Recently a sweet child’s cheerful but brutal honesty brought me up short. I was at a school where the manager’s office is separated from the children’s play area solely by a child-proof safety gate. This means the Future Hope of our Nation can peek in at any time to make observations about whoever is inside.
I was an unknown visitor so I was being checked out. I cracked a toothy grin at the child peering into the office then heard this, as I turned back to the computer;
*Benny! Come look! There’s an old woman in the office!”
Well. I didn’t know how to respond. I was shocked to my core (which I keep buried deep within my middle-age spread). I patted my silky silver hair (that in no way resembles a steel wool scrubbing brush, despite the way the summer heat makes it bush fuzzily out at the sides). After such harsh judgment I needed refreshment – anyone would! I pushed myself out of the ergonomic office chair (ignoring the furious protests from my arthritic knees) and waddled to the kitchen, where I made a fortifying mug of tea (and, while it was brewing, searched inside every kitchen cupboard for my dignity).
A fresh young teacher was also in there, preparing food. With a merry laugh (that was not at all like the shriek of a trapped rabbit) I repeated their comment and waited for the obvious response – something along the lines of “No, really? You are SO not an old woman! Ha ha ha!” She gazed at me sorrowfully, tsked, and remarked, “Oh bless you!” before turning her attention back to her sandwich.
I slunk back to the office, slumped into the chair, adjusted my reading glasses, and – between careful sips of tea – I jabbed at computer keys with my lumpy-bumpy fingers until my sense of wellbeing had been restored.
And, in the back of my mind, I pondered on this honest assessment of how I looked in the eyes of a child.
To be clear, I love being a grandma! My grandchildren are my delight. Each child is the most beautiful in the world. Every single one is unique and sassy and charming. And after I hand them back to their parents, while I relax over a cool gin and tonic, thinking about our grandma time makes me smile.
But I don’t want to be seen as just a grandma, or be treated as though I’ve passed my prime. Being a grandma is part of who I am – it does not define me. I can dive down the TikTok rabbit-hole with the best that Gen-X has to offer, emerging hours later with eyeballs twirling like Catherine wheels and my brain on fire.
This little honesty pop at school, however, made me stop and think about about first impressions, instant judgements, and how people want to be seen. And I realised that I too am prone to making instant assessments, judging people based on how they look, and sometimes on how they behave. At times, I have stumbled and lurched headfirst into these first impression traps, because I focus on a few things and fail to see the whole person. And sometimes I get stuck in that trap and can’t move freely into a relationship with a person.
I imagine it’s the same for you.
Well, let’s be kind to ourselves. Working with fellow staff members can be testing, and working with some educational leaders can be downright challenging. Having a cranky head teacher barking at you unnecessarily can do a teacher in. On the other hand, a head teacher facing a staff member with a litany of whiny complaints could make them seriously reconsider their life choices.
Years ago I worked with someone who unknowingly taught me not to judge them at face value or by their behaviours. One of my earliest managers, when I was an eager newly-qualified teacher, was a seesaw leader. If she was having a great day she brought sunshine into the school. On a bad day she unleashed Armageddon upon us all. You could tell what kind of day it was just by her gait as she entered the room, and by her eyes – they either pierced you like a stiletto knife, or sparkled with joie-de-vivre and bonhomie.
It was terribly unnerving, but over time I learned to navigate her Margery Daw persona. One day, chatting with her during a lunch break, I learned that she was undergoing significant health problems that affected her mood. She had also recently taken over from a manager who had won awards for her brilliance in childcare and nursery management, and constantly felt she was falling short of the benchmark set by her predecessor.
Did her mood swings change thereafter? Nope, but how I saw her changed, and that made all the difference.
How I wish she could have been coached! Coaching has power to change and enrich a person from within. It seeks only to build up, and is offered with no judgement. This is the beauty of coaching.
When I coach, I approach my coachees with open-minded, friendly curiosity. I give each person my full attention. I value them as they are. I put judgement aside. I listen. I give them the precious commodity of time. A coaching session is a rich space, encouraging self-discovery, purpose, effective processing and the dreaming of dreams.
I am at my best when I am coaching. And when I am being coached, I see the best in myself – silver hair, sparkly earrings, and all. Now excuse me while I log onto TikTok – there’s a new dance craze I have got to see.