There is a wide open road. Take a spin, and all around me is a high-plains desert with Yucca plants, tumbleweeds, and red colored clay dirt. It’s so hot, my shoes start to stick to the black tar. Off in the distance, I can see the heat rising off of the pavement in sizzling waves. Something catches my eye. There is a small speck. It looks like a person walking toward me, friend or foe, I am not sure. I walk toward her. As we approach one another, she becomes familiar. It is a friend. I start running toward her. I am so hot, so thirsty, in need of relief from the heat. Running, running, all I can think about is the comfort the familiar face will bring. My gaze shifts to the ground in front of me, watching the yellow lines pass in the middle of the road. I hear her voice, look up and BAM!
The bus hits me without warning. No horn, no squealing of tires or burning smell of rubber. There I lie, under the bus.
That’s what it felt like when a close colleague, whom I believed was a confidant, used my vulnerability for personal gain and threw me under the bus. That feeling of helplessness, surprise, and being dumbfounded is one that I never wish to experience ever again.
Choose your people wisely.
Being young, new in the EDU-world, I was very willing to trust any and everyone, willing to share ALL of me, and clearly unaware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Since this particular situation, I have learned a lot. Choose your people wisely. It is more than appropriate to be friendly with your colleagues, but you do not and should not feel that you have to be friends with your colleagues. My circle of confidants is small now -- seriously four people and only one of them works in the same district as me. These amazing people have proven time and time again that they are trustworthy and support me. They offer advice, are a sounding board, and are, well, my people; I am theirs in return.
So next time I am on that deserted road, I may take a look around. I may start to run toward that speck down the road, but I will be aware if a bus is heading my direction.
Mena T. Hill
Educator, Wife, Mother, Colorado Native