No, No, No, Naima!

I met Naima after I had started working at an Islamic school in London. We hired her as a principal for our boy's elementary school, based on the recommendation by a respected school inspector. We hired her in time to help with our upcoming school inspection, and it was a wise decision as we would not have passed it without her!

Naima was another one of the Muslim professionals I have worked with who had her feet in two worlds and her head on straight. She was a strong young woman, who had a wonderful knowledge of the British educational system. I often teased her that she could not have actually been a Moroccan, as all the North Africans I knew were anarchists - she humored me with feigned indignation. Naima was far too earnest a great deal of time, occasionally betraying her sedulous composure with a sly grin and an indecorous anecdote. She was charming that way - not unlike a boxer that sets you up with a dozen jabs then finishes you off with an uppercut from nowhere.

I knew that whatever task I charged her with, Naima would carry it out assiduously. She had a great sense of integrity, and never let a difficult task alone. She was one of those people I didn't always agree with, but I knew that whatever she was fighting for, emanated from her heart with no selfish motive. Her passion was her strength, and occasionally nigh on her downfall. In my more ornery moments, my favorite distraction was counting her staccato "no's" in staff meetings. I would watch her contemplating something being said, usually something a bit near-sided, and I could almost predict the moment of her controlled eruption. After a few times, being the bright woman she was, she would catch herself around the fourth no, and turn around and look at me. I would smile and mouth "arba" silently, the Arabic word for four. Her fervently furrowed brow would relax, and she'd grace us with her beautiful smile.

Naima was just one of a terrific staff we had at the school, but her knowledge of school inspections, and her singular, focused work ethic helped us carry the day. We received an adequate report, phenomenal as we had turned over more than 60% of our faculty that year, and was midway between two curricula. Naima helped us with far more that year, and I was saddened to hear she left shortly after I did. Naima has since adopted a daughter, and is married and living in Saudi Arabia, She comes to mind very often, when I indulge the fantasy of having a few of her while facing a current predicament with limited resources. Just a few of her though, not particularly relishing an orchestra of no, no, no, no's. I miss her.

Ramadan Night 17 - The Third Entry

And when they hear vain talk,
They turn away therefrom
And say: "To us our deed,
And to you yours;

Peace be to you: we

Seek not the ignorant."
S.28 A.55

This is a great example where one verse gives me two perspectives to work on:  Not listening to negative talk at all, whether or not I like the source, and to be more tactful when I disengage from someone I am not fond of. I am working on not producing negative comments, or joining in on a bad conversation. This is the next level - avoiding such talk and doing so with grace.  This will not be easy for me, for I have learned a terrible truth: Many people will gravitate to you if you share gossip and slander, they may even appear to love you for it.

I have also found that such talk opens communication, good and bad, but that a virtuous stance shuts a lot of doors. Not having information is difficult, and closing conduits, no matter how detrimental, can isolate one. Being out of the loop is lonely, but far out shadowed by the damage aversive affiliation  brings.  This will be a big change for me, learning how to operate without ill gotten information, but I am determined to continue to regain my integrity whether or not it hampers me.  And I don't think it will deter me for long, for as hard as integrity is to purchase and maintain, it makes a wonderful pillow to lay my head upon each night.

 

Robin and Grant, Grant and Robin, or Maybe Rant and Gob(l)in?

I couldn't figure out who should get top billing, so I hope this dual listing will be adequate - wouldn't want to put anymore fuel on this fire. And please pardon the two portmanteaus, couldn't resist.  Seriously, I worked with Robin and Grant for two years, and I don't think I have ever worked with two finer professionals, anywhere I have been.  They should have been brother and sister though, and I enjoyed the sibling rivalry.

We worked together in what wasn't the best environment I had ever landed in;  Robin  in the same office area as  I, and Grant in the building adjacent to ours.  We spent a lot of time together, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I can honestly say I don't remember ever having a cross word with either of them, but then again, their memory might be better than mine.  We worked on dozens of projects together, often under pressure, and they always went the extra mile, even when their efforts weren't always noticed or appreciated. In a sea of facile faculty pedantically espousing student welfare, these two were beacons in the fog, the real deal.

Robin was extremely passionate about her job, her avocation.  She looked after everything and everyone with an honest zeal that sometimes got her in trouble, but never for the benefit of her own interests - she often put the department on her shoulders, whether or not it wanted to be there.  There was never a time when she did not pull her weight, when she was not on top of things, when she ever let something slip past her.  She had the complex task of working with budgets and schedules and she did a very fine job.  She took care of me as well, and I am not sure if she was my older sister or my mother, but I was doted on, nagged a bit, and cared for. I miss Robin, even miss the nurturing, but I don't think I will admit the latter.

Grant worked in a different building, but our roles overlapped constantly. Grant was my go-to guy, and I always knew he would  deliver on any task.  He was still developing professionally, and I was amazed at his energy and desire to develop his knowledge and skill set.  I not only bounced ideas off of him, we often brainstormed new plans, new programs, and he had a great deal of insight. Grant also had a very keen sense of integrity, and I could count on him to give me honest feedback, whether it was difficult or not.  Sadly, after I left, a very weak and vindictive faculty exacted partial vengeance on him, punishing him for working with me.  He weathered the storm though, as do men of faith and virtue. 

When I think back on those two years, I remember a lot of smiles and laughter.  I remember two people who never sank to the lethargy and malaise of many of their peers. When I think of the concept of responsible loyalty, I look no further than to Robin and Grant.  I would have trusted them with my life, with those of my children.  I cannot say that about many people.  I miss their good natured bickering, and I miss the microcosm we navigated together, loving each day of work with these two colleagues.   

Nobility

I grew up watching noble things on a 13" black and white television. I didn't see them too often anywhere else, but I saw them in that box. I watched a lot of television growing up, particularly shows about honorable people fighting great odds, helping others. I loved older movies where right was right and wrong wasn't, and it was clear who understood and respected the difference. True to form, I particularly admired the selfless sacrifice, the hero that walked away with a hole in his heart, doomed to a life of penance for someone else's sins. Since then I have discovered that I have a fair deal of noble sentiments, that I can at times act nobly, and that I had no decent idea of the price one pays to be noble. No decent idea.
Lately, I am dealing with some serious challenges to my self-professed sense of nobility and dignity. I don't think I am faring too well though. It is one thing to think abstractly about sacrifice and suffering, it is another to invite it, court it, and live with it. As I write this, I have in mind three assaults on my nobility that I am currently battling, and I don't think I am winning. For the past two years, I have dealt with an affront to my character that might be spilling out of its banks. I am facing difficult situations at work, and I am not always taking the high road. And finally, I have walked away from a friend (not my idea)with no questions, no resolution, leaving just with the emptiness and pain of absence. I want to emerge from these trials with the knowledge that I handled them better, that I dealt with them with dignity. It's just that I am realizing what I have to do to foot the bill. Those long dead heroes don't look as attractive as they once did, they simply look worn, tired, and beaten.
My three tests probe three different aspects of my intended nobility: one demands that I do nothing, and simply buck up as the arrows fly, arrows people who don't know me or the circumstances, feel need to hit their mark. The second demands that I resist actions that might be cathartic or senselessly fun, check my ego, and perform with more diligence than might be embedded in the culture I try to navigate. The third demands that I leave a situation where I had little support, leave the person I had relied on for so much strength, and walk away towards nothing at all, no one to share my loss, no one to understand.
I will reorient myself and press on. I will embrace the embarrassment and shame, and I will not feel sorry for myself. But I will never, ever again romanticize a noble life, nor will I feel some sort of karmic affirmation. I will most likely be a lonely man with a tarnished name, better at my job, with a hole in my heart permeating my soul. So I am not Bogart or Tristan for that matter, but I am losing weight.
*This post is not intended to be melodramatic, nor melancholic. I am just trying to capture and express that which is tearing at the inside of my chest right now, giving some form and substance to the emptiness.