Do you ever feel like you’re drowning, like there’s no one around to help? Do you need someone to come alongside you or your organization, and throw you a lifeline? What is actually going on in your workplace, family, or life right now? To whom can you reach out and rely upon to help you navigate rough, uncertain waters and make the change you are seeking? Lessons learned on the Ocoee River are shared in this story about two brothers on a rafting trip. These short episodes are lifted from life’s lessons, challenging us to make decisions that matter. In a Moment segments are published intermittently, punctuating guest-focused Lead. Learn. Change. episodes. As you listen, reflect on your recent learning, recognize your potential to make a tremendous impact on others’ lives, and take decisive action that will lead to the change you seek to make.
Brothers go on a rafting trip
A bodysurfing challenge
Impending tragedy
How to navigate trouble
Mutual support
Stand up
David Reynolds:
We all have the chance to lead, learn and change every day. These opportunities are often hidden in plain sight. We simply need to look for the lessons, consider the possibilities and take action. Lead, learn, change in a moment.
My youngest brother William had a few days off from his job in Kentucky. So he drove to Ellenwood, Georgia to see me and my wife, Debbie. During the previous year, I had had the opportunity to raft the Ocqueoc river, which is North Georgia's answer to the raging Colorado.
While our class three and class four Rapids are not equivalent to those out West. They were deemed appropriately challenging for the competitive kayaking during the 1996 summer Olympics. That's good enough for me, my two trips down the river were great fun. And this led me to suggest the same experience for William.
Time on the Ocqueoc will find a rafter gazing on beautiful vistas of dense trees, flanking the river one minute and navigating deceptively strong shifts in current near seemingly innocuous rock formations the next. You can relax in the floating calm of surprisingly peaceful moments when the riverbed elevation change tapers to near zero and then in mere seconds, you are straining to follow the commands of the guide sitting atop his perch. Barking instructions in an attempt to keep your crafts occupants from being flipped into the churning waters.
Once at the outfitter, we signed our lives away on the legal disclaimer that described what harm could befall us acknowledging that we would take full responsibility for said injuries or death. We had no problem with that expected detail. And so our John Hancock's were hastily added to the list of victims, novice rafters.
A few lessons were provided pausing mostly on what to do if one of our fellow water sport enthusiasts managed to leave the boat against his or her will. There was a low visitor turnout that day and this provided that guides with some flexibility regarding time spent at certain points along our riparian travels. One such adjustment to the standard schedule was a pause at a location known as Jump Off Rock.
A place to try one's hand, arms and chest actually at body surfing. After getting our sea legs, moving through various levels of challenges presented by rocks and rapids. We had settled into a nice rhythm. It was turning out to be a truly great day. Rounding a band, our leader pointed out, Jump Off Rock. It was time for something different.
We steered our raft in the direction of the bank and steadied it safely against a rock climbed onto a freshwater sandbar of sorts and eagerly awaited our directions. There was a spot just reachable with a good leap where if the landing was nailed one's upper body could be held afloat by roiling rapids headed downstream while one's lower extremities were similarly levitated by a water formation churning at high speeds in the opposite direction upstream. When one's outstretched arms were drawn inward, the spill was broken in the life jacket and helmet wearing tourist was jettisoned in the direction of the rivers main current.
Once the body surfing ended, the rafter became the swimmer and made way for the riverbank. One problem, William couldn't swim, not a lick. Sure he had on that orange vest, but that's no substitute for a basic understanding of the physics necessary to save one's life. But hey, what could go wrong? So after very stellar demo, by our highly skilled skipper, I took a few turns at body surfing, had a blast each time. And William grew boldly confident in his ability to master the art as well.
Standing on the launch point, he leaped perfect. Watching him bobbing there like a human hovercraft, I have to admit I was impressed. He had no fear. He went for it and looked like a pro until his arms got tired, in they folded in a way he shot downstream and fast. And heading toward the middle of the rushing water's not toward the edge. His image was a rapidly shrinking in size in inverse proportion to the panic welling up in my heart.
In nanoseconds, I had already made the mental jump to the phone call to my mom, "Mother, I killed William." I nearly threw up. I had to act, I began heading into William's direction, attempting to be heard over the roar of the water. I was actually closing the gap and as I drew within 15 or 20 yards watching my brother flail his arms to no avail, splashing about like a gopher wrapped in a sack, I realized that both of us were in water no more than knee deep.
Standing now, easily running, I threw him a verbal rope yelling, "Stand up!", as loudly as I could. Seeing me standing there, the realization of his predicament swept over him. And I was relieved beyond belief to watch him rise from the river and lumber to the water's edge.
I have zero recollection of climbing back into the raft or of any specific rapids navigated thereafter, but I have never forgotten those tortured seconds. How often we allow ourselves to be swept along by the general movement of others. If we would simply look around, capture some factual data about our situation and act on it, we could alter our direction and our destination.
We should never assume that we are completely on our own or that no one is concerned about our progress, nor should we succumb to the certainty of imminent failure. We don't have to drown. The organization with which I work. The Professional Association of Georgia Educators or PAGE, has sought out and found others sometimes at a very critical juncture, who have a focus on common shared goals.
These individuals and other entities share PAGE's commitment to excellence, to true collective success. Thoughtfully assessing the landscape, designing processes to encourage collaboration, standing up when necessary and even occasionally raising one's voice above the din of the uninformed are steps that we must be willing to take.
Support can be found via trusted consultants, like-minded thinkers and authors or expert presenters and practitioners. It's often that last group, practicing professionals. Those with bonafide street cred, upon whom we should rely the most. The superintendents, principals, assistant principals, counselors, central office staff, coaches, and teachers who actively engage in work with students, fellow educators and parents every day are a tremendous resource for PAGE.
These are the real experts. These are the people who know how to do the work that can turn things around for a community, a school or a student. They are our lifeline and we need to listen to them and learn from them. They stand up for kids every day and we need to stand up for them. We're all in this together. We don't have to drown, stand up. Moments matter. Take notice, make a decision, impact others.
Please subscribe to Lead, Learn, Change, and share this podcast with a family member, friend, or colleague. You can contact me, David Reynolds at leadlearnchange@icloud.com until next time lead, learn, change in a moment.We all have the chance to lead, learn and change every day. These opportunities are often hidden in plain sight. We simply need to look for the lessons, consider the possibilities and take action. Lead, learn, change in a moment.
My youngest brother William had a few days off from his job in Kentucky. So he drove to Ellenwood, Georgia to see me and my wife, Debbie. During the previous year, I had had the opportunity to raft the Ocqueoc river, which is North Georgia's answer to the raging Colorado.
While our class three and class four Rapids are not equivalent to those out West. They were deemed appropriately challenging for the competitive kayaking during the 1996 summer Olympics. That's good enough for me, my two trips down the river were great fun. And this led me to suggest the same experience for William.
Time on the Ocqueoc will find a rafter gazing on beautiful vistas of dense trees, flanking the river one minute and navigating deceptively strong shifts in current near seemingly innocuous rock formations the next. You can relax in the floating calm of surprisingly peaceful moments when the riverbed elevation change tapers to near zero and then in mere seconds, you are straining to follow the commands of the guide sitting atop his perch. Barking instructions in an attempt to keep your crafts occupants from being flipped into the churning waters.
Once at the outfitter, we signed our lives away on the legal disclaimer that described what harm could befall us acknowledging that we would take full responsibility for said injuries or death. We had no problem with that expected detail. And so our John Hancock's were hastily added to the list of victims, novice rafters.
A few lessons were provided pausing mostly on what to do if one of our fellow water sport enthusiasts managed to leave the boat against his or her will. There was a low visitor turnout that day and this provided that guides with some flexibility regarding time spent at certain points along our riparian travels. One such adjustment to the standard schedule was a pause at a location known as Jump Off Rock.
A place to try one's hand, arms and chest actually at body surfing. After getting our sea legs, moving through various levels of challenges presented by rocks and rapids. We had settled into a nice rhythm. It was turning out to be a truly great day. Rounding a band, our leader pointed out, Jump Off Rock. It was time for something different.
We steered our raft in the direction of the bank and steadied it safely against a rock climbed onto a freshwater sandbar of sorts and eagerly awaited our directions. There was a spot just reachable with a good leap where if the landing was nailed one's upper body could be held afloat by roiling rapids headed downstream while one's lower extremities were similarly levitated by a water formation churning at high speeds in the opposite direction upstream. When one's outstretched arms were drawn inward, the spill was broken in the life jacket and helmet wearing tourist was jettisoned in the direction of the rivers main current.
Once the body surfing ended, the rafter became the swimmer and made way for the riverbank. One problem, William couldn't swim, not a lick. Sure he had on that orange vest, but that's no substitute for a basic understanding of the physics necessary to save one's life. But hey, what could go wrong? So after very stellar demo, by our highly skilled skipper, I took a few turns at body surfing, had a blast each time. And William grew boldly confident in his ability to master the art as well.
Standing on the launch point, he leaped perfect. Watching him bobbing there like a human hovercraft, I have to admit I was impressed. He had no fear. He went for it and looked like a pro until his arms got tired, in they folded in a way he shot downstream and fast. And heading toward the middle of the rushing water's not toward the edge. His image was a rapidly shrinking in size in inverse proportion to the panic welling up in my heart.
In nanoseconds, I had already made the mental jump to the phone call to my mom, "Mother, I killed William." I nearly threw up. I had to act, I began heading into William's direction, attempting to be heard over the roar of the water. I was actually closing the gap and as I drew within 15 or 20 yards watching my brother flail his arms to no avail, splashing about like a gopher wrapped in a sack, I realized that both of us were in water no more than knee deep.
Standing now, easily running, I threw him a verbal rope yelling, "Stand up!", as loudly as I could. Seeing me standing there, the realization of his predicament swept over him. And I was relieved beyond belief to watch him rise from the river and lumber to the water's edge.
I have zero recollection of climbing back into the raft or of any specific rapids navigated thereafter, but I have never forgotten those tortured seconds. How often we allow ourselves to be swept along by the general movement of others. If we would simply look around, capture some factual data about our situation and act on it, we could alter our direction and our destination.
We should never assume that we are completely on our own or that no one is concerned about our progress, nor should we succumb to the certainty of imminent failure. We don't have to drown. The organization with which I work. The Professional Association of Georgia Educators or PAGE, has sought out and found others sometimes at a very critical juncture, who have a focus on common shared goals.
These individuals and other entities share PAGE's commitment to excellence, to true collective success. Thoughtfully assessing the landscape, designing processes to encourage collaboration, standing up when necessary and even occasionally raising one's voice above the din of the uninformed are steps that we must be willing to take.
Support can be found via trusted consultants, like-minded thinkers and authors or expert presenters and practitioners. It's often that last group, practicing professionals. Those with bonafide street cred, upon whom we should rely the most. The superintendents, principals, assistant principals, counselors, central office staff, coaches, and teachers who actively engage in work with students, fellow educators and parents every day are a tremendous resource for PAGE.
These are the real experts. These are the people who know how to do the work that can turn things around for a community, a school or a student. They are our lifeline and we need to listen to them and learn from them. They stand up for kids every day and we need to stand up for them. We're all in this together. We don't have to drown, stand up. Moments matter. Take notice, make a decision, impact others.
Please subscribe to Lead, Learn, Change, and share this podcast with a family member, friend, or colleague. You can contact me, David Reynolds at leadlearnchange@icloud.com until next time lead, learn, change in a moment.