POLONIUS: Do you know me, my lord?
HAMLET: Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
Two students spotted it, a fish tucked inside the plexiglass of our reader board out front. Incongruous, unexpected, and quite, quite dead, the fish looked out at them from beneath an advertisement for the upcoming production of Hamlet. I don’t know if that fish was in any way a reference to the play, but I like to imagine that whoever put it there had the fishmonger line in mind when she did. As a principal, believing the best in everyone, even misbehaving fishmongers, should be part of the job description.
Being an educator means being ready for anything. Good surprises (our thespians qualified for state, one of our jazz musicians just released an album, our filmmakers just won a slew of prizes at the district film festival), bad surprises (a burst pipe, road construction out front during registration day, a car accident in the parking lot), and sometimes a dead fish.
Those of us who have made a career of education bring to our work the flexibility to handle any of those, preferably with a smile.
I shared a photo of the dead fish in the reader board with some friends who are administrators in other schools. Kindred spirits, I knew they’d smile at this bit of the unexpected on my campus as I’ve smiled at odds and ends they’ve sent my way. Connections with fellow administrators, both far and near, is an important ingredient in the life of a principal or assistant principal.
Because as a school administrator the news isn’t always good. Budgets constrict. Students, and sometimes adults, make poor choices. The stresses of the world seep into the work we do on campus. We do our best to help our ships sail straight, but rough weather is a constant in the principal’s office. Waves of budget, winds of school safety, and navigating the storms sometimes means you find yourself with a stray fish on the boat. Or in the reader board.
All that said, my favorite part of our recent fish, was that when the miscreants left us the fish, they also left a box with latex gloves to make clean up easier. Thoughtful, even if a little fishy.
Thoughtful, and inspiring in its own way. Later in the week the two students who’d spotted the fish came into my office to ask if I’d play a role in their movie “Two Girls and a Fish.” Inspired by the zaniness of our wayward shad, they’d put together a playful short that tried to capture a mischievous sense of fun. What better result of a prank than inspiring art. So very ACMA.
Now I’m not encouraging more out of place seafood on campus; even with gloves that fish smelled worse than anyone should have to smell on a Monday, but I do appreciate the opportunity to laugh at the unexpected, be reminded that life is anything but predictable, and revel in creation of art.