
And then it got better.
The retreat ended in a way that was new to me—and inspiring,
in several ways. The facilitators told us we had an hour to spend on our own. We were told we could read, think, write,
plan; we could do it in groups, pairs, or work on our own. We were, in essence, in charge of our own
time. For an entire hour.
Which isn’t something that happens, much, to school leaders.
As we all wandered to our chosen spot to work, music began
playing on low volume. One by one, we
came to realize that the songs were our
songs. Earlier in the week, the retreat
planners had asked each of us to send them the title of a song we listen to
when we want to relax. They then compiled the
songs into a playlist that turned out to be as varied as the the people in the room. It ranged from rock to country to pop to
classical to folk to bluegrass.
About twenty minutes into our allotted time, I looked up and
scanned the room. We had all chosen to
spend our hour quietly working, but how we did it was as varied as our music. Everyone had found a place to be, but we had all
settled into different postures and different approaches. Some cuddled in; some stretched out. We were on couches and on the floor; outside
and in the darkest cavernous rooms. Some
rested, head in hands. Some wrote. Some gazed out the window. Some chatted softly to one another.
And I had this thought:
We are all so different, aren’t we? There we were, a big group of people who largely do the same thing in our work, but we all approach it in different ways. Our minds are inspired and fed with different approaches; our bodies need rest in different postures; the input that is required to make us our best selves varies from person to person.
Yet, we all benefit from time and space to think. It makes us all better. And when it’s unexpected, it’s even better. Because anything can happen when there is no plan. And in that aspect, we are all the same.