I’m not impressed by fancy titles.
I’ve been fortunate enough to be close to a few people with big-time titles to realize they’re just regular men and women, with the same issues, struggles, and brokenness as the rest of us. I’ve become skeptical of the notion of positional authority. “Chief Muckety-Muck, PhD” at the top of some organizational chart doesn’t make me tremble with awe.
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During my first months as a classroom teacher I made a mistake that might have completely altered my career path. During an exam, a student sort of “freaked out.” Mr. First-Time Teacher over-reacted and took the kid out of the room to calm him down–leaving the other students unsupervised.
Meanwhile, the district superintendent picked that moment to wander into my classroom via another door for a random observation. I’d been hired by one of the most innovative districts in the U.S. and our superintendent was known nationally as a leader of education reform. So he walked into a room filled with students–no teacher–hung out for a few minutes, and left.
After school I was summoned to the office where my principal explained what happened. I figured I was headed back to stocking grocery store shelves when the superintendent walked in.
Big smile. “Hi, I’m Bill.” We shook hands and he sat down.
“So tell me what happened during class today.”
I rambled nervously through the story, probably said about 10,000 words in 2 minutes. He just smiled and nodded.
“So, what will you do if that happens again?”
Bill was a teacher. He could have embarrassed me, or worse. Instead, he affirmed my concern for the kid’s welfare, even agreed some circumstances might justify my choice, while helping me learn. His parting comments, which I remember more than forty years later:
“I know you’re working to upgrade our advanced math courses. I want to talk to you about that. Oh, and by the way,” he winked, “I wouldn’t put too much faith in the results of that exam.”
Bill left a few years later. His replacement, Bennett, walked into my class one day—along with his entourage . I thought it might be polite to introduce him to the students. Bennett barely smiled, then glared a hole right through me as he left. I never heard about what he thought of my lesson, never had a single conversation with him.
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I want folks like Bill in our circle, folks who desire relationship, who are interested in feedback rather than criticism, folks who aren’t looking for power or position. I want to follow, lead, and learn from people who care about growing the circle and moving the mission down the road.
I want to encourage us to guard ourselves against buying in to just any old leader who happens to have a fancy title or a loud microphone. In any arena–politics, church, business, finances, nonprofits–there’s no shortage of people like Bennett striving to become “leaders.” They seek the corner office, the title, the power & control. Personally, I don’t allow folks like that to speak into my life without a lot of discernment.
I look for the people who enter the arena and get their hands dirty once in a while. Bill visited my classroom a few times over the years, talked to students, asked about what was going on. You could tell he wanted a first-hand view.
The guy who’s always above the fray and never leaves the cocoon of the executive office suite–I’m skeptical. Give me a leader like Bill with all the credentials and titles who takes the time to sit in a real classroom with real kids.
Who are your influencers? Who do you allow to speak into your life? How do you make that choice?