Mr. Rawlins
October 2, 2011
My response to a student's request for some
quotes for a school newspaper story about why Mr. Rawlins, our former
vice principal, got a rock.
You know, I was down in LA over the summer for my 20 year high
school reunion. Was looking through my yearbook afterwards and was
surprised to realize I didn't recognize our vice principals. One guy's
name and face seemed familiar, even though I'd never had any
interactions with him. The other two, I had no idea who they were. As a
good student who didn't go to many school events, I'd never had much
reason to have any interaction with them. And so it is that a lot of
you are wondering why Mr. Rawlins should get his own rock, when so many
other good teachers also left us last year.
It's tragic how unaware you are of how this man was so totally devoted to you.
Most of us spend many more hours on you than just those between 8 and
3. But almost all of us also have other parts of our lives that are
just as important to us: our families, our friends. Mr. Rawlins was a
man of deep patience and inner calm. But in this he showed no balance:
He devoted his entire life to Alameda High School, its staff and its
students. His entire life. Some of you are under the impression that I
attend a lot of school events. And I probably do. But I saw Mr. Rawlins
at maybe 3 of every 4 events I went to. For that to be statistically
possible, he couldn't have been going to just as many events as I was.
He was going to two or three *times* as many events. Not just home
games but also the ones that were farthest away. Two seasons ago, our
boys' basketball team pulled off an incredible playoff upset at Ukiah,
two and a half hours north of here through Friday afternoon commute
traffic in the rain. Quietly sitting in the stands watching over it all
was Mr. Rawlins. Last year when two Richmond girls dragged one of our
soccer players down by her hair and mayhem ensued, there to bring calm
to the chaos and admonish the Richmond coach to act like an adult was
Mr. Rawlins. Many years before my time, when there was concern that
students might vandalize Thompson Field the night before some big
event, who stepped up? Mr. Rawlins, who brought a sleeping bag and
spent the entire night there.
Why would a person give so much for us? Not for recognition. The man
was terrified of recognition. At girls' basketball banquets and music
boosters fundraisers, he would always take a seat in the most
inconspicuous back corners by the exits, so that if anyone ever
recognized him and tried to make him stand up and take a bow, so we
could appreciate his attendance and tireless support, he could instead
duck out of the room momentarily. Mr. Rawlins was humble to a fault. As
vice principal, he never ever considered himself to be above us
teachers. He saw his role as far, far below us, to support us in our
important work. And if someone had ever tried to give him his own
dedicated vice principal parking spot, he would have been absolutely
mortified, and he'd have snuck in at night and painted it over himself.
Even trash wasn't beneath him. I can't say I've ever seen him casually
stroll. He always walked briskly with purpose. But not like a bird from
point A to B, but like a fly, never so busy or so proud he couldn't zig
zag and pick up every piece of litter along his way. How many of you
have ever picked up a piece of litter that wasn't yours? And how much
better would the world be if we all did?
See, that's something you probably don't understand yet about
leadership. It's not about having the power to tell people what to do.
The best kind of leadership is setting an example in one's own actions
and conduct so compelling that those around can't help but admire it,
want to follow it of their own accord. The very best leaders don't have
to tell their people every little thing they need to do. Without having
been told, they're inspired to do it anyway.
That's why Mr. Rawlins got a rock. That's why I miss him every time I see it. And plenty of times even when I don't.
--Mr. Joo
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