That One Bad Report Card

When my son was young, at the end of every preschool day, his teachers left a Toddler Tales one-page summary of his day in a mailbox labeled with his name. It reported whether he ate all, some, or little of his snack and lunch, how long he napped, and his general disposition.

The teacher circled words on the page to describe how he showed up that day—words such as happy, curious, quiet, teary, chatty, friendly, or stubborn. One spring day, the teacher wrote HYPER!! in all caps over all the options. Yes, that pretty much summed up my kid.

As adults, if we received a report card like that after each day, what words would describe us?

One day last week, my sheet would have been labeled aggressive.

The most objective, kind teacher would have observed that I was not peaceful, consensus-building, or harmonious. I was impatient. Annoyed. And I didn’t mind showing it.

Any teacher would have given me a C- for attitude. Maybe a B- for performance.

What happened?

I got triggered. By a facilitator.

As a facilitator of many projects and meetings myself, the irony of this is not lost on me. It makes me wonder, “When has my approach set off a participant? When have I found someone in the group challenging to deal with? Was that that person holding a mirror up and I just didn’t recognize my reflection?”

In this case, I was a member of the group, and I found our facilitator a bit arrogant, and his approach prescriptive. I felt trapped by his formulaic process. There was little room for creativity and input, and I spend my days trying to create opportunities for creativity and input.

When members of the group tried to shift our task now and then, he mostly pointed them right back to his process. I couldn't keep quiet. I didn’t feel like he was truly listening.

Toward the end of the meeting, the facilitator made a passing comment that non-profits are not strategic. “They define their mission,” he said, “and that's about it,” shaking his head dismissively.

That was it.

I said, “Excuse me?!?!”

He repeated himself and said he had worked with a lot of non-profits around the country of all budget sizes, and they basically could not get out of their own way.

“Well, I said, “I find your comments offensive. There are a lot of great non-profits out there and you must not have worked with the right ones.”

Yes, I said this in front of a group of 12 or 13 people. That's the aggressive part. I felt I had to stand up for the 1.3 million non-profits out there that are busting their rumps trying to do good in the world.

It was a fair point. And he apologized later for his comments, realizing he had probably stepped over a line.

But just the same, I had not behaved well. I was unskillful.

I know better. I can do better!

Sure, I’m human. I can have a reactive moment now and then. Can't we all, especially when the stakes are high? But the question is not how do we avoid reactive moments. The question is, what do I want to create from that moment?

I have been sitting with that since the meeting. That is, after I got over feeling sick to my stomach for letting my group down and reacting so emotionally.

The next day, I sent a note to the leader of the group apologizing, and said I want to do better. That was a start. But what else do I do? How do I know I won't act that way again at another tense moment?

One of my idols Pema Chodron says, “Everything that occurs in our confused mind we can regard as the path. Everything is workable.”

Hmmm. Everything is workable. Even a report card with a C- for the day.

At least that's what I told my son all those years. It didn’t matter that he bit his friend Aaron at recess. Or that he had a timeout for being too chatty and had to miss circle time.

It's all about how we create from our reactivity. How do you show up the next day? And the day after that? And so on. And so on.