Your “presence” is often the best present you can provide others.
Early in my speaking career, I was asked to keynote a large Superintendent event in Dallas, Texas, attended by district office staff from across the area. This was an incredible opportunity for me, especially since “The Innovator’s Mindset” was only recently released and closely aligned with the state’s “Districts of Innovation” initiative, which happened in the same year. I had no idea regarding the initiative when the book was written, but I will tell you the timing couldn’t have been more perfect!
As the number of events outside my driving range from my home in Canada was pretty limited at the time, I was not the best traveler, and for this one-day event, I had not only my computer bag, but also checked a piece of luggage. My argument for checking bags at the time was that I had big feet (size 14) and couldn’t fit more than 2 pairs in a bag. In reality, I was just an overplanner, prepared for tropical weather, a blizzard, or somewhere in between.
Nervously, my first flight of two was delayed, and I barely made my connection to Dallas. Unfortunately, that checked bag, with my suit and dress shoes, was not so lucky and was left behind somewhere in Toronto. I wasn’t worried, though, because I knew it was the airline’s responsibility to get my bag to my destination. What I didn’t realize is that although there was a guarantee my bag would arrive, that promise ended at when my luggage would arrive.
So here I am in Dallas, Texas, barely knowing the area at about 10 PM local time, wearing a t-shirt, sandals, and a hat. This is a blatant breaking of the Larry David rule that you are not allowed to wear shorts on the plane, and Dean Shareski is probably cringing at the mention of my attire.
No toiletries and no alternate clothes for the event. I am in trouble.
At this time of night, the only store with any clothing alternatives open was Walmart, and honestly, I was much heavier in frame than I am today, so I knew my clothing options would be limited. I looked around and found nothing that would be deemed formal, so I picked up some gel (I have to take care of my hair), a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a T-shirt. This was the best option available at the time.
As I walked into the event, I felt I had missed the memo that it was a black-tie affair, and this group had the most formal clothing I have ever seen at an event, let alone noticed.
You could see that some people recognized me, and although I don’t think they looked down on me, they might have thought I’d missed the memo about the event’s dress code.
Before I was introduced, I shared with the planning team that my luggage hadn’t arrived, which is why I made my fashion choices, and promised to do everything I could to make it a memorable event. They had no issues with it, but I didn’t want to seem disrespectful to them or the group.
As I was introduced, I walked sheepishly onto the stage and shared that my luggage had not arrived and that, although I was limited in my options, I had picked up a T-shirt at the local Walmart. I still had my shorts on from the night prior, and a short-sleeved button-up shirt over what I had purchased the night before. I did, however, unbutton the shirt to reveal my ten-dollar purchase from the midnight selection.
This was the actual shirt:
INSTANT CHEERING AND APPLAUSE!
If you have ever been to Texas, there is a certain pride in the state, and knowing that (from watching TV as a kid), I had hoped that the legends were true, and I would be forgiven, if not even embraced by the group in front of me.
“Embraced” was an understatement.
I honestly can’t remember what I shared that day, but I do know the impression I made. This happened over a decade ago, and it seems I cannot speak at an event in the state without someone saying they were there and remember the moment I revealed my shirt. It instantly connected with the group. In fact, I am still invited to events because of that day, and although it was because of the ideas I shared, the attire didn’t hurt as much as it helped.
There are several lessons I learned from that day.
1. I shared the following in “Forward, Together: Moving Schools from Conflict to Community in Contentious Times,” and it has served me well on that day and ever since:
“When you have the spotlight shining on you as a leader, the best thing you can do is turn it around to shine that light onto others.”
That group appreciated not only my message but also my focus on acknowledging and appreciating the audience in front of me by wearing my shirt, which I took a calculated guess they would love. Some speakers do their work, and people think, “That person was great!” but the best at this job make the people in front of them feel great about themselves. Teachers do the same thing.
Your legacy in education is what others do because of your impact.
2. When you screw up, own it before others share it with you. It is hard to make fun of someone who laughs at themselves first.
3. Never check a bag. Ever.
What started as a travel mistake became a lasting reminder that authenticity, humility, connection, and a willingness to laugh at yourself will always make a bigger impact than perfection.
