A Perspective Different Than Yours
In my previous post I wrote about how my childhood impacted who I am today—particularly the trifecta of my neighborhood, school, and church. In school, I vividly remember the feeling of being embarrassed because there were times we couldn’t go shopping for new school clothes at the beginning of the school year. In grade school and junior high, that was the only thing that was important because it meant fitting in and not being isolated. Most of my clothes were homemade, hand-me-downs or borrowed, and I don’t remember getting my hair done professionally until I was 12 or 13. It’s not that it was important to have material things or go to the shop regularly, but my life circumstances were different than those of the kids I was surrounded by at school (from what I could see). My church and neighborhood were places where the kids looked like me, spoke like me, and seemed to have some of the same struggles in certain aspects.
Thinking about all of these contexts I moved between, my mind whips around as I consider the importance of experiencing different perspectives. My values have expanded (I no longer place such importance on new school clothes), but I do wonder: How can we grow when we isolate ourselves with others that look, think, and speak like us?
Now, as a mother of two, perspective is always in the back of my mind. I am intentional about what I do and how I introduce things to my kids. At this point in their lives at ages 16 and 13, my kids are more world traveled than I was. I am humbly happy about this. At the same time, those experiences don’t trump their daily experiences. In February of 2021 we took a trip to Las Vegas (for our sanity). One afternoon, as we sat outside a restaurant waiting for our pizza to arrive, my daughter observed people walking around, window shopping. She says, “This is the most Black people I’ve seen and been around ever.” My son chimed in with, “yeah me too.” At the time of this trip, neither had ever had a teacher of their same ethnicity. They don’t attend schools that are culturally diverse, but my husband and I expose them to many types of people, places, and cultures, and we give them opportunities to balance out what they are missing in their school experience.
My kids know the difference between where their parents grew up and where they were born and are being raised. In contrast, I never knew I was a “minority” until I moved to Washington in my mid 20s. Call me naive, but I honestly did not realize how much of a melting pot Southern California was. All of my extended family still live there and the kids have visited often, so they are aware of the differences between what we introduce them to and what they experience living in the Pacific Northwest.
Just as I do for my kids, I make a conscious effort to expose myself to different experiences so that I can continue to grow in my personal and professional life. Stagnation can handcuff a person. Perhaps the best example of this is my approach to being a high school administrator.
At the beginning of my first year as an associate principle at my high school, I asked to take on professional development as one of my areas of responsibilities. Why?Because a mentor of mine would always tell me to do the things that are uncomfortable. That’s what grows individuals into great leaders. My comfort zone is always kids, but I hate presenting to audiences of adults and public speaking. My discomfort (that still exists) comes from my past. I don’t see myself as an “academic” or being able to use “big words” when I am around others that have a more robust vocabulary than I. This is a problem, because education is filled with jargon and nuanced catch-phrases that all mean the same thing but change from year to year. I manage by using context clues to gain understanding when I’ve never heard a word that is being spoken. But still, my biggest fear is being viewed by others as the same girl that was made fun of by people I thought were my friends. Those fears run deep: If I say the wrong thing or use the wrong word when speaking one-on-one or to a large group, will I be labeled an incompetent leader?
By being open about my insecurity, I manage to turn these fears into opportunities for healing. I will now ask “what does that word mean?” or acknowledge when something is said that I have never heard before. I am okay with not being the smartest person in the room. I don’t see that as a weakness anymore but as an opportunity to grow. I try to show leadership not by constantly proving myself to others, but by exposing my flaws.
When I chose to take on the role of leading professional development at my school, I admit that I had no clue how to do it. The learning curve was steep but I wasn’t alone in doing the work. Nate was in the wings and already had an idea of what we needed to focus on as a school. I tiptoed into the work my first year. By year two, Nate and I were equally sharing the load (which was tough because we were doing everything via Zoom, so non-verbal feedback was very limited). Five years in, I still get nervous speaking in front of other adults but I find that if I speak from the heart, the nerves subside a bit.
As we approach year six of this work, our journey is still ongoing. Nate and I have a unique working relationship that I appreciate immensely. We question each other's thinking and perspective—not to criticize but to seek understanding of each other's lived experiences. Initially, I was unsure of how this partnership would grow. I was at a new school, working in an area that was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Where would it lead? The work we do allows for different perspectives simply due to who we are. Nate is a white male from Portland with an eclectic background that just leaves me in awe as we share stories while doing “the work”. I am a Black female from Southern California that never knew what it felt like to be a minority until I moved to Washington. That contrast is what allows for this coupling of great work that is messy, challenging, difficult, and perfect. Our working relationship reinforces the idea that perspectives absolutely matter if growth within oneself or others around you is the goal. Starting with a baseline of where people are coming from gives insight and a launch point for future discussions and direction.