What role is needed of me now?
I work with a role-based company. That means that my title is something that doesn’t exactly describe what I do, because what I do changes based on the situation. So one of the questions I’ve learned to ask ahead of meetings is ‘what role is needed of me now?’ This is not a ‘good cop, bad cop’ type of caricature, but a discussion around the need of that situation and the value that I can bring to the discussion. This is true at the office and at home.
My mother is a life-long educator. She’s trained in how children learn and experienced in how schools operate. She’s helped a lot of fathers understand if their child is ‘on-track’ and what to do if she is not. She’s calmed mothers with assurance that the child’s behavior is ‘age-appropriate,’ even if odd. She’s helped boys understand that it’s time to put on deodorant (just like they discussed yesterday and the day before that). She’s dialed-in to helping based on her experience and her role.
Then I get the first report home from the teacher about my child. I call with questions of what the assessment means. But when I call about my child, she has to decide which role to play: educator, administrator, parent or grandparent.
As educator, she pulls from her training for age-appropriate developmental stages to help calibrate my child’s assessment.
As a school administrator, she reads what’s not in the assessment to determine the implications of the note, translating the phrases into ‘here’s what this means and what the school will or all not do about it.’
As my mother, she connects me back to my own development, commenting that I did the same thing at his age and that he’s ok and that I am not failing as a parent.
As his grandmother, she holds him closely without questions or assessments.
Often, she’ll ask me which role I want her to play: ‘are you asking my professional opinion?’ and sometimes the answer is ‘yes’ and sometimes the answer is ’no. Just tell me he’s okay.'
She knows these roles, employs them naturally and switches gears fluidly. Her success with me is this: despite those roles she can play in this situation, she’ll always be my mother first. To my son, she’ll always be grandma first. Always.
At the end of the call home and after the administrative translations, she reminds us both that she loves us and that she’ll send cookies.
She knows the roles she plays, assesses each situation uniquely and employs the role needed of her in the context. This is wisdom and maturity, asking ‘what role is needed of me now.' Thanks, Mom. Now, about those cookies…