It doesn't matter if leaders and born or if they are made. Nor does a title automatically gift a person with the privilege of leadership. True leaders are those with a special combination of experience, vision, integrity, and humility. Our little community school is blessed to have just such a person at the helm.
I dare not think where St. Francis of Assisi would be today without the steady hand of Mr. Gerard Rumsey steering it these so many years. Through threats of closure, down sizing, and amalgamation, Mr. Rumsey has been our Rock of Gibraltar. One only has to meet him briefly and you realize that you are in the presence of a man who has parked his ego someplace far away from the pothole infested parking lot of SFA. He is warm, thoughtful and engaging. This principal has all of the right principles.
There have been rumours of late that this may be Mr. Rumsey's last year and that he is planning to sail off into retirement. I refuse to believe such nonsense. One reason is that I've been hearing these same rumours every spring since my oldest started there six years ago. Yet, every September that has followed, the statuesque figure of Mr. Rumsey has met my daughter at the door on the first day of school. The second reason I have chosen not to believe that retirement is imminent is that Mr. Rumsey has the dream retirement job already. His staff consists of teachers who are all committed and capable, thereby making his job that much easier. It also just so happens that almost all of the teachers are ladies and they aren't too hard on the eyes either. I'm sure Mr. Rumsey has noticed that. Wouldn't he have had a hand in hiring them? Nice going Sir.
The school has 200 wonderful kids. A major incident of "bad" behaviour may consist of forgetting to return a library book or not flushing after doing a number 2. There are no pre-orchestrated fist fights in the playground; no kids hanging by their underwear from coat hooks; and no tires flattened or teacher's cars being egged. There exists an air of mutual respect, between principal and staff, teachers and students, and all of the kids adore Mr. Rumsey.
Mr. Rumsey, when you do ultimately decide to retire, my wish is that you do one thing before you leave. Simply put, that one thing is - tell us. Although seeking fanfare is not your nature, it really is no longer just about you. Your school community will need to have that time to accept that "Sir" will no longer walk the halls and grounds of our treasured little school. Your school community will need to say goodbye the way it deserves to be told.
I think you have lots yet to give, so please don't go anywhere just yet. I need you to stay for at least three more years, as that is when my youngest child will graduate from St. Francis. Okay, that may be selfish on my part, but to keep you longer I don't mind playing dirty. Retirement is synonymous with the sun setting on a career. I truly do not see it in your case. You are the ever present light of goodness that shines on and from St. Francis of Assisi. Don't pass the torch just yet Mr. Rumsey, we are still all following your lead.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Don't Point That Thing At My Daughters
I may have been a little premature when I retired from my job as a cop last fall. What was I thinking? I have two children, both of whom are girls. The oldest will be 11 next month and these days "11 is the new 13". Had I not chosen to retire, the demands of my job would have continued to keep me away from my family, so it's not that part that I am lamenting. My pension is quite a bit smaller than my salary was, but that's not the reason why I may regret "pulling the pin" when I did. Sure, kids are expensive and as they grow the cost of the things they need, want, and desire grow at a warp factor that defies this dad's logic and his paycheck. What I miss most is no longer having a gun and handcuffs.
Soon after Kendall came into the world on that July day as a millennium baby, I have received advice from all quarters as to the best way to be a dad. Some of the advice has been good, some, not so good. For the most part, I have been no different that the billions of fathers that have come before me, whether they be human or of the animal kingdom. The recipe has two simple ingredients - a pinch of winging it and more importantly, keeping from going from the frying pan into the fire by failing to keep our partners happy. An occasional dash of flowers (by the bouquet, but not the dried or the synthetic ones) and mixing in weekly sessions for the mom to have girlfriend time and any dad will probably have done enough so as to be allowed to keep his spot as the figurehead alpha of the family.
Being a cop brought along with it advice from my police colleagues, many of who were at least a decade ahead of me as fathers of the finer sex. The advice they gave me did not register with me at the time. It is only now that I am beginning to understand what they meant. The advice related to protecting my daughters. Protecting them from the most lethal thing that they will encounter in their lives - boys. I thought they were just joking. My chuckles have turned into a painful grimace because I can no longer heed their advice and I now wish that I could. Any good cop, who has a daughter being pursued by a boy, needs to have The Talk with that boy. All dads need to have this chat, but cops have the inside track. My cop counsellors advised told me that when the time came, have the boy sit with you and have him declare his intentions towards your daughter. What he said would not really be that important, nor would any of the rules you imposed on his courtship. The most important thing was to make sure that you were cleaning your gun at the same time. Your point would be loud and clear!
I haven't figured out what I'm going to do once I finally discover that Kendall has her first real boyfriend. I'll have to come up with something fairly soon though. Kendall and her friends have recently formed a club and named it the Piccl Girls. Piccl is pronounced pickle and they apparently have developed a corresponding Piccl language. As soon as the Piccl Girls allow boys in and let them bring their pickles to the club, then I'll know it's probably too late. I need to find a new career and quick. It'll have to be one that will give me the tools needed to protect my precious children, until they are at least 25 or 30 years old. A fireman's hose is not intimidating enough; an accountant's pocket protector won't put the fear of god in any boy who has but one thought on his mind; construction workers have nail guns and electric saws, so that is a possibility, even if I have never been able to build anything of note my entire life (including years of trying with Legos).
Surely, somewhere out there, there is a dad who has the answer. Let me know what has worked for you. I'll consider any and all options, as long as you are not or never have been incarcerated due to executing your idea. Just in case you are wondering, as for missing my handcuffs as much as I miss my gun, that has nothing to do with my protecting the virtue of my two daughters. That has more to do with the fact that my beautiful wife likes pickles.
Soon after Kendall came into the world on that July day as a millennium baby, I have received advice from all quarters as to the best way to be a dad. Some of the advice has been good, some, not so good. For the most part, I have been no different that the billions of fathers that have come before me, whether they be human or of the animal kingdom. The recipe has two simple ingredients - a pinch of winging it and more importantly, keeping from going from the frying pan into the fire by failing to keep our partners happy. An occasional dash of flowers (by the bouquet, but not the dried or the synthetic ones) and mixing in weekly sessions for the mom to have girlfriend time and any dad will probably have done enough so as to be allowed to keep his spot as the figurehead alpha of the family.
Being a cop brought along with it advice from my police colleagues, many of who were at least a decade ahead of me as fathers of the finer sex. The advice they gave me did not register with me at the time. It is only now that I am beginning to understand what they meant. The advice related to protecting my daughters. Protecting them from the most lethal thing that they will encounter in their lives - boys. I thought they were just joking. My chuckles have turned into a painful grimace because I can no longer heed their advice and I now wish that I could. Any good cop, who has a daughter being pursued by a boy, needs to have The Talk with that boy. All dads need to have this chat, but cops have the inside track. My cop counsellors advised told me that when the time came, have the boy sit with you and have him declare his intentions towards your daughter. What he said would not really be that important, nor would any of the rules you imposed on his courtship. The most important thing was to make sure that you were cleaning your gun at the same time. Your point would be loud and clear!
I haven't figured out what I'm going to do once I finally discover that Kendall has her first real boyfriend. I'll have to come up with something fairly soon though. Kendall and her friends have recently formed a club and named it the Piccl Girls. Piccl is pronounced pickle and they apparently have developed a corresponding Piccl language. As soon as the Piccl Girls allow boys in and let them bring their pickles to the club, then I'll know it's probably too late. I need to find a new career and quick. It'll have to be one that will give me the tools needed to protect my precious children, until they are at least 25 or 30 years old. A fireman's hose is not intimidating enough; an accountant's pocket protector won't put the fear of god in any boy who has but one thought on his mind; construction workers have nail guns and electric saws, so that is a possibility, even if I have never been able to build anything of note my entire life (including years of trying with Legos).
Surely, somewhere out there, there is a dad who has the answer. Let me know what has worked for you. I'll consider any and all options, as long as you are not or never have been incarcerated due to executing your idea. Just in case you are wondering, as for missing my handcuffs as much as I miss my gun, that has nothing to do with my protecting the virtue of my two daughters. That has more to do with the fact that my beautiful wife likes pickles.
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