This June is Different

Hey, look! I planted a rhododendron! 

As a colleague likes to say, the summer months are like a weekend. June is Friday. July is Saturday. August is filled with the dread of eventual return on the school year's Monday.

June is also like Friday in that some years, one has to work late. Other years one gets out early. This was a late year. June 25 marks my first day of summer vacation. It came late, but it came as a greater sense of relief than any other first day of break I've had. And though the end of the school year is the reason why I feel so unburdened today, it wasn't the school year that burdened me.

No. My 2017-18 campaign was marred by the must humbling, in-over-my-head experience in my adult life: a stint in a leadership role on my church's council. I'm glad I was able to exit with my faith in tact. Few other experiences have made me feel as much like a failure as did the last five months of my one year as an executive officer.

Was it me and my inabilities, or was it just the bad luck of serving at a difficult time? I really don't know. But I know my leadership instincts didn't work well. I paused when I should have raced. I reacted when I should have waited. I asked questions about things that didn't matter, and never asked questions about things that did. Support didn't materialize at critical times. What little good will and political capital I had was squandered before I even knew I had it. An awful, miserable experience.

So, what am I? Am I a leader? I think I am. I'm a father, a big brother. A department chair. In all those capacities I lead, and I lead well.

But I'm not a director. Not a president. Nor a captain. Not a principal. Definitely not a governor.

At my heart, I guess, I'm a first trombone. I'm a first among equals, not "in charge." I lead a section. I can walk the line between leadership and teamwork.

There were some awkward conversations as I disentangled myself from formal leadership at my church. It's not often that an incumbent president with an eligible term remaining leaves. It's pretty rare, in fact, to work one's way out of that bear trap. But when those conversations got awkward, my line was "This church is best served with someone other than me in this seat."

And I meant it.

And it's proven true.

So I nurse my ego a little bit going forward. When council stuff comes down, I wince a little bit that I'm not at the table. But then I realize how miserable I was when I was saying no to something with Sherry, or something with Caroline, or something with Sam because of something having to do with council.

And then I get to this summer. My first day was preoccupied with gardening, serving as an unpaid Lyft driver for Sam and Caroline, buying a violin . . . You know, being first trombone for my family.

This is a much better fit.