by Emily Tymus Ihrke, Editor in Chief, gcLi; Director of PK-12 Ethical Leadership Program & Middle School Learning Specialist at University School of Milwaukee in Milwaukee, WI
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”
This one’s about me & Mike Tyson.
Sort of.
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It feels great to lead when we have our A game. When we’re firing on all cylinders. Waking up early, energetic, ready to hustle. The sun is shining on us. We are known and valued. Competent, connected. We know people’s names, they know ours. Bright smiles, big fish, a favorite star, a capable leader. On the dance floor, they’re playing our song (and when we watch from the balcony, we know that song, too).
We can step up, step out, and know with confidence that we’ve got it: we’ll find a way and help others do so as well. Granted, nothing is perfect. Inevitably there are bumps here and there. And sure, from time to time, maybe even a bit of a veneer, but with it there is the steady assuredness that we have what it takes. You, your people, and your skills, knowledge, and character will not only allow you to manage, but also enable you to succeed and gain satisfaction from it.
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But what about when you don’t? When you can’t? When you aren’t?
When the sun is not shining?
When things fall apart.
When you get punched in the mouth.
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Perhaps the body fails, or the relationship fails, or the skill set fails. Maybe it’s feedback that’s not just disappointing but devastating. Or worse. A diagnosis, a death, a deception.
The punch could come from any direction. When it comes, though, there is no way to stop it.
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What do we as leaders do?
It feels so incredibly natural to retreat. To hide. To hibernate. To go into a cocoon. Crawl under that rock, dig into that proverbial hole and stay there.
How do we go on?
How do we lead when we are truly vulnerable?
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In my own fight against Evander Holyfield, it has not been easy.
I have found that so often in my life I have wanted others– students, colleagues, supervisors, professional athletes, principal characters, superheroes– to get back up and keep going, to keep fighting. After a misstep, a mistake, in the face of trauma or shame or horror or fear: I thought, Come on, get back up. Keep going. We are counting on you.
When it was my turn, though, it was less interesting, much less glamorous. The lighting was worse, and there wasn’t a Hollywood score when I got punched in the face.
But there was way more on the line.
I had to reimagine it all. And I had to find a new courage to lead.
This new courage looks different than it does in the movies. It’s much more nuanced and delicate. It’s slower and softer. To be honest, at least for the time being, it’s even quieter and more solitary than before. (And I’m an introvert, so that’s saying a lot.)
It is taking time and patience.
It hasn’t required me to forget who I am, but to rethink my idea of who I am and how my life and career might look.
As Adam Grant’s research tells us, if we Think Again about ourselves and our lives, if we let go of ideas that are no longer serving us, if we are truly open students rather than brittle knowers, we are actually stronger leaders. Flexibility in our minds is ideal.
It means digging deep. Again and again. Loads and loads of reflection. So many tough questions.
For me, it means some answers I don’t like. Contemplative nights. Reconsidering things I thought I knew about myself, about my context, about my own leadership and ways of following.
The act of un-knowing– of unbecoming, of being even more uncertain, of being unsure– is infinite of course, and in that way it is actually more interesting than the alternate options. It’s disruptive and therefore messy and uncomfortable, but in the journey of a leader, it can be incredibly productive. Every interaction can become an opportunity to rethink, relearn, and grow.
In the wobble, in the disorder of one’s life or career, there can awaken in us opportunities for new possibilities, new growth, new prospects that we could not have known before. There is a chance for remarkable discovery.
For me, it’s meant getting up on incredibly unsteady legs– both physically and metaphorically– and finding the strength to walk, and hopefully someday, dance again.
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It isn’t the A game on a sunny day. It’s more like a wet day in suburban Milwaukee.
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Before we’re too glum, though (I know, a wet day in the suburbs of Milwaukee?), there is another truth here, too. The stunning and also-true truth that while you– a leader who is vulnerable– is more un-knowing than before, you are also tougher than you were before. You have to be. That punch got you, and you got back up.
You got punched in the mouth.
And you got back up.
You are still in it, kid.
Your plan is gone. You are different.
But you are still in it.
Changed, yes. Gonna dance again? You better believe it.
Link:
“A Review of Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know” (The Journal of Character & Leadership Development)
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Emily Tymus Ihrke is the founding director of University School of Milwaukee’s PK12 Ethical Leadership program and a middle school teacher. Forever in love with a place called school, over the past 29 years, Emily has taught in public and independent schools, in upper schools and middle schools, in English classrooms, school libraries, and the learning center. She has been a coach, mentor, department chair, and dean, and her professional life has been enriched by presenting at the national and state levels, and serving as a faculty consultant to the College Board and the President of the Wisconsin Council of Teachers of English. The best thing she’s ever had a chance to do is be the mom to her daughter.