Back in the good old days, when my husband and I were in our fifties, the state of North Carolina offered a workshop to principals who needed a boost in learning how to deal with their challenging schools and populations. Because I had been selected to be the leader of the alternative school, the superintendent decided that the workshop would be very helpful for me. Apparently other superintendents decided the same thing for some of their principals. As a result, there were about twenty principals in the workshop with three extremely enthusiastic leaders from the state Department of Education. Among the principals one of them was seated right beside me and was the most cheerful person that I have ever met.
Smiling all the time, this principal constantly found positive things to say. I immediately took an instant dislike of him. I had recently lost my husband in a diving accident in the ocean, and I was sad and angry at everyone and everything. The workshop lasted a week and the entire time smiling Dave was seated next to me. I wanted to slap him.
With the conclusion of the workshop, we were given assignments to complete and then to come back together in two weeks. As far as I was concerned nothing had changed, and smiling Dave was still grinning and being nauseatingly positive when we returned. I checked him off my list of people I didn’t care to get to know, and was happy when the workshop ended.
About six months later, I attended another workshop of my own choosing and to my consternation, smiling Dave was also there but looking as sad and dejected as anyone I have ever seen. He sought me out and in talking over our particular circumstances, I found out that his wife had left him for someone else, and he was deeply depressed. In addition, his school was not going well, and he asked me if I could help him with some of his leadership problems. In the meantime, I had adjusted to my loss and was the cheerful leader, so before I walked away, I gave him my phone number. That was something that I had never ever done in my life before. Two days later he called me and invited me to go to the movies with him.
Over the succeeding months, we saw each other a number of times including times that he asked me to his apartment where he cooked a meal for us. As the months wore on, we talked about some kind of commitment, but I stressed that I was never going to get married again. Both of us had been married two times before meeting each other, and I just didn’t believe that a third time would work out. David, however, was a strong, committed Christian, and he was not comfortable with a life together without marriage. In the end, he left me, upset and anxious on my part, but not ready to give into a commitment that I did not believe was necessary.
Then my busy-body niece got involved. She told David that he should make me jealous, and I would come around to his way of thinking. He promptly acted on her advice and called to tell me that he was interested in another woman and was taking her to meet his daughter. That did it! I suggested then and there that we get married and he was happy to agree.
Marriage between two principals is probably not the greatest way to start a life- long commitment, but somehow, we have made it work. At first the expression, “You are not my principal,” was a part of every argument, but eventually it lost its power to move either one of us. Now, although we do not always agree on everything, we find that we are mostly on the same page in one way or another. This month we celebrated our 28th anniversary and at dinner in a nice restaurant, we agreed that we definitely had the charm of a third-time marriage. With both of us now in our eighties, we are convinced that our commitment to each other will last until death do us part.
