During my first year as an AP, we were running the quasi-obligatory after school tutoring we always ran - and on which we gathered little data (a post for another day).
At 4:45, as we were dismissing our students, I looked down the hallway and saw a parent absolutely laying into a teacher.
I had no idea what the problem might have been, but this was a teacher who had bouts of anxiety being yelled at by a parent who seemed like a good verbal thrashing was a sport for her (anybody know parents like that?).
While I had no idea what was going on or what had lit her fuse, I stepped between her and the teacher and said, “It’s my fault.”
Red-faced, she whisper-yelled “I called and asked you to send my kid home on the bus, and you didn’t, and now I’ve had to spend gas money I don’t have to come get him.”
Now, we had buses running to take kids home from tutoring (in fact, her car sat blocking the bus lane), but telling her that would have done nothing but thrown fuel on an already raging conflagration.
I had dealt with this parent repeatedly all year. She was in the middle of an ugly divorce (she was working to eliminate any contact between her soon-to-be ex husband and their kids), had lost her job, and was demanding an IEP for her son without going through the evaluation process. In short, she had a lot going on.
But, taking it out on a teacher was just not okay.
The only way I could stop it was redirect her anger towards me, and that’s precisely what I did.
I don’t remember exactly what she said, but it was a litany of injustices (real and perceived) and a demand that I give her gas money (I didn’t). Eventually she stormed off yelling at her kid to follow her.
I looked at the student, his hangdog expression one young people get when the person they love the most embarrass them.
“Hey,” I said, “I love you, [the teacher] loves you, and your mom loves you. We might not always agree on everything , but always on that.” He smiled and nodded, and plodded a slow path to his mom’s car.
We eventually got the buses loaded and headed home and I went and found the teacher. He was staring out the window of his classroom. He asked what he could have done differently and thanked me for stepping in front of the mom’s wrath.
I told him there was nothing he could have done. The parent was angry for a dozen different reasons and this was the only place she felt powerful enough to vent her anger. He nodded and asked why I said it was my fault when I didn’t even know what was going on.
I told him it was my responsibility to protect the students and teachers at our school and the quickest way to get him out of her crosshairs was to put myself in them.
He nodded and looked at me. “I thought you were too young to do this job well. I learned otherwise today.”
I’ll never forget that moment because it was the first time a teacher had told me I was a good leader. That meant the world to me and continues to inform my professional practice today.
If you’re a school leader, support your staff by stepping up and stepping in. Instead of having their back, clear a path in front of them.
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