Teach Them How To Say Goodbye – Issue 8
24-08-04
Quote For The Week
The ultimate, hidden truth of the world is that it is something that we make, and could just as easily make differently. – David Graeber
Teach Them How To Say Goodbye
Another SPARC has finished this year. While there’s still much for me to reflect on and sit with, I wanted to use this issue to reflect on one particular phenomenon.
As a summer program staffed by generally exceptional and busy people, it’s fairly common for staff to depart from SPARC after any given iteration. This is a relatively unspoken yet commonly understood norm.
Though, there is a sizable group of alumni, who, in my mind, is a part of the “Pantheon of SPARC Builders”. These are the alumni in the community who, over the years through their participation, defined SPARC. Their stories become legends that get passed around year after year for amazement and laughter.
“Remember the way they did X?”
“Remember how they used to Y?”
“What did they do in this situation?”
“I liked the way they would care about Z”
These myths/legends form the culture. As they get passed around, it evolves “What is it that we do here?”, “What kind of group are we?”, “Who are we to one another?”. These profoundly philosophical and human questions manifest the social reality we are in.
Often, culture is hard to perceive, especially with just a few snapshots. I’m privileged enough to have seen enough years that I have had the chance to watch all kinds of long-term patterns. This includes patterns of departure, which I want to highlight in this issue. There are those who leave “permanently”, some leave but stay connected, some return after years through serendipity or with intention, and also some who remain the “whole time” (e.g. myself).
This year, I want to highlight and make-real, a relatively novel example of departure.
A staff member who has been around for the past few years will be departing from camp, intentionally, for a few years. On the last day, as they were about to head for the airport, they cried as they said goodbye. Initially, I wasn’t quite expecting it, and somewhat typical of how I relate to my role at camp, my instinct was to hold their experience with them. This has been a meaningful few years – they gained much and contributed even more. Grief makes sense. As we held a hug, and exchanged words, and they went to say goodbye to the next person, I unexpectedly teared up myself.
Whether intentional or not, they have become a pillar of the SPARC community. They have etched a significant and permanent record of the history, culture, and community of SPARC. There will never be a SPARC without them in it. From the memes they made to the kind of leader they represented. I realized I was watching a generation shift right before my eyes. Starting at the next camp, people will be passing around the stories of this person.
In a sense, and at least in my mind, they’ll now be joining that “Pantheon of SPARC Builders”. A bit grand sounding perhaps, yet I think it’s perfectly appropriate.
What’s novel though, isn’t just the significance – SPARC is fortunate enough to have had quite a few incredible people on that “pantheon” to make it what it is. Instead, it’s about how their departure was done and thus modeled for the rest of the community to learn from.
As it happens, I’ve spent a fair bit of time studying how organizations form and dissolve, and there are some patterns of “people leaving” that are common for institutions (including SPARC). Here are some from the departing person’s point of view:
The person obtains an appealing new opportunity, decides they are sufficiently satisfied with their involvement, and decides it’s time to move on. Feelings usually vary by context. (e.g. giving two weeks notice at a job)
The person was “let go” from the institution because the institutional needs had changed. This is often not well communicated and can lead to the person feeling disoriented or abandoned.
The person and the institution have arrived at an irreconcilable difference, leading to the person departing, often with resentment in either or both directions.
The person felt responsible for the wellbeing of the institution, carrying the burden for too long, and departed to protect their own attention/wellbeing. This also often accompanies resentment for carrying the burden too long (sometimes at the institution, sometimes at the self).
Especially when at the point of connection (e.g. hiring), both surely had hopes and interest in building something wonderful together, it can feel like departure/separation often becomes a bad thing.
This time, however, it felt like the departure illustrated something beautifully different.
The moving on felt mutually celebrated.
Grief was mutually shared.
The transition was collectively witnessed.
In setting up for a departure that felt right, I felt like they were able to give this final camp everything they had. They focused on giving their care as much as possible, in every way possible, because staff and students are paying attention, as they transfer the nuance of how they “do SPARC” to another generation. Precisely because there is a clear ending, they don’t have to keep anything in reserve and instead focus on creating a satisfying final performance. Without a sense of grasp-y-ness from either side, they left in my memory (and I hope for others and themselves) one of the most vibrant experiences of them as a staff member.
Letting go of the small world of SPARC, I hope they can go on to pursue new and beautiful things that would delight and fulfill them. As an administrator of SPARC, an institution that cares about positive impact in the world, I don’t even have to question whether their work would be positively impactful. I have come to trust their values and discernment over the years of working with them.
While I think there have been similar wonderful departures in the past too, this year’s felt particularly salient and “complete” in a sense. Just as I hope that new staff and students can come into SPARC gaining deeply valuable learning, I hope that the departure of SPARC is full of learning too. With this example, I hope the SPARC community can learn from it, and in the future create more experiences of departures being one that’s celebrated and meaningful.
Ultimately, departures are inevitable.
Whether it’s a divorce or the death of a loved one or one day when SPARC itself also disintegrates, I believe we need more stories of departures and separations that are filled with meaning. The grief of loss is not wrong – it’s the reminder of impermanence and the preciousness of the present and each other.
To be clear though. It’s not like they are dead or anything. The future is full of unknowns. They might return soon; they may never. However, with a proper goodbye, I feel like I can look forward to whatever future we end up in.
One last time
The people will hear from me
One last time
And if we get this right
We’re gonna teach ‘em how to say Goodbye
– George Washington, Hamilton
Apparently What Humors Me
More than just humor, this also moves me deeply. What a great capture of the soul of SPARC.