“Look at You, Look at You”: Ego, Embarrassment, and the Slow Work of Becoming Real
There was a season when I was riding high—beloved by students, featured in the school paper, welcomed in the hallways like a local legend. I had just moved from teaching middle school to high school, and nearly every student in my classes had been with me before. When I entered a room, it felt like applause. I was the guy. My ego, well… let’s just say it got a little overfed.
At the same time, I was wrapping up a master’s degree and met weekly at 5:30 a.m. with my professor, Dr. Stone, at a local coffee shop. One Thursday, feeling particularly proud, I casually tossed the student newspaper onto the table. I was the center spread—literally. Grinning, I quoted the Flobots song that was popular at the time:
“Look at me, look at me, I can ride my bike with no handlebars.”
Dr. Stone glanced at the paper, smiled slightly, and said flatly,
“Sit down. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
I sat. We talked. I mostly listened.
As our time ended, I went to the counter to refill my coffee and grabbed a to-go lid. I dropped it. As I bent down to retrieve it, I let out a loud fart. Not subtle. Not deniable. It was loud enough to catch the attention of two old men debating the news, three college girls in a nearby booth, and a young couple with a toddler. I felt them notice me.
I thought, Just grab the lid and go.
But when I bent down a second time, my pants—loose-fitting khakis, mind you—split straight down the back. It made a noise. There was a breeze. There were also chuckles. Dr. Stone stood, walked over with my coat, draped it around me, and said:
“Look at you. Look at you.”
He walked me out like a man gently ushering someone off stage. But the curtain wasn’t closed yet.
With no time to go home, I went straight to school. I explained the situation to the athletic director, who—after wiping tears of laughter from his eyes—hooked me up with a pair of grey sweatpants. Large. Cozy. With the word KING emblazoned in bold blue letters across the butt. (For context, I was teaching at Rufus King High School.)
So there I was: white button-down shirt, red tie, brown sweater vest, black dress shoes… and grey sweatpants proudly advertising KING.
I looked like a teacher who missed the Spirit Week memo and accidentally showed up for Clash Day.
But here’s the thing: something in me shifted. Not all at once, not in that single moment—but this was one of those strangely sacred baby steps toward becoming less concerned with looking right and more committed to being real.
I was told by a mentor that when you open your heart to scripture, the Spirit doesn’t just give you insight—He gives you experience. I had been meditating on what it means to become less, so Christ might become more. And that week, I got an interactive lesson in downward mobility—pants and all.
That day wasn’t the turning point. It was just another tile in the mosaic of moments that slowly chipped away at my addiction to image. I didn’t choose the humiliation—but I did choose to embrace it. To not hide it. To not rewrite it. And that small decision—to wear the moment rather than erase it—helped me let go a little more of the need to be the star of the story.
I’m still learning. Still missing steps, still bumping my ego on spiritual doorframes when I try to walk through too quickly.
I’ve come to see for myself what the ancient poets knew—tragedy, given time, often becomes comedy. And comedy—rooted in truth—can become connection. And connection is what I’m actually after.
So yes, I kept the sweatpants.
And yes… some years later, I gave them to a student who actually needed them.
Which somehow feels right.
So, on your journey of becoming you, may you learn to laugh a little sooner, forgive a little faster, and pass through life’s doorways without needing to duck your pride.
TrueStory #HumilityInRealLife #TeacherLife #WardrobeMalfunction #LessonsInLaughter #BecomingReal #GrowthMoments #FaithAndFumbles #SpiritWeekSurvivor #LookAtYouLookAtYou #LetGoToGrow
Forming 2.0 
I have to admit, I laughed so hard at this. Lol reminds me of a few years ago, in Nardo I went swimming with friends in the sea. My first time mind you( not theirs) I had a snorkle, goggles and fins. I made the leap of faith into the sea. Feeling a rush of pride and in awe of the beauty. No sooner had I began to relax a little bit the waves picked up in a hurry. I lifted my head to see where everyone else had gone and the waves began pushing me under. Inexperienced as I was and lacking common sense, I did not think to take my snorkle out of my mouth. I was panicked by the fact I could not breathe. I fought and fought against the waves for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes. Thinking I was for sure going to die, and almost succumbing to the fact, when one of the guys pushed me to the rocks on the shore. He too was struggling but managed to help me. My bathing suit bottoms came off in the process, and as I reached the rocks on shore, the waves kept pushing. With each wave I was pushed almost spread-eagled fins up at my ears, further onto the rocks for everyone to see. I was embarrassed, but also I had never felt so happy to be safe and alive. I cried from embarrassment and laughed at the same time.
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Oh JAM! That tops my experience by a mile and near death…it sounds like you had a transformative experience. A real Baptist and born again experience. Such a great story, thank you for your brave honesty in sharing this, it is a treasure.
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No no it in no way tops your experience. Lol it just reminded me of a similar experience yet different. But both coming out with the same outcome. I felt full of pride jumping in and was quickly checked by mother nature. Same for you my friend😏🙌🏻 a fart a neat death experience is somewhat the same to those who experienced it. 😏
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