The Living Experiment
Most of my childhood fears I gave up decades ago, but only recently did I retire my lifelong fear of the highest among authority figures: school principals.
These days there are few authority figures in my life. Instead I am one, because I am Mom. As such, I am motivator and cheerleader, the maker of rules and the purveyor of punishments. I dish up regular helpings of loving direction to my kids. I am accustomed to wielding authority.
But as a child, I was on the receiving end.
My principal phobia began in the 4th grade when mean Mr. Fanshaw gave me a demerit for participating in a schoolyard "chicken" fight. Mr. Fanshaw's chilly demeanor routinely paralyzed the vocal chords of kids visiting his office. Nonetheless, I professed my innocence, truthfully saying I had been on the swings during the alleged crime, but the demerit stayed on my record.
Years later in high school, I was summoned to the principal's office to defend myself yet again, this time justifying my right to print a controversial story in the school newspaper. After I argued - convincingly I thought - why the story should be printed, he said, "Irregardless,. . ." I interrupted, "Mr. Sullenger, with all due respect, 'irregardless' is not a word. Regardless stands on its own. The prefix 'ir' is redundant." Mr. Sullenger was taken aback, as was I. In an instant I remembered that he was Principal, I was Pipsqueak, and who was I to correct his grammar? We both knew I was right, at least about the grammar, but I didn't get to print my story.
For 15 post-high school years, I never once thought about principals. So was I surprised when, on the first day my elder son started kindergarten, I spotted one. It was at a back-to-school coffee, and there he was, unmistakable, wearing a dark suit and speaking in a microphone.
His name was Mr. Celeste. He didn't look intimidating, didn't remind me at all of Mr. Fanshaw or Mr. Sullenger. Even so, I had the grim realization that, through my children, principals would be part of my life again for about the next 15 years.
I soon learned that our school has a terrific principal. He is a soft-spoken, caring man, very approachable, extremely committed and competent, and highly respected on campus. The fact that his mere presence at school made me anxious had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Over the years, my volunteer work helped soften the phobia. When I casually spoke with Mr. Celeste on the blacktop, I maintained my composure, my palms barely breaking a sweat. And when many parents began addressing him by his first name, I did, too. It felt shocking but liberating, and soon it seemed reasonably natural. "Bob" and I even shared a laugh or two. I was recovering.
About two years ago I recovered fully. I disagreed with Bob on a PTA matter, and as I called him by his first name and held his eye, I made my point without feeling intimidated. This was a principal who was worthy of great respect. In fact, he was so "principled" and such a brilliant administrator that I wasn't scared at all anymore, even as we disagreed.
I am phobia free these days. Last Spring, during a school event, I even dragged him onto the school blacktop to dance the twist with me. He was reluctant to boogie at first, but soon we both relaxed and had fun. Judging by the smiles on both our faces, I was reasonably sure I would not even earn a demerit.
Kerri Havnen Gordon, a Mountain View resident, writes The Living Experiment monthly for the Town Crier.