Principal Hugs-A-Lot. He was a great football coach.
He was a great big hulking man, well over 6′ tall and still built like the lineman he once was, I’m sure of it. He was a very likable, seemingly approachable guy and he used that to his advantage.
He had this uncanny way of sensing that you were coming into his office with a problem he didn’t particularly want to deal with, inviting you to sit down in a chair opposite his desk, patiently listening to your thoughts on the problem. And the moment he decided that he was not, in fact, going to do anything about that problem, he would come sit on the edge of the desk and offer you some platitudes with a well-meaning smile on his face. You know things like, ‘they won’t care how much you know until they know how much you care’… *gag*
During the platitudes, he would put his HUGE hand very non-threateningly on your shoulder and the next thing you would know, you would be standing up. Wait? What?
Once you were on your feet, he would very gently, non-threateningly put his arm across your shoulders, squeezing you into his side and continue to intone things that would have sounded like mentorly advice had there been any substance to them, as he turned you and walked you out of his office and down the hall of main office. About the time that you reached the exit of the main office, he would say something like he had all the confidence in the world that you were a great teacher and you were gonna get this all figured out, it would just take time.
And the next thing you knew, you were standing outside of the main office and he was closing the door in your face.
The first time this happened to me, I had the privilege of finding myself outside the office alone, which was lucky, because it meant no one heard the things that fell out of my mouth in that moment. As I stood there, staring at the closed office door, shaking my head and wondering how to prevent a repeat of that little performance, one of my absolute favorite colleagues from School #1 popped out of the copy room. She inquired after the bewildered look on my face, and after a short rundown of what had happened, she smiled, laughed and said, ‘Oh, that’s his thing when he doesn’t have an answer to your question or problem. He just hugs you into submission and scoots you out the door. He’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but man, does that burn me up!!’
I don’t know if he actually believed any of the things he said. And truthfully, it doesn’t matter. What I needed was for him to stop ripping up detentions I had given to kids who were cussing me and getting into physical altercations with their classmates.
I never let him hug me into submission again. Other people might be okay with that kind of belittling, condescending mysogyny, but I wasn’t. If I had to take a problem to him, I dropped it on him while I was still standing, told him it was just an FYI, told him how I planned to handle it, asked if he was on-board with my solution and leave. I’m sure this came off a bit cheeky from a 22 yo, but anything was better than the feeling of being squeezed up against his huge, hulking, meaty figure in a grip I couldn’t get out of.
How did he become a principal, you ask? I have no clue and thankfully, I only had that to deal with for one year.
He sure was a great football coach.
Donita Westman 