and allow yourself to weep for such sadness. Knowing that the next season—in this case the 2014–2015 season—would not come for our local hero.
When I first met Mary, she did not think she was such a hero. She did not think she was worthy to teach calculus. Similar to how a second-grade teacher might not think she can teach fifth grade, Mary thought the content was beyond her knowledge base. She exemplified, however, the second part of Brené Brown’s quote: “Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.”15
Over the years, she would write to me (I was her boss, so to speak) and tell me about how I had been her coach, mentor, and inspiration to become the best teacher she could be. In the end, I would tell her she had it backward. Mary was my coach, my mentor, and my inspiration. She made me want to be the best teacher and leader and best person I could be. I was the one who was imperfect and vulnerable, and she let me know I could be brave and worthy of love and belonging. She had that kind of effect on her students and her colleagues.
It is why love is at the heart of your happiness in this profession.
Mary was a legacy-building, inspirational teacher and friend. She lives in the memories of all of us blessed enough to know her. She did not get to name or claim the school season in which her career would end. For her and her students, it was cut short before she and they were ready. This teacher, who loved students beyond reason, did not get to open up a new school season. And all who knew her suffered for it.
Fast-forward eight months to the start of the 2014–2015 school season. “Will it be a good one or not?” we asked. Mary was not there to respond, however. Then, before you know it, all of a sudden here comes your next season, and your next one—you blink and it is the 2028–2029 season. Graduation for the kindergarten students of 2016–2017! And for some of you reading this book, that will be it. Your final season! No more chances to get it really right!
Take a moment. Think way ahead. Remember too, that like Mary, sometimes we do not always get to name our final school season. That is why making sure this current school season of your life matters and is so important. What would you like to be able to look back on and say you accomplished?
Mary was passionate about making every season of her teaching career really count. She believed in PMA—positive mental attitude—and thought every one of her colleagues and students should exhibit PMA every day (sounds very similar to Seppälä’s 2016 definition of happiness,16 right?).
As the 2014–2015 school year was about to start, I had an opportunity to work with a great California school district as part of the start-of-the-school-year activities. Mary was on my mind, as I was very aware she would not be back in my school district for her thirty-sixth season.
As I walked out of the three-hour session, a veteran teacher and someone I suspect has worked hard for a long time to be more like Mary, stopped me to say thanks. His words did give me pause though, as he said, “It was so great for you to be honest with us and not give a *!#@! about our reaction, good or bad. Thank you for saying what we needed to hear. It was tough, but it was done with a spirit of love.”
You know the heartprint you are leaving on others. You know the real residue of your work life and effort. What do you hope that residue will be? How do you hope your students and colleagues will describe you?
You know, I thought a lot about what he said when I got into my car. I suppose on that day, I was a bit more direct than I normally am, perhaps too direct with these wonderful teachers about to start a new school season. I tried to understand why I was so direct. As I sat in my car, I realized why. For several minutes, there were quiet tears. The tears were for my love of Mary. She didn’t get to start a new season like all the teachers I had just had the privilege to interact with. The tears were for my own inability to deeply impact those who get the privilege of another season, and somehow wishing I could have given her more. I think too the tears were for the students who deserve for their teachers to demonstrate love for each of them and to have great seasons just like Mary, every year.
Teachers and leaders just like you.
Find your inner Mary Layco and go for it in this school season of your professional life. Bring an increased understanding of love to your work, your colleagues, and your students. Don’t let any form of cynicism win the day.
Work together, learn from one another, and give it everything you’ve got. There really is nothing to lose—other than the privilege of that next school season.
At the start of this chapter, I asked you to name the best teacher you have ever known and three characteristics that describe what this person contributed or contributes to your life.
As you end this chapter, I would like you to turn the heartprint task around and think about one colleague at work who needs you to be someone who loves him or her (in the sense that you are going to pay attention to that person more) enough that you become a person he or she looks to as a positive contributor to his or her life.
Remember, this is not something you will declare to your colleague, “I have chosen to notice you more this year!” Think of it as just a more quiet and subtle way to improve the culture of love for the colleagues in your workplace each day.
Are you still in love with your work? And your colleagues and students? How do you know?
Name a colleague or student and write out a few actions you might take to be more fully present for him or her. Start your commitment with I will …
To some extent, as you complete the My Heartprint, you will notice it requires a certain amount of compassion for your colleague. Happiness in our profession and in the school workplace requires a personal compassion check—time and time again, over and over and over.
What does it mean to experience a compassionate workplace? And what exactly is the compassion connection to happiness? That is next.
Got Compassion? Check!
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
—Dalai Lama
A fully formed heart—a heart that pursues happiness in its work for students, for colleagues, and for you—finds completeness in its compassion.
Don’t read too fast. Read that sentence again.
A fully formed heart—a heart that pursues happiness in its work for students, for colleagues, and for you—finds completeness in its compassion.
Run a Google images search for the word compassion, and you’ll see several images with a heart in them. To become a teacher whom a child or colleague would follow and to become an administrator whom a teacher or colleague would follow, we demonstrate and develop a culture of compassion. It becomes part of our heartprint over time.
She was a colleague of mine. We taught many of the same classes together. She taught in Room 212. I taught in Room 210. This was before the professional learning community (PLC) era. She was older than I, and I did not know too much about her. We mostly lived in different worlds: my life filled with teaching, coaching, and my own young children; her life filled with friends and activities outside of school.