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Say It’s Regrettable

When I was a first-year teacher, I had an assistant principal who had a thing about apologies.

I, on the other hand, had a thing about apologizing for everything. I thought I was being kind. Polite. Smoothing things over.

A student ran into me in the hallway—“I’m sorry.”
A teacher was having a bad day—“I’m sorry.”
I’d signed up for the computer lab and someone else wanted it—“I’m sorry.”
Crazy fire alarm in the middle of class? You guessed it—“I’m sorry.”

And somehow, that assistant principal was always nearby. Two steps behind me or just around the corner. Every time I threw out one of those reflexive apologies, there he was.

He was kind,  persistent.  “Why are you apologizing? Did you make the fire alarm go off?” Then he’d smile and say, “Say it’s regrettable. Don’t apologize for things you didn’t do.”

At first, I was offended. I didn’t like being corrected. I thought I was being nice. Why was he nitpicking my words?

He wasn’t wrong. I was saying “sorry” all the time. Because of him, I started to hear it.

Schedule change? “I’m sorry.”
Broken copier? “I’m sorry.”
Rainy day? “I’m sorry.”
Phones down? “I’m sorry.”

I hadn’t caused any of those things. “I’m sorry” was just my default way of easing everyone’s discomfort, as if it were my job to fix it.

Here’s what my assistant principal understood better than I did:

• When you take responsibility for things that aren’t yours, you make yourself smaller.

• You carry weight that doesn’t belong to you.

• You start to believe you’re at fault for things that have nothing to do with you.

That’s not kindness.

I started testing different phrases:

“That’s regrettable.”
“That’s hard.”
“That’s frustrating.”
And sometimes—just silence.

It turned out to be a superpower for a new teacher, because as a teacher:

• The buses will be late.

• The computers will crash.

• A colleague will snap.

• A parent will want answers… now.

• A student will be unhappy about something.

These things will happen. This isn’t about if, but when. They come with the job.

When I stopped apologizing for those things, I stopped feeling responsible for fixing them, which  meant I could focus on what actually was mine to do: teach. It also gave others the space to own what was theirs.

Even now, years later, when “I’m sorry” slips out too fast, I pause. Sometimes I half-expect that assistant principal to be around the corner, raising an eyebrow. I’m grateful for him. He taught me to save my apologies for when they’re real, to use them with intention, and to protect my energy.

Your Turn

If you’ve been socialized to people-please like I have:

You can be kind.
You can be warm.
You can be gracious.

Without apologizing for someone else’s mess.

We don't have to  take responsibility for things that aren’t ours to tend.

So let me ask you:

Where are you saying sorry for something that isn’t yours?
And what would it free you up to do, if you stopped?

Say it’s regrettable.
Then get back to your work. See if it frees your spirit a little, makes your work a little easier, and your heart a little lighter.

I’ll be cheering you on and waiting to hear how this simple idea changes how you show up.

Here's my book...✨Practicing Enough  

Here's my other book...✨Staying True 

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