You Never Really Know
The Impact You Make On Others
Dear Friend,
I’ve had a part time job teaching performing arts for ages.
Actual ages.
It started in my thirties, continued in my forties and here we are rocketing through my fifties.
I’ve done it for that long, some of my present colleagues were once students. The creative side of the work is a buzz. I like directing switched on kids. We talk about art and meaning, change rippling out into the universe. How we can learn to meet the challenges of life through meeting the internal challenges of the performer.
I like it best when the pressures of the institution disappear. The rehearsals that take place after the school day has ended or during lunch hour.
I’ve never been a fan of ’the system’. Paperwork is not my thing. Boring, dull measuring the wrong things. To be an artist in a school, that’s a line I’ve walked long enough to find a way with it, but I have to say it’s never been more challenging than it is today.
In the UK the funding for state education has been cut back in ways that boggle the mind. When someone leaves, cash strapped schools divide up the workload, share it out, pile it on and fail to recruit. One person is now doing the work that was once shared by four. Then staff turnover goes up because the thing that used to be fun, starts to become bad for your health.
The spiral is down, not up.
My heart rate is building just sitting here thinking about it.
But you never know what kind of impact you are having in work like that.
There’s a story I tell about a girl who studied with me. She’d gone through family events that I won’t detail here, but which were extreme in nature. She was understandably very upset and this translated into some behaviours that were harmful to herself and the wider community.
Time and time again I’d be the one discovering her using abusive language, threatening others, damaging things, acting recklessly in public spaces. I’d write it up, submit the information into the system.
The kid started to think, assumed, I had it in for her.
I couldn’t understand it. I’d turn a corner and there she was, right there doing something impossible to walk by and ignore.
A friend and colleague who had built up a positive relationship with her tried to mediate restorative conversations between myself and the girl, but they fell on stoney ground.
Eventually the kid moved on to a more suitable setting.
The local educational authority funded a residential placement for her in a therapeutic setting. They had horses there. She fell in love with them, found an affinity with their grace and the power. Was needed by them, loved.
Her heart began to heal.
My friend told me about it.
“You know how we got her that placement Michael? All of those incident reports you wrote up about her.”
A moment.
Letting that sink in.
All of that paperwork.
It did make a difference.
I still don’t like paperwork. Bureaucracy. Some people do, but I guess they’re not looking at life through the lens of art.
The key is to show up as best you can in any given moment. Show up with one hundred percent of what’s available to you.
That’s a foundation for what happens here in these letters.
Today’s is a little later than I would have preferred. There was a slight medical emergency this morning (now resolved) and a surprise visit from a vulnerable neighbour, plus this morning’s coaching sessions.
You never really know what kind of an impact you’re having on people.
Writing here, people do get in touch and let me know if and when a post resonates with them.
I wasn’t expecting that when I started back on January 1st. It is awesome when it happens so if you were thinking of getting in touch you can do that either by commenting on a post, or starting a thread on chat on the substack app.
You can also now send a direct message, which is a new feature on the platform. Here’s the button
I will be glad to hear from you.
We are a small community so there’s no worry of me becoming overwhelmed with messages. It’s just good to know that you’re here.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey