A networking lesson from...my choir teacher?

My childhood choir teacher died this month.

Her name was Paula Nolley, and she was my choir teacher off and on throughout my school days. 

• 3rd grade in 1983-84.
• 7th-8th grade in 1987-89.
• 11th-12th grade in 1992-1993

It's been surreal to see all the pictures and stories on social media from dozens of friends who were also impacted by her work as a choir teacher, private voice coach, and director of musical theater productions at the high school and community college. 

She was a life-changer for many and was involved with music until very shortly before her death. Most recently, she served as the pianist at my church and was confirmed as a child.

Paula Nolley in ~2016. You can click here to learn more about the many ways she impacted the community. 

I had a complicated relationship with her, though - at least sometimes.

I am confident that she was dedicated to her family and her craft. Under her direction, our high school choirs, soloists, and small groups received top ratings at music festivals. I could write a book on all she did for the schools, the community, and individuals.

Yet, when I was in school, I often did not feel seen and respected by her the same way many of my peers did. 

Now that I have a few more decades of life experience and have read a few dozen tributes from students she taught over the years, I recognize some reasons why I felt that way.

First, she focused a lot on kids who didn't have another teacher to care for them or nurture their talent.  

• Kids that had rough home lives.
• Kids who didn't have anyone speaking life to them about their gifts.
• Kids who felt adrift in the school until they became members of a choir. 
• Kids who didn't have others looking out for them.

As a person who made good grades in all my subjects and had the privilege to take voice lessons year-round from a local community college professor, I think that either...

1) She found me insufferable because choir was my thing. I wanted to be good, and I wanted everyone else to be good, too. (Full disclosure: I am pretty damned sure I was insufferable.) 

or

2) She figured she should invest more in the kids who didn't have the resources I did, which I now know is 100% fair. However, I definitely did not know that when I was in junior high or high school. 

Sometimes, I wanted to quit choir completely because I didn't understand her decisions or why I didn't receive credit from Mrs. Nolley for my talents, abilities, and hard work like other kids did.

At that time, my giving up choir would have been like Taylor Swift giving up songwriting, Patrick Mahomes giving up football, or Neil DeGrasse Tyson giving up science. 

I didn't really want to give up choir, I wanted to feel more like I really mattered to a leader who impacted my life every day.

Over the long years since I graduated high school, I haven't seen Mrs. Nolley very often. She lived in or near my hometown outside St. Louis, MO, for the rest of her life, while I have lived in the KC area since 2002.

I did hear about her sometimes, though.

And was impressed by the things that she was doing.

I wished this woman, whom I had barely spoken to for decades—only in an occasional Facebook comment—happiness, peace, wellness, and a good life, even if I never told her. 

So why am I telling you this story?

I am telling you because we often let the fact that we don't always have a perfectly positive relationship with someone get in the way of engaging with them.

Here's the truth:

Most people aren't all good or all bad.

Across my 20-year corporate career and 5-year entrepreneur career, I can only think of maybe 10 that I would not be willing to talk to or assist with something. 

Ten. 

Out of HUNDREDS,

All of those 10-ish people are folks who systematically treated me or other close colleagues with disrespect - including bullying, harassment, discrimination, and dishonesty. 

So when you think about the question, "Who can I network with?" you don't need to avoid people just because you sometimes disagreed, or you haven't seen them in years, or they gave you a disappointing performance review. 

Heck, I even have a boss who ACTUALLY LAID ME OFF on my business email list. 

If I can turn a guy who laid me off into a friend, colleague, and sounding board, you can message someone you respect but haven't talked to in a few years or with whom you disagreed. 

Really, you can. I promise.