I’ve always loved animals.  As a child, I dreamed of having a brown horse with a black mane and tail, just like the ones in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books.  But living in town, and having a parent who grew up having to take care of horses and other farm animals, ensured that dream would not come true.  We did own a family farm, though, and when I was 16, long after the dream of becoming a rodeo star had faded away, we moved there.  My dad raised cattle on the land behind our house, and after I recovered from the trauma of being transplanted to “the country”, I found that I enjoyed long walks in the pasture.  It was such a large space that the cattle could avoid me when I entered their domain, but after a while, they became accustomed to my presence and just ignored me.  They knew I wouldn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother me.  The lone male of the herd was a big ole’, laid back, lazy bull named Mitchell.  Mitchell was as gentle as a lamb and didn’t have any horns, but he was BIG!  I was never afraid of Mitchell, in spite of his size, because he was just too lazy to be aggressive.  One day, as I started out across the pasture, I picked some apples from the tree in the backyard to feed to the calves as I went along.  I had to toss the apples to the calves because they were too skittish to approach me.  One of those apples rolled right between Mitchell’s front feet.  He slowly leaned down, licked it once or twice, then took a bite.  That’s when I saw a side of Mitchell I had never seen.  He chewed that apple up, licked his lips, and began to sniff around for more.  Then he locked his sights on the apple I still had in my hand, let out a bellow, and started running toward me like his tail was on fire.  Did I mention how big Mitchell was?  I took one look at that massive beast thundering across that pasture toward me, and the only thing faster than me running for the safety of the fence was the liquid running down my legs.  

I developed a healthy respect for bulls that day.  Back in the 1990s, when line dancing and rodeos were the latest craze, I had a student, whom I’ll call Junior, who rode bulls.  Junior had red hair and freckles, and a personality that was as feisty as his hair.  I always liked to attend sporting events and other activities that my students were involved in, and the kids were always excited to see me there.  I had not seen Junior in a rodeo, however, and he kept after me to come see him ride bulls.  The thought made me shiver.  

One Friday, as we were learning to conjugate verbs,  I asked Junior to give me an example of a verb he had conjugated.  He gave me the verb “ride”.  He said, “By the way, Miss Beth, I’m riding in a rodeo in Lexington tomorrow night and I really want you to come.”  I said, “Junior, the thought of seeing you up on a bull just scares me to death.  Why do you want to ride those mean ole’ things, anyway?”  And he said, and I kid you not, “Because Miss Beth, there’s nothing like having all that power between your legs.”

Class dismissed.

I haven’t seen Junior in years, but I thought about him the other night at a football game when one of my students asked me how it felt to have all the power in the whole school.  That question took me aback a little.  It made me wonder if that’s what my students and parents really think, that my job is all about power.  I’ve certainly never thought about it that way.  Yes, I make a lot of decisions, because as the principal of a school, I am responsible for every single thing that happens here, good or bad.  But to me, it’s not about wielding power…it’s about empowering others.  

I like to think that I empower my students to be life-long learners and and to make those good choices that will ensure their future success.  I like to give them options, a voice in their own education, the power to make their dreams come true.  I like to think that I empower our parents by keeping an open-door policy, by inviting them to immerse themselves in their child’s education, by giving them opportunities to be advocates for their students.  I like to think that I empower my teachers by giving them the freedom to choose those strategies that will help their students learn best, to set goals for achievement, and to drive our vision that every child can and will learn.  It’s not about me.  It’s about our kids and their future.  They are the ones who hold the real power…the power of a good education…the power to forge their own destinies by filling their minds with knowledge and wisdom.

Ole’ Mitchell is dead and gone, and I imagine that Junior is still out there somewhere riding bulls.  I hope he is still enjoying all that power.  I prefer to give mine to others.