heard that question and passed it along to each other a dozen times a day, if it would begin to make a difference in the reality of how children are thought of or cared about in our own country.

I wonder if every adult among us, parent and non-parent alike, felt an equal weight for the daily care and protection of all the children in our community, in our town, in our state, in our country. . . . I wonder if we could truly say without any hesitation, "The children are well, yes, all the children are well."

What would it be like . . . if the minister began every worship service by answering the question, "And how are the children?" If every town leader had to answer the question at the beginning of every meeting: "And how are the children? Are they all well?" Wouldn't it be interesting to hear their answers? What would it be like? I wonder . . .

I think this is a wonderful reminder of how a community can nurture a central mission throughout the daily minutia of our routines. It articulates a clear purpose to all of us about learning and community.

Furthering and Furthered

It has been my great good fortune to have been working in the independent school world long enough to have been able to participate in a David Mallory experienced faculty workshop.  The late Mr. Mallory was the long standing director of professional development for the national association of independent schools and held marvelous retreat style workshops complete with great seminars and old movies punctuated by sumptuous food and libation.  My seminar was about connecting with people who further us on our path in life providing us with tools or direction at different junctures.  It was inspiring and uplifting at the time but its value has returned to me repeatedly over my career as an educator as I have deepened my sense of what furthering means.

Eli was a student I worked with when I served as academic dean.  He was bright and capable yet hurting and struggling to meet his commitments.  Our relationship was rather typical; he did not meet his obligations as a student and I patiently followed up with him putting before him next steps and strategies for living into his life as a student trying hard not to let frustration take over.  I met with his parents – his heart surgeon father and emotionally fragile mother -as we endeavored to work with him.  It was clear that there were larger issues than school at play. Eventually, he withdrew from school as his behavior had led him to a point of no return.  It was a sad occasion.

Over a year later, I was living in another state and in the final stages of pregnancy with my daughter.  I recall vividly that I was decorating her room and looking at her things wondering and reflecting on what kind of mother I would be for my daughter, when the phone rang.  When I picked up a voice asked ‘Ms. Londergan’?  I said yes.  It was Eli.  I was delighted to hear from him and to learn what he was now doing.  He was starting college in September and was calling to share with me that since he left school he had eventually found his way into rehab. He let me know that his parents were getting divorced. He wanted me to know that he was calling me to let me know what I meant to him, what my vigilance and constant efforts to hold him accountable meant to him and how much he knew I cared for him.  He felt he had never let me know what an important person I was to him and wanted me to know now.

As I hung up the phone, I did the only sensible thing a late stage pregnancy mom would do and wept.  I cannot find the words to express what that call meant to me.  Anyone looking in from the outside would say that I had tried hard to further Eli but all I know is that at the end of the story he had furthered me. I emerged from the natural hesitancy and anxiety of an expectant mother into a clearer sense of trust in my own ability to be present to others in my own imperfect ways and that just as I accepted and embraced other’s truths in these life events, they would perceive and appreciate mine.