In Which I Learn The Customer is NOT Always Right

You know how every once in a while, something hits you smack in the face and knocks you for a loop?  A couple of weeks ago a friend posted this article on Facebook:  The Top 5 Reasons "The Customer is Always Right" is Wrong.  For most people, it was an "interesting article."  For me, it was an eye-opener as to why I don't make a good administrator.

I still have angst over my time as the director of a small, private school.  I had been a teacher there for over ten years and when the director left I thought I might be able to take on a new role.  I was recently divorced and ready for a change.

Big mistake!

The trouble was, I was a people pleaser.  I felt I needed to be able to please everyone, but in the end I ended up pleasing no one.  Without meaning to, my efforts to satisfy the parents, (i.e. the customers,) ended up discounting my most important resource... the wonderful teachers with whom I had always enjoyed a collegial relationship.  By trying to help resolve a few parents' unreasonable issues, I created a hostile environment for the people I should have been protecting.  No longer was the school I adored a fun and generative place for me to be.  I had gone from being a popular teacher to being "The Man". After three years of ever increasing anxiety over my inability to pull families and teachers together toward a common goal, I was a basket case.  I knew it was time for me to leave.

I've been recovering from this experience for the past five years and while I knew I had gotten past the initial heartbreak and regained most of my confidence, I was still uneasy. Then came this article, which made me slap my forehead and say, "Duh!  Of course!"  It all made sense.  As a result, I think I have finally been able to bring some closure to that episode in my life.

It's not easy for me to admit openly that I was such a complete and utter failure at something.  (I don't think that's ever easy for anyone.)  But it's important for my growth to do so.  I owe a deep and sincere apology to each of the fine teachers who were a part of the school at that time.  I let you down at a time when you needed propping up and for that I am truly sorry.

Yet as painful as my administrative experience was, I wouldn't be the same person I am today without it.  Happily, I can now say that I am thriving once again in the classroom.  Not only that, since leaving my old school I have become a much better teacher.  The work I have done with active participatory learning and conflict resolution in my new classroom has clarified for me what it means to be a teacher.  I am filled with gratitude that I have been able to learn from a painful experience and that I am once again where I was always meant to be.

Ax Man... for the "Connoisseur of Crap"

One of the hallmarks of cat ladies is their propensity to have rather cluttered homes. Most people wonder how one person can amass so much crap. I always use the excuse that it's because my parents grew up during The Depression, when people saved everything. Nothing went to waste, whether it be food, clothing, string, tin foil or other weird shit. As a child, I was constantly admonished to "clean up my plate" because of the poor, starving children in other obscure parts of the world and because I didn't appreciate what it was like to grow up in The Depression when food was scarce. Like all self respecting children, I offered to box up the lima beans and liver and send them off to those poor, starving children (because I'm generous like that.) And like all children who offer that suggestion, I sat at the table until the lima beans and liver were finally choked down. (To this day, food that enters my home is not discarded until long after it's utility as a science experiment has been thoroughly exhausted.)

Little, if anything, was ever thrown out around our house... for example, clothes that were too small were handed down to the younger siblings, regardless of gender. (I think my brother looked very fetching in the dresses we gave him.) So I learned to save everything. My house is packed to the rafters with clothes I will never wear again and furniture I might need "someday". Vlad's baby clothes will certainly still be in style when (and if) he ever has children and he'll need the old towels and linens for his first apartment.

And then I became a teacher... where there are always dioramas to be made, submarines and spaceships to fashion out of cardboard and holiday gifts to make for parents. Plus, there's the equipment for assorted science experiments as well as costumes and props for plays. Which, of course, necessitate a variety of weird "stuff".

Now, anyone can accumulate a variety of weird "stuff" through daily living. But if you want to become a "connoisseur of crap" like me, you must go to Ax Man.


My sister introduced us to Ax Man when we visited her in Minneapolis. Talk about a place to "discover the useful and unique!" This is it! It's chock full of all sorts of "stuff". Need a gas mask? A weather balloon? An iron lung? A haz-mat suit? They've got it. (Although, they say the iron lung is not actually for sale, which is very disappointing as it would have made a great "time out" space for recalcitrant children.) They even have stylish displays of creative ways to use the "stuff". But you have to look in all the nooks and crannies to find the real treasures...

(Actual picture of the interior of Ax Man.)

Trips to Ax Man became a requirement of all future visits to the Twin Cities. Half of my dinnerware came from Ax Man... leftover plastic dishes and trays from the days when airlines still served food. (I know... ancient history.)


And how about this gem...

It's not everyone who can pull the glass from stop lights out of her attic. As they say... you never know when a stop light might come in handy... like in pretend space ships.

Then there are the kazillion film canisters... great for alka-seltzer rockets.

Terrarium globes... perfect for the portholes in cardboard submarines.

Assorted colored wires, casters, the balls from inside a computer mouse, bright yellow haz-mat-banana-hats, caution tape, body parts from mannequins, wooden bowling pins, disembodied doll heads, wooden shoe lasts.... the list goes on and on.

You can see where I'm going with this, can't you? I have to keep all this stuff. It's just far too cool to throw out. Although, I confess, with all the crap in my attic and basement it does become a bit tricky to locate a particular item at any given moment. But that's beside the point. The important thing is to keep everything! Because....

"You never know when you might need it."

And hence, a cat lady is born.

School's Out... and My Reign of Terror is Over!

Yesterday was the last day of school for the year.  A good time was had by all. That also means that I'm no longer the responsible adult in charge. Can you believe they put me in charge in the first place?  To paraphrase Vic... 

What Were They Thinking?

The fact that they would take someone who barely escaped Mommy Jail and who is a confirmed Cat Lady and put them in charge of an entire school should definitely give one pause.   

Instead of putting the fear of god into anyone sent to the principal's office, I found that I was a magnet for kids who wanted to come hang out!   Kids would actually beg to come have lunch with me so they could play with the tree house and rubber chickens.  There were many days I went to go home, only to find a rubber chicken in my coat sleeve.  

Miscreants, one and all!  

When the Upper Middle Grades teacher couldn't find his class, the first place he'd look would be in my office.  OOPS!  

They actually formed a club called "The Beach Club" for those who got to hang out for lunch. They came up with the name "Beach Club" based on the Zen sand garden in my office that they liked to mess around with.  HAH!  Like it provided any atmosphere of Zen serenity as promised on the outside of the box it came in.  Why is it these things never work for me?

The only rule for Beach Club membership was that you weren't allowed to whine or complain while you were there.  No Butt-Chunks allowed.  (FYI... Butt-Chunk is a professional term used for someone who is always being annoying.)  Whining or complaining would result in immediate expulsion from the club.  

As part of the initiation into the Beach Club, you had 

to be willing to have your photograph taken with a rubber chicken hanging from your nose. (Founding members of the Beach Club are shown in the tasteful picture to your right.)  

We enjoyed many a lunch together, goofing around. spewing milk out of our noses when we laughed and spilling food all over the furniture. As a result, I kept up the Cat Lady appearance in my office. Big stains on the furniture, papers everywhere, candy wrappers on the floor, wads of paper that missed the trash can... etc.  You get the picture.

Occasionally, I had to act like a grown-up to keep them in line.  It was not pretty.  Imagine the principal of your school coming after you, ranting and brandishing a rubber chicken.  

"LOOK OUT!  SHE'S PISSED!"

At one point, someone in the office thought it would be a good idea to buy me a bull-horn. Again.... 

WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?

It had a really cool siren that could be used to scare the crap out of everyone just for fun!  Being a very small school, there was really no need for such a thing, but then again... it provided us with endless hours of mindless entertainment.  So invigorating to come up behind someone and make them go into cardiac arrest by saying "Hello!" really, REALLY loud!  It made me feel so important!  Like I really was in charge!

Most of the time, though, I felt like a fish out of water.  I was born to wreak havoc, rather than exude authority.  What can I say?  I'd much rather have a good time than have to be serious.  As a result I have a knack for getting kids to cooperate with me.  Unfortunately, the same can't be said of my interactions with grown-ups.

So... I asked to go back into the classroom next fall.  People were shocked at first... until it all started to make sense.  I'm just a fun-loving person who doesn't do "mean" well.  And they found a wonderful woman to replace me who's a Harvard graduate and actually knows what she's doing!  It's a win-win situation for everyone.   The only down side is that I'll be taking a serious cut in pay.   And you can't eat rubber chickens.

Hopefully I won't have to sell the rubber chickens to make ends meet.

Good Baby Advice

Lately, a lot of people I know have been dropping babies... it's like some sort of an epidemic. When you're with child, people always have sage advice to share. Some of the advice is helpful, but much of it is just plain annoying and scares you half to death... just what a new parent needs to boost their confidence! Things like you have to get rid of your cat or it will snuggle up to the warmth of the baby and smother it. (Might I suggest substituting construction paper silhouettes of cats... one of my signature cat lady helpful hints.)

Perhaps the best advice I've heard recently is from a book compiled by some of the kidlets at my school. Here are just a few of their suggestions....

I think that last one about says it all...

As they say... out of the mouths of babes!

These tips may not save you from Mommy Jail, but at least they may offer a good start.



This is copyrighted material, so please don't pretend you're me and call it your own! One of me is enough! Besides, the kidlets worked hard on these pictures and deserve copyright courtesy! (Which is, of course, why I'm using their advice for my own personal edification... so don't go there!)