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By William D. Parker
When we lived in the basement, Daddy would wake up long before the rest of us. He would stir the remaining coals in the wood stove, adding fresh sticks to the barrel-sized belly and stoking it until the new wood caught fire. As we crawled out of our beds, we would make our way straight to the kitchen, circling around the wood stove as if it were a wise sage, radiating warmth and illuminating our little hands and souls.
Momma would move about the kitchen, making a skillet of eggs or a pan of oatmeal—whatever was on hand. On some winter days, she’d fry strips of salt pork. It was so salty that just a few bites were enough. Some old-timers would boil their salted meat to temper the flavor.
My oldest brother, Harvey, loved sitting in an old red rocking chair. Its springs creaked as he rocked, the feet of the chair bouncing up and down with increasing velocity. One day, curious as a five-year-old often is, I crawled underneath the chair and watched the wooden legs clamp up and down in rhythm with his rocking. Clamp, clamp, clamp.
An idea struck me: if I timed it right, I could slip my fingers under the legs and pull them away just before the chair came down. For a few tries, I succeeded, but by the fifth or sixth attempt, my luck ran out.
That day, I learned a hard lesson about motion, velocity, and friction—forces too unpredictable for my small fingers.
I never made the same mistake with the wood stove. Years earlier, as a toddler just learning to walk, I had backed into the kitchen oven while Momma was baking. The burn on my backside taught me a valuable lesson: fire burns. I never forgot it, especially when stoking the wood stove or adding sticks to its flames.
One of my earliest chores was splitting wood and hauling it inside with my small red wagon. Even as a boy, I learned to handle an axe and sledgehammer. Over time, splitting wood became a lesson in patience and meditation. Perhaps that’s why I still find so much pleasure in burning real logs in the fireplace or sitting by a backyard firepit, contemplating the mesmerizing colors of the flames.
We often learn life’s hardest lessons through experience. This thought came to me this morning during a video meeting with school leaders. We discussed how to navigate the challenges of leadership—how to steer the ship without crashing into obstacles. I shared a story about my friend Dave Sandowich, a 21-year school principal and an experienced sailor. He often draws parallels between sailing and leadership.
Dave once said, “Sailing is a lot like leadership. Your destination might lie directly upwind, but a sailboat can’t sail straight into the wind. Instead, you work your way there by angling off the wind, zigzagging toward your goal. It’s more effort and takes longer, but if you stay the course, apply your knowledge, and adjust based on feedback from your instruments and instincts, you’ll get there.”
When I asked the leaders how they face difficulties without creating more damage, here were some of their responses:
- Pause and think before you speak.
- Identify what’s really bothering you before addressing it.
- Confront the reality, not the person, and consider your role in the situation.
One leader compared it to snow skiing: “When I try to control every variable, I fall more. But when I go with the natural forces instead of fighting them, I move forward. Each experience builds understanding for the next time.”
So, what do wood stoves and uncertainties have in common? Each day, we step into settings—some as comforting as a warm room, others as daunting as an angry parent. Each situation offers a lesson. Sometimes, the lesson is as simple as avoiding a hot stove: pause and seek understanding before responding. Other times, it’s about resistance. Do you fight against it like punching the wind, or do you adjust your sails, using those forces to propel you forward?
For example, when I asked these same leaders about clarifying their intentions for staff or students, they shared:
- “I should explain why I’m spending more time in classrooms instead of just showing up.”
- “I want to clarify new responsibilities for staff instead of assuming they’ll figure it out.”
- “I need my teachers to see that we’re collectively responsible for all students, not just those on their rosters.”
- “I want to understand my team’s goals so I can help them while aligning with our collective goals.”
You probably won’t place your hand on a hot stove or stick your fingers under a rocking chair today. But will you face resistance in pursuing your goals? Likely. Even this week, as I set goals for my work with Principal Matters, I found myself focusing too much on tasks. Tasks matter, but I paused to reflect on the values I want to cultivate:
- Actively listening and improving as a consultant.
- Creating collaborative spaces for problem-solving.
- Encouraging reflection, perspective, and action.
- Growing deeply as a person while equipping others to do the same.
No matter the resistance, these intentions guide me as I adjust my sails for the journey ahead.
Now It’s Your Turn
How are you approaching today’s challenges with intentionality?
How can you use resistance to propel you forward instead of holding you back?
What ideas or goals can you clarify for those you serve to ensure a clearer path ahead?
