The Power of...

I graduated from high school 30 years ago, a spunky teenager who frequently had more energy than sense. Although I checked the boxes of a 'good girl,' I drove like a maniac and my mouth sometimes got me in trouble. (Both things are true to a lesser degree at 47.)  

My career aspiration from the age of 12-19 was to be behind the desk on television reporting the news. I was heading to the University of Alabama as a Telecommunications and Film major having shadowed people at our local news station. My friend Jill and I were even the morning co-anchors for our school's Channel One daily announcements broadcast.

Somewhere in that experience, I got out of bounds. I have racked my brain (and even asked Jill) for the story. Neither of us can remember the specifics, but nonetheless, I abused my position in a way that landed me in the Principal's Office. And even though I don't recall the details I absolutely remember my punishment--a lengthy essay on "The Power of the Microphone."

In the last few years of social media craziness, I have reflected on the difference it might have made for everyone to be assigned that essay. But it was a powerful punishment for someone like me who loves to communicate--and was pursuing that field as a career. Even after switching gears professionally and wearing many hats since, the lesson about harnessing my tongue and the power of influence remains. 

Thirty years later, as a parent of teenagers, what I am now struck by is what happened after I was disciplined. 

At our high school graduation, our principal Dr. F bestowed his award--the "True Viking" Principal's Award. As he spoke of the recipient, my ears perked when he emphasized "the power of the microphone." I could not believe it when he called my name. I was stunned to be honored after being 'in trouble,' but Dr. F. wasn't rewarding perfection. He chose to award a young person willing to learn and grow.

I wasn't canceled for a mistake, I was disciplined. There were consequences, but all were done in an instructive and restorative way. As a result, I don't think back on that experience with shame--I don't even remember what I did! Three decades later, I see it as it was, a powerful building block for the places God was going to place me and use me in the future. 

So while many of the certificates and statues handed out annually in May are discarded or tucked away in boxes--the lesson from mine was so powerful that it has gone with me into adulthood and parenting. 

Today my physical award (a clock) sits high on a shelf in my study, but I have been thinking a lot about how to apply the principles to the way I view the inevitable stumbles of the young adults in my sphere of influence--especially as we embark on the increased freedom and responsibility 18-year-olds bear. I needed to reflect on this as I prepare for the stage to come. Grace is more powerful than shame. Instructive can be more beneficial than punitive.

And of course, I wanted to share because I believe in the power of the microphone (and grace).