Enacting Emotional Leadership with Story

Transformative Educational Leadership Journal | ISSUE Spring 2024

In a highly nuanced narrative, Naomi invites us to consider emotional leadership from a storied lens. Naomi demonstrates how we must first understand our own stories of self in order to create space and hold compassion for the stories of others, especially when it is hard. This necessary act of emotional leadership is important in these highly politicized and militaristic times. 

By Naomi Hazon

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Emotional Leadership (Berkovich & Eyal, 2020) requires us to be self-aware in how we make meaning from the stories we encounter. Tichy (1997) explains how we must know our own stories to know ourselves. This level of self-awareness requires us to be curious about how our own narrative impacts our lens and shapes how we act. Likewise, reconciliation requires us to know the truth of others’ stories and to see how those stories connect to our own. This is especially important when the stories are hard to tell – and hard to hear.

The Call to Action

I opened our first staff meeting of 2024 with a video clip of Governor General Mary Sinclair’s New Year address (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, 2024). In her address, she called on Canadians to commit themselves to kindness. She acknowledged:

• challenges 2023 presented with climate change and global conflict 
• Canada had made “important strides” with reconciliation
• people were adapting to change in various ways with one of these ways being kindness

She spoke in English, French, and Inuktitut — her first language. She introduced the word, ajuinnata which means “never give up” and ended her remarks asking Canadians to “commit to action, no matter how daunting the situation may be,” and to face the challenges over the year ahead, “with a renewed sense of unity.” 

Self

Governor General Mary Sinclair’s message resonated with me personally and professionally. After the recent loss of my father during a time of global conflict and an increase in antisemitism, I had been feeling disheartened. Professionally, I was highly committed to equity work but systemic barriers made this work feel challenging. Governor General Sinclair’s words reminded me to continue to push forward with hopefulness. 

In this time of perseverance and dedication to the challenging work educational leaders are called to do, I consider Tichy’s observation that, “the most effective leaders are those who are in touch with their leadership stories…. The story shapes our attitudes, actions and reactions. When we know our stories, we know ourselves” (1997, p.77). This awareness is necessary for emotional leadership (Berkovich & Eyal, 2020).

Part of knowing my story means knowing where I come from, my family stories. In this spirit, I share a little of my father’s story here. My father was born in Baghdad and recalled a time in Iraq where there was once a peaceful coexistence between Jews like him and their Arab neighbours. He often referred to his Arab friends as his brothers. This was in a time before the Farhud. Farhud is Arabic for “violent dispossession”, a period of extreme violence carried out against the Jewish population of Baghdad. My Dad’s family witnessed this bloodshed. He remembers hearing how their neighbour was wiping the blood off knives she was giving back to her sons so they could kill more Jews. Yet this same neighbour deeply respected my father’s mother, who had helped her family in the past, and she hid his family when those who were hunting the Jews came looking for them.  In the years following the Farhud (between 1941 and the early 1950s), it was a scary time to be Jewish in Iraq.  My father remembers seeing prominent Jewish people being hanged in the city center and his mother trying to hide his eyes. 

In 1950 after hundreds of Jews had been killed, Jews were finally allowed to leave, on condition they give up all their property and assets, including their bank accounts and any cash on hand. By 1952, only 2000 of the 150,000 were left (Erlich, BBC). Jews were forced to leave most Middle Eastern countries, including Iraq, and when they did, they experienced different treatment than Jews from European countries. My father’s ancestry was both undervalued and looked down upon. 

At the Canadian public school I attended growing up, I knew only one other Jewish person, my sister. In my religious school upbringing, I was the only one of mixed background with Middle Eastern heritage. The curriculum at that time was Euro dominant. I did learn about the tragedy of the Holocaust. I didn’t learn about what happened to the Jews of Iraq and other countries in the Middle East.

I can’t explain the feeling of trauma after the October 7th massacre in Israel. It has been 75 years since my father was a little boy, scared for his life in Baghdad. As my dad’s health was worsening, we anguished as to whether we should share what was happening with him. Our hearts have been broken, especially for children entangled in the conflict on both sides. And for the Jews around the world who have seen incidents of antisemitism skyrocket. Author Bari Weiss (2023) comments that, “when antisemitism migrates from the fringe to the public square, this phenomenon is not about Jews but rather a symptom of the surrounding culture”. This point supports Dr. Lorna Williams’ argument and observations about us being in a culture of disconnection. I’ll go into this more in the next section.

Being part of a minority group often discounted because antisemitism is so deeply ingrained in the social fabric means that even those who consider themselves to be ‘bias informed’ often miss us. One positive aspect of being part of a people who know what it feels like to be afraid is that we come together. We have had to develop resiliency and work for change and work for it for everyone. This work and resiliency require emotional leadership. It is this reason Governor General Sinclair’s teaching of ajuinnata resonates so strongly with me.

Staff

Governor General Sinclair’s words also align with recent conversations I was privileged to have with Dr. Lorna Williams. During our conversation, Dr. Williams talked about the power of sharing stories as an important stride in equity work. Dr. Williams also remarked that often during challenging times, there is a greater focus on conflict than there is on connection. She emphasized that the focus of our work “needs to have balance on the connectivity of humans to one another. There’s so much that we share. Oftentimes, too much focus is on the conflict, the hurt and the anger and it’s important to talk about those but it needs to be balanced so that we can be achieving a sense of community. I taught courses at the university called Learning and Teaching in an Indigenous world, and I based it on the Indigenous principles. I would say that the strength of those sessions was on people letting go and just accepting that they were part of a community” (personal communication, 2024).

I gave our staff a few minutes to reflect on Governor General Sinclair’s address, the meaning of ajuinnata, and to consider if they might have a word to guide them as they think about the year ahead. Their words were powerful. My word was HOPE. Before our next meeting, I had their collective words printed on journals and gifted them back to staff to invite reflective writing and encourage participation in our book club, WAYi WAH! and Self-Compassion for Educators.

The focus of our book club combines important themes. Learning more about how our education system underserves Indigenous children and thinking deeply about our own assumptions, while also emphasizing the importance of educator self-care, has proven to be a powerful mix. The gatherings are designed to be intentionally open and supportive. Our last session was co-facilitated by our Social Emotional Learning Coordinator and our district Indigenous Education Consultant. Several of our staff shared their vulnerabilities and challenges. One teacher became tearful when reflecting on how she worried for her learners as school holidays approached and how she herself was struggling with workload demands in her first year as a full-time classroom teacher. Her connection to colleagues in the club allowed her to receive the support and encouragement she needed. Our leadership team also met with her privately and worked to give her extra support, care, and time. Berkovich and Eyal (2020) argue that many leadership programs focus on managerial aspects, often leaving out any emphasis on well-being. We need to be able to set up genuinely trusting environments – and safe spaces – to encourage educators to share stories. “Emotional leadership … draws on …  the fields of psychotherapy or medicine that explore the building of narratives as well as emotive aspects of healing, with the objective of promoting wellness, emotional homeostasis, and proper functioning” (Finset, 2010; Lieblicj et al., 2004).As I come to know my own story better, I can better hold space for the stories of others. I hope that by continuing to keep emotional leadership at the centre, our staff will continue to strengthen their connections and become a more cohesive team – one that finds increasing meaning and purpose in our collective work. 

Despite the everyday demands of the job, our team focuses on creating a connected community where people feel like they belong. We have numerous inquiry grants and student-led clubs. We recently started a staff wellness committee. We offer nutritional snacks, wellness activities, and share topical articles. 

Valuing well-being is helping to grow an environment where innovation is supported, creativity is encouraged, and distributed leadership is valued and embraced.

Staff find meaning in their work and are motivated to do what is needed. As the date for our next staff meeting approached, I was delighted to receive an email from a teacher who leads our ‘shenanigans squad’ asking for time at the start of our meeting to distribute hearts to each staff member filled with messages written by other staff members. 

Being intentional about caring and strengthening our faculty relationships helps encourage and affirm commitment in our work, even in the toughest of circumstances such as those Governor General Sinclair alluded to in her speech.

Students and Community

While I am crushed to see the extent of antisemitism around the world, I recognize that I now carry an even greater responsibility to do what I can to make the world a safer place for my daughters and all children. And when I say all children, I mean all children hurt in conflict, ensnared in polarisation and violence of adult making. It was my father’s wish, and it is mine too, that the children of Israel and the West Bank and Gaza can one day coexist, in peace and harmony, learning, living, and loving their ways to a bright future. As Dr. Williams emphasized, we need to focus on what connects us and nourish the space where we can come together to make sense of our own stories. The loss of my father, a man who worked hard to overcome trauma and model resiliency, against the backdrop of the current global climate, all while participating in a transformational leadership program, has awakened something in me. In order to walk with integrity in emotional leadership, I need to be clear about my own context and story while I hold space for others’ stories. 

Dr. Williams commented during one of our talks that “it’s very important that people understand that people here in Canada and in the United States have had very few opportunities to really tell their stories and to have them heard. And you know, we still have such a limited and narrow view of the people who make up the population of Canada which leads to a real lack of understanding.” Learning more about our parent community helps our educators better understand the stories of our learners and their families. 

I was grateful to be recently connected to a group of educational leaders in Nanaimo who are working with a newly developed Collecting Story Toolkit. I recently began sampling the toolkit by meeting with the families of Indigenous students following learning update conferences. I found that it wasn’t necessarily the specificity of the questions, or in some cases the initial answers, but rather how the questions led to conversations and story sharing that were most impactful. The sharing helped me understand more about what our families are experiencing at home and at school. I hope they felt heard and that we are beginning to foster more trusting relationships. I am curious about sharing my findings with our staff and have a hunch that this might help them commit to action, to deepen their teaching and learning about reconciliation and equity.

Conclusion

When I reflect on what has been one of the most heartbreaking and challenging years of my life, I am heartened to know that the community of learning I have found in the Transformative Educational Leadership Program has held me up, as Monique Gray Smith might say (2017).  My staff has done the same though I don’t think they know it.  Dr. Lorna Williams’ gifts to public education in B.C. have too. And for that I am grateful and hopeful. 

This gratitude grew when my daughter’s teacher, in an effort to be culturally expansive this past October, shared a song he often teaches his students close to Remembrance Day: Al Shlosha. This year he couldn’t include it in the assembly because things were so raw, but he did teach it to her class. This mattered to my daughter. I invite you to consider these words and as you do, reflect on your story and our collective stories. The song is in Hebrew and translates like this: 

The world needs three things: truth, justice and peace. 

When we set aside time to really listen, we are improving the well-being of all members of our community, we create the space for understanding, flexibility, kindness, and compassion to flourish. This is a necessary condition to help more learners cross the stage with dignity, purpose, and options. May all children grow up in a world where truth, justice and peace are truly known.