Why even seasoned leaders can lose perspective when it gets personal
It was not pretty. It was embarrassing, both personally and professionally. I should not have let it happen, but I did, and I learned a huge lesson from it. Let me take you back.
The Incident
During my tenure as a school principal, one of my responsibilities was student discipline. When a student’s behavior reached my desk, I was expected to make thoughtful, fair, and appropriate decisions about consequences. I took that seriously. I was reflective and prayerful over every incident.
One day, I learned that a student had taken a snack from the desk of a teacher who was out of the office at the time. Several other students knew about it. On the surface, the effect was minor. In principle, though, it was theft, and it was intentional. The student walked into a staff member’s office and took something that was not hers to take. I could not countenance that.
After reflection, I determined that a suspension was in order. I met with the student, and it was a productive meeting, although she was slow to admit her wrongdoing. Then, as our process requires, I notified her father of the incident and my decision. The word suspension shook him, as I knew it would. No parent wants to hear it. But I felt quite justified.
The Confrontation
When he arrived at regular dismissal, he approached me outside and voiced his displeasure. He believed the punishment was too severe for the offense. We went back and forth, and our tempers and our words grew hotter. Remember, this was happening in full view of students and other parents. Not good.
He demanded that I meet with him inside to pursue it further. I took great umbrage at his tone and said so. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds.
Then I saw my assistant principal walking toward us, and something clicked. What am I doing? This is insane. I managed to lower the temperature by suggesting we revisit the matter by phone in a few hours.
The Walk Back
As I walked to my office, the weight of it hit me. I had broken so many rules. I had failed to keep my emotions harnessed. I had let it happen in public. Worst of all, I had taken his challenge personally, when what I should have seen was a father advocating for his child’s fairness.
In the end, we both apologized to each other and resolved the discipline appropriately. But it didn’t end there, at least not for me. I felt I had brought reproach on our school. In my twelve years as principal, my staff saw me cry only twice. Once was when I announced I was leaving. The other was the day I walked through the building and personally apologized to every teacher and staff member for my behavior with this parent.
That night, I was so disappointed in myself that I thought I should resign. My wife talked some sense into me. Even so, it took several days to climb out of that dark place.
Why Experience Didn’t Protect Me
Here is what stings most: I knew better. I had years of experience, a clear process, and a habit of prayerful reflection. None of it mattered in that moment, because the situation was up close and personal.
Think of a surgeon. She may operate calmly on strangers all day, but when the patient on the table is her own child, medical ethics guidelines advise handing the case to a colleague. It isn’t a lack of skill. Skill and steadiness are different things, and closeness to the outcome can shake the steadiest hands. Leadership works the same way. Experience gives you tools, but emotion can make you forget you’re holding them.
Three Lessons
1. Keep your emotions harnessed. Your team needs to see a cool head. They need to know you are not coming unglued, especially when the pressure is on.
2. Remember that you are human. Our condition is broken at the core. No title, résumé, or track record exempts us from that.
3. The battle starts in the mind. Train your mind daily. It needs constant renewing, as the Apostle Paul reminds us in Scripture (Romans 12:2).
Your Turn
Have you ever lost it? What did you do afterward? And what did you learn about yourself?
I’d love to hear your story in the comments.