Skip to content
Home » What I Learned From My Father, ‘Lean On Me’ Principal Joe Clark: Hazel Clark (Transcript)

What I Learned From My Father, ‘Lean On Me’ Principal Joe Clark: Hazel Clark (Transcript)

Here is the full transcript of Hazel Clark’s talk titled “What I Learned From My Father, ‘Lean On Me’ Principal Joe Clark” at TEDxCapeMay 2024 conference.

Listen to the audio version here:

TRANSCRIPT:

I want to share with you a concept that might challenge our conventional understanding of nurturing and love. It’s a topic that I believe can lead to immense value in our personal and professional growth and one that is near and dear to my heart. I’m talking about tough love.

As a young, awkward, skinny girl, like many young people, my talents and abilities were underdeveloped as well as my confidence. I distinctly remember a fear of not measuring up and that fear was likely magnified by the unique makeup of my family tree. My father was a New Jersey high school principal whose controversial and unconventional methods led to significant academic improvement for his students.

He was the subject of the major motion picture, “Lean on Me,” and just in case the baseball bat, bullhorn, and expression on his face did not make it clear, if tough love was a person, my dad would be him. My dad delivered a unique blend of parenting which was rooted in discipline, expectations, respect, and tough love, the only love we ever received from him.

Simply stated, he expected my sister, brother, and me to work hard and succeed. He would tell us failure is simply not an option. My dad wrapped his love, his tough love, in unwavering support and that enabled his students and children to be receptive when we were pushed outside of our comfort zones, as we often were. He saw a direct correlation between discomfort and success, the hard conversations, the tough moments, that pressure feeling was all designed to help you find your power and purpose.

Family Expectations

Another one of his favorite quotes was, “A diamond is a piece of coal that thrived under pressure.” He wanted me to lean into those pressure moments and come out stronger and shining. As a young girl, the success and accomplishments of my family intimidated me.

My father had a whole movie made about him in which Morgan Freeman played him. My sister had already qualified for multiple Olympic teams and established herself as a world-class track and field athlete. My brother was a notable high school and college athlete turned world-class coach, and then he goes and marries my sister-in-law, an Olympic gold medalist.

I remember sitting at the dinner table and thinking to myself, “Where do I go from here? How will I ever measure up to this crew?” My fear of failure paralyzed me, and so I launched Operation Avoid Track and Field. Now this was a simple operation. I would try every sport under the sun besides track and field. I started with tennis. I was no Venus or Serena. I tried field hockey, soccer, sailing, equestrian, basketball.

Discovering Figure Skating

I was tall. I could get down that court fast, but I couldn’t make a shot once I got there. Finally, I landed on figure skating, and figure skating was the perfect sport for me because it was as far away from track and field as any sport could ever be, and nobody in my family had ever tried it.

Once I started figure skating, there was no turning back, and although my long, lanky frame impacted my artistry, my athleticism allowed me to jump powerfully. Another great thing about figure skating was that it met my father’s criteria, which was “Find something you love, work hard at it, and never, ever quit.” And that’s tough love in a nutshell.

ALSO READ:  How to Live a Meaningful Life: Brian S. Lowery (Transcript)

It’s not about being harsh or cold-hearted. Instead, it’s the delicate balance between care and challenge. It’s providing guidance and support while simultaneously pushing someone to reach their full potential. It’s caring about someone enough to have difficult conversations and set boundaries which may be initially hard to accept.

And one thing about Dad was he had no problem setting boundaries which were initially hard to accept and having difficult conversations, which is how he pushed me to begin running track. One day I was at my figure skating lesson when I attempted a double axel and had a terrible fall.

Starting Track and Field

I remember gliding on the ice past my father, who was sitting in the stands reading his dictionary as he did daily. Then I went up for the jump and came down face-first on the ice, knocking myself unconscious. When I woke up in the hospital room, my eyes fluttered open and I scanned the room and finally I laid eyes on my father’s grainy image which was slowly making its way towards me.

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to pepper my face with kisses and wrap me in a warm embrace. But instead I would hear the words that would render me speechless and make the blood feel like it had drained from my body. “I’ve had enough of your not running track.”

Just like that, my track and field career unexpectedly and very abruptly began. A few weeks later I was in the backseat of my father’s Cadillac, bringing my sweaty palms together, looking out the back window, wondering if I could survive if I threw my body on the pavement and made a run for it. To say I didn’t want to run would be the understatement of the century.

I was petrified and full of anxiety. By the time I got to the track, I felt weak during my warm-up. And before I knew it, it was time to begin the race.

The First Race

I mustered a little bit of courage to ask my father a final question. “Dad, I’ve never run before. I have no coach. I have no strategy. What am I supposed to do?” My dad leaned in and locked eyes with me. “You’ve got what it takes. You go out there and give it your best. You’re a Quirk,” he said, pumping his fists in the air to emphasize the significance of my lineage.

My dad’s words didn’t exactly instill confidence, but must I remind you, he carried a baseball bat, bullhorn, and they called him Crazy Joe for a reason.