Guess what, telling people that they can trust you doesn’t automatically cause them to do so.  I know…it’s strange.  Talking about trust is a good start, but it takes much more than that to earn the trust of those you spend your time with, and in particular, it takes much more than that to earn the trust of those you serve (which ironically, is essential to your ability to serve them well.

I know myself pretty good; I’ve lived with me for over forty years (just over).  While it hasn’t always been a pleasure cruise, there have been significantly more good times than bad, and over the years I’ve determined that I’m trustworthy.  I’d like my family, my friends, and my colleagues to know that too, and I know that it takes time and focused effort to achieve that end.  I need to be thoughtful about my decisions and my interactions, I need to be patient, I need to forgive myself when I slip so that I can correct myself with authenticity.  I can’t expect people who don’t know me to start out trusting me…even if I tell them that they can.  As a building Principal, I have to show my stakeholders that the things I tell them are true.  I need to walk my talk.  Integrity is critical.

Yesterday I walked into a classroom in between two tasks (the classroom wasn’t in between the two tasks, I was).  One of my goals is to be accessible to my classroom teacher colleagues.  I was in a rush, and I truly needed to get to task number two within minutes.  I knew that there was a group of teachers congregated in this particular room, and I thought it would be nice for me to offer a smile and a quick burst of positive energy.  It might have been, and even though my intentions were pure, that’s not what happened.  They didn’t want a smile and a quick burst of positive energy, they wanted an ear and a decision.  I had neither to give, and instead I left them with some hurried frustration.  Way to go, Seth!

This particular group was working extremely hard.  They were helping one another move furniture, brainstorm ideas, make nametags, inventory books, and accomplish some of the endless tasks that teachers have on their plates before the start of school.  They were really busy too.  Go figure, I’m not the only one!  Incidentally, they’re not contracted to be at school until Monday.  To boot, many of them have been coming in periodically (and even consistently) for the past two weeks.  Their dedication is truly amazing!

Anyway, when I walked into the room they reached out with a genuine concern.  I didn’t anticipate that they would.  I thought it would just be a “hello.”  I was stopped in my tracks and short in my response.  I’m sure that my frustration was obvious as I rushed out of the room.  They didn’t get an answer, and instead of building trust…I diminished it.  So much for good intentions, and so much for telling people that they can trust you as a strategy for trust building.

The interaction lingered in my mind.  It was a dropped ball.  After task number two was complete I went back to the room.  Thankfully the teachers were all still there.  I told them that I was remiss in my initial response and recognized the pressure that they were all under to get things done.  I thanked them for their patience and asked them to bear with me as I learn and grow…even and especially during some of my less proud moments.  They responded with compassion, and even some confusion, telling me that my response was “fine” and that they understand that there’s a lot to do, and that it was “no big deal.”  I thanked them, and then I offered a plan of action in place of the decision they were looking for (I truly couldn’t offer a decision at that time).  They thanked me again (lots of thanking going on), we had a few laughs over some inside start-of-the-year teacher situations, and then we each moved on.

The forgiveness part of this deal is critical.  Just like many of my colleagues in education, I’m pretty hard on myself.  While this situation wasn’t as detrimental as it might have been, it did require some forgiveness.  Forgiveness from those I was short with was have been nice, but forgiveness from myself was the key, in large part, because I am the only one in any situation that I can control.  I know that I’m trustworthy.  I know that my intentions are good.  If I’m going to learn and grow from my mistakes, I must forgive myself for them as well.

Dwelling causes stagnation.  After some deep reflection on this challenge my readiness is enhanced.  I’m ready to walk into the next room, with the next group of people who need ears and decisions, at a time when I’m not able to give either.  I’m ready to respond to them in compassionate and comforting ways.  I’m ready to assure them that they are a priority.  I’m ready to communicate that that I value them.  Maybe it will be as simple as pulling our my calendar and saying,  “What are you doing at 2:10 – can we meet then?”  Maybe it will be as easy as saying, “I’m almost ready to chat about that…I just have to work out a few more details.”  Maybe it won’t be simple or easy, but I’m ready to do it.  In fact, I’ve done it many times.  I just didn’t that time.  When I do do it…it’s better, and when I don’t…it’s not.  I’m ready to remember that better than I did this time.

A sincere apology is a good start, some thoughtful reflection is a great follow up, forgiveness and a commitment to growth is wonderful, but I would suggest that above all else, when mistakes are made that diminish trust, augmented patterns in behavior and communication are both truly essential to the critical rebuilding process.

Live.  Learn.  Lead.

Dream Big.  Work Hard.  Be Well.