I was a sullen, quiet iceberg of a girl. There were not many people willing to push past the prickles.
One high school English teacher didn’t just push past. He saw into me. He celebrated, coached and challenged me. He knew I could write better and told me so. I was talking to a boy and Mr. Hageal listed all the reasons this boy wasn’t worth my attention. He was right. He sent my parents a postcard. He saw me so dynamically different than everyone else saw me (apparently, I was delightful!). I still have it.
I poured myself into writing that year. I learned that editing was more important. I moved on from high school a lot more confident and perhaps a tad less prickly.
Mr. Hageal left the state and later passed away in a car crash. I mourned quietly to myself. I never really talked about him to anyone, because there are certain corners of my heart that are mine alone and I’m okay with not sharing them.
But a few months ago, Soren and I were in the car talking about leadership and I told him how Mr. Hageal had impacted my life in such a dramatic way in just one school year. I shared an anecdote, we shared a moment and life went on.
Two weeks ago at the beach, we were all sitting playing a family game. The comments were flying, the sarcasm was thick and the general mood was loud and fun. There came a quiet moment where the conversation lagged, and Soren quietly dropped a comment about “Ned Hageal.”
I was so taken aback. What was happening? Was this a coincidence? How did he remember my favorite teacher’s name from a single car conversation that we had had months ago? How could he have remembered the details that perfectly? The comment was so appropriate. So perfectly timed. I started crying.
He told me that he had realized in the car that I was sharing something intimately special. He wrote it down. He wrote down the name with phonetics so he would remember how to pronounce it. He practiced saying it and waited months for the right moment to drop the comment.
In that moment, I felt intentionally loved.
This could be a story about how vital our leadership is. How important it is for us to “see” the people around us. How we speak life into our students, our employees, our children.
But instead, my 18-year-old son taught me the most beautiful lesson on listening with intentionality.