The Gift of Clarity

My conflict with Juniper’s teacher has been useful for shedding light on the often dark paths toward the ever-evolving real selves of my daughter and me. That the conflict involves one of my children is better yet, because conflicts involving one’s children rank among the highest for potential usefulness. As several of you have pointed out, it’s also helpful for her to watch and learn what is, and what is not, OK.

There was a time in my life when being right about something—being able to predict an outcome or a behavior in another person—was gratifying because I thought being right was a proof of my own rightness as a person. If I were mistaken or wrong about something, clearly I was a mistake. Over time, I had to realize that fallibility is part of being human; that omniscience is a Divine attribute, not a human one; and that I did not have to defend myself.

Monday when I met with Juniper’s new teacher, Mrs. Kelly, I discovered that I had accurately read the situation: Miss Brown had conveyed, more or less, that I was a problem parent who doesn’t support the classroom rules and procedures. The first words out of Mrs. Kelly’s mouth were that Miss Brown was a particular friend of hers, and that she didn’t know how she would be able to be any different than Miss Brown, because her classroom rules and procedures were “the same.” She said that if I had a problem with the way Miss Brown did things, I would also have a problem with the way she did things.

Of course, my heart sank to my toes when the meeting started with such tension. In spite of my disappointment and fear, I remained silent and calm outwardly, studying Mrs. Kelly’s face and listening to her with all possible respect. I said nothing in my own defense, because everything about her body language—her quick breaths, the firm line of her lips, the certainty in her voice—indicated that she was putting me in my place and was determined for me to stay there. So I stayed there, right where she seemed to need me.

I couldn’t be sure about Mrs. Kelly’s needs, though. Under stress, people regress, and the conflict had been stressful for me. Perhaps I was mistaken about Mrs. Kelly. Maybe I would return to externalizing old, unresolved complexes or conflicts and would use Mrs. Kelly to help me. I may not have seen things as they were with Miss Brown. I was thus determined to reality test to see who, exactly, was the patient here. Had this conflict come to me because I need external conflict, because I’m still unwilling to wrestle inwardly with what’s really bothering me?

I remained centered. I could only hear her words and try to make sense of them. I trusted that I’d have enough light for the dark path for each step, at least. I could follow my own path and I could follow God; I knew that much. Other than that, I also knew I was lost in a vast world, filled with many things that are too big for me.

As I sat and listened to Mrs. Kelly, I learned from her. In so many words, Mrs. Kelly warned me that if I were going to say ugly things about Miss Brown, I could not expect Mrs. Kelly’s friendship. But I know that people are usually afraid of conflict, because we sense that unknown and powerful things may fly at us from within and without. We may suddenly realize that we never had control. People may hurt us; life is difficult enough already. Mrs. Kelly was probably afraid, too.

Knowing all this, I felt compassion for Mrs. Kelly. But I couldn’t let my eagerness to get along with Mrs. Kelly cause me to compromise my commitment to my self, especially to the emerging parts of myself that God and I have been nurturing along lately. I knew that if Mrs. Kelly was as idealized and false as Miss Brown appears to be, she would need to see her friends in a certain light. Neurotic people paint others into a corner: others are good, or bad; smart, or stupid; kind or cruel. People cannot possibly be multi-faceted and all the colors of the rainbow, because the neurotic person needs objectified others who will help externalize all her conflicts. Others cannot therefore be any more real than the idealized self.

If Mrs. Kelly was terribly neurotic and Miss Brown her particular friend, then she would be unable to see anything Miss Brown had said or done as bad. Miss Brown would be all good; and I would have to take the place of the all-bad person. Since our meeting began with fear and hostility, I suspected that Mrs. Kelly was tempted to put me in the bad guy chair. I decided to do some reality testing and discover if Mrs. Kelly was simply feeling some anxiety, and whether Mrs. Kelly was as I’ve perceived her from past observations.

Mrs. Kelly is a smiley, cheerful older lady who is celebrating her 40^th wedding anniversary this year. She is Christian and she has three grown sons and several granddaughters. Her students love her. Even though I’ve never had a child in her class, she has always thrown me a cheerful wave and smile when I go to pick up our kids at school. Joy and spontaneity are hallmarks of consciousness and aliveness; I’ve thus perceived Mrs. Kelly as a probably real person, and as such had positive hopes for our school year together.

After about 15 minutes of talking, Mrs. Kelly seemed to calm herself. Perhaps my sitting there with folded hands and a relaxed attitude helped. One of the best things about being a mother and mental health professional is that I’ve been able to practice being a calming presence even when I’m not calm. I don’t always (or even typically) exude peace and calmness, but being able to fake it is a tool I have. The funny thing about faking calm and peace when feeling anything but calm and peace is that you can “fake it ‘til you make it,” as they say in 12-Step groups. And this is what happened during our meeting; we both did what we came to do, and we both calmed ourselves. Perhaps we even calmed one another.

Once Mrs. Kelly had finished talking and came to a resting place, she asked me if I had any questions or problems with her rules and procedures. I replied that I was familiar with her rules and procedures and had no problem with any of them. A look of surprise came over her face. “If that’s the case, then what was the problem with Miss Brown?” she asked.

“I don’t want to speak ill of Miss Brown, especially since she’s your friend,” I began.

Mrs. Kelly nodded her agreement, adding, “And I’m not likely to be any different than Miss Brown.”

“Well, Mrs. Kelly, I find that difficult to believe, because everything I’ve heard about you from other parents and from the children you teach is that you’re a very kind person,” I began.  ”I doubt you would ever call one of your students a failure in front of other students or to their parent’s face. But if you do, or if you decide to call my daughter names or otherwise belittle her even when she tries her best, or if you expect me to do her work, then we probably will have a problem. And if we have a problem like that, then I’ll save us all more grief and will withdraw Juniper from school and take her to where I know she can be taught. Because I do not want her spirit crushed this year at school. And I have the impression that you’re in the business of teaching your students and not crushing their spirits.”

Mrs. Kelly looked stunned. For a moment, she was speechless. I could almost see the mental wheels turning. “I’ve been teaching for 27 years,” she began, “and I’m confident I can teach Juniper.”

“I think you can, too, Mrs. Kelly. That’s why I asked that she be moved to your class,” I replied.

And then, keeping references to Miss Brown to a minimum, I told Mrs. Kelly my version of the story of the mobile and the story of the book report. I told her that I was more than willing to see Juniper receive failing grades on work, even if I considered the failing grades unfair. I told her that if Juniper received a yellow or red card at school, she would also receive them at home. School consequences extend to the home; we expect our children to respect their teachers and those in authority. We, the parents, will deal with unreasonable authority; that’s not the job of the child. Her face again registered surprise. It seems she may have expected something else from me.

As I explained these parts of myself to Mrs. Kelly, I saw her face soften and I noticed her smiling more. When Juniper entered the classroom, Mrs. Kelly became even softer and more loving. She spontaneously to me and said, “I love these children. If there were no children here, I’d never come back to work. I come because of them.” Watching Mrs. Kelly turn in the current of the present moment of our conversation, I knew I’d seen something true in Mrs. Kelly: she was real.

the predictability of the idealized

As I’ve explained before, idealized people are predictable to a large extent, while people who are real are so spontaneous and curious as to be often unpredictable. Life runs in a current, and those who are alive are similarly swept up by life’s eddies and swirls. This isn’t to suggest that they are victims of circumstance, but rather that they may consider or even demonstrate a wide range of responses in one situation. The idealized self, on the other hand, has a limited repertoire of responses and thus will be fairly predictable from circumstance to circumstance.

Our meeting began with Mrs. Kelly appearing defensive, somewhat anxious, and determined to put me in my place. I took the only relational chair she offered me at the outset, but I knew that I always have my own chair, the one I carry inwardly and sit in every day. No one can take my inner resting place from me. I can sit there all day, observing and resting, if I need to.

I do not have to fight for my life. In the past, when most of my real self was weak and my idealized self was strong and accomplished, I felt I had to fight to maintain the only strong tower I had to run to: the strong tower of my false self. Over many years of work, my real self finds her own refuge. No matter where another person tries to put me, I always know where I am. I think it’s Mary Englebright who says, “No matter where you go, there you are.”

After our meeting, Mrs. Kelly appeared relaxed and calm, and I appeared relaxed and calm. Juniper expressed joy at returning to school, and told Mrs. Kelly that she intended to do her best. “That’s all anyone can ask,” Mrs. Kelly replied. And I knew I had reason to hope that she meant it by the kind smile on her face.

the blessings of clarity

I never did receive a response to my email to the principal. Though I’ve felt somewhat foolish for sending it, I’m still glad I did. Part of the discomfort of becoming more real is living with the fact that things are no longer black and white, good and bad. They often just are. I may feel sympathetic toward myself and proud of myself at the same time that I feel somewhat silly and foolish. I find myself neither completely wonderful nor completely despicable. I’m human, I’m fallible, I make an ass of myself, and sometimes I do good.

But in retrospect, I can say that I’ve been able to see what was coming, and I’ve been a pretty good judge of the situation and people involved. I’ve learned a lot through this tedious situation, but most especially what I’ve learned is that it’s painful to be conscious. Through the clear eye, one sees just how needy human beings are. I suspect that many people don’t want to come to consciousness, because consciousness may in fact drive them toward faith, and people don’t want to be that vulnerable. Better, they think, to rely on themselves and fashion larger and larger idols.

I prefer the clear eye, even with the pain, uncertainty, and understanding of my own smallness clarity gives. With such clarity have come compassion and freedom. I am free to love others as myself, free from grudges and hatred, and free to offer the only gift I have, which is myself.