Taking the Right Path

Today was our commencement ceremony for our graduates. One of my most prized days. I love it. I haven’t missed a commencement ceremony since I began my tenure in higher education, 15 years ago. Fifteen commencements. Thousands upon thousands of graduates. I love it. This one was different. 

 I am going to let my fingers do a tap dance on these keys and in a way verbally explode. Because I feel so many feelings about this commencement and don’t know how to organize my thoughts, but I want them to be out here and written. 

A month or so ago, two deans of students jobs opened up. A job I would have killed for two or three years ago. A lifetime ago. Before Covid, before killing myself for our students and our college. I wanted so badly to be Dean Greene. The rhyme made me laugh, and I knew I would be great at that job. I still know I could be great at that job. Before I continue with a job I lusted for opening up, I have to take a few steps back. 

Years ago, YEARS, I had the thought, the notion, I wanted out. I wanted out of higher education. I wanted to grow and learn and continue my professional path outside of higher ed, I just didn’t know how to make my skills translate. How do you go from student affairs to corporate? How does one do it? 

Almost two years ago, I was approached to take on an opportunity in the operations at the college. This was perfect. This was my exit strategy. I would be able to learn skills in budgeting, project management, facilities, and the list goes on and on. This was it. This was how I would get out. 

All the while, working on a PhD in higher education leadership. *Insert eyeroll* 

When I transitioned to ops, I had some backhanded slaps about how people thought I had I heart for students, and couldn’t believe I was choosing a career path that wasn’t student-facing. But at the time, my student-centered heart hurt too much, and I needed a break from the tears and the yelling because at my level, I only got the angry students. 

Cut to two years into my current role, where my student-facing colleagues know I love students, and I still get to see the best parts of our students and the student experience. Why does a student know an operations employee? Because I make myself known to them. Much of what I do impacts them. Why would I not constantly try to talk to them and find out what they want on their campus? 

Tonight at commencement, I had so many students come to hug me, take pictures with me, and just let me express to them my pride in them. This leads me to the part of commencement when people told me they were sad they didn’t see my name applying for the dean of students job. Man, it took me a while to get here, but here I am. Not applying for what was once my dream job. I asked for advice from a lot of people, I was tormented over applying or not, I had the most anxiety. And in the end, I said no. It’s not worth it to me. Could I do it? Absolutely. Would it be good for MCC and the employees if I was chosen? Yes. Would it be good for Kim Greene? Absolutely not. 

I could write a novel about why I chose not to apply. However, that’s personal and not needed here. What I will say is the only people who wanted me to apply, were people who would directly benefit, from me, being their leader, which is the biggest compliment and I am proud they feel that way about me. However, there wasn’t much consideration of how It would impact me or my goals. I could do it because I know how to lead people in student affairs. I know what needs to be done and how to do it. I know how to motivate people, and I know how to solve problems. 

However, it’s not what I want for my future. I have an entire list of goals and backtracking to a set of skills I already have, isn’t it. Trying to lead a group of employees through a really negative culture, is also not it. I can do incremental changes, but I can’t fix a whole system. And at the end of the day, I’m not willing to harm myself in trying. 

Tonight, I had a long conversation with a lifelong friend who didn’t know any of this. The position has already closed, I told her I am happy in my decision to not apply, knowing I will probably be sad when the new dean is chosen, knowing it could have been me. And she gave me the absolute best feedback and encouragement for my decision. She said, “This makes my heart happy Kim. I always knew you were smart, and too damn selfless. And this is such a good move. To any mid-20s woman looking for mentors who look to you as how to be a professional woman, isn’t this a strong statement without saying anything?” 

And that is it. Sometimes, you choose yourself, you choose your family, you choose something else besides your job, as you should. A job is a job. And I can care about it and my people to a fault, but at this moment, I chose myself. 

In this exact situation, at this exact time, Dean Greene isn’t in the cards. And I am so proud of myself for knowing what was right in front of me, as ripe as that fruit looked, was not the right decision.

You Look Important

The mayor of Kansas City just told me I looked important. 

Why did it strike me? 

This made me feel some type of way and it took me awhile to unpack it. But here it is. Unpacked. 

My first thought was disappointed that he even noticed me. He said it in jest. Like I was important to the event or maybe even the campus. As embarrassed as I felt that he noticed me, he did notice. Most people don’t. Most people don’t realize the work that goes on behind the scenes. When something goes wrong or there is even a tiny blip, everyone notices. When things goes smoothly, everyone moves on with their day without a second thought. That’s the magic. And the magic is a ton of work. 

Mayor Quinton Lucas came to my campus to speak to our students. It originally was a small classroom talk that turned into a bigger conversation with multiple classes. A whole event. 

The thing about this event was that I wasn’t the magic. I did nearly nothing for this event. I checked in at the event, but others planned and executed it so perfectly.

It was a fun day. 

As I arrived as a guest to the event, I made sure our IT crew was set. The student speaker to the event approached me (because I was checking in with the IT professionals) and asked me when to begin and what to do. Not knowing the agenda, I made sure she was good with the buttons on the mic and promised her I would let her know when to go on, etc. I helped direct the initial flow of the event, but never was directly involved. Simple things. 

I want to be unseen when doing these types of events. I don’t want to be noticed. To be noticed is making a scene. I’m just there to make sure it goes on perfectly like I am never there. 

At the end of the event, as people approached the mayor for pictures, I grabbed phones and ended up being the unofficial mom taking cell phone pictures for their social media posts. Heck, I even took the official event photographer’s picture with the mayor. People gave me their phones before they even approached the mayor, and I was delighted to be there to capture their moment. It was so fun to see our students engage with government. 

And then, as the event concluded, I asked, 

“Can I get a quick selfie?” 

And he said to me, “What do you do? You look important?” 

My coworkers laughed at the comment and were like, yeah. She’s important. 

I simply said, “I’m 417Kim on Twitter and work in operations.”

Why did it strike me? 

I think because I was nothing. I didn’t try to wear a bright MCC blue dress with a blazer. I didn’t run the event. I didn’t write the script or production schedule. I wasn’t noticed because I looked like I was in charge with a clipboard in hand and headset in my ear. I wore a simple sweater and black jeans. Nothing special. Not here to be seen. 

I did incremental tiny actions that someone noticed. Everyday so many of us do giant actions to make everything around us operate like no one did it. And it’s a lot of work. 

From open to close in any operation, if you don’t notice anything, it means a ton of work went into you not noticing. 

I think it was a culmination of (thankfully) never being noticed at the giant productions and operations I am charge of, but then also a very important person noticing the tiny things that no one else ever notices. 

If you are the person attending an event or really any place of business and you don’t notice anything, thank the people. Let them know you know that they did the work. Be the person who notices.

If you are in charge of something that runs smoothly every day, I feel like you may get this. Whether it’s an event, a program, an operation, or project. I say this to you: when people think everything just happens smoothly with a wave of a wand and a snap of a finger like magic, please always remember: 

You are the magic. 

You are important. 

A Professional Detour: Leaving Student Affairs

Tomorrow is my last first day of classes in student affairs for a bit. The first day of classes is my second favorite day in higher education (next to commencement). All the new students with their shiny shoes and new backpacks, their eyes to their schedules on their phones trying to find their classes. It’s so fun. 

In two weeks, I am moving to the operations side of the college for a new adventure. To learn a different side of higher ed. Just like our students, I’m excited and scared and nervous. It’s totally different than anything I’ve ever done before. 

So many people have been surprised by this move. I have received a lot of comments like, ‘I thought you really had a heart for students.’ It’s such a backhanded slap. But it’s fair. I have spent over a decade in this profession. I’m writing a dissertation on it. 

Yes. I do have a huge heart for students. I’ve had thirteen first days of the fall semester. I’ve got them started. I’ve moved them through. I’ve tried my absolute hardest to make everything easier for them. 

But the truth is, I’m tired. What no one tells you about the first day of classes is you have a lot of hard conversations, too. The students who come in with their schedule in hand, books purchased, and they didn’t make payment arrangements and their classes are no longer there. 

The students who walk in to enroll the day before classes begin and it’s too late and you have to tell them no. And they have to tell their parents no. And you have to tell their parents no. Not yet. Not this semester. But perfect timing for next semester. 

It doesn’t sound so bad right? To wait four months? Save up some money so you don’t have to work so many hours next semester while in classes? 

It doesn’t sound so bad because I have perfected that speech. Years of tears, and being yelled at will make you perfect that speech. And that is just the first day. There are 16 more weeks of tears, and anger, and medical withdrawals, and home insecurities, and failed classes, the list goes on and on. 

The thing is, I am good at that part of my job. I am great at dealing with angry parents and crying students. It’s my specialty. 

But, I’m gonna say the thing no one wants to say. I’m tired. I’m tired of being yelled at. I’m tired of the tears. 

The last year was hard. I worried so much about students not knowing what they were getting into with virtual and online classes. Messing up their financial aid with one bad semester. Killing myself (and our team) with phone calls and wellness checks to get the students through. Because we owed that to them. This wasn’t their perfect year either. But I got tired. I need a break. My student-centered heart hurts. 

So I’m moving to another side of the college. Less student facing, but still serving a new campus community in a different way to help our students. I’m excited to work for our students in a new way. To have my student-centered eyes help our campus as a whole. 

With the change, I’m also leaving my current campus. A team I worked to build. A team of people who entrusted me. I hired so many of them. A beautiful bunch of humans who I have grown with. I have lots more to say about them. The thought of leaving them made me never even want to apply for a new job. 

I’m not saying I won’t be back in student affairs eventually. I’m not even saying I will always be in higher education. But this is a new and refreshing challenge for me. It’s going to be really hard. It is my first job in over a decade where I can honestly say, I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. But I think it’s going to be good for me. To grow in and understand higher education in a new way. 

My first day, with all of the anxiety and new is coming in two weeks. Here we go. 

A Note On Dying

So what do you do when your friend is dying?

What feels like a lifetime ago I wrote a little note on what I felt when my friend, my person, my sis, had cancer. So once the hope is gone, what do you do, with your friend who is dying?

I would never admit this at the time, but my first thought, and my always thought since then has been, “I don’t want to live in a world without Katie in it.”

Katie had her first real diagnosis on my 32^nd birthday. Katie was admitted to the hospital, a little over three years later, on her 32^nd birthday. 

Katie died ten days later on a Friday.

When I lived in Springfield, and before cancer, we had a scheduled Friday lunch date. 1pm. A date that has never left my calendar. I calculated it has probably been 176 weeks since our last Friday lunch, but I still have the reminder for every Friday on my phone. When Katie got cancer, we moved our Fridays to Wednesdays for chemo treatments, and then, I moved away. The reminder on my phone stayed. Some Fridays it was a reminder to call or text her. Some Fridays it was just to remember us. It is always there.

After a few years away, thousands of texts, a handful of phone calls, and only a couple of face-to-face visits, I got the call, it was near the end, and Katie wanted to see me.

Her husband had let the world know it was not good. The pictures showed what I felt in my heart Katie would not tell me because she believed with her whole being, she would be healed. I wish with all my life that was true. So much that I would never acknowledge a thought that was not in line with Katie’s truth. I would serve her purpose and her belief. It had kept her alive more years than her doctors believed, there was no way I was not believing in her.

In recent months, the responses to texts were less, the voicemails were not responded to. I remember leaving her a message that I was going to be an aunt again. She knows how much I adore my niece and nephew. I knew she was SO excited. But I never received a response. I felt it then, but my belief in Katie never waivered. Whatever boat she is riding, I’m on.

Then the day happened. Katie was dying. It was the end. And with every being in my heart I needed and wanted so badly to be with her. I am so lucky that her mom (Momma C) sent me the text that Katie wanted to see me. I drove to Springfield the next morning.

I knew Katie wouldn’t look like how I had remembered her. I knew her organs were failing. I knew she was on a lot of medication that made her in and out of lucidness. I knew all I wanted was to be near her.

I remember thinking, “I don’t want to go to Springfield.”, but it wasn’t because I was scared or didn’t want to see her, it was because I didn’t want to ever live in a world where this was happening.

And so I went unsure of what to expect.

Now is the part of the story that I find silly. The same way I felt silly thinking Chemo Katie was something different than regular Katie and now realizing Dying Katie was no different than Living Katie.

If you missed it, our whole relationship is built on laughter. We love each other and we love to make each other laugh. And, dang, did she make me laugh. I went to Springfield that day not knowing how long I would be staying or how it would be, but I had outbursts of laughing all day. Ask me and I will tell you the stories. We have so many stories. Even on our last day together, we made each other laugh.

People have asked “Was it hard to see her like that?”, and while I didn’t want to see her “like that” because I didn’t want “that” to ever be happening, I answer with a resounding “eff no.”  I saw nothing but my Kady. My person. My friend. And if I was afforded to, I would have spent every second of this week with her. I never wanted to leave her side.

So, what do your do when your friend is dying? You be there. You love them. From afar or near. Via text or call that isn’t answered. You try as hard as you can to make them laugh. You love their family. You respect their space. You LOVE your friend. You never stop loving them.

The biggest privilege of my life thus far is getting to take care of my friend, my sister in her last days. I was only able to do small bits, but I was able to serve her. She deserves to be served. 

Near the end of the day, I looked at the clock, over and over and over again, knowing it was nearing the end of me being with Katie. Every glance at the clock made me tear up. I just wanted to snuggle her a bit longer.

I could write a million lines about all in the world who will not be whole without her in it, but for now, I can only think that the day ends. The sun sets. Every colloquialism you can muster. But here we are. In a world I dreaded. A world without Katie. How lucky I am to have you love me.

“I want the world to stop and everybody be quiet. Something terribly important has happened.” - JB

KCKG: An Update on Living, Working, Family and Friends - Living

I have been living in KC for 18 months. I think it's about time for an update, don't you think?

The short version:

• January 2016: Move to KC and begin job at UMKC
• April 2016: Get accepted to Ph.D. program
• July 2016: Freak about about being accepted to Ph.D. program and fly to Aruba
• July 2016: See this incredible opportunity at MCCKC, interview twice, don't get it
• August 2016: Start a Ph.D. program 
• October 2016: Move exactly one block east in my same neighborhood
• May 2016: Leave UMKC, go back to the community college at MCC

The long version:

Living

When I moved to Kansas City, I fell in love with my neighborhood, Columbus Park. Like I LOVE it. It's the old little Italy of Kansas City and now has a huge Vietnamese population. I should be shamed about the amount of pho I have eaten in the past year. My neighborhood is adjacent to River Market so I can walk to City Market every Saturday morning. I can walk to the street car. When I worked at UMKC, I was 10 minutes from work. Now my commute is about 15 minutes longer, but I have learned to love the commute. (Plus my previous walk into work took 8 minutes, so really, it's not that much longer). 

I lived in this adorable, exposed-brick, third-floor apartment with gorgeous views of the sunset and sunrise. The outside was so historic I had a stone lion on the front. It was gorgeous. However, it wasn't really practical for me. There was limited storage. The management was meh. The kitchen was meh. The bedroom was up a spiral staircase, which isn't the best decision for a sleep walker (no, I never fell down those stairs).

Those top right windows were mine. 

On the day I moved into the apartment, ever the retail-hound, I was still looking at Trulia, and another apartment had just been renovated and opened that day. I loved it so much that I told my dad while I was moving and his response was, "Well, we can just quit moving you up here and move you over there." Obviously not a real choice, but secretly, I loved the other place. 

Cue eight months later, I have grown less enchanted by my current apartment and I'm month-to-month on my lease. A unit opens up in the other apartment. I go and look. I can't decide. Of course. After a day of thinking, I text the owner and say I don't know. He says that he is there and showing someone else if I want to pop over. So I walk out my back door, cut through the alley, and walk over in 2 minutes. It's that close. 

And guys. This kitchen. This kitchen kills me. I love it. It's so beautiful. It won me over. The apartment as a whole is smaller, it's ground level, and has street parking, but it has more storage, all updated appliances, two patios... and this kitchen. The pics don't do it justice (I took these when I was looking at it for the second time). And I love it. 

All the cabinets. 

Granite. Subway tile. Stainless. Swoon. 

Yes, my washer/dryer is in my kitchen. But again, ALL the cabinets. 

So, I take it. 15 days later, I move one block away. My pretty subway print I made no longer shows my current address, but it's still a timestamp of my move. 

The prints have found a new home that isn't so shabby.

And with that, I'll split up my next chapters on working, family, and friends in KC. 

A Note On Failing

Again, I begin a blog to say I have been terrible at blogging. It has been 1.5 years since my last blog. That bad. And then, I went and read my old unpublished blogs. I have tons of these that I never publish. Like my private journal. Not only did I not publish this blog once, I went back, wrote a prologue and didn't publish it again.

Now is the time. 2.5 years later in 2017. Looking back, the funny thing about this prologue, that I wrote in 2015 about my thoughts in 2014, was that, at this time, in 2015, my life was getting ready to change. When I wrote this blog in 2014, it was the first time I admitted to myself that I was ready to make a change. I started the mental process. In October 2015, I had just applied for a job in Kansas City that I would end up getting. That was me. I would think about any semi-large decision and think about it for years (it could be as simple as buying a TV... or dresser as documented), but then once the decision was made, I moved fast. Since that time and since my move to KC, I have been less scared of the big decisions. In 16 months since I originally moved to KC I have moved apartments and moved jobs. But more on that soon (I promise not to wait another year). For now... here is my post from 2015 describing my post from 2014.

---------------------
October 2015


I wrote this in October 2014. I never published it due to fear of someone realizing they 'had me' and realized I was a sham. Today I reread it and, then realized, it was my exact October from 2015 and it needed to be published. I needed to put this out there. It reminded me of a great quote. "You can't live the same year 75 times and call it a life."
------------------------------
October, 2014

Failing.

Probably my biggest fear. Failing at accomplishing my goals. Failing at being a good friend. Failing at being a good daughter. Failing at being a good employee. Failing to living up to the expectation. That big 'ol expectation, I have created, of being Kim Greene. I have a million fears of failing.  Honestly, recently I have failed at most of them.

The funny thing about failing is that it didn't look like I expected. It didn't just come all at once like the winter in Missouri. When a 75 and sunny day turns into a freezing winter overnight. It came slow. It didn't take my breath away.

Getting overwhelmed is a process for me. I am convinced I can do all things. I am a problem solver. I pride myself in customer service. I constantly say to my students I teach and who are in my program, if you ever have an issue, contact me, if I don't have an answer, I know someone who does. I will fix the issue. I do not want to burden anyone else because, I know, everyone is as equally overwhelmed. I want to be the one contact for the student. I will not give anyone the runaround. However, I what I think I can handle is much higher than I expect of everyone around me. I can take on more. No problem. It's not factual. It's not even the truth. I just really would rather put myself out than anyone else. Then, the gradual slope becomes slippery, and I hit bottom.

Over the past few months and years, I have told everyone, I was fine. I know everyone says they are 'busy' when asked a question about work. I did too. I knew my load was too much. I knew I was barely keeping my head above, but is my busy anymore than anyone else's workload?

Like I said, it happened slowly. I knew I was slowly drowning, but I didn't want anyone else to see. You know when you trip or slip and don't want anyone to notice? I did that every day. For hundreds of days. Every semester worse than the last.

And this is where my failure became my fault.

I would reach out for help in a meaningless way. I would say I needed help, but still put in the hours to accomplish what needed to be done. No balls dropped. I would constantly be checking my email on my phone, to not miss an email and leave a student or parent in stress. It started slowly with working over every lunch. NBD. I can totally eat at my desk if it means I don't come back after 30 minutes to 35 actionable emails and 8 voicemails (I hate checking voicemail). Then, there were months during registration periods where I would come in for a few hours on Saturdays to catch up. Seriously. No big deal. I kept comparing my life to an accountant during busy season. Then, the last registration period hit. I did not leave my office before 7p and worked at least four hours every Saturday and Sunday for four weeks. But it was 'busy season.' I can do this was my mantra. It will be over on September 15th (again, just like an accountant).

And then, in the fall, my slow season, my to-do list grew longer. Items never getting checked off.

I would spend my days trying to make my life easier. Automate and teach others. Plan and project. Constantly interrupted by day-to-day student issues. Nothing ever finished due to constant interruption. I was sinking. Holding my head above, but slowing sinking.

Today, it happened. I failed. I felt so great about what I accomplished Monday. And yesterday. And last week. I worked so hard. So diligently. I accomplished so many giant tasks on my to-do list. I listened to students. I advised them and, I did what I love to do so much, solve their problems and frustrations. And then I looked down at my checklist, that I had built daily for myself, and noticed items that were past their deadline by two weeks. I solved a student's issue but then asked, 'Can we count him?' like a number.

So how do you feel when everything that you needed to do is left unfinished, but you helped a ton of students?

I looked at the next six weeks of my life and realized there is no way I can do this again. I realized my program had has doubled every year I have been coordinator. The thing about growing 100% for four years, is eventually doubling a number becomes an exponential and you have not multiplied yourself.

Everyday my checklist has grown and my voicemails and emails are getting returned more slowly. I realized today that I will not be able to assist my students with the service I expect from myself. I will create more frustration with my students, counselors, parents, and principals. I have prided myself on having a frustrated student come to me and I solve their problems, and now I realize, I am creating their problems.

That was me today. It hit me. It's my fault.

A Mindful Detour Indeed

Before I left OTC, one of my pals kept asking if it had hit me. That I was leaving OTC. I was leaving Springfield. I was leaving the life I had created in the place I had lived for the past fourteen years. I remember more of my life in Springfield than I do growing up in my hometown.  

He kept asking.

“Has it hit you yet?” – On my last day of work at OTC.

“It still hasn’t hit you yet? You are standing in an empty house.” – On my moving day.

My last day came and went, my first day began at UMKC and I snapped him a picture of my new email signature. The signature looked amost identical to my OTC email signature. Same name, different college. 

And the caption of the pic read, “Still hasn’t hit me.”

And it still hasn’t. I kept thinking I would write this goodbye to Springfield. I thought I wouldn’t just close the chapter, I would write the epilogue on the book that has been such a large portion of my life in Springfield. And days just keep going by, and I don’t feel the sadness I thought I would feel. I haven’t grieved the way I thought I would over leaving that part of my life behind. 

I think I had possibly prepared myself so much for the move that if anything, I was able to breathe. I was able to sleep without the weight of the whole life I created, the whole job I created, the whole stress I created weighing over me. 

And I know I did all of that to myself. In Springfield, it’s easy to be a big fish in a small pond. I entrenched my life so much in that town my handle is 417Kim and now, that identity is gone. It’s just gone like it never existed. And that was a bit hard to swallow. When I walked out of OTC the last night and I realized, the ship will keep sailing and remembered all my coworkers who had left who get replaced and forgotten. I too will be one who is forgotten soon. Everyone is replaceable echoed in my mind. That felt so depressing, I think I just blocked it out. Tonight I read this line and it resonated: 

In order to leave something significant behind, you have to leave.

And I did leave something significant behind. I created and developed programs at OTC and in Springfield that helped so many and will continue to help. I did good, meaningful things. I may never be remembered for that. That is more than okay because I did leave something behind. 

If anything, I feel like I am on a break. 

I feel like I will get in my car and drive back to my house at any point and it will be the same. I know my furniture is in a new place. I know my old house is empty. I know I am driving to a new job. My coworkers are different. I’m learning an entirely new job in a new work culture. As I learned in Thailand, it’s same same, but different. 

And maybe it is just that, a break. I am sure I will put the same pressures on myself in the future. I will take on too much and work myself into exhaustion, because that is just what I always end up doing. But for now, for now I like to be anonymous. I like that no one expects much of me. No one knows to ask me for help.

And I’m sure soon something will happen and it will hit me, but for now, I’m enjoying the detour.