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Getting Past a Gatekeeper

Gatekeepers are interesting creatures. They use their power to let people in or keep them out of various places. There are a lot of different kinds of gatekeepers in the world, and some educators are drawn to the gatekeeper style of leadership. It can play out at every level from classroom to board. I’ve never fully understood this style, but I have been subject to gatekeepers in various ways for my entire life. We all encounter gatekeepers, but when your principal is a gatekeeper and they’re keeping you out, you have a challenge to face.


It took me a while to realize that my principal was a gatekeeper type, and I was not the only person she kept out. Even then, it took me seven challenging years to realize that this gatekeeper wasn’t budging, so I changed gates. It wasn’t easy. In fact, leaving my gate, aka former school, was among the most difficult decisions of my life. I loved the challenge of the IB, I loved my students and their families, and I loved my work. It had all the right ingredients for a wholehearted teaching life, except for my principal. This gatekeeper was trying to keep me out in any and every way she could.


At first, I watched who got in. I wondered why them and not me. Why was a certain colleague receiving a smile and nod for inadequate work or why was another colleague excused for the inexcusable. I pontificated what qualified the golden ticket holders for open doors and safe passage while I kept hitting the wall of "No." I pondered what I needed to do to break through. It took me a few years to see how much she disliked me. When I did, I tried to kill her with kindness. I tried to be the best I could be at my job. I tried everything. That works with some gatekeepers. They accept you eventually. They acquiesce to your determination or they eventually see your merit. That did not happen in my situation. The harder I tried, the worse things got.


I finally came to terms with what she had been showing me all along. This woman hated me, and I found it debilitating. I’m not being hyperbolic in my use of the term. She told me she didn’t like the sound of my voice, she embarrassed me at staff meetings, and she refused to share a compliment with me, even if it was notable ( I found out about it through someone in administration who felt I deserved to hear it). The list goes on for several pages. When I was first published on my teaching approach, her answer to reading my article was, "I read it." Can you believe it? I didn't for a while. My mentor advised me by echoing the words of Maya Angelou: When people show you who they are, believe them. I finally saw it clearly and tried to carry on despite the disdain.


I tried many things to try make it better, but it didn't get better. I finally worked up the courage to face her and ask her to stop. Then, it escalated. It was like a game to her and the more pain I showed, the more she wanted to inflict it. Sadly, she couldn’t stop herself, but she did try to stop me. She stopped me from teaching and doing what I loved, she stopped me from professional opportunities at work, and then she tried to stop me from leaving to pursue other professional opportunities. In a feedback interview from an administrator, she told me that I had to leave my school. I was so jarred by her feedback, though she wouldn’t tell me exactly what my principal had said about me. She said she would never admit what she was telling me but that I needed to know that my principal gave me the worst reference and I probably needed to leave my school. That woman is now a superintendent in my board, and I’ve wanted to thank her so many times for helping me see the truth that I already knew but did not want to admit to myself. My principal was so destructive to my life and professional experience that I finally realized that I had no other choice but to leave. I needed to get beyond her gaze and her gate. It broke my heart.


At that stage in my career, after building up a reputation for teaching excellence and even winning an award to that name, I had a lot to lose. I had been practically recruited by the head of school. I had tenure and seniority. I was known and respected in my community. At the same, I cried every day. I used all the skills in my toolbox and tried to build new ones to find the answers I needed to move on. People had all sorts of reasons why she didn’t like me: jealousy, ineptitude, she was just like that. It was tearing me apart inside, and many of my relationships suffered as a result. I couldn’t go, but I couldn’t stay. After hearing from my Head of School that my principal said that I didn’t make a difference to my school community, I was crushed. It didn’t matter that I knew it wasn't true or even how many accolades I was given by the community. It wasn't enough to keep me there. I knew I had to go. As Dr. Wayne Dyer said, "What other people think of me is none of my business." I often wished that I could believe that, but the hate was poisoning me.

I prepared myself to consider options. I knew what I wanted but was afraid to do it. I needed a break from gatekeepers. I needed more autonomy, but I also needed security and had responsibilities to my family. I dreamed of doing more in education. I wanted reach beyond the classroom but I didn’t want to leave the classroom. There are no roles out there like that so I had to build outside the blocks. I swallowed my pride about position and focused on my mission. I became an Occasional Teacher (substitute/supply teacher) in York Region and started my consulting practice, Building Outside the Blocks.


A few weeks after I submitted my resignation, my principal called me into her office. She asked me to close the door, but I politely told her that I’d prefer to leave it open. She wasn’t supposed to be alone in a room with me because of how she spoke to me. It was an agreement. She proceeded to push her finger into my chest and say cruelly, ” How dare you leave without facing me.” Before she could say much more, I talked back to her. I told her that I would no longer tolerate her speaking to me that way. I thought I was finally free from her.


I wasn’t free, but I'm working on it. In the four years since my self-emancipation, I have become a part-time contract teacher in York Region (YRDSB), a TEDx and Keynote speaker, built The Mentoree, hosted two successful podcasts on voicEd Radio, the Personal Playlist Podcast and OnEdMentors, become a board member of Learning Forward Ontario, and published Strum and The Wild Turkeys. No matter how much I accomplish or how many successes I have, she still gets to me. Last week, I received a notification that she looked me up on LinkedIn. It jarred me. I am so grateful that I liberated myself from all of it, and I know that I have done amazing things. Sadly, gatekeepers can have residual power. I have read a lot about people like her and have tried really hard to move past the anger and hurt. I can spot a gatekeeper from a mile away, and I actually feel sorry for them. They derive their power from deciding who is in and who is out. I’d rather work on making a place that everyone can be a part of: hate free and gate free.


You should never shrink yourself to fit into spaces you’ve outgrown. I never outgrew my school or my work. I outgrew being told that I wasn’t good enough by a person for whom I have no respect. I am learning to stop looking for approval of who I am and what I do. instead, I am working on being who I am and doing the sometimes amazing things I do. I am trying be unapologetically myself. I am getting past this gatekeeper by going from asking why not me to why me to asserting me!


Professions are full of gatekeepers, and they aren't all bad people. If you are a gatekeeper, though, I urge you to ask who you are keeping out and who gets in. Is there something meritorious about it or is it random? Is it professional or is it personal? You can learn from gatekeepers and even in spite of them. I have learned that when things becomes personal, you have to get personal with yourself. We need to be our own gatekeepers. We need to keep out people who try to bring us down and let in all the things that you believe in and hold sacred. That should always include you.








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