The Other Thing

Today our school says goodbye to two incredible math teachers, Dana Hedgepeth and Carrie Ann Miller. Dana is retiring and Carrie Ann is moving on to a new opportunity, and while I'll be the first to acknowledge that they are each irreplaceable in their own right, I am happy for each of them. Both of them have earned it, and we all deserve to get what we have earned. When I reflect on the past 12 years of working together, many warm and funny memories come to mind. In the classroom, both of these ladies have stuck by some of the crazy ideas I've put them through over the years as we looked for the perfect recipe for improving high school math instruction. I've changed what they taught, how they taught, and who they taught along the way and they never backed down from a challenge. I'm not narcissistic enough to think that they never questioned me or even cursed me along the way, but they always showed up and for three class periods a day, they did the very best they could do. There's a lot to be said for that. 

But despite how good they are in the classroom, I'll remember them for the other things. When I think of Dana, I'll never forget how much pride she has in this school. She wants everything to be perfect. Don't dare think that you can place flowers or set the stage for graduation as well as she can. Her eye sees things mine never will. And while she endured our jokes about her obsessiveness over such things, she never stopped trying to make things absolutely perfect for students, staff, and families. She has so much pride in being from our school and she wants everything about it to be the very best. It's seen in her classroom and in how she speaks. Carrie Ann has a similar flirtation with perfectionism. Her clean classroom and aversion to germs of any kind are a hint of what lessons look like in her room. But what I'll remember most is seeing her, years before blended instruction or a need for videoed lessons became a thing, struggling to balance an iPad on a stack of textbooks to video herself going over a math problem so that her students could watch it doing their homework. Those first videos are not something she's proud of today, but if you could see how she transformed her classroom in the months that followed, you'd see that same obsessive nature. That same desire to be perfect. I watched both ladies struggle over the years with personal hardships that I would not wish on my very worst enemy. And despite the time and space offered to them, they could turn it off and try their very best to be perfect for students several times each day to teach math. 

How you teach is always going to be important. You're never going to hear anyone say that you can get away with being a bad teacher just because you care about students. Lots of people care, but doing that is only half of the job. But if there's something that I'll take away from Dana and Carrie Ann, it's not just that they are amazing math teachers, it's the other thing. It's a desire to work so hard for kids because they deserve it. It's that no matter what obstacles life throws your way, you face it head-on. They are two of the best math teachers I've ever known, but they are also two of the most resilient people I've ever met. And maybe it's that other thing that makes them great.

Clatterblocks and Neckties

I have a practice of keeping my personal social media away from work. When I get home at the end of the day and try to unwind, I often fall victim to scrolling through my various social media platforms to catch up on the entertainment, news, and connections with friends and family from the day. I'm fairly certain that I am like many of you who find yourself entertained by the news of those with whom we keep relationships. It's nice staying connected, even if it's just through liking a picture or status. And every now and then, I get excited or sometimes sad news about someone I haven't seen or spoken to in a long time. This week I learned about the passing of a former middle school teacher of mine, Mr. David Seeman. 

Mr. Seeman was my middle school shop teacher. His accent told even the most absent-minded 7th grader that he wasn't from eastern North Carolina. He was very quick-witted and loved when he had a student who could pick up on his sarcasm in the classroom. The first lesson you learned in Mr. Seeman's class was to build a set of clatterblocks. These were a set of wooden squares connected by three ribbons. When you opened them up, they made a clicking noise that you could keep going by flipping them. Building them was an introduction to measuring, cutting, sanding, following a list of directions, and executing a plan. The noise of the blocks filled the room as students successfully completed their first task. Mr. Seeman must have noticed that I enjoyed his class and I quickly became one of the kids who understood his brand of humor. This usually just earned me extra tasks that he only gave to those he trusted. He taught me how to break down equipment that only he used to clean it and even gave me some inside tips on projects that he knew would push my thinking. He was a great teacher and I still credit him for some of my enjoyment in building things today.

But if I'm being honest, that wasn't his biggest impact on me. In my middle school years, my dad traveled quite a bit for his job. As the oldest son, that often left chores or other responsibilities that my dad usually filled up to me. My mom was nothing short of amazing, but she wasn't a dad and so we did our best. Near the end of the year, there was some type of awards assembly at school and my dad was out of town. My mom wasn't able to miss work to attend and she did her best by sending me to school with a buttoned shirt and one of my dad's neckties. She instructed me to find a teacher who could help me tie it. Mr. Seeman was clearly my first choice. I found my way to his classroom at the first change of classes and he was happy to help. He told me to pay attention as he tied it around his own neck and I watched with every bit of attention a 13-year-old boy could give. The tie looked perfect to me as he took it off his neck. I reached my hand out to take it from him and he quickly untied it and handed it back to me. I must have looked confused. He asked me if I was really paying attention and told me to tie it back. In the next few minutes, he guided me on how to tie it myself several times until I got it right. I have literally never tied a tie any different way in my life. 

I'm fairly certain I could rebuild clatterblocks from memory today. I promise you I can take apart a paint gun and clean it to his specifications. I only know how to tie a necktie the way he taught me how to do it 30 years ago. If you've ever doubted if students are learning anything from you, let this be a lesson that you have much more impact than you could ever imagine. Teachers are amazing human beings who teach us so much more than anything they could write in a lesson plan. Mr. Seeman and many others taught me lessons that made me think about the kind of person I wanted to be. They taught me values. They taught me to question things and to think for myself. None of these things are ever going to show up in a content objective. But one day, maybe some absent-minded teenager will grow up and look back at the impact that you had on their life and celebrate you for all that you did for them. I know I do.

Tennis

I've never played a full game of tennis in my life. It's a fact that my daughter, Rylee, loves to remind me of whenever I critique her in a match or when she's practicing. I remind her that for almost 10 years now I have watched her take many lessons, carried her to lots of tournaments, and seen her play many, many times. Any parent of other players who have sat near me can tell you that I'll make a noise the moment that she hits a ball that I know isn't going to go where she wants it to go. I've seen her hit enough of them that I can absolutely tell you the moment the ball touches the racquet if it will be in or out. I know that because I've seen her hit so many tennis balls. This week I watched her hit her last tennis ball as a high school player and it left me with a lot to think about. 

You don't have to read too many of these blog posts to know that I love a metaphor. Watching my daughter play, I remembered how much I've seen her change and grow over time. Those investments of hours on a court, lessons, and equipment made a huge difference. We poured a lot of effort into that growth, and while it was something that she enjoyed, it wasn't always easy or fun. Similarly, I thought about the time that we have with students. It's short. And while you may not feel like it mid-semester, they will soon be gone. You will have put the effort into them that you could best provide. Hopefully, the time and resources you were given produced some growth that you could see. You watched them, coached them, corrected them, and praised them. And because you get to know them so well over that time, you also probably have a really good idea of how they will perform when they take a test or prepare to demonstrate what they know on the subject. In the same way that I know where the tennis ball will go, you probably know how a student will perform because you've watched them. There's a lot to be said about that level of investment, especially when you want them to be successful so badly. 

As a tennis dad, I learned a lot of lessons about people and motivation that are probably pretty applicable to the classroom as well. I've fallen victim to being an overbearing parent at a 10-year-old match and getting kicked out and I've wiped away tears when she cried. As I sat and watched her play her last match, I asked myself what I would take from this experience. These are my best takeaways as a parent, educator, and just as someone who has been the guy who watched a kid play a game. 

Never be afraid to coach and give feedback but always remember that they are kids. 

Tell them that they did a great job even when they didn't get the outcome they wanted, especially if they put in effort. 

If you only play lesser opponents, you'll always perform like them. Challenging yourself is how you grow.

Pushing yourself is hard but if you're doing it right, it should still be fun.

So many problems can be solved by stopping for just a minute and taking a deep breath before you carry on.

Benevolence

It's easy to get caught up in the action/reaction exchange that our lives can often become. All of the things that we do often come with the expectation of a return on that action or investment. We come to work and we expect a paycheck. We eat better and exercise and we expect to lose a few pounds. Most things in life are transactional that way and we expect them to be. The expectation of a return is what motivates us to do something in the first place. If I'm being honest, I'd show up to work far less without getting paid and I'd eat really poorly if it wouldn't impact my health. But I know better and so I try to do better. The payoff is usually good enough to get me there and when it isn't, that thing is often stopped or forgotten. 

So when you care enough to do something for someone without an expectation of a return, that's a pretty powerful thing. And if you look throughout a school, those things start to pop up regularly. Teachers keep food for kids they don't teach anymore. We give up time or resources when we see a colleague or student group in need. It happens all round us and it's a magical thing. We do these things just because we care and those acts of benevolence do more to teach children how to be successful than anything else we teach them. So thank you to all of you that do things just because you care. While you may not expect a return on that action, know that your example makes a difference. 

Side note: If you catch someone in the act of benevolence, do yourself a favor an thank them for it. When people don't expect a return and get one anyway, the effect gets magnified by the receiver and the giver. Give it a try!

Impact

Sometimes life gives you little reminders of places were you may have had an impact. It's easy to get caught up in your personal and professional events and forget that the things you do, have a lasting impression on others. And when you need to remember, life has a funny way of putting a reminder right in front of your face...literally. So as I sat in an EC classroom this week to do a teacher observation, I saw a student wearing a t-shirt that I hadn't seen in a very long time. The shirt was one that runners and supporters received for the Bo Run. The Bo Run is an annual high school cross-country race held in memorial for a student, Bo Thompson, who had passed away in the early 2000s. While I did not coach Bo, I knew him fairly well. I coached for another school and we partnered together to host a summer running camp in the mountains. In the wake of his death, several of the teams with runners who knew him started the memorial race in his honor with proceeds going to charity. The race is still an annual event and will be held on September 28th this year. It's a pretty big deal now with tons of schools and individual runners participating. I honestly hadn't thought about it in a long time until seeing the shirt.

It's strange to think back to the kids I coached who were there when it started. To think about how they grieved his death. We watched at the first race, and students from many different schools joined in prayer and support for one another. They overcame an obstacle and helped start something that continues to make an impact today. In the moment, we knew that we were helping kids grieve and supporting a good cause. Those "kids" are all in their 30s now and a whole new generation participates in the event. Today's runners didn't know Bo and if they start the race in traditional fashion, only hear a short story about how the race came to be. But seeing that old tshirt reminded me that the things we do to support kids really do mean something. The phrase on the bottom of that shirt served as a powerful reminder that the actions we take for kids matter in their lives and while we often share comforting words with them, it's the things we do that mean more. 

Smile

I'm privledged to have met a lot of really interesting people throughout my time in education. I've met politicians, policy-makers, CEOs of large businesses, and all kinds of people with a lot more influence than I'll ever have. It always makes me feel proud when one of those people asks me my opinion about something related to education or when I have the opportunity to brag about a program, teacher, or student. It's the same feeling you get when someone says something nice about your children and you get to brag on them a little. 

This week I had a great conversation with a former legislator. We chatted about schools today, what it takes to lead one, and what issues face those who work in and attend public schools. I can talk all day about that stuff, but I had to acknowledge that it's not as bad as they would have you believe. He asked me to explain that, so here goes:

There's a lot of noise today around education. It's a topic that people care about and it generates interest and emotion. Politicians and anyone trying to get you to support one will tell you some narrow or jaded (sometimes wildly false) view of one part of education. But the truth is, I think we are doing ok. Yes, we need more funding. We always have. Yes, we need more people who want to teach and work with students. We always have. Yes, some policies and locations make the job more difficult than others. There always have been. But despite all of that, every educator that you know can tell you a heartwarming story about a kid. They can probably tell you a funny story from just this week. 

When I told him this perspective, he said something that gave me that same proud feeling. He said, "I always know that if you need to smile, just talk to an educator." It's true. You are the advocates that tell first-hand stories about what you do every day. Some of those stories are crazy! Some are exciting. Some give you hope. Tell your stories and make people smile. It'll give you that same feeling.

Goals

I signed a lot of Professional Development Plans this week, and I always find it interesting how differently teachers in the same building can write up a goal. Some teachers write highly detailed language that could rival the best AI bots. Others write very simple sentences that get right to the point. Some sit down to complete the task as soon as they can, ready to mark it off their list. Others put it off until they are forced to get it done. (Yes, I'm talking about you if you haven't done yours yet!) There's no right or wrong way to have a goal. The only things you can do wrong are to not have one or to forget to guide one. Having goals is similar to tending a garden. If you never plant seeds, it's pretty foolish to expect plants to grow. And if you don't water and fertilize those plants, they probably won't yield much fruit. 

If you're normal, the professional and personal goals that most of put on your PDP aren't always fully capable of capturing what you really want to accomplish in a school year. Your department developed a goal that's likely centered on curriculum, something new that came your way, or a problem that needs fixing. Those are pretty formal. But the bigger question is what do you want to get out of the next ten months that we call a school year? How do you expect to change? I forced myself to take a dose of my own medicine this week and think about those things as I sat down to write my own PDP. Like most of you, I kept that document pretty formal, but afterward, I wrote out some goals of my own and I'm going to do my best to water and fertilize those goals this year so that the change I want is actually something that I'm working towards. So if are like me and you didn't take the time to write those things down in a PDP this year, do it for yourself. Otherwise, you might find yourself staring at bare dirt, while gardens around you found ways to grow. 

Awards

This week I got the privilege of accepting a couple of really important awards on behalf of the school. On Thursday our school was recognized by the State Board of Education for renewing our STEM School of Distinction Model School status. A ton of work went into the achievement of this award. STEM teachers put a great deal of work into the courses and counselors have the arduous task of getting those courses to fit within the student schedules. Several teachers and students also worked with Emily Lahr to complete the rubric and host the site team when they came to grade our school. When the presentation was made to the State Board, they acknowledged that our school had been a part of this designation for over a decade and that now it was a part of our culture. 

On Friday evening we give out the state championship rings to the players, coaches, and support staff of the 2024 baseball team and they were nice enough to give the principal one as well. Just like the STEM award, a lot of work went into making the state championship possible. Players and coaches put in lots of practice. Many teachers volunteered to work in the concession stand or gave up precious weekends to watch them play in the final games. And we won't get into the field maintenance and other work it takes over a long season to make everything right for game time. 

This week's awards show the dedication, effort, and resources that go into building something great. The unfortunate thing about these awards is that only a few get to receive them. But it takes a community to pull off both of these accomplishments. Think about the parents who take the time to learn about the STEM program and get their children to make this investment into their education. And I'm fairly confident that many of these parents have some effort in making those Grand Challenges happen. Think of the hours that go into taking children to practices, lessons, camps, and games. And for both programs, think about the many other community partners that support, cheer, and give to make us better. These awards are given to the school, but they represent a much larger community that all made investments. So while I get to hold a banner or wear a ring, I know that many others celebrate these achievements along with us. And that's a pretty cool thing to take part in. 

Community

We kicked off this year talking about our community. We established that our community holds students who are free to learn, grow and fly from here to their next stop in life. We also established that others live within cages that limit them from sometimes getting to the flowers that surround us. Despite these differences, together we make up a community. But why? What really is a community? 

A community is generally defined as a group of people sharing a similar interest. That may not always be what we think of. Our sense of community can sometimes be restrained by geography. In our case, the boundaries of Greene County define our attendance area and it's easy to define the students within it as our community. But what interests do we share that make us unique? When I came to work here 12 years ago, one of the first things I was told was something that I have never forgotten. "There's the right way, the wrong way, and the Greene County way." I still think of that sometimes when I meet people that once attended the school and recount things that still go on in our school today. There really is a Greene County way. And while we may not always agree or align behind what we think is right, there is a community thread that keeps people here. Our schools are an important part of that thread because we educate and sometimes even spend more awake hours with young adults than their families can. In addition to a class curriculum, we also teach the Greene County Way. And that means we are also responsible for improving it along the way. 

So as you set your goals for the year, I invite you to think about how small improvements that you make impact the thread that binds this community. Our shared interest is always evolving and it is our responsibility to make sure it is evolving in a positive way. Every community deserves that.

Time

As we move into the final weeks of school, I never feel like I have enough time. There are always a hundred demands for my attention, presence, or information. I constantly feel like I'm chasing my tail and also letting others down by not giving them the attention that they deserve. Every day is a triage of determining what is most pressing, what can wait, and what can be done another way. It races by until graduation comes, students and teachers go home, and my life settles. It's the same way every Spring. Maybe if we did a better job of spreading out events throughout the year. Maybe if I had front-loaded observations earlier I'd have more time. Maybe if I wasn't as involved in scheduling, the planning for the new school, or some of the other things that take me out of the building I would be able to direct attention elsewhere. But that's not how life is and no matter how hard we try, schools can be unpredictable places that demand more from us than we can always provide.

In the absence of time, I find myself thinking of what needs to be done and fretting about what I didn't already get to. If I'm being honest, I could probably be doing something different than writing this right now, but throughout the week I saw some of the same tired faces on staff members that I know I have probably shown to you as well. We are all fighting for time right now and stressing that everything won't get done. But it will. It always does. And that's not because we fought for those precious seconds near the end. So collectively, on this last Friday in April, before we enter the rush of May, take a deep breath and know that it will be ok. We have a great team of people. Your presence with each other and in front of students is worth far more than the stress of worrying that it won't all be done perfectly. Hold on tight, because time in this last month is going to go fast, but there's a lot to enjoy along the way. Hang in there.

The Science of Trauma

In an instant, a traumatic event can alter the chemistry of the human brain. The response to stress releases a hormone called cortisol. Cortisol is known as the stress hormone and it triggers our brain into the "fight or flight" mode. This chemical has literally kept our species alive as our ancestors needed it to know how to respond in a life-threatening situation. As environmental factors threatened our survival, we adapted and learned from the chemical responses of our brains. We learned how to avoid the event, and we lived on and passed that information to our offspring.

A lot of science has emerged in the past few years that tells us (especially educators) how responses to trauma at a young age can impair a person's cognitive functions. Today, our students are not met with the same traumas that our ancestors faced. We are not fighting off a cave bear for survival. Instead, young people today face different, and more prolonged traumas that consistently increase the level of cortisol in their bodies. High levels of cortisol can lead to irritability, emotional instability, or depression. If those symptoms seem familiar to you, you're starting to make the connection. 

This week I pointed out the connection that many of our recent student suspensions have to the traumatic death of a former student. The sometimes violent reactions that these students display can be traced to their own inability to cope with questions that they do not have answers to and feelings about the event that they do not understand. Those emotions around the traumatic event are magnified in their homes and in their neighborhoods by others who are experiencing the same feelings. That environment keeps the levels of cortisol elevated and perpetuates the problem. This is the biological reason that we are seeing the actions that have been happening over the past couple of weeks. 

So what do you do to fight a normal biological response? The answer lies not just in biology, but also in sociology. Biologically, our bodies want to heal and will attempt to sleep. Other times, we can't stay still and need to release energy. (Do either of these sound familiar?) Our bodies can also regulate cortisol with other hormones like endorphins and oxytocin that make us feel better. Endorphins can come from laughing and oxytocin comes from feeling loved or belonging. These hormones make us feel safe again and happy.

If you've stuck with me through the science of the last four paragraphs, then I'll give you the moral of the story. To fix kids who have been exposed to repeated trauma, you have to love them. And when they do bad things that isn't always easy. We want to be upset as well because we are responding to stress. But darkness doesn't put an end to darkness, light does that. And loving a student doesn't mean avoiding consequences or lowering expectations, it means loving them hard enough to hold them to it and expecting more from them because you do. All kids in our environment are impacted in different ways, and right now, the best weapon that we have at our disposal is to love them. We all deserve it.

Talented

I am blessed to have two daughters who do well in school. In early grades, they were acknowledged with the educational marker of being Academically and Intellectually Gifted (AIG), a designation once referred to as Gifted and Talented. If you believe that nature is the reason, you could point to having two parents who were also blessed with that same designation in school. Or maybe nurture is your argument and you point out that both of their parents have advanced college degrees and education is highly valued in their home. Either way, we are quick to recognize academic talent in schools. If students are extremely hard-working and diligent, they might even earn a high enough GPA to get a scholarship or some sort of designation to speak at their graduation ceremony to formally recognize their hard work. While I'm extremely proud of students who have academic talent, this week gave me a couple of reminders of the many other talents that students have. These talents may never show up on a class rank and it probably won't earn any of them a single dollar in scholarships, but it can give you a glimpse of what kind of people these students have the potential to grow up to be. 

If you don't know David, you've almost certainly seen him in our school. David is Chinese and he is the only Multi-Language Learner in Mrs. Galue's ESL class that speaks Mandarin as a first language. David never misses school. Ever. He even comes on the exam makeup days. This week, as students brought chocolates to share with one another for Valentine's Day, David decided to give his classmates a different gift. He brought his violin from home and played for them. As I watched the video, I was so impressed with his confidence and pride in sharing his talent with his friends. This is not the same young man that was in our school just one year ago. 

That same day, our school hosted the annual Valentine's Day dance for our special needs students. It's hard not to smile watching these students have the time of their lives dancing in the gym. They are joined by teachers and students and Mrs. Duncan's class caters for the event each year with pride. And that's where Steve fits in. You may also know of Steve. He has a "colorful" discipline history and his associations outside of school have been questionable at best. He can be angry and sometimes volatile. He enjoys Duncan's Culinary class and has been a bit of a project for Coach Edwards this year. But despite his past, Steve also has talents. I could easily see them that day when he was caught doing the Cha-Cha Slide with our EC students, smiling from ear to ear. He is also not the same young man that was in our school one year ago.

Every student has a talent. While we formally recognize a few of those if they happen to show up on a standardized test or on an athletic team, it's fun to find the ones that don't always get recognized as easily. It's even more fun when we can find just the right moment to bring it out of them. And if they can't hold a full conversation in English, they may be able to share in another way. Perhaps the right opportunity can even make the toughest of students dance when a disabled class asks you to join. That's what teaching is all about; discovering how every student can be talented.

He Who Holds the Story, Holds the Power

Most of you know that I was a history teacher. Despite my affinity for math, I decided to teach history because I get caught up in the stories. Most of the recorded history we know is told by the dominant group, the most powerful culture, or the victor in the battle. We know their side and it isn't until many years later (sometimes never) that we learn more about the group that came up short. The winner, not the loser, gets to tell the story. And for that reason, he who holds that story, holds the power. 

For a little while now, I've been working with some other state leaders on this same idea. We have been advocating that parents and community members need to know the stories of our public schools. In a time when parents have more choice than ever before from charter schools or private schools, it is easy for parents to become overwhelmed and to look beyond the greatness that traditional public schools have to offer. And for that reason, we've been trying to advocate that school leaders do a better job of telling those great stories. Well, all of that talk got me thinking this week about the power of our personal stories. We all have experiences that brought us to where we are today and so many of those stories would be inspirational to the students that we teach and interact with. Your story as a person and as an educator is your purpose and your drive to show up and do the things that you do. But without telling that story, we can miss an opportunity to relate to students and to gain trust in them as someone who has perhaps shared some of the same experiences that they have. We do a lot to learn the stories of our students, and that part of teaching is vital. But along the way, be sure to tell yours as well. You never know who may be listening and who might just gain inspiration from what you have to say. That inspiration and those grounding moments are what build authentic interest between us as people and what give us the power to draw from one another. 

He who holds the story, holds the power. Are you telling yours?

Check Yourself

I have been working on a project for a while now to change some policy and budget legislation. With election season upon us and the interim budget changes getting ready to start, that work has kicked back up. This time around I have some new thought partners in the process and it's been super helpful. It's always nice to have a partner on a project who carries their weight on tasks and can talk the talk and walk the walk. Last weekend we did some revising to the policy and drafted some new ideas for messaging. It was really good work. While it was all fresh in my brain, I sent the information out to a larger group with all of the ideas that we had talked through. It was literally a giant brainstorm put into organizers and carefully drafted words. And I seriously messed up. I gave absolutely no credit to my partner for their contribution to it. It wasn't on purpose but it hurt their feelings. And rather than let that get in the way, they let me know. 

Have you ever messed up and not given credit where it was due? I feel like I do it at the worst possible times. I put my head down and focus so hard on a goal, and in the process, sometimes forget about those that are working on it with me. Luckily, this person was great enough to check me in a nice way, but if that hadn't happened, I could have lost out on a thought partner or even lost a friend. The truth is that we all have partnerships like the one I referenced every day. These are the people that you ask to do things to help you personally and professionally. They get you through things, listen to you rant and (if you're lucky) check you when you mess up. It's important to have people like this in our lives. They hold us support us but also hold us accountable. You very likely work with some of these people. They are the ones who don't mind stepping in with some other part of your life is in chaos. They are the ones that are our first pick to work with when we have a task or a challenge. They are the ones that you would do the very same thing for in return. So before you mess up like I did, take a minute this week and check yourself. Who are the people you count on and appreciate that you might not give credit to? Give them that credit. It will mean the world to them and that feels so much better than the feeling of regret when you realize you didn't.

The Costs of Umbrellas and Funnels

Part of my work outside of my role as the principal of Greene Central involves providing professional development and courses for new and aspiring administrators. I also do some policy and advocacy work around the role of school administrators. These roles usually mean that I have to explain what modern principals do each day, week, month, and school year. The job has changed a lot since I started it and today, we find ourselves in the middle on mandates from the district, the state or the federal government and the students, teachers and community that we lead. So when a new need or policy arises, we find ourselves having to make a decision on how to go about it. Usually that decision requires that we be an umbrella or a funnel. 

As an umbrella, I try to shelter those below me from as much as I can. Having an umbrella in a storm doesn't guarantee that you stay dry, but it does a great deal to protect you from being soaked. As a metaphor, it means that while teachers and students might get some exposure, generally I try to cover them myself by taking on the bulk of the implementation of that new thing. Conversely, by choosing to be a funnel, I have to pass things along to teachers and students to do and I direct that as much as possible as it moves through me. Parent contact for absences, tardies and smaller classroom behaviors are a good example of this. I help direct policies that ask teachers to do the first interventions because there are more teachers than there are counselors and administrators to take this on daily. 

There are costs to umbrellas and funnels. As a teacher, it's probably easier for you to see the cost of a funnel. It comes as an ask of your time at the expense of something else you would have been doing. It's "another thing" to think about and adds something to your plate. It doesn't always feel fair, even if you understand it's purpose. The same is true for umbrellas. When I decide to shelter teachers or students, it means that it is another thing that I take on and there's almost certainly an opportunity cost. It could mean that I'm less visible, have less time to be in classrooms, or direct less resources to something that had previously done just fine. 

For either choice, there is a cost. But here's the thing; we know it's going to rain. New things will come and will ask for our time and attention. New problems will arise. So when that rain falls, we can have an umbrella or a funnel waiting, or we can all just get soaked in the storm and no one wants that. So maybe we need to do a better job of talking about what we do with and for one another. Just understanding and appreciating the burdens that we carry can give us tons of perspective. Becasue while the costs of umbrella and funnels can sometimes feel quite high, the costs of finding shelter in a storm are always priceless.

Courage

Like most young children, my younger brother fixated on different things as he grew up. TV shows and movies are often watched on endless repeat for kids at that age and for some strange reason, his first addiction was to The Wizard of Oz. My brother is five years younger than I am so I have pretty vivid memories of being subjected to watching that movie over and over again. To this day I could probably quote it word for word. As I grew up and read the novel by L. Frank Baum, I gained a different appreciation for the messages in the story. Later as a student of history, I learned that the characters were metaphors for different American political figures and themes. This week I was reminded of one of those characters, the Cowardly Lion. 

Someone asked me a great question this week. "What makes a good leader?" There are so many different qualities that we respect in good leaders, so it seems like such a trick question to try to narrow it down. When you do try, the definition that emerges almost seems inhuman and free of faults. In our minds, they are universally revered and inspire us. They have answers to questions when we don't. They pull us up when we are down and somehow never seem down themselves. It doesn't take much pause to know that those ideas are unachievable, even for the best of leaders. So what is it? My answer was courage. Courage is deciding to take action even when you are afraid or unsure. It's knowing that you may not be right, and being willing to deal with that because you know that doing nothing might be worse in many situations. It means to take a chance to be the first voice to speak up, the one that cares for others, and the one to take action when there is no clear path. 

In The Wizard of Oz, the Cowardly Lion struggled with a lack of courage. He emerges in the story with a loud roar to be feared, but at the first sign of resistance, he cries and backs down. However, throughout the story, his attachment to the group and their mission gives him opportunities to be a leader. His actions are never for himself and he's always motivated by doing something for the group. The irony at the end of the story is that he had a heart (courage) all along. Being a leader is inside all of us. We are classroom leaders, leaders on the playing field and other extracurricular activities, leaders in teacher groups, and just life leaders for students and peers. And just like the Cowardly Lion, those traits are inside of each of us. It often just takes a little courage for them to come out and to take a chance to do what we felt was right or needed. 

Inaction

At the end of 2022, my life was in the midst of a lot of change. I felt as if I was constantly chasing my tail to meet the new expectations that had been thrown upon me as the state's POY, while also trying to figure out how to do my job back at school and be a parent and spouse at home. I was doing everything and felt like I was achieving very little. I'm a pretty reflective person and with all that I was doing, I hadn't taken time to assess how I was doing. I decided to deliberately carve out some time each day to refocus and reflect and the best way that I knew to do that free of distraction was to go for a run. I went for a run every day in 2023 and it did wonders for me. I made time for myself and the physical activity helped my mental health quite a bit. But this story isn't about the action of daily running, it's about what I didn't do before; the inaction. 

It was no revelation to me that I was drowning in the months leading up to my decision to make a change. I've been there before and we all probably have. We have something new come into our lives, maybe a job, a relationship, or a child, and it drastically changes our daily activity and how we spend our time. The new thing demands something of us and we somewhat subconsciously stop doing other things. We change. But change isn't always good or easy and some of the things that we left behind were good for us. They provided a sense of identity or a distraction from the stresses of life. That's exactly where I was. I had let go of the things that gave me joy and filled that space with more expectations. The inaction of taking care of myself was taking a toll on me. I knew that I should be doing a better job of managing my life, but I thought that I could be everything to everyone and I was wrong. 

Inactions can be found everywhere and they usually aren't a surprise to us when we realize the consequence. They can be inactions in our personal lives or inactions in our professional lives that jump up and remind us of something that we should have done. I chose the start of the new year in 2023 to turn that inaction into action that I knew would be positive for me. It had a trickle-down effect as I reprioritized how I spent my time in my personal and professional life. Simply put, I knew better and I decided to do better. The start of a new semester is a great time to do the same for us all. Each of us probably is aware of some inaction that jumped up and bit us at some point. Perhaps you put off making contact with a student's parent the way you should have and they didn't pass in the end. Maybe you didn't invest your time into something that you told yourself you would do at the start of the year and now it's still staring at you as a reminder. Yours could have also been personal and it impacted your professional life. Whatever it is, now is a great time to change that thing. It's never too late to turn inaction into action and we often just need a good push to make it happen. This is your push. Do that thing that you know will make you better. I promise you'll be happy that you did.