Now It’s Like This

I chose very well for my first virtual walk. Actually, I didn’t choose. It was written in the stars that arvind grover and I should walk together while in two different states. While I strolled through my neighborhood on a gray day in West Virginia, he stepped out into the sunshine in Massachusetts. Each time I looked at my phone during our video chat, I was looking at sunshine – literally and metaphorically. I have found arvind to be a source of energy and joy in every encounter we have had.

We are K-8 colleagues by profession, and friends by choice. Like others whom I have met through ESHA, arvind is an extraordinary leader – even among our committee of leaders. He exudes a sense of serenity as he dissects data and determines a way forward. I would love to observe him in action among his team on the 35 acre campus of The Meadowbrook School. I got a glimpse of its grandeur and immediately felt the weight of the responsibility of such a sprawling Pre-K – 8 campus. “We have an amazing team to oversee it, but we operate on a lean budget. We invest all of our money into teaching and learning.” And once again we are centered where we should be – the focus is learning and the adults who facilitate it. As an independent school leader we wear many hats. It is easy to be distracted by the numerous “crises” of the business of doing school, but our very mission is learning. It is our core. As school leaders, we must be steadfast: learning above all else… for everyone on our campuses…especially ourselves.

Our walk begins in the realm of parenthood. “Let’s start there,” arvind chose, “I talk about leadership all the time,” but I knew full well we would wind our way to leadership in no time. The two are intricately connected. 

I learn quickly that arvind has twin nine-year-old boys. Being their father has offered him a rare glimpse into the “secret society of twins” whose members curl into one another to watch television almost intertwined. “Even at nine. It’s unbelievable,” he muses. I can visualize the entangled body parts on the couch as if it were a living sculpture. The twins are simultaneously individual and collective. Their first relationship was with each other, a bond so basic that it predates any external connection and continues in the family room on any given Saturday morning.

These walks plant seeds and trigger responses for me – as they are intended to – so I wonder if Grace’s body and nervous system naturally search for Nicolas, her twin brother.  I wonder if that is the reason she still often leans her weight against me or curls up on my lap even at age 20 and standing at least three inches taller than I. How does a surviving twin find that home base? Has his heartbeat echoed for her throughout these years? Have I given her the grace she deserves as she navigates life without her kindred spirit? 

For arvind, the anticipation of finding a heap of entwined arms and legs the next morning brings a smile to his face as bright as the sunshine behind him. He talks of the gift of having his boys with him at school and sees the benefits far outweighing the challenges of playing dad and Head of School simultaneously. “It’s my wife that’s left out. I get to eat lunch with them, see them in class, be present for all performances. She sometimes worries that we’re vulnerable all being at one place.” Per usual, the glass is half full for arvind. 

Per usual. Usually… defined as “under normal conditions.” The thing we know about parenting is there are too often NOT normal conditions. At nine months, one of his twins was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis (CF). This was a difficult diagnosis to obtain. It gives light to the institutional bias living in the medical field – no one is at fault – no one purposely overlooked anything, but the normal conditions were not at play here. 

arvind: Close minded thinking left my son undiagnosed for many, many months unnecessarily. Actually, he was flagged on a traditional newborn screen that every child takes as a potential carrier for CF. There were no symptoms of that originally. They just kept saying he can’t possibly have it because his father’s Indian and because during our attempt to get pregnant, they had done a screening on both Carolyn and me, they knew she was a carrier and they “knew” I was not. Working through months and months and months and months and months of testing, they couldn’t rule it out, even though they kept assuring us there’s no way he has it.

So they finally did a genetic workup for him, for me and for my wife. And that’s where they could conclusively map the genome and see that he had cystic fibrosis. 

Until you go through all these hurdles, insurance won’t pay to do the testing. 

It’s too expensive to be approved. That’s the bottom line. There is a script or a flowchart that must be followed. We know life doesn’t follow flowcharts. As is the case with so many families. Carolyn knew. Yes her son “just had reflux,” but her mother’s heart knew something else was happening. Her intuition drove them to keep after a diagnosis. 

As a mother, I have so many times trusted my gut… and encouraged other mother’s to do the same. It can be maddening as you meet opposition. You begin to second guess yourself, but I urge other parents to hold on to your resolve. Keep asking questions. Find someone who will listen.

arvind: Imagine, I have a biology degree in undergrad. My father is a pulmonologist – literally the people who specialize in CF. My wife is a school counselor. We couldn’t be more educated on such things … we speak English … we have access to money … we have insurance and even we couldn’t navigate this system effectively. I can only imagine what it’s like if you don’t have any of those factors working on your behalf.

No matter who we are or what our experiences, at a base we parents want our children to be healthy and happy. “For one of my sons, that’s not possible.” Before age one, healthy was off the table. The gray cloud rolled in. 

There is a point after the acceptance of a diagnosis that you pull yourself up. It is not resignation, but fortitude that teaches you, “Now it is like this.” You embrace the moment in front of you. His wife became an expert in the disease: curating various treatments, reacting to missteps in his care, identifying possible studies, fundraising for a cure, and designing daily routines. In the midst of such a challenge, you find and seize the opportunity to learn. 

arvind’s son needs good food and exercise as all children do, but for him it is a non-negotiable. While arvind can doubt himself asking if he’s doing enough, his son’s twin brother instinctively understands and champions his brother’s medical journey. He anticipates medical and nutritional needs revealing yet again the most profound dimension of human connection.  If we are watching and listening, our children will impress us. We find ourselves doubting if our actions are enough and then look to our children, especially in their innocence, and see them focused on positive action not doubt, grief or regret. How then do they learn to worry like an adult? How can we temper that? In them? In us?

arvind seems to be mastering it. What I see as serenity in him, he calls equanimity. Indeed, a colleague asked him recently how he shows up so calmly to a meeting no matter what the height of the emotions of others. It’s hard to get too worked up about what math class a student should be in when you are facing the challenges he has in his personal life. It doesn’t mean the concerns of others aren’t important to him. It is just the opposite. It means he has a lens of the bigger picture in the life of a family. This hard-earned wisdom creates an effective leadership approach. arvind has an intuitive capacity to hold space for complexity, to sit with discomfort without becoming overwhelmed, and to guide others through challenging terrains with a steady, understanding presence. He knows full well the strength of human resilience. He gets to witness it in his sons every day.

While I would beg to differ, he doesn’t claim to have mastered such calmness, but identifies as practicing equanimity. Practicing as in actively working on it… every day. In fact, he has an acronym for it, STEM: Sleep, Train, Eat, Meditate.

arvind: The S is for sleep. I need seven plus hours a day. The T is for train. I need to train my body. Right now it’s largely weight training. I need to eat properly. Healthy nutrition is a big part of my life and the M is for meditate as a more formal practice, or a less formal practice.

This is how he stays grounded and shows up with equanimity. He is connected to the present. Life has taught him to be at peace with whatever is going on. The beauty of the blue sky as we discussed the gray cloud of the months it took to obtain his son’s diagnosis remains poignant for me. This optimism – the focus on today as it leads toward a better future even with its bad diagnoses is becoming a pattern in my conversations with Heads of Schools. It is more than hope. It is a presence …and a mission to learn. It lifts us individually and collectively and we all rise.

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For the first time, a walk needs a footnote. arvind and I had no more than 30 minutes for our walk. As one would expect, I had zoom issues. I could not log in on my phone and I could not imagine walking laps in my house with my laptop in hand. With the “get it done” mentality that often plagues me, we opted to FaceTime one another. While I fumbled to record our conversation, I was losing valuable time. In a panic, I turned on closed captioning thinking I could copy and paste our dialogue as we finished. Nope.

As arvind hung up, our entire walk vanished. Poof. I threw my head back in disgust and looked up at the gray sky that reflected the dank feeling in my core. We had such a rich conversation and I lost it. And I’m old. And my memory isn’t what it once was. Gone.

In my mind, I could hear Luke telling me to rely less on the recording and focus on what resonated with me. Nothing was resonating. No echo of our conversation… only the other voice in my head, “Figures, you blew it.”

Resigned, I started walking back toward my house. Luke’s voice grew louder in my mind. “What bubbles up?” Instead of turning back, I thought I’d retrace my steps on the path I had taken. As I once again lapped my neighbor walking his dog, the conversation flooded back. As it poured forth, I found myself running home. The world tried to intervene – a package was delivered… the dryer signalled … Grace called (and my father taught me to always pick up that call). I was not to be thwarted… I picked up my pencil and scribbled thoughts so I wouldn’t lose them.

Clearly, you know how the story ends. The blog was written. I had some gaps that required clarification. Unsolicited, arvind sent me back an audio file.  You deserved to hear the serenity and presence in his voice and so you can. We should all be so lucky to have a Luke Hladek or an arvind grover as the voice in our heads. 

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