Scarred But Smarter

Drivin' n' Cryin's song "Scarred but Smarter" has a good line in it: "I think how foolish I must have looked/To think I could be down for good." It's true. We're all down at some point. But does that mean we're out? 

We had parent open house at school last night. It was long and tedious and overwhelming and I can only imagine how the teachers and staff who had been at school yesterday for 12+ hours felt. But I love our head of school and, in his opening comments as he welcomed us, he shared this anecdote. He said one year when he was at another school, he was speaking with a parent and made the comment that he wished he could walk behind every, single student every day and ensure that they had a perfect day. 

Later, as he reflected last night, he realized that this wasn't exactly true. He wanted his students to fall so that they could learn to get back up. He acknowledged he wanted kids to experience small failures as its in these challenges where character is built and shaped. As he spoke, it occurred to me how broken bones can actually make you stronger. How scars can make you prettier. 

I know first-hand that the sweetest victories I've experienced are ones that didn't come easily. Now, this is easy for me to tell you, adult-to-adult, but when I think about my sweet daughter, you better believe I want to walk behind her. I want to ensconce her in bubble wrap and walk ahead of her, looking for cracks in the sidewalk, bullies, and bees. I want to and would protect her from any and all assaults, injustices, and injuries (physical, emotional, and otherwise). Except I don't. 

I want her to fall (a little). I want her to trip. I want her to work hard and realize the disappointment when it's ultimately not hard enough. I want her to be betrayed (just a smidge). I want her to totally flub something up. I want her to wish for something. Pray for something. To want something really badly and then it not happen. I want her to learn and know the value of unanswered prayers. I want her to learn not just to get back up but to leap up and yell, "I'm OK!" 

I remember going on a big pitch with my boss one time. We'd worked tirelessly on this PowerPoint presentation, getting it just right. The right slides, in the right order, and the right length. We practiced. We rehearsed. It was locked and loaded. We got to the clients' place, got set up in their conference room, exchanged pleasantries and then got ready to wow them with this presentation. It didn't work. Something wasn't working. The computer wasn't talking to the projector or the projector wasn't talking to the screen. I don't know what happened but there was failure to launch. Houston, we have a problem. I was silently, inwardly panicking and I'm not a panicker. As my boss fiddled with cords and restarted computers and checked connections, I watched as the clients grew increasingly restless. There was sighing and shifting and a general "what's going on?"ness. 

After a minute or two, my boss said, "the best laid plans, right? Well, let's do this old school." And then she talked. She closed the lid of her laptop, she leaned across the table on her elbows in a way that said "let's do this" and drew them in. I watched as they subconsciously leaned into her, physically drawn in by the conversation. By the end, the deal was sealed. Hands were shaken and a contract was signed. Done. I was astounded. 

Life lesson learned: things don't always go as planned. You adapt. You keep your head about you. You have a "plan B" and you use it. 

So, the next time something doesn't go your way, look for the opportunity, the silver lining. And embrace it.