“If I could steal moments to live again, what would they be?”
Think about it.
It’s your press release.
I’ll explain.
Losses bring confusion.
“I’ll never have someone like her in my life again.”
“How could she leave us so soon.”
“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
You read from this script at first when death catches you off-guard. Soon, these honest reactions become automatic. Their meaning fades, and this supplies distance from the shock until…
1. Ooze Authenticity
Although, I first thought about her husband, I flashbacked to the day we met.
“It’s Mrs. Press-nahl.” Cheryl corrected my use of a z-sound in her last name. Her smile told me she wasn’t snobbish. She wore the grin of a first-generation college student. Except, Cheryl loved her husband and their journey together. With these details, my mind took this snapshot to pull out later.
As Cheryl reached out and grasped my hand, her touch was strong, confident, and compassionate. Each of these personality traits added genuineness to her service as our campus leader. Mrs. Presnall’s laid back nature soon grew contagious. When Cheryl watched me teach, she wanted to make me better.
Mrs. Presnall didn’t play political games, instead, she focused on leadership. She saw no need to interfere with her faculty’s job execution, Although, she wanted us at our best and rewarded our loyalty. Still, her focus was on what was ideal for our school. I couldn’t deny Mrs. Presnall became our principal because she loved kids and believed in their education.
2. Reflect on the Foggy Memories
Bear with me, as I sort through my scattered memories of Cheryl. Fog covers most of them like it does trees in a forest. One minute you can see every leaf and trunk in a photograph, the next one blends clarity into haziness. But I’ll try to batch up these moments of her impact on my life together like firewood tied up with a bright pink bow.
3. Go Where It’s Painful
I never visited the principal’s office, not one time in twenty years of education. Trouble cornered me after school let out. Yet, one day, trouble made an exception. During my eighth period, I heard a knock at the door. Instead of Paul Revere, Cheryl rode in as my harbinger of unwelcome news.
Grandpa wanted to kill the messenger, but Freud’s psychology was the one on trial. So, my teaching career hung underneath the guillotine of criticism. A controversial curriculum equaled one angry, fundamentalist Christian grandparent. The sharks of conservatism circled my teaching career.
Cheryl stood between grandpa and the school’s administration to protect me. The CFO stood ready to release the blade onto my career’s neck, but not Cheryl. She saw value in me beyond any poor decision I may have made in my classroom.
4. Trace Honesty’s Fate Lines
Although Cheryl supported me all the time, this next incident involved a student’s assault. The event happened on the last day of school while she was away from campus. Later, this student acted as if nothing had happened. I felt uncomfortable as he joined his friends at graduation.
Mrs. Presnall, although she wasn’t aware of the wired sculpture assault, listened to me. She dismissed my assailant from the grounds. After the confrontation, I felt unsafe at school. I spent hours in prayer and in discussions with colleagues. I knew justice wouldn’t come from his parents, so I filed charges with the county.
As the judge ruled on my case, my assailant sunk to his knees and exploded, enraged. This reaction held him in contempt of court. As the bailiff escorted me to the exit, I could hear him shouting. “You ruined this (bleep) graduation with my (bleep) friends!”
On the drive home, I thought about his outburst. It turned out to be an omen of my future trials. Never again would an administrator stick up for me as Cheryl did.
5. Bask in Humanity
In another recollection of Cheryl, my wife came to campus with my son in his carrier. This is where I run into one of those foggy memories. Was it before or after the carnival? Who knows? Cheryl saw my wife and son and suggested. “Jeff, why don’t you and Jennifer take Joshua through the Moonwalk.”
The red and white pleather volleyball material felt like a stiff, puffy balloon. As I felt the texture, I envisioned a circus clown’s bent animal shapes. Baby Joshua’s delicate balance wavered. But as he walked, his curiosity swallowed up any of his earlier insecurity. On the red, rubber, playing field, Jennifer and I extended our hands to form his protective end zones. Our baby’s face glowed like the fabric of a colorful, hot-air balloon lit at twilight.
Jennifer and I backed away as Joshua explored this unknown planet’s surface. His shrill of joy as he bounced rivaled an engineer’s first tug of his steam whistle.
To Cheryl, it didn’t matter if our son remembered his bouncy, adventure down a vinyl, stiffened, runway. She knew memory-making was for adults, too.
6. Confess What You Love
Last, I loved Cheryl’s wit and wisdom. I remember one day she said of a student, “Force him to take classes? Why? One day, he’ll own his own million-dollar business and be our boss.” Likewise, I knew this student would have remarkable future success. She and I saw past his lazy exterior to his untapped potential.
Another memory of Cheryl came at a staff meeting. Mrs. Presnall told us of her first zoo school field trip as a first-year principal. I laughed so much as I listened to this disastrous story unfold. It left me hungry for more tales. I wish I could remember the hilarious details.
As a rule at my charter school, the good disappeared. So, Cheryl’s principalship here was short-lived. I stomached the district’s replacement. But stale cornflakes don’t compare to the fresh taste of Cracklin’ Oat Bran. FFA administration robbed us of our trusted, revered campus leader. As I watched her drive away, her plans for our school floated off in many directions. They fled like a bunch of run away, multicolored balloons.
7. Dig Through the Darkness
The next year, I felt Cheryl’s absence. Did I fail my next teacher evaluation because of all the new administrator pressure? Was it the endless job responsibilities? Was the cause an unconscious desire for a venue change? I’m not sure. All I know is that I went from a stellar evaluation to a remedial one. My 2009 teacher evaluation was miraculous. I swear I performed on a few hours’ sleep. Yet, my performance disappointed no one.
A trend set itself in motion as I fell from my new principal’s graces. I experienced a steady decline for the rest of this school year. This educational environment no longer fits my personality after the assault.
But Cheryl kept me believing in the possibilities. She told me I would make a great college teacher. When this opportunity presented itself, I discovered Cheryl’s psychic abilities. I loved teaching adults, even if it was part-time. Six years later, I became a degreed professor.
Then college politics left me jobless. I floundered like a caught fish flopping back and forth from the water to the shore. It mattered little whether the school I joined was in a rich or poor neighborhood; I didn’t fit. But I kept grateful as I thought of the lives I affected in education and those souls who helped guide me like Cheryl.
8. Revisit the Messenger
Cheryl’s dedication to us became a beacon of honesty, goodness, and kindness. She extended it to everyone, kids, and staff alike. There was never a doubt that she would be more than fair in how she treated staff members. I found this quality in few principals or bosses which followed her.
My career path wound through various forms of geography. I went through valleys, deserts, caves, and visited all streams of consciousness. Grateful, I tip my cap to the morning star of well-lived lives surrounding me. Cheryl’s life, as I watched her fight cancer from afar, was one of those stars. Like a waning star, she fought to shine and stay in the sky with all her might. Yet, gravity wins.
9. Present Your Priceless Gift
In this world of memories, I re-gift her compassion, her legacy to me. This walk through my foggy forest of recollections is my gift to her husband, Scott, family, and all her loved ones. It’s my Press release. Yes, we’ll all miss Cheryl, but we will also remember her.
Standing under the cascading fountains of gratitude, I tell you this. Soak in the power of your morning stars, those who fill you up with hope. Steal away from your mind, your own press releases to share. This love released through your talents is nothing short of priceless.
Wrap Up
“So, if you could steal moments back from your life to relive, what would they be?”
1. Savor times when you give to others through your talents.
2. Share your wondrous and dramatic life stories.
3. Add your own spices.
4. Send out your “Press” releases.
5. Still confused? Steal mine.
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