Vacation Attrition
My vacation went sideways. The plan was to spend the last week of the year at a wellness retreat in New England—the sort that offers yoga and meditation in all varieties, Ayurvedic food, and a bevy of workshops taught by people with questionable credentials for those who are searching for meaning. The fellow searchers are the best part. They are open, warm, and there to share and listen with intention. It is usually a happy place.
The center was fully booked, and the staff’s duties were clearly at capacity. Attention to detail was off from the start. Late on my third night, I received an email telling me that my second workshop of the week, the one that would help me expand my creativity in all realms, was canceled. Canceled! I went to the front desk to find out more. They didn’t have more information to share and were not particularly sympathetic to the swift destruction of my vacation vision.
While I was wallowing in disappointment, debating what to do, not ready to go home but not wanting the alternative options, the fire alarm went off. It was nearly midnight. I pulled on my coat and hat and joined hundreds of fellow searchers down the stairs and outside into the frigid night. Now I was cold and angry, waiting for the firefighters, who took a very long time to arrive, way after I lost the feeling in my toes. No staff members explained the problem, addressed our fears, or apologized for the inconvenience. We were on our own, and I suddenly felt unsettled and unsafe.
I decided I had to leave, so while outside waiting for firefighters, I impulsively booked myself into another wellness resort in the area. This one sits at the top of the luxury wellness market. It boasted outstanding food sourced locally and crafted by renowned chefs, bedding that most people covet, unparalleled service, a stellar spa, and classes and experiences taught by people with better credentials. I checked in 10 hours later.
The new resort was true to its marketing and reputation. Still, I was having trouble adjusting to my new vacation plan and letting go of the disappointment in my former happy place. Sitting by the fire in the rustic yet impeccably designed lounge, a guest approached me and offered me a cup of tea, placing it in front of me.
“You look like you could use some tea,” she said.
“Do I look sad?” I asked.
“No, just pensive,” she said.
“You know, as I get older, my facial expressions seem to betray me more and more. You are right, though. I was trying to adjust to a vacation experience that went sideways,” I replied.
She invited me to join her in conversation, and we talked for two hours. We laughed and shared what brought us to this moment. Whenever people hear that I work with private school leaders, they share their school experiences, those of their kids, or both. I am happy to hear about those experiences, good and bad. School shapes each of us and, along with our home life, deeply affects the way we move about in the world.
She attended an East Coast private school, one with a progressive approach to admissions, which was unusual in the 1980s. It was racially and economically diverse. She was a three-season varsity athlete and a student government leader. She founded her business, which has been thriving for 25 years. Her grown children attended independent schools, chosen for the school’s strengths in relation to each child’s needs.
What struck me most about this woman was her perception of the state of the humans in her midst and her confidence to help in any small way she could. By her description of her school experience, I recognized this ability was fostered there. I appreciated her kindness. It completely changed how I was feeling at that moment. By connecting with her, I reset my internal compass and regained my confidence and bearings. I renewed my intention for the remainder of the vacation and the new year. She gave me a beautiful gift of her time, attention, and recognition as a human in need. I am grateful.
It is a new year, and it offers an interesting opportunity to return to school with energy and clarity about your work. Think about my comparison between the two wellness retreat centers. My seemingly impulsive decision to change resorts is not unlike the way a family can decide that a school is no longer working for them and it’s time to move on. I have learned about it in various forms in the Attrition Studies I conduct for client schools. Missteps, lack of communication, lack of empathy, and broken brand promises lead to attrition and poor word of mouth. Usually, it’s not just one thing but a compilation over a relatively short period of time.
In the next few months, encourage your community members to see one another in a new way. Who is struggling? Who is angry? Who seems to be withdrawn? Who is celebrating a milestone?
Can you make space to pay closer attention to your school’s students, parents, faculty, and staff and their experiences as they move through life at your school? Undoubtedly, that experience is a bit different from your own. What can you learn from them? Can you create a new, surprising, and delightful outreach to someone you don’t know well but recognize is going through something? Give it a try and let me know what happens. Everyone has a story. Try to be a little more open to the stories.
The author, Jill Goodman, is a consultant working with independent school leaders to advance their school’s mission, enhance their processes, and bolster their skills. Learn more about all services here.
Image credit: Jill Goodman
