Hitting the Mark and Flipping the Coin

Photo by Vitolda Klein on Unsplash

I am blessed to have worked at the elementary school my son attended.  I wasn’t a teacher or part of his academic life, but I was able to see him in the hallways, often when I had forgotten I had a family member so close by.  Over the years, I witnessed a young boy, walking speedily while restraining his wish to run, mature into a preteen with a new slow and steady shuffle.  No matter what stressful or frustrating task I was dealing with at my desk, seeing him through the glass wall of the school office filled my heart.

My son was a regular hall walker.  The confines of classrooms could hold his interest for only so long before the need for another stroll became pressing.  Thankfully, his first Principal, and my boss, worked tirelessly to pull our school, and its rule loving teachers, out of the 1950s educational thinking.  Students had hall passes that allowed them permission to leave the class without being questioned or sent back to their rooms.  The Principal believed that a brief break from routine was acceptable and allowed.  My son maintained that brief was a matter of perception.  In the hallways, free to think and stretch his legs, time had no limits and he would often enjoy several laps before returning.  In second grade, when the Principal asked why he was walking in the opposite direction of his classroom, he politely explained that he needed to take the long way.  She understood.

In our glassed-in office, after she shared this story, we would laugh together whenever we saw him in the halls.  “Look at that!  There he goes—taking the long way again.”

He wasn’t the only one.  Over the years, once he graduated and the first Principal retired, I stayed at my desk and watched many sweet students try to find relief by taking the long way.

These past two weeks, for various reasons, I chose to take the long way for a change.  I needed a bit of relief from the confines of routine.  Taking the long way is out of character for me.  I used to pride myself on showing up at all costs.  Piles of paperwork to submit for taxes, unplanned road trips to see an eclipse or long nights of insomnia were deemed as unacceptable excuses for missing the mark.  For this self-imposed mark, I had to show up every single time.

Of course, there was a personal price to pay for that rigidity.  The narrative becomes a deepening trench.  The view becomes narrow.  Laughter becomes scarce.  And, to be fair, there are rewards for this determination.  Most of them found in what other people think.  So hardworking, so reliable, and so successful feed the admiration junkie.  The long way seemed ridiculous.

What if taking the long way provides an opportunity?  Why has it taken so long for me to see this possibility?  Why did I so stubbornly refuse to flip the coin?  My only guess is fear.  The same outdated standards our Principal questioned for her students has all of us imprisoned at times.  She understood.  Now I do too.

Substack encourages the writer to meet expectations, to keep a streak going, to meet the mark that was originally self-imposed.  (Let’s remember that.)  The real mark we have to hit is to show up for ourselves every single time.  Creativity is everywhere and is not measured by this Substack world.

My son is finishing his university degree.  Like many students his age, this degree has taken longer than imagined.  The past few years have been a long haul and yet saying good-bye to routines, to beautiful campuses, to the familiar is scary.  I know if he could get another hall pass, take another walk around the same safe hallways, and give himself time to think more about what is next he would.  He has matured enough to see that coins have two sides and sometimes they need to be flipped.

The opportunity is found in the flipping and not the side the coin lands on.  It is in our ability to change, to embrace a new perspective, to say yes to the next adventure and to trust that the hall walkers will return to the classroom.  Can we be our own open-hearted teachers who keep judgement at bay?  When our own best interests are non-negotiable, flipping the coin becomes a game filled with possibilities, laughter, long ways and routines.  Isn’t life fun?