As a leader, the best advice I was ever given came while on a walk with William Stafford through Totem Park in Sitka, Alaska. We were attending the Sitka Writing Symposium. Since we were both early risers, we were out for our morning walk/run. I was “in a fog” about how to proceed with my work as a principal. I had used up all of my graduate school knowledge and felt that I didn’t have a clue as to how to make a difference in my school – for the children, for the teachers, for the community, or for myself. I was stalled.
Bill Stafford listened to me patiently on loop after loop throughout the beautiful park. And then, in front of a particularly striking Alaska Native totem, he looked me straight in the eye and shared with a quietness that feels soft and easy even today, “David, I think that you’re stuck in your brain. You’re trying to grind out an answer. That’ll never work. Go to sleep tonight asking this question: Who are these people you’re with? What are they calling for? Tomorrow morning, when we’re on our walk, tell me your answer.”
Well, every morning over that next week of early morning walks I responded to, what I was calling the “Who are these people?” question. I talked about how lots of the people really didn’t want to be in Fairbanks, Alaska, and in this school because of circumstances, like the military, or in the case of the Alaska Native people, lack of “cash work” in the villages. I talked about all the clever ways that the parents were trying to smuggle their children into what they thought were the better schools. I talked, and talked, and talked and William Stafford listened. He smiled: “I believe you’re getting somewhere, David. Keep on talking.”
I did keep on talking with Bill. But, the big turnaround came when I was back at school. Once again with my people, the wondering began, and so did the questions. I asked questions of everyone in our school community – children, teachers, neighbors, but especially, parents. I found myself wanting to know everything about them. What brought them to Fairbanks? How did they find themselves here in this neighborhood? What did they like best about our little school community? What did they think wasn’t working with the school? And (what turned out to be what I called “the million dollar question”), if you weren’t talking with me at this moment, what would you rather be doing? That question usually led to: What are the most creative things that you do in your life?
Question after question. I probably asked thousands of questions over the years. And somehow, with every question I asked, it felt like the school became more alive to me. It was like the school “woke up” as I inquired: Who are these people? What are they calling for? Maybe it was me who was actually waking up to this school.
It’s been years since that Sitka walk and William Stafford’s soft spoken remark: “David, I think that you’re stuck in your brain.” These days, I sometimes still find myself trapped in my head. But then, all of a sudden – whether in a crowd or at suppertime with my closest family and friends – that question appears: Who are these people? What are they calling for? And, I try to listen very carefully.