I stopped mid way up the stairs as I heard my name along with, “Who does she think she is, telling us how to run our classroom?". I stood silently listening for more. My heart raced as I listened for more. As I listened, I couldn’t help but to feel somewhat rebuked. I began asking myself, “Who am I?" . Even though I knew I had information, perhaps what one might call knowledge, I didn’t have the thread that would ultimately sew the pieces together. I didn’t have relationship. Back down the stairs I tiptoed. After all, I didn’t dare want anyone to know that I had heard such conversation.
My next visit would not include my notebook or handouts. My next visit would include a smile and perhaps a sincere “How can I help you today”? Actually, most of my visits would proceed in this manner. As I would visit informally in the classrooms, with genuine curiosity to learn more about others, I was better able to find ways to connect with the staff and likewise. I learned that such an approach gave myself a better picture than any formal observation with a clipboard. Before I knew it, trust had formed. This way of being, created a mutual trust and interest in serving children and families.
Years went on, I served in the capacity of facilitator, coach, and any other hat that seemed appropriate at the time. I never shared my secret in the stairway story. I held it in my heart, not out of hostility but out of vulnerability, humility. I never want to be the one who has all of the answers or the one who makes others feel as if they do not have the answers. I learned not only how to be a coach, leader, I learned how to truly come alongside.
Leaders are not always at the front of the line.
