Holding The Mic Differently

I used to consider myself an entertainer.

Theatrical performances.

Acting in all kinds of capacities.

Hosting radio and television shows,

more live events than I can remember.

I could work a crowd.

Tell a story.

Manage the energy in a room.

I knew when to be serious.

When to be reverent.

When to be lighthearted or funny.

When to pause and let the audience respond.

I loved it.

It gave me life.

It made my spirit sparkle.

I haven’t done much of that in the last few years —

at least not in a free-spirited sort of way.

Now I still hold a microphone.

But I use it differently.

Leading public meetings is a completely different beast.

There are laws to follow.

Statutes and policies to understand.

Agendas to move through.

Heavy decisions to be made.

There is less performance.

More procedure.

And much less applause simply because we enjoyed the show.

Now the audience is made up of students, staff, families, and an entire community.

They aren’t watching for entertainment.

They’re watching because what happens in that room impacts their lives.

It means a lot to me.

It uses the same skills — just in a different register.

Reading the room.

Managing energy.

Knowing when to pause.

Knowing when to bring it back.

And, it touches on the part of me that took care of the community through Tatsuda's.

Tonight I had to rein myself in from being too funny for the sake of the audience.

That instinct is still there —

to lighten the room,

to win it,

to make it feel good.

Thankfully, I work with people who aren’t afraid to say, “Bring it in.”

Thankfully, we weren't back in session quite yet.

Because the goal isn’t applause,

or a laugh,

or to be the star of the show.

The goal is clarity.

Collaboration.

Integrity.

Forward movement.

The focus is on the work.

Not me.

I am far from perfect.

I still have a lot to learn.

But I know what I bring to the table has value.

I’m grateful for all my years as an entertainer.

They trained me for this.

I’m not an entertainer anymore.

It is something else.

Higher stakes.

Harsher consequences.

Quieter rooms.

Stewardship — helping shape outcomes that matter.