Persistent Dust

     "I like the idea of all," Melody, our company's information analyst said to the group during our first team meeting of the year. "But, I just don't see myself included there in the list." Her eyes shifted to the screen where our team's mission statement was displayed, the words "for all" highlighted with a list underneath: 

Students

Teachers

Leaders 

Community

    The director, who'd been leading the meeting, was quiet for a moment. "I see what you're saying," she said finally, with a slight touch of impatience in her tone. "But when we wrote this together, that's why we added the word community." 

    Melody, not one to end an argument after just one rebuke, seemed to be calculating whether or not a lengthy dissertation was worth the effort to change the already-agreed-upon mission statement. Before she could decide, another hand raised. It was Kashif, a new member of the team who'd just been introduced to the group that morning. 

    "It seems that if even one person feels excluded from your list, then you aren't really including all," he said, looking around the room at us as he spoke. Being the only person of color in a room full of mostly white women, his words seemed to blanket us -- heavy over our heads for a moment -- and then settled like a persistent layer of dust, again needing to be wiped away. 

Comments

  1. arjehaSeptember 13, 2022 at 4:20 PM

    Just wondering how things played out. I understand the feeling of not being included, but what if others would feel excluded when reading the final document? I would think that some all inclusive term would be fine as a way of making sure no one was left out.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Gift of Not Scratching Itches

 It's awfully cliche to say "find the gift in everything," but what if cliches weren't so . . . cliche? What if we thought of them as a kind of reminder that are repeated so much because they matter so much?   I've been working on following, what I like to call, my "pings" lately; those little bursts of intuitive insights that I've pretty much ignored my whole life.  It's a little twinge in my gut and subtle mental whisper that I should take a different street home today rather than my usual route, or that I should take a moment to call my 94-year-old grandma.  Sometimes it's even an internal nudge to wear this shirt instead of that one.  Something is trying to guide me.   I figure I should listen.  Today I got a ping to email a teacher who attended a recent PD session I and two colleagues offered. In the session, this teacher was particularly cranky.  Not cranky in the sense that she was having a bad day, but in the sense that she had an itc
Read more

Normal Schizophrenic

 Yesterday I called my son John while I was on my way home from work.  He's in his senior year of nursing school, and he'd recently started his new round of clinical work at a group home for psychiatric patients. "How was your first day?" I asked.  "Actually," he started. I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. "It was very cool."  He explained that as a student nurse, he and his classmates weren't really allowed to do all that much with the patients.  They couldn't touch them or give them medication, so they spent most of their clinical hours hanging out and talking with them.   "Today Bree and I watched Maury Povich  with a schizophrenic woman, and then we played Scrabble  with another guy who just got up in the middle and said 'I'm done!'" John shared that he was fascinated by the control the human mind had over these people.  It overpowered them to the point of debilitation, and since he was freed up from the dut
Read more