Leadership often rewards speed and decisiveness. But sometimes the deeper lesson is found in the pause. Years ago, I learned this on a fourth-grade field trip.
I jump up out of my seat halfway back and bound up the aisle to the front of the school bus. I plop myself into the driver’s seat, grab the wheel, and stomp my foot on the brake as hard as I can.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I catch the eye of the driver standing outside the door of the bus, taking a smoke.
“Whew!”
He looks at me quizzically as I stand up and turn around. I am expecting to see the relief I feel in my pounding chest on the faces of the children and the parents behind me.
Perhaps even applause?
The yellow bus is packed full of excited fourth graders and a few parents who’ve volunteered to help us on this sunny spring afternoon. We just left the science museum in the neighboring town on the annual field trip designed to reinforce the curriculum and provide a change of scenery after a long winter cooped up inside.
The children’s hands are filled with candy treats and souvenirs purchased at the gift shop on the way out. The energy is electric in the kids, but starting to wane in the rest of us.
We’ve stopped at a nearby burger spot to pick up lunches and take a breath before rushing back to school in time for dismissal, where they will board a different set of yellow buses to carry them home. An aromatic mix of grease, sweat, and cigarette smoke floats on the air just atop the sweet smell of springtime.
What I see now are expressions of surprise and utter confusion. The shock turns into uproarious laughter around me before I realize what is happening.
The bus we were on, the one I thought was rolling into the ravine in front of us, was not moving at all. Instead, the bus that was parked beside us is now backing out of its space to head home in front of us. Everyone is safe and more than a little bit amused at the teacher who’s just put on quite a show.
Heat rises from my belly up through my neck and into my cheeks and ears as I blush sheepishly at my mistake. After a moment of embarrassment, I join in the laughter at my own expense and sit back down for the long ride back to school.
What just happened? I can envision the movie version now. Music swells as the character playing Mrs. Talbot (maybe Meryl Streep?) runs feverishly with arms flailing while the screen unfolds the scene in slow-motion for effect. She makes it to the front of the bus just in time to save everyone on board from certain death. There are parades and awards and accolades. Ha!
I wish I could report that I took the opportunity to use that real-life teachable moment to talk with my students about how our brains can play tricks on us, especially if we act too quickly without taking in the full context of our surroundings. I wish I had engaged them in a conversation about how our mistakes can be our best teachers. I did not do any of that.
At the time, I was simply pleased to learn I had the courage within me to stand up and act quickly for the safety of my students if I were called upon to do so. Nevertheless, I was left unsettled by how easily I was fooled by a supposed danger that was not there.
You know what the real problem was, don’t you?
I acted without discernment.
I jumped up.
I moved.
I acted.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up. I was left unsettled by how easily I was fooled by a supposed danger that was not there.
We’ve all seen instances in recent news stories where reactivity and misguided “heroics” end in tragedy.
That’s why real courage is not often seen in split-second decisions but rather in intentional actions after the beat(s) needed to fully assess a situation.
True. Courage might move your feet… but … sometimes wisdom keeps them planted while you take a second look before you call it into action.
Always learning,
Patti Ann
