This Isn't a Post About Politics. Then Again...

When I was in grade school, I dreaded the possibility of one day having a specific teacher. Even as a youngster, I recognized his leadership style as iron-fisted and unyielding.

Mr. Downer (not his real name, of course) was tall, dark, and anything BUT handsome. His brooding countenance just didn’t lend itself to attractiveness. He never had a kind word for the students and he rarely smiled. The fact that Mr. Downer’s thick, bushy brows made one steady beeline across his lower forehead didn’t help matters any. It was as if he wore a perpetual state of frustration.

The day I found out he was to be my teacher for the next school year, I promptly threw up. (For me to recall that time so vividly, decades later, may give you some idea of the trepidation I felt.)

Still, just like my favorite heroine, Pollyanna, I pulled out my “glad card” and determined to be glad for at least three reasons:

It could always be worse. I didn’t see how, but that’s the line I’d always heard adults use.

Maybe Mr. Downer wasn’t such a grumpy soul after all. I bet I could cheer him up. And maybe, just maybe, a pig would fly.

Perhaps, Mr. Downer was a great teacher. And one can put up with a lot if there’s motivation to learn. Good grades = grade advancement and a new teacher the following year.

I’ll never forget the morning I got caught whispering to my neighbor.

I was actually answering her question, but of course, I was the one Mr. Downer heard.

Immediately, I was summoned to the front of the classroom.

“Recite the ABC’s for us.”

I was in fifth grade. I knew what tactic Mr. Downer was using, but I didn’t fully understand the term yet. I certainly felt it though. Humiliation.

“Um…oh…kaaay.”

And I proceeded to rattle off the alphabet to the horror of all my classmates and to the smug satisfaction of Mr. Downer. AND, worse, he made me do it a second time.

“Slower.”

My stomach hurt. My knees knocked. The room swirled around me.

Mr. Downer gloated. (Not smiled. There’s a difference.)

It was the longest 47 seconds of my life. To this day, I’ll never, ever forget it.

For years, I’ve thought about what makes great leaders.

Is it a commanding presence? The tone of authority? Is it manipulation, maneuvering, or heavy-handedness?

Or… is great leadership the innate ability to garner respect without really trying?

Are honor, integrity, and compassion integral parts of the mix?

Can great leadership be faked?

I don’t think it can. Great leaders are intentionally deliberate, but not in a dehumanizing, devaluing kind of way.

They may have to make tough decisions for valid reasons, not to inflate their own egos, but to propel others forward toward a mutual God-sized mission.

So, whatever your calling in life, whatever your station, look to those folks you admire and ask yourself why.

What is it about him or her that sets them apart?

Are they on a collision course with ego or a trajectory path to truth? (You know, truth for the sake of what’s right. Not what’s convenient or the next best thing.)

Evaluate a person’s character, his track record, and what he has to offer.

True leaders don’t manufacture respect.

A true leader owns it, yes—but without force. And without creative angling.

He’s earned it.

But then again—this isn’t a post about politics. Oops. I meant Pollyanna.

This isn’t a post about Pollyanna.

Today’s thoughts are about leadership…and why good folks like Mr. Downer should, perhaps, eat more fiber.

***