The gift of a good goodbye

I've often heard that to truly ascertain the culture of a school, notice how you are greeted in the halls, but you can also learn how a school values individuals by the way it says goodbye. 

Goodbyes are a natural part of life. Some are anticipated and expected like the goodbyes that come when students move from elementary school to middle school, middle school to high school, and high school to college. With those goodbyes, schools typically plan special events or ceremonies to acknowledge the memories made and the growth gained during the students' time at the school. But what happens when the goodbye comes unexpectedly ----a student transfers or a teacher moves and has to leave or even leaves to work at another location? How do you acknowledge those goodbyes? While the timing may not allow for a ceremony or celebration, there are three things you can do to make sure you part on good terms:

HOW YOU CAN GIVE A GOOD GOODBYE:
Acknowledge the person's time and her value to your school: It's important to verbalize not only the length of time spent together, but also that person's positive contributions to your culture. 
For example, you might say to the student who is transferring, "Even though I've only been your teacher for a few weeks, I am thankful you were in my class. You are a student who always contributes positively to our class discussions." The more specific and personal the comment is, the greater its impact will be. 

Affirm the person's place in your school AND his potential in his new placement: For children, switching schools can be confusing especially if they have moved around often. They can feel lost and as if they don't have a place to belong. When I worked as elementary principal, I would always tell my students who withdrew, "Remember ---once an Eagle, always an Eagle no matter where you are" and then add "I know you will be a blessing to your teachers and new friends at your new school." 

If possible, give a small token as a memorial to your time together: Whether it's a handwritten note, flowers, a picture, or some other keepsake, taking the time to give a gift, sends the message that the person is valued. It also gives them a tangible reminder of the time with your school. 

Whether these three actions occur in a brief five minute conversation or in front of a room full of people,  regardless of the circumstances surrounding the departure, it is imperative to both the school and the person leaving that the separation be an intentional, good goodbye. For the school community, it serves as a testimony of their commitment to valuing the individuals they serve. And for the person leaving, it transforms a closing door into a gateway to a bold, fresh start. 

Burnt biscuits

It was May 1997 and my husband, David, and I had just moved into a new house. One evening, we cooked dinner for my Aunt Carline to thank her for all she had done to help us get settled. In fact, she had singlehandedly packed up and then unpacked my kitchen. I wanted everything to be perfect for her, so I set the table with pretty placemats and lit candles. I even wrote out place cards. Rather than serving the food from pans on the stove, I actually put it in serving dishes on the table. This was a high class meal....except for the fact that I forgot to pull the biscuits out of the oven. We didn't realize until halfway through the meal, and the biscuits were completely black.  I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself. I apologized profusely as David started to move to the trash can with the smoking biscuits, but then Aunt Carline indignantly cried out "What are you doing? You can't throw those away? Put them on this table." David and I watched as Aunt Carline grabbed and opened a biscuit. Surprisingly, the center of the biscuit was perfectly cooked. I thought she was only going to eat the center, but instead she ate the whole thing. As she swallowed the biscuit, she looked at me and smiled. "Those were delicious. Don't you dare throw those away!" She insisted that we wrap up the remaining ones for her to take home.

While it is possible that my Aunt Carline truly enjoyed the taste of burnt biscuits (She is known for her eclectic tastes --- apple pie with a slice of cheese, peanut butter on bologna.), it is more likely that she was trying to go out of her way to make me feel better about my failure. She unknowingly taught me what to do with burnt biscuit moments:

• Realize that burnt biscuits have value. Don't rush to throw them out, or pretend they aren't flawed. Savor the moment, grow through it, learn from it and years later, laugh about it.
• Use burnt biscuits as a speed bump not a road block. Aunt Carline could have criticized me and made me feel like a hopeless cook. Instead she responded with a grace that gave me room to grow. 
• Burnt biscuits are a product not a person. Moments of failure are not meant to define a person; rather they are meant to develop a person. Despite my failure, I wasn't henceforth branded the biscuit burner. It was just one moment in my culinary journey. My aunt's response gave me permission to keep trying even when you fail. 

Although this happened almost twenty years ago, these lessons didn't come to me until recently. In fact, it was this past Saturday morning as I pulled another batch of burnt biscuits out of the oven. I looked at my son, Johnny, who eyed them warily and said, "Johnny, let me tell you what your Aunt Carline does with burnt biscuits..."

The Power of the Moment

This past summer, my family was in the midst of uncertain times. I had lost my job at the private school where my sons attended. Without the employee discount, we could no longer afford to send them to the school they had gone to since kindergarten. They were heartbroken. To try and cheer everyone up, I took them to see the new Disney movie "Inside Out". I thought it would be a light-hearted distraction and maybe give the boys and me something to laugh about, but then the scene in the video above came on the screen. While Bing Bong mourned the loss of his childhood friendship with Riley,  my sons and I sat in the theater holding hands and crying.  On the way home, my son, Johnny, said, "Mom, when you first lost your job, my sadness took over, but now, I think my joy is coming back." It was as if taking that moment in theater freed him up to feel happy again, to move on into our new normal. 

In May 2010, my hometown of Nashville, experienced a devastating flood. The neighborhoods around the Youth Center that my husband  and I directed were destroyed. We partnered with non-profits and churches to open an emergency shelter out of our gym, serving meals and collecting supplies. We took in dear friends whose homes had been flooded. I kept busy sorting through donations, washing clothes for flood victims, and delivering food, but as I kept moving from one job to the next, inside I felt sad, scared, confused, overwhelmed, and even guilty because our home remained standing while homes two streets behind us were gone. One busy morning, I stopped by my friend Velma's house to pick up food she had prepared for one of the community meals. I left my car running while I quickly stepped inside her door. When she asked me "How are you?", I started to answer "I'm fi---", but the tears took over to the point that I could barely speak. Embarrassed, I uttered, "I'm sorry I'm crying". Velma reached out and hugged me. She rubbed my back and whispered, "It's ok...take your moment...sometimes you just have to take your moment".  So I did, and after that moment, I was able to focus and move forward. 

Sometimes you just need to take the moment ----to cry, to rage, to feel, to breathe, and by doing that, you allow yourself to get back to living. Unfortunately taking the moment is not something we are wired to do. It has to be learned and re-learned which means at times, you have to be the one who gives the moment ----to your spouse, your children, your friend, your co-worker, your student. By providing that safe harbor for those around you where they can feel and speak openly without fear of judgement or reproof, you give them the fuel needed to press on.