Peace, Love and Crabs

 

Tonight at Joe's Crab Shack, as I was dining with my district's leadership team, our order took over 45 minutes to come to the table. I am now convinced that the staff at that place spends more time dancing to the cheesy 60's music, underneath the gleam of a twirling disco ball then, serving food! When our food finally made its way past the impromptu Cupid's Shuffle, I was so hungry I went straight for the kill, only to realize an entire 2 bites into my breaded shrimp that....well, I didn't order breaded shrimp.

So, I called the waitress over and reluctantly told her that this wasn't what I ordered. It was reluctant, because despite the fact that I don't like much of anything that's breaded (much less the nasty cod on my plate), I considered eating what was clearly someone else's order because I was that hungry. But, she took it back and I sat for another 10 minutes waiting for my dish, while everyone else around my table cracked their crab shells and moistened their fingers with buttery perfection. But, at least I was comforted in that moment knowing that I had clearly just earned at least 15% off my bill, if not a free double-decker chocolate volcano!

When my bill came, however, it did not include the "our service totally sucked' discount, nor was it attached to the 'we should really not list incompetence as a desired skill in our job description" desert. Hell, I didn't even get an apology.

I thought about complaining, I did. And I am quite certain the acting manager, in her little orange "Peace, Love, and Crabs" tie-died shirt posed no match to me. She looked 12 after all, and I was quite set on that chocolate volcano.

But then I hesitated and I'm glad I did. It occurred to me in that moment that I was about to engage in the very thing that I am often on the receiving end of in my line of work. I could have made a big deal over a minor inconvenience (I mean, really think about some of the inconveniences that some people have to go through in life...hell, I watched my mom go through chemo...NOW that's an inconvenience! waiting 10 extra minutes for some shrimp hardly qualifies as anything more than a minor inconvenience) I could have probably gotten my free desert, but at what expense? So the young guy working the line, dreaming of a better life, but stuck at a little more than minimum wage can listen to the nighttime manager lecture him on his pace and lack of work ethic? Or maybe so the young college-aged waitress can get the same lecture and learn all-too-soon just how unrealistic our expectations are in this world and how unforgiving our nature has become over non-issues?

So, I've learned that principal is synonymous with punching bag. I'm not complaining, it comes with the territory and there isn't a soul connected to education that didn't warn me of this pending doom if I signed the bottom line of an administrative contract. However, the day I became a principal, I didn't stop being a human and so taking punches daily takes a great deal of work. I've had to learn (and quickly) how to deal with what can sometimes be an unforgiving public. I filter complaints daily. Many are legitimate. You have parents step into my office who are genuinely concerned with their child and what is happening in their life 36 hours a week, when they entrust us with them. But, some are unfair, abusive, and downright petty. Some are misguided, some are personal, and some are malicious, and like my dinner experience, there are those who will shut down business in my office to complain about what should have been only a 'minor inconvenience.' It doesn't change how I am trained to respond. Whether legit or whether completely out of line, my professionalism is expected to stay intact. But again, I am human and what my instinct (you know, that survival factor when you are being attacked) is begging me to do is sometimes contrary to what my training dictates. And especially when those attacks have no merit, or when they are triggered by something deeper, something not related school. And so, with every ounce of me, I fight the inner emotions, I listen, I respond, I remain patient and composed, even under fire.

Okay, so where is this all leading? Let's go back to Joe's Crab Shack. I could have complained tonight. I could have had a free meal. I could have, but instead I selected composure and patience. My training dictates I choose this under fire in my job and my experience with those who do not understand either of these traits has taught me the value of both responses in situations of 'minor inconvenience." I have learned not to be so entitled; I have learned not to get all bent out of shape for small things. I reserve my passionate responses for things that really deserve such heat.

I left the restaurant full and happy. I didn't get a free desert. But, well, I got a pretty damn cool blog out of it.

Peace, Love and Crabs, people.

 

Balance

Hello Blogging World,

It's amazing I haven't stepped through your doors sooner.  I've given blogging a lot of thought though, especially since lately I have had this incredible writing burst of energy.  I think it's my souls way of trying to balance out my life. It's competing with that part of my life that demands my mind's logical and objective contributions.  You see, I could use some balance...my current reality is a bit overwhelming. Not in a bad way, just in a really, really overwhelming way.  I'm a mom.  I've got my little sensitive, bright boy, Dante. He's 6.  He's this little light of intelligence and has an old soul.  Then there's my free-spirit firecracker, Isabelle.  She's only 4, but she's got this incredible little identity already.  I've been married 8 years to Dante.  Isabelle takes after him...they're both these passionate, hot-headed, loving, opinionated, go-getters.  My little guy, I like to think his deep little soul came from me. Speaking of balance, I'd say we've got a nice one in our little family.  

Then there's my job. I"m a full-time principal.  I oversee a school of 250 students.  I'm 3 years in, walked away from an incredible teaching job after getting my masters, thinking that I was poised and ready for the challenges of administration only to learn that it was one step away from direct contact with kids and one step closer to direct contact with adults. It's been a challenge everyday to keep my feet grounded and my heart with the kids, while most days I want to run as fast as I can from the fiery pit of administrative politics.  This job has changed me, it's changed my hometown for me, it's changed the way people see me and how I see them, it's changed so much. But the verdict is still out on exactly how and most importantly, why.  I'm still on this journey, which is one reason I wanted to blog.  I'm a writer, so I'm constantly analyzing my life for meaning.  I don't believe for a moment life is just a random set of circumstances. I believe choices, relationships, challenges, joys, heartaches and all the other circumstances of life are all somehow interrelated. They weave together to form stories and themes about life and who we are. We are all a story.  I'm still figuring out how this principal gig plays into my plot...but one things for sure, I'm determined for this chapter in my life to have meaning.

Okay, so where were we before I got philosophical (I tend to take those detours every now and then). Oh yes...mother, wife, principal....and now...student. So as if I hadn't loaded my plate with enough Thanksgiving dinner, I have recently added another side!  I have enrolled in the doctoral program at the University of Phoenix.  Why?  Well, gee, life wasn't crazy enough, ya know?  I had only managed to fill 22 hours of my day with my other responsibilities, so I needed something to do with the other 2! ha. No, really, I guess I pulled the trigger because I have learned that anything is possible and this shall be one more journey I embark on to keep me floating higher and higher.  

So, I'm starting a blog because my life is so, so serious. It's so, so full. And yes, while I am a willing participant in scholarly conversations and administrative tasks that demand data-driven analysis and constructive, critical problem-solving, I am also, at my very core, a creative soul, bursting with this writing energy.  I feel a connection to words, to language, to the beauty and power of them. Words fix me.  They make my emotions tangible and real.  They are a part of who I am and with all that has been consuming my life, they have not materialized the way they should have over the last couple of years. Yet lately, I'm even dreaming of writing.  

I hadn't really creatively written in years.  But then the other day, though I had somehow lost touch with my writing...my writing found me. 

I was have a horrible day. It was the culmination of many bad days and pure frustration over broken relationships and rough waters.  I wanted to throw something, cry, explode...something.  I needed some way to cope.  To deal with the onset of cumbustion.  Then, almost as if being pulled in a dreary trance, I opened my laptop and through tears, my emotions materialized: 

Shaking and weak, but lifted and moving
She’s the foot in front of the other, positioned for proving
That these tears are not weakness, they are the inner floods draining
Because she is not dying, she is holding on, she is sustaining

She is the whispers that twine into a soft, pleading prayer
The deep drawn breath that fills the chest with air
And when the heart weakens, it’s rhythm left for dead, bloody in the street
She pounds into our inner bass drum and revives it’s steady beat

She is the force that pulls the defeated hands back down from the sky
So they are free to revive the soul that refuses to die
She is the wind on our back that moves us inexplicably on
That pulls our gaze from the ground and towards the morning dawn

She is voice in the distance that beckons the bloodied warrior to rise
To drag her body off the crimson sand and look her past in his eyes
And when the earth swallows us into the mouth of ravenous quick sand
She reaches through the darkness and drags our breathless body to land

She is the vessel that crashes against the crushing tides of life’s relentless sea
Her name is Strength...and tonight she resides in me.

It was total release and it reminded me of what my therapy looks like. I've been craving it ever since.  So, I'm going to give blogging a shot.   To allow my soul to feast on the creative banquet.  To take me back to a familiar place. To bring peace to chaos...to give me, and my bursting little soul... balance.