Boss Lady

Where you lead, I will follow

My first boss was a woman. I’m not counting babysitting jobs, nor am I including the summers I filed and typed at my parents’ insurance office. In the spring of my junior year of high school, I walked into my favorite restaurant and asked for an application. Mary Jo Hendricks asked me a few questions, determined I would not be afraid of hard work, and hired me to wash dishes and bus tables for the summer.

Much of my attitude toward work comes from that first job, and Mary Jo in particular. I lived in fear of being caught “standing around.” There was always something to clean, or dishes to put away, or silverware to sort, or paper doilies to peel. (It was the kind of place where there were doilies on every plate and saucer. I wore a pinafore and a bonnet.) The customer deserved my best smile and attitude, and if I didn’t feel like it, tough. If Mary Jo was mad at you, you could hear her yelling through the halls of the century-old schoolhouse where our restaurant was located. But if you made her laugh, you could hear it the parking lot. She called all of us “My Girls,” and kept track of us when we went off to school in the fall. She welcomed us back with open arms when June rolled around the next year — I was promoted to waitress after that first summer — and I have fond memories of those 4 summers.

Since that first foray into the workforce, I have had many, many employers. After my first year assigned to Food Service in college (hated working the deli, loved the kitchen prep shift) I managed to transfer my Work Study hours to the theater department. Our benevolent overseer, Jeanne, was the secretary of the department and in charge of all of us. Sophomore year she gave me after-hours security duty: I did my homework at a desk by the door of the department and made students sign in and out when they came for rehearsal. It wasn’t a bad gig, except for the walking home at 10pm part. Junior year I ran the box office (after I came back from abroad), and senior year I scored the coveted spot: the desk in the office during the day. I could chat with Jeanne and the professors as they came and went, and still mostly got to do my homework.

After college I got a job at the History Theater in St. Paul, working in the education department for a friend of one of my professors. Unfortuately, that lady had it out for me. I think she was scared of losing her job — getting older sucks and I have more empathy for her now that I’m a few decades removed from her verbal abuse. I ended up waiting tables again (like all good out of work actors). The manager who trained me, Patty, wasn’t always kind or patient, but she was fair and I respected her. I can’t say as much for my next manager.

I learned a ton from working at a glass shop, and I also met my husband there, so I will never regret taking that job. I do, however, regret putting up with the abusive and inappropriate behavior of the office manager. That man belittled me, yelled at me, and asked me (after playing Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” on his computer) what I would do if I walked in on Dan “bangin’ on the bathroom floor” with another woman. My explanation for not reporting it is simply that I was told I needed to be “one of the guys” if I wanted to work there.

Since leaving that job, I’ve managed to work with a fairly vast array of principals in my twenty years in education. A lot of them liked me, a couple of them didn’t, but I learned a lot from all of them — and I’m confident that I know what I want and need in a leader. I know I need a principal who is willing to know teachers personally. You’d be surprised how many of them seem to think they need to stay above the fray or something along those lines. I’m sure it is for the moments when they are required to sit down with their teachers and give them hard truths, but a good captain has to be strong and empathetic enough to handle that spectrum.

I had a principal once who based our annual reviews off of: 1) how much we were absent, 2) our standardized test scores, and 3) random phone calls to student’s homes. He never set foot in my classroom, and observations were done by my grade level team lead. I had a couple — men, both — who joked around with the other teachers who were men during staff meetings, but were pompously professional with all of the women (always a greater number on the elementary level).

I need someone at the helm who trusts me, and who I know will defend my care for children and classroom decisions with their whole breath. I need to trust them in return, so that I feel safe to try new strategies and fail. I need them to be able to say, “You are screwing this up and I know that you’re better than that so what can I do to support you?”

Support and trust: the heart of what we all want and need from our leaders — and to be able to give to our leaders. I was talking to a good friend last night, a former teacher-turned-administrator, about school leadership: “A good administrator doesn’t tell the teachers what to do,” she insisted. “A good administrator knows what the teachers need to be their best and gets it for them.” That is everything I feel in a nutshell… for our beloved principal who is leaving.

I have known Jen since we were 6 years old and she had incredible Cabbage Patch Kid bangs and we met at Vacation Bible School. We were Campfire Girls together (her mom was our leader) and in the high school choir together (Toronto ‘93!) and then she went off to be a teacher and I to be an actor. Thirteen years ago I moved back to my hometown and started subbing while a looked for a teaching job and ended up in Jen’s classroom. She taught first grade then, and I loved being in that world. She left the classroom to become Dean of Students briefly before taking over as Principal… just as I was hired. We have had 11 years together at King School, and I have been continually grateful to be lead by this most gracious, funny, steel-spined, soft-hearted woman.

I don’t know what’s next for us at King School. But to quote our beloved Wicked: “I know I’m who I am today because I knew you.” Thanks, Boss Lady.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie