Leslie Anne Tarabella Southern With a Gulf Coast Accent

The best lesson I ever learned in kindergarten was when I was 27 years old. 

My teaching career was short, yet spanned three different schools in two cities, along with time as a supervising teacher at a hospital-owned preschool. Of all the administrators I worked under, Mrs. Barbara James was, without question, the toughest and most demanding. And she was, by far, my favorite.

Unlike most cheerful hiring calls filled with a bubbling welcome message, Mrs. James rang me at 6 a.m. with a voice like a sergeant and flatly said, “I have decided to give you the opportunity to teach at our school. You may report for duty in two weeks at 7 a.m. sharp. Goodbye.”

But one day, I faced a personal crisis that required adjustments to my schedule. I wasn’t going to miss any days of work, but I still dreaded asking for changes. 

Standing in the school lobby, I nervously began to explain. Before I barely began, Mrs. James lifted her hand up to my face and stopped me.  

She quietly said, “Step into my office.”

“She’s going to fire me” I just knew. 

Firmly shutting the door behind her, she turned to me and said, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“She thinks I’m unstable,” I thought. So, because I was already rattled, and maybe because I was only 27 years old, I did the most unstable thing possible—and burst into tears, therefore proving my unprofessionalism.

Then, something unexpected happened. The same woman who struck fear into the hearts of the tardy, wrapped me in a big hug. I later learned she had a daughter near my age. That day, she calmed my fears, helped rearrange my schedule, and assured me everything would be okay.

From that moment on, I would have walked through fire for her. I showed up early, stayed late, and volunteered whenever she needed help. And I wasn’t alone—most of the other teachers felt the same way. We felt respected and loved our jobs because we were held to high standards yet treated as individuals. Our strengths were recognized and nurtured. She recognized that I loved to write and soon had me working on grant proposals and school board documents. Our tests scores soared higher than other schools with far more resources. 

To this day, whenever I hear of a school, business, church, or even a club struggling with low morale or bad attitudes, I think of Barbara James. She proved that the attitude of an organization flows from the top down.

I eventually left teaching to get married and start a family, making Mrs. James the last principal I ever had. We stayed in touch over the years until her passing from complications of diabetes.

Keeping this picture on my desk reminds me of my boss who became my friend and the need to mix compassion with professionalism and how attitude ultimately begins with the leaders. I guess you could say it’s the best lesson I ever learned in kindergarten. 

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