MiddleView

It's been an interesting experience to pack up the pieces of my life in Oregon and move across the country to Virginia. I now find myself getting sidetracked in the unpacking process when I run across something I hadn't really looked at in a long time. One such item was a paper I had on the bulletin board in my former office. You might have something similar –something given to you that impacted you at the time, you put it up to remind you of the message, and then it became such a part of the landscape that you forgot how meaningful the message was to you at one time.

Reading the paper over again, I was reminded how much this simple message had impacted me as a school leader. When I was a teacher, I was pretty much in control of my time with the students. Of course, there was always that teachable moment that took me down an unplanned path or the inevitable change in the schedule due to an unforeseen event, but most days, my time with the students was my own. When I became an administrator, I suddenly found my time was not always my own. I would begin a project only to be interrupted about something "very important" by someone who assured me I was the only person who could help, or the phone would ring and three hours later I was still investigating the parent’s complaint. All middle level leaders live that on a daily basis--being interrupted is the name of the game.

When I shared this frustration with a colleague, she gave me some very wise advice – it was my choice as to how I was going to respond to these daily occurrences. Then she handed me a piece of paper with this message (I wish I could give credit to the author but no name is listed):

"On Being Interrupted"

When you are exasperated by interruptions, try to remember that the very frequency of your interruptions may indicate the value of your life. Only the people who are full of help and strength and “available” are burdened by other people's needs. The interruptions which we chafe at are the credentials of our availability. The greatest condemnation anybody could incur is to be so independent, so unhelpful, so uncaring, that nobody every interrupts them, and they are left comfortably alone.

The Poor Clares of Aptos have this unofficial motto and prayer hanging in their community room: "Lord, make me interruptible!"

While visiting the University of Notre Dame, Henri Nouwen met an older experienced professor who had spent most of his life there. While they strolled over the beautiful campus, he said with a certain melancholy in his voice: "You know, my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions are my work."

As a new middle level leader, I then and there made the commitment to try my best to be "interruptible." No, it wasn’t always possible and I'm sure there were times I rolled my eyes or let out a long sigh when someone came in at an inopportune time--but overall, it made a huge difference in how I viewed being interrupted. Give it a try next time you're interrupted.