Principal’s Eye View
In September of 2001 I was in my first weeks of my first principalship in a tiny 400 student high school in Flushing, Queens. I was meeting with a parent early on the morning of September 11th when the first plane hit the first tower. My memories of what happened after that are hazy and frightening.
I remember ending my meeting quickly and my phone ringing with urgent calls from parents and one from the district office informing me that all schools were suddenly placed on lockdown. Please note that in 2001 we, educators, had not become familiar with the term lockdown as we are now. We were told that only parents could pick up children and that we were to await further instructions. In week 2 of my new role as school leader I do remember standing in the hallway of the school frozen so unsure of what to do next.
There are many guidebooks available for school leaders on just about every topic you can think of. It would be impossible to read them all and ever think oneself prepared for whatever happens next. From the outside I’m not sure many people understand what it means to lead a school, what it means to chart an educational course, what it means to set an example of kindness for all and just how to act when tragedy strikes.
This week we lost a beloved member of our faculty to cancer. Because irony abounds everywhere it turns out that this person was who I turned to, who we all turned to, to help navigate the most difficult of situations. And it was this week that I most certainly needed her. I stood Tuesday morning in front of the faculty and staff at our emergency, early morning, meeting preparing myself to inform those who already didn’t know about our loss and, I hoped, to provide words of comfort that might help some get through this most difficult day. So again in year 21 of my time as a high school principal I stood frozen unsure of what to do next.
I spoke from my heart as best I could after providing everyone with the unvarnished truth. I felt my own grief build, but I knew it wasn’t my turn yet. First, I had to help so many others with their own grief and help the school with its collective grief, I could feel it in the air. I had to inform the community, but there is a difference between providing thousands of people with information and telling those same people, most total strangers, that I am in pain, that their school is coping with pain. I sent my letters and answered my emails and wandered my way through the school Tuesday just looking for a conversation. There were hugs to be shared and I made it to my car at the end of the day finally alone with my grief.
School leadership can be a lonely pursuit even though we are surrounded by so many. There is much to be carried by all of us and little time to care for ourselves. I don’t write this in a self-serving manner only to be real and honest about the toll this job takes on all who do it. So many see school principals as people who can fix problems by shear force or decree and, maybe, sometimes that’s true. My school has a huge hole in it right now, a true missing piece and I can see the hurt in everyone’s eyes and there isn’t a thing I can do about it.
