Look for Opportunities to Fail
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Originally published at www.thecreativecoast.org on May 27, 2015.
Look for opportunities to fail. You will become a leader.
Napolean Hill said “opportunity often comes disguised in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat.” The times when the potential to fail was greatest, I was brave enough to jump from the top rope with my eyes wide open, not knowing if I would land on my head or feet…
The results? Teacher of the Year, Master of Science degree in Educational Leadership with a 4.0. GPA, creator and executive director of ignite duval, and high school assistant principal.
I have learned to embrace the potential for failure, even seeking out the possibility on occasion. Read what happens. (Here is a hint: I didn’t land on my head.)
I began my career 10 years ago as a teacher in a college preparatory school. I have always had a crazy work ethic. My dad gave me the gift of the grind. Some kids want to be firemen, or doctors, or actors. I wanted to be a great teacher, always have and probably always will.
My second year, I’m teaching an Advanced Placement Human Geography class to 9th grade students. Imagine two days before the start of school without books, or training, or a classroom. This was the gift I was given by my school administration. I am not being sarcastic either, it was a gift wrapped present with a giant bow. I just didn’t know it at the time. I was given amazing advice by everyone I knew, if my goal was to quit or to become a failure.
“Do the best you can. It is what it is. Just hang in there.”
Perfect pearls of wisdom if I was shooting for failure. Friends offered to call the union. I declined. I saw an opportunity. Remember? I told you I wanted to be a teacher.
I worked like an animal that year. Not having books pushed me to search for resources and gems that I still use to this day. Had things been comfortable I would have never used THE MEATRIX to teach about commercial agriculture. Watch it.
Teachers wagered on how poorly my students would do, but I never listened. I was not afraid to fail. I would read, prepare, and study until 12 am or 1 am each night only to wake and teach until 6:30 pm. My students bought in. They lived through what I coined “crazy motivation.” If I was a superhero, my strength would be crazy motivation.
“It allows me to sleep faster and work harder. Crazy motivation allows me to battle the forces of evil by getting more things done.”
Joking aside, the situation was only crazy because everyone expected failure when I demanded success of myself and those I worked with. That first year was an opportunity to fail. 50% of my students earned a passing grade on their Advanced Placement Human Geography Exam. The pass rate for the district was below 10%, that’s including the 50% from me, Sam Zakaria. That was a situation that most would not embrace. It was a perfect opportunity to fail.
Looking back, that would be the year that established my reputation as an educator who is able to achieve unconventional results. I became a leader by doing what others were unable or unwilling to do. That was with 17 tattered out-of-date books, no classroom, training, or resources everyone said I needed. I wanted to succeed more than I was afraid to fail.
I started my Master’s program the day after my twins were born. My son Ashton (Ash for short) spent the first three weeks of his life in the neonatal intensive care unit. Funny, but true side note: My son is named after Ash from The Evil Dead. Fathers-to-be feel free to contact me for an explanation on how I was able swing that.
My daughter Zoe came home the first week only to return to the hospital by week two. I would spend the morning with my daughter, walk to the NICU and spend an hour with my son. An odd way to get in your exercise. That was the first three weeks of their lives. I read “School Finance: A Policy Perspective” in the NICU waiting room. That is a tough introduction to parenthood.
The principal who I considered my mentor was given a promotion just prior to Ashton and Zoe’s birth. Leaving with her was my comfortable feeling and cushion in case I needed it.
When it came to doing school work, I waited until my wife went to sleep and then completed my assignments. I coached cross country and soccer while teaching. I worked until 10 pm at school, and then came home and began working as a dad.
To my surprise, twins never sync the same way my phone would with my desktop. Everyone is in a constant state of discomfort and unrest. My son underwent two major surgeries the first year of his life. At three months, Ashton was the second child in Jacksonville to undergo a procedure on his skull: crainosynstosis of the sagital suture. It’s as scary as it sounds.
After the surgery, my son wore a helmet! He was that kid. I tried to keep things light. People would stare, or ask inappropriate questions such as “Why is your kid wearing a helmet?” I smiled, my go-to response, “I am about to shoot him out of a cannon.” My backup response? “He is in the junior astronaut program with NASA.” Confused people would respond, “Really?” No, not really. I’d grab my kid with a helmet and leave.
My first years as a parent were crazy. I had faith my experience would have value. I was unsure what the value would be. I was given every opportunity to lighten my load, to go easier. I had chances to reduce my commitments. My friends and peers would ask…
“Can you cut back your classes? Are you sure you want to be doing this? Aren’t you tired?”
All were invitations to fail. I responded with “No need, yes, and no I am not tired.”
I learned to sleep faster and work harder than ever. I knew that my circumstance with a desire to do better would make me different. If I could make it through alive, I would be the hardest working man in Paxon. I knew I could do anything.
I finished graduate school with a 4.o GPA. In June 2011, I became an assistant principal when I was only 29.
The writing prompt for acceptance into the Assistant Principal Academy was a timed reply. You get an email with a scenario then you have 30 minutes to respond. I asked for my prompt to be sent at 12:30 am. The secretary thought I was crazy, but I was just busy.
Look for opportunities to fail. Those days when it may have been life or death for my son, I gained the gift of perspective. At school, a day of immature kids or screaming parents was easy. Ash, Zoe and my wife were healthy. That was all I needed.
My introduction to parenthood could have been the reason to think that life was not fair and provided a pass to sound like every other negative person. Having uncertainty as the only constant has defined my temperament at work. I can respond in a crisis situation, without acting like the sky is falling. Those are the type of skills that translate immediately to an assistant principal position.
I love Duval County. We face challenges no different than other major cities, except I don’t live in other cities. Kids here joke that Florida is the “gun shine state.” I cringe when I hear that Jacksonville is the murder capital of Florida. Poverty and a common list of social ailments can be found in the city I love.
At school as an assistant principal, my work has a purpose. I am definitely needed in my school. The job is mentally challenging and can take a toll on a person if they are not careful. At the end of the day, I have gas left in my tank. I come home to my family, loving every minute.
Once Ash and Zoe go down, I kick into high gear. ignite duval is my attempt to make things better for those I meet in the city I love. ignite duval is a web design boot camp for young adults 18–21 who build websites using WordPress for small businesses in North Florida. The course teaches web design in six weeks, with professional skills embedded in the program. Learn a skill and get a website, that’s the premise. It’s a fair trade between young adults and the business community. The program is free for young adults and the websites are free or low cost to small businesses. There is nothing like it in Jacksonville.
The potential for failure is great, I am aware. I am unphased.
As I write this I am preparing to share at One Million Cups Savannah on a Wednesday morning. It is 11 pm, I wake at 4:25 am and have 2,100 students with 100 faculty and staff members waiting on me.
I am always looking for my next opportunity to fail.
Sam
