Walking with the Dead: Finding Peace during the Workday

At a dinner at a conference last year, I was enjoying great conversation with a few colleagues from districts throughout New Jersey. We drifted to an often overlooked topic, mental health for leaders, and I prefaced my strategy with the caveat that it might sound weird. My friend Derek confirmed that it did, indeed, sound weird, but effective and encouraged me to write about it. I’m about a year behind, but here it is (thanks Derek) — enjoy!

Serving as a superintendent during the COVID response helped me frame the methods of torture devised in Greek mythology. Getting bitten by a three-headed dog didn’t seem so bad – I mean, it’s just three heads. Pushing a stone up a hill only to have it roll back down every time you’re just about to hit the peak felt vaguely familiar. And being chin deep in water with low hanging fruit above and fresh water below, but being unable to get a sip or bite? That seemed on brand for the experience. 

Not surprisingly, my mental health reflected the hamster wheel of frustration. There was no finish line and that was further compounded by sleeplessness and a foregone exercise routine. Whether in Storage B (my makeshift office in my basement ) or my actual office, I rarely left my desk, and felt curiously guilty if I wasn’t in front of a screen. 

That last part changed, however, when a moment of self-awareness forced me to take workday breaks, so I decided to walk with some new friends. And the impact of that change was profound.

These new friends didn’t care about masking in their park-like setting.

None of them yelled at me.

Social distancing wasn’t an issue.

And not one of them asked anything of me, blamed me for things well beyond my control or intruded on my mental space.

My new friends shared one other trait: all of them were dead. Their resting place is the well-maintained cemetery across the street from my office and the walking path there provided literal peace and quiet, and a break from all the noise.

Mercifully, the pandemic response is now a distant memory, but I still value my daily walks in the cemetery. Away from the demands of work and life, the path takes me on a 15-minute mental break that includes fresh air and an ongoing local history lesson. 

It’s distressingly easy to get sucked into the relentlessness of any role that seems to lack an off switch. To break that routine, we just need a little grace to allow ourselves to take time away and then enough intentionality to form the habit so that we can carve out escapes that enlighten and restore.

Admittedly, some people still get weirded out when I tell them that I enjoy walking in a cemetery, but I’m not here to win their judgment. Instead, I prefer to focus on how this beautiful little space provides a place of peace.

Whatever your workplace, I encourage you to remind yourself that the somewhat-refreshed version of you is likely much more productive than the on-my-last-nerve-and-going-screen-blind version of you, and then allow yourself to step away and reset.

Artemis II and the Joy of Challenge

We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win, and the others, too.” -JFK

“There’s no crying in baseball” is not the best line in A League of Their Own. Most memorable? Absolutely. But best? No.

And it’s not even close.

The line that overshadows it belongs in the pantheon of great pieces of insight into the human condition. When Jimmy confronts Dot about walking away from the sport, she tells him that it got to be too hard. His response is phenomenal: “‘It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t, everybody would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”

In context, it’s brilliant. Out of context, perhaps even more so.

Think on that: the hard is what makes it great.

As a species that is naturally inclined towards ease, what is it within us that compels us to do the hard, to pursue it, even at great risk.

Look no further for a recent example than the Artemis II mission to the moon (and back), which reminds us how a nation’s attention and imagination can be captured by action that testifies to preparation, ingenuity and courage. 

I cannot fathom how hard it is to send people to the moon and then bring them back, safely no less. Yet, that seemingly impossibly hard task captivated us. The focus,  determination, talent and guts compelled us and hopefully inspired people across generations to want to dedicate themselves to great achievement, though likely at a more accessible level..

The trouble with doing hard things is that, simply enough, they are hard to do. Unfortunately, hard things are easy to quit or just fat out avoid because it is also quite common to fail.

So why do it? Why choose to do something that, by definition, others are unlikely to do? Why take the challenge and risk failure?

The answer lies within each of us. My answer comes down to two words.

For a long time I argued that the secret to life is joy. It makes sense because joy feels great and is palpable to those who bear witness, but a few years ago I amended my position. There’s a next step to joy.

Now I contend that fulfillment is the secret to life, but that it can only be attained with joy. And therein lies the appeal of challenge.

There’s little joy to be found in the commonplace. If I turn the faucet and get water, I don’t feel any degree of elation. But if I struggle to find a solution to a complex situation, especially if I didn’t get to the end point within the first few attempts, I feel something real.

Isabel Allende’s observation that she hates writing, but loves having written applies to actions and activities in our own lives. Whether in your professional or personal lives, there are things for which the process is burdensome or painful to endure, but the product can be so fulfilling.

While most of us will likely never achieve anything as hard as going to the moon and back, we can all willingly approach the hard in our lives. The immediate payoff likely won’t be readily apparent, but we can encourage ourselves to take actions that follow the words of sources ranging from the youngest president ever elected to a character based on an alcoholic ballplayer or a brilliant novelist or even some educator sharing his thoughts from North Jersey. 

Just as people lift weights to build strength, we can build ourselves by embracing the onerous task of doing hard things joyfully and then feel the fulfillment of real accomplishment.

Writing Tips for Leaders

The dedication ceremony for the Gettysburg cemetery in 1863 included a keynote speaker, Edward Everett, who spoke for over two hours. Abraham Lincoln followed with an address that lasted two minutes. 

Writing is an intensely personal exercise in expression. Professional writing, however, needs to focus on your audience. While you don’t want to appear impersonal, your focus has to be on inviting your audience to engage with your message. My goal is to help writers apply the lesson from the Gettysburg Address to more successful communication experiences. Enjoy!

Know Thy Audience

Educational leaders need to write to meet the needs of myriad audiences with differing needs and attention spans. With every piece, remember this one critical truth: it’s not about you. If your audience isn’t engaged, your writing means nothing.

Stay Current

Language changes and so do grammatical conventions. Underlining went the way of the typewriter. So did the rule about two spaces after a period. Diaereses (reëvaluate) look cool but are essentially long gone, and we seem to have followed our germanic linguistic cousins in making compound words out of everything possible1. Roll with the changes.

White Space

Open up a book and look at a page that has a solid block of text with no paragraph breaks. Now, find a page that is loaded with dialogue. Which one looks more appealing? Our eyes and brains love white space and find it much more inviting. Knowing that, keep your paragraphs short, preferably 2-3 sentences long (yes, I know this one is 5).

Be Direct

A landscape design principle dictates paving the shortest path between where people exit their car and the main entrance. If you don’t, they’ll take that route anyway. As writers, pave the path you want people to take. If possible, add lights. Get to your point quickly. A related process tip is that the first two sentences of any first draft will be awful. Expect to revise them.

Stay Strong

Avoid progressive verb tenses; they end in –ing and suggest a lack of confidence. Instead, use active verbs in present and past tense as much as you can. Also, every verb in our language suggests action except to have and to be, so look to propel your language with other verbs whenever possible.

Be Clear & Concise

It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re saying if your audience does not. One tip is to challenge yourself to use a noun after the word this. Another is to apply Stephen King’s logic that “the road to Hell is paved with adverbs.” If you use effective verbs, adverbs are unnecessary; to wit, consider the difference between “he ran quickly” and “he sprinted.”

Never Say Never

Avoid absolutes and other forms of limiting language. Never, always, everybody, no one, and the like tend to overstate and are rarely, if not never, accurate.

Simplicity Is Good

If you don’t know how to use a semicolon, then don’t. And don’t worry about it; few others know anyway. Simple punctuation, including avoiding unnecessary apostrophes, and language that doesn’t require a thesaurus are particularly helpful in writing to a wide ranging audience.

“You Never Get a Second Chance to Make a First Impression”2

Starting a piece isn’t easy, but remember that a lost audience rarely returns. I largely inhabit the email world and have some tips borne out of positive and negative observations. Inspired by a board member who reminds me of her affinity for bullet points, here are some tips on salutations:

  • Begin with a salutation appropriate to the audience. Use “Dear” or, if you’d prefer to sound less chummy, “Good Morning.” Avoid “Hey” unless you want to sound chummy.
  • Identify the person to whom the email is addressed. This point of clarification helps when multiple people are cc’d on an email and helps identify which recipients should respond. As a superintendent who is cc’d on 8,675,309 emails per day, I appreciate knowing when I’m expected to take action or simply nod appropriately.
  • Punctuate correctly. A salutation of a more formal or rigid message should conclude with a colon. Otherwise, a comma is fine.
  • Never, ever open with “Greetings and salutations.” To expand on that, never. I mean it. Never.
  • Similarly, at the end, keep your signature brief. Guess who cares about most of the information listed after your name? Actually, don’t guess. It’s probably no one.

Break Rules Intelligently

I’m the youngest of three children who were born within 39 months3 so this principle of wise mischief has been the cornerstone of my existence, and it’s relevant to effective writing. Don’t use a fragment? Please. Can’t start a sentence with a coordinating conjunction? But it works. Just apply the paprika rule: a little can spice up a dish, but too much will ruin it.

It’s not really a rule, but I recommend having fun as well. Sometimes we have to write difficult messages or items that we just can’t phrase the right way. What’s helped me is to loosen up by taking a walk (get away from the piece), say out loud what you want to say and then jot some notes, and depend on the kindness of good colleagues (I have an English teacher friend who is fearless with his feedback). If your prose feels constipated, the reading experience will be similarly uncomfortable. I’m not going to extend that analogy, but will encourage you to relax and have an authentic voice. 

  1. My favorite is the Dutch verantwoordelijkheidsgevoel (sense of responsibility) ↩︎
  2. I’m pretty sure this line comes from an old Head & Shoulders commercial ↩︎
  3. Yes, we’re of Irish extraction ↩︎