I Like You

Once upon a time....  I knew it was coming to a head. One of my direct reports' behaviors were becoming more disrespectful and he was not keeping me informed on topics that were extremely important for any administrator in my role to know about.

I dislike confrontation. Let me clarify that: I despise confrontation. In ramping up to such a conversation, I fret. I pray. I try to figure out ways to avoid it. But one thing I am not, is chicken. I will confront despite the knot in my stomach, my face tightening up and sometimes even spasming a little (how embarrassing), and the hot and cold waves in my skin as I do it.

It would be nice to say that after many years as an administrator, I have this down, that I've learned how to do it. Actually, I don't have it down. But I have learned a thing or two so that I don't do it as badly. One of those is to wait until I am calmer than when I first realized this difficult conversation needed to happen. So with this one, I waited. And while I waited, I spouted off to my husband at home so that I could get my frustrations verbalized and off my chest. I talked with a peer administrator and with my boss. I checked my perceptions with them all and floated the messages I planned to deliver to this direct report. And I listened carefully to what all of them had to say. There is wisdom in surrounding yourself with good counselors.

And then I had my conversation.

I had my direct report come to my office instead of going to his. This made a statement about where the power had to be in our conversation. It was symbolically important because in his culture of origin, women administrators are nonexistent, let alone respected. It was necessary because in his office, the chair I would sit in is lower than his chair, creating a physical sense of looking up at him. In my office, the chairs where I interact with people are identical to each other, putting us at the same height. These things are all important.

As our conversation began, I laid out my concerns, naming the behaviors I had seen. I pointed out the message they were conveying and why that was problematic. And then I listened to what he had to say.

As always when I've opened difficult conversations, his responses shed new light on what was going on his head. I realized by listening to his perspective that he had been working from considerations I wasn't aware of, that he had not intended insubordination, and that the situation didn't rise to the level of dishing out a threat of non-reappointment (something I had been tentatively planning to deliver). People in my discipline generally have good intentions and work awfully hard, and I heard that again as I listened to him.

At one point while the conversation was more intense, when we were discussing accountability and the requirement to share information with me early and thoroughly, my direct report threw out the words "controlling" and "micromanage." Praise the Lord, my knee-jerk reaction was to just laugh. Outright laugh. I chuckled and said to him with a grin, "I knew those words were going to come up! But here's the thing..." and then explained again why any wise administrator in my position needed things to be different. I pointed out that the administrators prior to me had not required this, so I knew that asking for change would be distressing for a while until he and others in my unit got used to it. I saw him visibly relax right in front of me because I reacted with amusement, not receiving the "controlling" and "micromanaging" descriptors personally.

We came to some agreements, with him freely offering up what he could do to make things work more smoothly. I recognized his hard work and promised follow-through on a couple of things he needed support on. And the conversation was done.

But then, I got an unexpected urge. Was it a God-sent urge, or just my own impulsiveness? I don't know. But I said to him, "You know, I just have to say this to you.  I like you. You're an interesting person. You are visionary. And you're doing a good job in leading your department. I just wanted you to hear that I like you."

At first he looked startled. And then the conversation wrapped up in short order with smiles and friendly tones.

That was the moment of change. After that he dropped by my office more often. He greeted me in the hallways where he had avoided eye contact before. He looked happier. And I could see that he really was making an effort to tend the things I had asked of him.

And I ponder this truth: how deeply people need to feel that they are liked by their bosses. Or teachers. Or anyone sitting in judgment on them. It makes a world of difference.