Complicated Power

Earlier this year in my school I witnessed a power struggle between a male Supervision Aid and a grade five girl.
The girl had some sort of altercation with the male Supervision Aid in the corner of the playground, and decided to go report it to another female Aid. She told the woman that she felt really uncomfortable because the male Aid had pulled her hair and it creeped her out. This second Aid was called over and questioned by his colleague; he explained the situation to her and she took him at his word, and did not take the matter any further.
The girl was not satisfied with his explanation however and decided to seek out the school counselor. She told the counselor what had happened and how creeped out she was by this man touching her, and he called the male Supervision Aid over to discuss the matter. Now as it happens the counselor was friends with this male Aid and predisposed to trust the male Aid's side of the story. After hearing him out he recommended finding the girl and apologizing to her as much to cover his own butt as anything. The Aid did so, and the girl did not seem satisfied with this however she took the matter no further.

What do we see in the power dynamics of this true scenario?
I would say that for the majority of my life, if I had been told this sort of story I would have immediately seen in it another miscarriage of justice; another powerless voice being ignored or overruled by the unholy hegemony of the power-holders.
However I now see these power dynamics as much more nuanced and complex than I once did.

Here's the twist: I am the male Supervision Aid.
So, what is that "male Supervision Aid's side of the story"? The girl had been picking cherry blossoms off of a tree in the corner of the school grounds. I approached her and agreed that they were beautiful flowers but asked her to please not pick anymore of them. She retorted, "why not?" with a fair bit of sass, and I replied, "well to begin with because I have asked you not to and that should be enough. Now the reason I have asked you not to, is that this tree is a living thing and has not gone through all the work of blossoming so that you can forcefully take its flowers away. If you find some on the ground take them as gifts, but you may not pick any more." The girl defiantly stared at me with an edge of loathing in her eyes. I felt my own sense of indignation rising to meet her challenge, but decided I'd said enough and turned to walk away. As I did, the girl called after me, "We can pick them if we want," (she had a friend with her all along, though the friend remained silent and uninvolved).
I rounded on her and said, "Excuse me, no you may not." The girl had purple streeks in her hair, and in a flash of misguided inspiration, I took hold of one of them saying, "these are lovely. Mind if I just clip one of them off? Is that okay?" It was a very brief little exchange. "No, it is not okay," I continued, "because as lovely as these streaks are they are part of a living thing and I have no right to take them for myself. Likewise I am telling you not to take another flower from that tree. If you do, I will take you to the office. Do you understand me?"

So, that's what happened. It is not one of my most proud moments. I'm not ashamed of it because I think it was so terrible a thing to do (rather creative teachable moment even!), however it was foolish of me because of how it could be perceived, and the mighty power of victimhood.
While many children would understand what I did and why (and in fact the girl's friend understood; I'm quite glad she was there as a witness in retrospect), it is awfully easy to make this out as far worse than it really was. And do you see what mighty power there is in this claim to victimhood?
Yet the power dynamics are even more nuanced and complicated.
As a matter of fact when I apologized to this girl I didn't do it only to cover my butt (and our conselor's, who needed to look like he took it seriously). I did genuinely feel I had crossed a line-- simply because this girl felt I had (or well, to this day I wonder if she was sincere in her claim to feel creeped out... It's complicated because I have learned she is quite a master manipulator...). But you know, even if she was simply trying to get me back in a powerful (and quite shrewd) act of vindictiveness... I still think it was right of me to feel I genuinely owed her an apology.
Here's where my own approach to power comes right out: I want to always give it up, personally. I want to empty myself of power whenever anyone wishes to deminish me, even if I feel it is unjust. Because I genuinely believe there is a deeper truth about my own self worth; an unshakable core of validity to my very being and irreducible value. And this cannot be stripped of me, whatever the tides of injustice or abuse might wash over me.
There is a part of me that really wanted to defend myself and my reputation in the interaction with that girl. I felt genuinely violated by her accusation. I might have fought back harder-- I certainly did have my own kind of traditional power (she and I both had sources of great power). But as confused or vindictive as her accusation may have been, I am glad that I could sincerely surrender to her. I did not do so in any sort of grovelling self-denigrating way. In my apology I told her that what I did was not wrong or intended to hurt her in any way, however I acknowledged that she felt hurt by it (whether she did or not I cannot truly say), and this was reason enough for me to apologize and ask her forgiveness.
I believe I would have done her no good to fight with her over this, in defense of my reputation refusing to concede any wrongdoing.
I also believe I would have done her no good if I let her walk all over me, and lost my dignity by fearfully blabbering a neck-saving apology. (Though she might have felt very empowered by this victory, it is an unhealthy power that does not really serve her, but would serve only to isolate her from others through their fear and mistrust).


To the point then (at last!):
There is no way to diffuse power among all equally. Power sources are varied, nuanced, and complicated; there will always be power dynamics and we are not served deluding ourselves to think otherwise. It is good that collegial trust is the source of a kind of power, yet it is also good that the voice of the victim holds power in our society (this is a very ironic power source; we live in a rare culture that paradoxically bestows power on those who can reasonably appear not to have power!).
However what I can do with my power, wherever it comes from, is hold it with an open hand only. I will not clutch any power, and if I can give it to someone who asks for it or even demands it, I can choose to surrender this power. This self-emptying can only be sincere if I recognize that there is a deeper power in me that can never be taken away. This power lying in my very existence and personhood is accessed precisely when I willingly surrender other power sources. The act of voluntarily relinquishing power out of care for the other is itself the only source of holy power.

How does this apply to the classroom?
As a teacher, I fully intend to recognize my own power. I will use it for good: students will feel security with me because I am powerful and I will care for and protect them. But they will also see me give my power up. They will witness my admissions of failure and my genuine request for their forgiveness. They will hear me admit to my mistakes. They will see me willingly serve them, and punish myself when any one of them is punished. They may even witness my unwillingness to defend myself if a colleague or a student wrongly accuses me. Most of them will not understand this. But it will impact them at a level deeper than consciousness and they might come closer to realizing that like me, there is a value to their own being so deep and mighty that it cannot be threatened by vulnerability.

The most powerful person in the classroom will always be the teacher. But I can choose to hold this power with an open hand, not lord it over anyone. The key to this is humility, and a willing self-sacrifice.
I hope there will be moments when I can live up to these ideals;
-Mark