Last week was one filled with highs and lows. In my school district, we’ve been in school for about a month, and the realities of some of the challenges we face are starting to settle in. And yet, people continue to inspire me with the way they show up for students, for learning, and for each other on a daily basis.
Because there were some hard moments, my reptilian brain went into overdrive last week. As I mention in my upcoming book, Legacy of Learning which is expected to launch in mid-October, I know the reptilian brain all too well. Dr. Laurel Mellin describes in her book, Wired for Joy, that the reptilian brain is the most primitive part of our brain. It sits at the base of our skull and in essence, it is wired to search for threats, and we use it to keep ourselves safe. However, its not great a context, so the reptilian brain often confuses threat to safety with threat to ego.
You read that right. Wowza.
So, our fight, flight, or freeze instincts are often activated in situations when our egos are under attack versus actual threats to personal safety.
This can make our work and daily lives quite challenging if we don’t have the self-awareness needed to sort through our thoughts, feelings, and behavior.
Because feedback both positive and critical was at a high last week, I found myself having to pay close attention to whether my reptilian brain was misfiring. And it was.
I found myself in situation where I told myself stories about people’s body language, what they meant by they said, and what they were really thinking about me or the work. I told myself stories about how they were judging the camping theme I created for a course of study meeting. I told myself stories about what they thought of me because of my Instagram account. I told myself stories about what they were saying about the work when I wasn’t in the room. I told myself stories and I bet 9 times out of 10, they weren’t actually thinking about me at all because I think we often overestimate that.
Then, I had a few moments unprompted where people would say something that dispelled that story I was telling myself.
You see, sometimes, people won’t have great things to say about the work or us. Because this work is hard and important. When this happens, it’s information for us to consider. It doesn’t necessarily mean we are headed in the wrong direction. Sometimes, this information is helpful and informs shifts to our approach or next steps. And sometimes, it’s actually not helpful or constructive.
Understanding the difference is important in this work. As I say in my book, we are not pizza. We cannot please everyone. Pleasing everyone is not the goal. Trusting and inspiring others as we set the direction in a few key areas is the goal. Firm in our direction yet flexible with our methods. And clear about how we will measure success. That’s it. Let’s not over complicate it.
So, let’s free ourselves of the crippling pressure of centering ourselves in every narrative. It’s often not about us at all. And I find that quite liberating and critical to seeing the work clearly.
MEGHAN LAWSON 