Have you ever been on an airplane and the turbulence begins? Sometimes it’s a little shake up. Just a few bumps. Barely even noticeable. Sometimes it gets crazy. The plane may dip and drop and cause those around you to gasp. The “fasten seat belt” light comes back on. The pilot may even make an announcement about the current conditions.
What is your first response when your ride gets bumpy? Look to flight attendants.
Y’all. We are the flight attendants.
For better or for worse, these creatures on this ride with us are looking for guidance. Direction. Reaction. They want to feel safe and secure and know that we aren’t all going down. They are looking to the experts for how they should be feeling.
BUT, here’s the catch. What percentage of flight attendants have ever been in an actual crash? Or even an emergency landing? My guess is not many. (Listen, I am just trying to keep my head above water, so I have no desire to research this. And researching “plane crashes” is not what anyone’s spirit needs to do right now. Know what I’m saying?) These men and women don’t just pass out soda and pretzels. They have trained and role played and studied crisis situations, but they are potentially leading us to and through an event they have never experienced.
You guys. That’s us.
We are doing that! We are trying to lead our families through an event we have never experienced. Our children are staring at us, literally watching our every last move, ALL DAY LONG, and we are running out of assurance for the situation. We have so many “what ifs” and “OMGs” running through our head that we can’t even process theirs too.
If we are smack dab in the middle of unfamiliar territory, with a bunch of eyes boring holes into our failures and flaws, we need to be aware of something: Even if we feel unprepared, they have not trained for difficulty in the way we have. They do not have the years of other turbulence. Our past “flights” have colored our view of this most recent ride. Our hindsight changes the way we process this event.
In other words, our feelings and their feelings may be very different.
Yesterday, as I heard the news of the school buildings being closed for the remainder of the year, I instantly felt overwhelmed. And annoyed. And sad. My 5th grader was done with his Elementary School experience. Over. Never to walk the halls as a student again. No more P.E. with Ms. Crocker or chorus with Ms. Belisle. No more high fives from Mrs. Brown-Crawford or trips to the library for a book recommendation from Ms. Horton. No goodbyes for Mrs. Jones or Mr. Grantham. I felt a sense of loss. Surely this is going to be terribly difficult for him.
So I asked…
“I’ll see my friends at the Middle School.”
Done and done.
This is what I have realized. In my attempt to be the best flight attendant possible, I can have a tendency to project my feelings on my kids. Whether it’s sadness or loss or relief or panic or whatever. They MUST be feeling the same way I am. Doesn’t she realize she won’t have a second grade field day again? Doesn’t he see that his first year of JV soccer has come to a screeching halt? And these are TRIVIAL compared to graduations and final experiences that some are forfeiting.
BUT…
What are THEY actually feeling about it? What are they ACTUALLY feeling about it? However you want to say it, we need to let THEM say it.
One thing we know about a life-altering situation is it all comes out in the process. This is not a one-time conversation to be wrapped up with a bow. In the middle of July, or in 2023, my child may feel the effects of missing the end of his school year. But they will be his feelings. And I want to hear them from his mouth.
So, what do I do with MY feelings?
Share them appropriately, with the appropriate people. My eight-year-old doesn’t need to know that I would currently sell her to the lowest bidder. (I don’t think I’ve said that out loud to her. I’ve said it, but not to her. I think.) I have a husband and friends for those words. I can tell her I’m frustrated and need a break. That’s appropriate. Chances are she needs one, too. I can tell my 11-year old that I’m bummed Elementary School is over, but he doesn’t have to be. And if I’m feeling relieved that I have been able to totally clear my calendar and not have to remember one dance class or soccer practice, my children may feel such a loss in that area of their life. This is all so much, but part of good leadership is keeping a pulse on those in your care.
Girls, that’s what we are. Leaders. We are not perfect. We don’t have all the answers. We haven’t done this before. But we were placed with our people for such a time as this. It’s time to step into our role in a new way. Purposefully. Intentionally. And knowing that this flight is preparing us for the next one. Because we know, it will get bumpy again. And we will be ready.
