Why Wanting to be the Best in the World Matters a Lot

Through a culmination of life events, on-time choices and a few perchance happenings in my life, I have found myself wanting to be the most successful in the world at what I do.

And it is not really even a want.
It is a need,
It is a burning desire.  

And I know how this sounds. I know this sounds gluttonous, perhaps, or even a little over the top and unnecessary and a little like perfectionist theory when we are usually telling kids to stop trying to be perfect and that no one is perfect - just be the best version of you.
But I would tell you that this is wrong.  

Think about it.  If you wake up in the morning and you roll out of bed, ready to get after it, and you are excited about the prospect of getting after it - whatever "it" is for you - it’s going to be a good day for someone.

It's going to be a good day.
For someone (besides yourself).

Because if you are rolling out of bed ready to hustle, ready to grind and you are actually excited about it, that will probably be good for you and will lead to your own feelings of goodness about yourself and being motivated and anxious to see what the day brings.

But it is probably even better - this burning desire for perfection - for the recipient.

I'm sure of it.

If you don't believe me, consider the students and colleagues of the ever-exuberant classroom teacher.

The teacher who gets out of bed at 5:00 so he can get to school by 6:00,
There with the morning milk delivery.
The same teacher who is waiting at the door for his students when they arrive -
Each and every morning,
The one who greets each one of them by name and with some type of silly handshake,
Or perhaps with a quick check-in because he knows something was going on the night before.

He is the one who comes to each faculty meeting with a smile on his face,
The one who sits up in the front,
Even though some of his closest colleagues may be sitting toward the back.
The teacher who asks questions and tries to get something out of the meeting,
Even though there really isn't much content relevant to his particular duties.
It's mostly administrivia and stuff that could have been put in an email.

Think about this particular teacher and the impact he is going to have on each person he comes into contact with every day.
Think about his students every morning,
and how his attitude and optimism make an indelible impression on each and every one of them.
He has the power to take a bad day and make it manageable for receptive young adults.
Some may even look forward to seeing him each day because they know
It's the only time that day they will receive any kind of warmth from anyone.

And think about his colleagues.
The ones who aren't thrilled to be at work that day (probably because they are viewing it as work).
The ones who sit at the back of the faculty meeting and
grade papers
or chat
or surf the internet
instead of being attentive and showing respect to the presenter.
The unsaid influence he has on these fellow teachers, the impact his smile and that pat on the back has, will go a long way toward their overall attitude and mood.
They may not even realize it at the time...

I had a student come up to me last week.  I was standing in the hallway at the end of the day, talking to a group of students before they departed for the weekend.  If I remember correctly, one of them was crying over her worry at not being able to afford the college she wanted to attend.  She's a junior, mind you, but that's a story for another post.

This student came up to join our group after he retrieved his belongings out of his locker.  As we were preparing to go our separate ways, he turned and said, "I want to thank you.  Without even knowing you did it, you helped me have a great day by what you said to me in the hallway earlier today."
"Well, you're welcome.  I'm glad I could help!" I offered up, with a smile and a fist bump.
He walked out the door, clearly off to have a great weekend.
To tell you the truth, I don't even know what I said to him.
I remember having a brief conversation with him, but couldn't tell you which part of it was the catalyst for his great day.

But that really doesn't matter.
What matters is how he felt after speaking to me, no matter how brief our chat.
What really matters is that we, as human beings, don't leave anyone's feelings to chance.
What really, really matters is that we wake up every day wanting to be the best, wanting to be number one, and that we have a burning desire, an inner drive, to be the most successful in the world.

Someone is on the other end of your desire.  While you are busy trying to be the best, someone is the unknowing recipient of all that greatness... greatness disguised as kindness, warmth, caring, hope, optimism.  How great you want to be matters.  It matters a lot.

High Schools and Hall Passes

Why do we insist that high school students carry passes with them through the halls of our schools?  I thought we were trying to encourage them to be responsible, to know how to be adults, to be accountable for their own actions...

Aren't we,
By telling them that need a pass to be in the hallway,
Actually telling them that they don't belong here??
Isn't this actually saying we don't trust them to do the right thing?
Aren't we the ones who let them into the building in the morning,
Welcomed them at the front door?
Encouraged them,
Told them we're happy to see them?

If all of this is true, then why in the hell would we require them to take a pass with them when they need to use the bathroom? I'm talking about high school students here, not elementary kids.  I could even see this applying to middle school kids...  maybe.

But seriously, consider the 18 year old high school Senior who:

drives a car,
has enlisted in the military and
will go off to Boot Camp a week after graduation,
holds down a job after school and on weekends,
helps her single parent out at home with the younger siblings,
has her share of household chores, and
maintains a 3.5 grade point average in her Honors and Advanced Placement classes (paraphrased from the work of Dr. George H. Wood).

This is the same kid we say we are helping to become a "well-rounded citizen" who is a "lifelong learner."
This is the same kid we say we are encouraging to become responsible and accountable for her actions.
This is the same kid we are asking to make sure she takes a pass with her to the bathroom while she's at school.

If we are worried about kids getting into trouble, ending up where they're not supposed to, spending too long in the bathroom, and whatever other worry you can come up with (there are a million... I've heard them all), then maybe we haven't expressed strongly enough to them that this is a public school and therefore belongs to them.  Maybe we spend too much time, expend too much energy, on devising rules and procedures for things because we know of no other way to control them.  Maybe we haven't brought our students into the fold, gotten to know them well enough, helped them to understand their connection to school in such a way that helps them to see that they are a part of something larger than themselves - a true and genuine community that relies upon and respects each individual as a core member of that community.

We wouldn't say to students: " I don't trust you so take this pass so I know you're supposed to be here."  We wouldn't do that.

AAA

What does it mean to expect something more?  To know that you will not just get what you paid for, what you were hoping for, but something extra?  And to actually expect it?  I think many of us don't ever really expect something extra out of anybody or anything; rather, we are just thankful and surprised when it does happen.  It lifts our mood - like the person in front of us in the drive-thru at Starbucks, the one who pays for your drink out of nowhere and you know you will never be able to repay him or her.  This is an added bonus - something more that we weren't expecting!  (This actually happened to me once and I'll never forget that feeling.  So much so that I decided to make it an occasional habit).

I was speaking with my closest, dearest friend and she actually used AAA as an analogy for making sure that your affairs are in order, that you are making sure to have the protections in life that you need - especially when you find that you are not able to do it for yourself.  She was actually, to be perfectly transparent, talking to me and giving me gentle reminders that maybe I hadn't been using all of my resources; that maybe - just maybe - I had been falling off of my game and could be doing a little better.

She said it ever so sweetly, but I took her meaning.

That's when she threw in the AAA analogy.  If you are not familiar with AAA, they offer 24/7 Roadside Assistance so that if your car breaks down on the side of the road in the middle of the night (or at any time, for that matter) you have the security and peace of mind to know that you are covered.  That's literally on their website: "The Safety, Security, and Peace of Mind of AAA."

AAA also has this on their website, right next to the three unmistakable A's that are the hallmark of roadside assistance: "Expect Something More."  And as I dug deeper into their website I was able to find things unexpected, things that surprised me, things that, being familiar with school districts and how our institutions operate, we always put up in a prominent place on our websites.  I found them to be critical components and well worth sharing.  They included:

The AAA Commitment: AAA exists for our members and will judge everything we do by how well we serve their needs.

The AAA Code of Conduct: Always do what's right (this can be found embedded within a link entitled "Integrity," and the Code is accompanied by the symbol of a compass rose).

At first I was confused by their reasons for burying these critical pieces so deep within their site.  I literally stumbled across them as I searched for content to include with this post (indeed, this fact is not even the main focus of this writing, but an important one).  But then I remembered an important lesson we teach our kids: your actions speak louder than your words.

AAA exists to serve their 55 million+ members.
AAA exists to provide peace of mind, safety and security.
AAA exists to model integrity.
AAA wants you to know that you can expect something more from them.

They don't need to flash this all over their marketing materials, shouting to the world that they have integrity and that they live by a code of conduct.  These might as well be unwritten rules, as they expect that all employees model this with every call for help they receive.

Which leads me back to the original concept.
Which leads me back to a painful truth.

When you fall short in life,
What do you do?
How do you respond?
Where do you turn?
When do you get back up?

Because it will happen; inevitably, it will happen that you will fall short of expectations, lose sight of your purpose, let someone down, not follow through on your commitment, only do the bare minimum and not put forth any additional effort... this will happen.  And it's really important that you are in a position to be able to answer the questions posed above.   It's really important that you begin thinking about your Roadside Assistance, your AAA.

Who are they?  Who are your people?  Do you have them?  Have you set yourself up so that you have somewhere to turn, someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to come in and go that extra distance for you when you just can't?

As with the roadside assistance commitment promised by AAA, it is critical that we have the Safety, Security and Peace of Mind of a network of people and supports that can be there for you when you're down because there is nothing wrong with you...

You should actually expect that this will happen from time to time - this natural ebb and flow of life.

Not everything is perfect.
You need to be ready when there are more ebbs than there are flows.
It's part of the self-care that I've been talking about and writing about in previous posts about
living your best life, and
practicing some outside-the-box thinking.

 From whom can you Expect Something More?  Think about it.  Take care of it.  Do something about it.  You're going to need it, as much as someone will come to expect the same of you.

Living Your Best Life

I had a conversation with a student this morning - it was just a quick chat in the hallway - while she was on her way to class.  She was late and I knew she hadn't been here the day prior, and so I wanted to quick follow up with her on a conversation we had had earlier in the week.  Coincidentally, I ran into her in the hallway on that day as well.

(Sidebar - I think our most productive conversations might be had in the hallway, on the off-chance we run into someone and take that opportunity to do a quick "how ya' doing?")

Turns out she had taken a "mental health" day to process some of the things we had spoken about earlier that week.  She needed it.  I would encourage anyone to do the same - adults and students alike.  You need to be the best version of yourself in order to be available for anyone else.  On an airplane, it's why they tell you to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.  You need to be there for your little ones (or anyone else, for that matter).  You can't do that if you're not healthy - physically, mentally, emotionally.

Back to my kid in the hallway.  I walked with her to class.  As I had mentioned, she was already running late.  I asked her: "What Now?"
I wanted to know what happened next.
I mean,
she took a day off to take care of herself.
Perfect.
Take it if you need it.
But then what's next?
What's your plan?
Don't just show up without a plan,
tell me you spent the day on the couch -
feeling sorry for yourself -
and now you're here without a plan for moving on,
for taking care of yourself now that you're back in the swing.

She looked at me before she walked into class.  We were only a minute late.  I don't panic about tardies unless they're chronic.  And then I still don't panic, really (This is another sidebar, perhaps a topic for another day).  

The response was one pretty typical of teens:
"I don't know; I haven't thought that far ahead."
And I knew we'd be meeting again.

So are you living your best life?  How do you know?  Are there things you need to follow up on?  Questions that nag at you that need answering?  How will you answer them?  How will you make the time to ensure that you really, really understand what it is that's bothering you? 

One of my favorite quotes that I've been pondering recently comes from author, speaker, entrepreneur and internet personality Gary Vaynerchuk.  He said: "You're not coming back.  Now live like that."  

If you lived every day like that, what would it look like?  
How are you living your best life?  
If you can't answer that, 
take a day off.  
Think about it. 
Come back with a plan.  
Take care of yourself.

REPLACEABLE

I sometimes wonder what my school would be like without me in it.  Without me here every day, greeting kids and visiting classrooms and walking through the hallways and meeting with teachers and talking to students and... the list goes on.

And I wonder what teachers feel as well.  Not about me, but about themselves.  If they wonder what their classrooms would be like without them.  If they wonder about the school they spend so much of their lives in,
and what would happen if they were no longer there.
If they care about that.
Because they should.

I have a feeling that I know what most teachers would say.  And if they won't say it aloud, I know what they are probably thinking.  I would bet they have this crazy notion that they are replaceable; that someone else could come in here and do this job, teach these kids, put their heart and souls into this work - this important, awe-inspiring, work of giants - and that if they were to leave, if they were to no longer be here one day, then life would just go on and these kids would continue to come to school every day and learn with someone else standing in front of them, next to them, with them.

I know that there are teachers out there who feel that way.  And perhaps with good reason.  Perhaps, over the years, they have been made to feel this way - that they are replaceable and that anyone could come in here and do what they do on a daily basis.  Some may have even lost some of the spark that drew them to this work in the first place.  And I would say I understand that.

I understand why someone would feel that another body could come in and pick up where the previous teacher left off.  Because, indeed, that is truly what happens, right?  I mean, there can't just be an empty classroom left behind.  Right?

But it is.  It is an empty classroom.  And sure, it might fill up over time; it might fill up with energy and warmth and all of the good stuff that is created when the synergy of a passionate teacher combines with kids to create an excellent teaching and learning environment.  That might happen.

But the SOUL of that classroom.
The soul of that classroom left hollow by YOU,
the TEACHER,
the NURTURER,
the CAREGIVER,
the COACH,
the COUNSELOR,
the MOM or DAD they don't have at home.
YOU might be the only thing she looks forward to seeing each day,
the ONLY one that keeps her coming back through these doors every day.

So I know what you might be thinking, teacher.  But you're wrong.  You can't be replaced.
And if you haven't thought about how your classroom, your school, looks or feels like without you in it, read this again.
Let it sink in.
Get out there today and be you.
That's why you're here.

"Outside the Box" Thinking

Following up on a Video Blog I created this Sunday entitled, "Outside the Box," I was reflecting on how what I said in it really pushed my thinking around the things we do in education, the everyday actions we take in schools that respect students and families, the status quo that we allow without questioning it because it's easier, or because we don't think the people above us are listening and so why bother speaking up anyway...

The part I vlogged about (watch here) that I want to follow up on has to do with the little girl who was sneaking extra breakfast from the cafeteria for her mother, who was waiting for her in a little-used staircase of the school after the bell rang and all of the students and staff had begun their morning work.  My first reaction was not, as one might typically think, one of anger or surprise or "you-can't-take-food-that-you-didn't-pay-for."

My response was (much to the admonishment of our cafeteria manager) to ask what else she needed and to bring her trays full of the remaining food that would have otherwise gone to waste.
My response was to question why we didn't see this before;
My response was to challenge staff and faculty to think about the ways in which we were currently meeting the needs of our kids and families so that they didn't have to worry about coming to school hungry, or worry about their families at home who didn't have the luxury of coming to a schoolhouse during the day, where there was food and words of praise and bathrooms that worked and heat in the winter months.

These were my responses, meant to challenge and push our thinking, meant to offer something different from traditional, status quo thinking.  We didn't change the world with our discussions, but we did work hard to make a difference in the lives of the students and families we served.  We did work hard to think differently about the challenges our families faced and how we could better offer developmentally appropriate resources and services to these kids while they were in our care.

This extended beyond the school day, as well, because we know that extreme need doesn't stop when kids walk out of our doors at 3:15pm every day.  We connected with a neighborhood resource center to offer parents free English classes in the evenings, free computer classes so they could help themselves get a job and connect with the world beyond their immediate, poverty-ridden neighborhood; we worked with the local community college and one of our high school teachers who knew a thing or two about gardening, to help our families start a garden right on school property so that they could plant and grow vegetables, and then sell them at a Farmer's Market that we all worked together to set up in the parking lot every Friday throughout the summer; we created a partnership with a local church to start a weekend program for at-risk youth that met at the school to offer a safe haven and also served to provide a weekend meal and some strong relationships with adults and older teens.

My purpose here is not to brag on all of the great things we did - however, we don't do enough bragging on all of the awesome things we do for kids and families - but to make the point that Outside the Box Thinking is a desperate need on many levels.  It provides solutions for students and families that no one has ever thought of before (provided we are asking the right questions), and has the added benefit of - hopefully - giving the adults doing the serving, doing the thinking, doing the questioning, a much needed shot in the arm of creative energy.

This is passion work!
This is work of the heart!

It might even allow us to reclaim our purpose in this field,
because if you think that you are here to teach content,
you're wrong;
kids can find anything they need online.
Anything at all,
anytime at all.
What they really need is you, is
human connection, is
someone to think outside the box about the "problems" in education -
problems for which most adults have,
unfortunately,
thrown in the towel because they are too hard to solve.

The Most Soul- and Mind-Inspiring Places

"Schools should be the richest and most soul- and mind-inspiring places they can be."

I saw this quote somewhere and wrote it down in a safe place.  So safe that I just ran across it again years later.  A quick Google search did not immediately reveal the source of the quote, so for now it remains anonymous.  I know it is from some book I've read, and I'm so very thankful that I ran across it again.  So let's look at this a little bit and try to understand what it means to be the richest and most soul- and mind-inspiring place.

I write from my current vantage point, which is High School Principal, but my thoughts can always be altered to come from the elementary or middle school levels as well.  I have had stints as principal at all three levels, and so my thoughts sometimes blend and always begin with students first.  

I wonder what would happen if our meetings with staff and faculty began with this question: "What are we doing to ensure that our schools are the richest and most soul- and mind-inspiring places they can be?"  What kinds of responses would we get?  I bet they would look like they had been ripped from the Anytown USA School District Mission page.  You would see things like: Ensuring that our students are lifelong learners, and Providing all students with a challenging curriculum and Helping students become productive citizens.  And these responses are just fine.  There is nothing wrong with these answers, and no one would say we don't want those qualities in our own children.

But what does that look like?
How is our school the richest?
How is our school the most soul-inspiring?
How is our school the most mind-inspiring?
How do we know?
Where is our proof?

When I can walk into a high school classroom and find students coloring a map of the world... is that my proof?
When I walk into a high school classroom and see kids frantically scribbling notes from a lecture... is that my proof?
When I walk into a high school classroom and notice kids with their heads down at the back of the room... is that my proof?
When I walk into a classroom that is being subbed by a guest teacher and kids are mindlessly watching a movie... is that my proof?

Certainly there are, without question, MANY classrooms that look and feel exactly the opposite from my examples above.  I can go out on any given day and do random walkthroughs and find examples of stellar teaching and learning that is rich and absolutely soul- and mind-inspiring.  Make no mistake.  What I am wondering is, "what about the rest?"  What about the rest of the kids, the rest of the classes kids are sitting in, perhaps bored, or completing mindless tasks, or... just not learning.

One could easily say well, yes, but let's make sure we are putting blame where blame is due.  Let's make sure we are properly holding kids accountable.  After all, it can't simply be the quality of the teaching, or the content of a lesson, that is causing kids to be bored and/or "not learn," can it?

Really.  Can it?

I would urge you to think about the typical high school student's day.  Look at the typical high school student's eight-period schedule with a lunch installed in the middle of the day, a study hall if she's lucky, and the rest of the day taken up by back-to-back classes of 45 minutes each, with bells interrupting each period.  If she is a high-level student, she is probably taking Honors and/or Advanced Placement (AP) classes, which even compounds the issue further.

That one study hall is probably being used to watch Netflix in an attempt to de-stress from the day, hang out with friends, or maybe catch up on some homework that didn't quite get finished.  The issue with a straight, back-to-back eight-period day is that the learning which might be taking place cannot even begin to compare, say, to the learning that takes place out of school - the things I really want to be learning.  I know for myself, that when I'm learning something and I'm really deep into it, I am not going to stop and switch gears after 45 minutes.

I know I brought up a sticky point, here.  I implied that the only time someone ever really learns anything is outside of school.  But that is only one half of the story.  I have learned many great things during my time in school; granted, they were only cursory glimpses into things (like Greek Mythology or 20th Century English Literature or Creative Writing), and I am highly thankful and may not have ever learned of this content had I not attended these classes.  But where did I really, deeply learn about this subject matter?  Certainly not during a 45 minute class period, where just when I was starting to get into it, the bell rings and I've got to switch gears and try to pay attention in algebra.  I hate algebra.  I'm no good at algebra.

There is another point that needs some clarification here, which my loathing of algebra calls to mind: the power of the teacher.  There can be no replacement for a highly energetic, passionate, caring, patient teacher.  Even though I hated algebra; despite my intense anxiety and sudden stomach aches an hour before I had to be in that algebra class, my high school algebra teacher was caring and she was patient and she clearly LOVED the content, and THAT made all the difference in the world for me.  To this day I don't love algebra, but I am somewhat good at it, and I never fell asleep in her class because I didn't want to disappoint or offend her.

Still, our current system is not working for everyone.
Something needs to be done.  For the sake of everyone.

Where do we start?  I would say that a good place would be with the question:

What are we doing to ensure that our schools are the richest and most soul- and mind-inspiring places they can be?

Constantly Examining (Thoughts on School Culture, Part III)

I wrote previously that culture is about knowing who you are and about knowing your people, and about how you can’t know your people unless you know yourself and where you're coming from and your emotions and where your head and heart are at.

The next step, after making sure you have those pieces in place to the best of your ability, is to align your core beliefs with your daily actions so that people who work in the organization understand that this is who we are, and this is just what we do here. Everybody in the establishment needs to understand that that is what the culture is here.

If people can’t align the core values that have been established to their personal and outward daily actions, then they don’t belong here.  It's that simple.

And then again, it's not simple at all, is it.  It's not as simple as saying, "please align with these core values and beliefs."  You've seen it all too often - people sit in a room with the best of intentions, they work together to hammer out what everyone believes will be the mission and vision of the school, and then the year gets going, people get lost in their work behind closed doors, things take place, honest, open discussion doesn't happen as often as it should (always to the detriment of the group... and the students), and all of a sudden it's the end of the year and the organization's Core Beliefs, or those finely tuned Mission and Vision statements, all of which everyone worked so hard on and were so excited about, are a distant memory.

Roland Barth wrote, "Show me a school whose inhabitants constantly examine the school's culture and work to transform it into one hospitable to sustained human learning, and I'll show you students who graduate with both the capacity and the heart for lifelong learning."

The notion presented here by Barth ties in directly with my point - unless a school and its inhabitants are constantly examining shared beliefs, core values, mission statements, big picture visions and the like, the direction of the organization can tend to get lost, the path muddied.  It is worth remembering that if it is worth saying, if it is worth bringing people together and spending any substantial amount of time on a thing, then it is worth repeating.  Multiple times.

This quote by Barth is one I had come across many years ago, probably during that 1st principalship I held at Murphy Elementary School.  Like the discussion I had with the Mayor over lunch before the start of that year, this idea has stuck with me through the years, and done a lot to help in the formulation of my thoughts around schools and teaching and learning and students and communities.  I ended up staying at that elementary school for 8 years before receiving the internal call to move on.  During those years, the idea from Barth that one needed to constantly examine the school's culture stuck in my head like no other idea ever has.

For 8 years, we examined the school culture.
For 8 years, we talked about and discussed school culture.
What it looked like in everyday action,
What it sounded like in classrooms and in hallways, in the cafeteria and on the playground,
What it felt like to outsiders who came into our building, and
What it meant if something wasn't working how we wanted it to work.

These were not easy conversations, some of these.  We didn't like to admit when we had it wrong.  We didn't like how it felt to discuss with people when they weren't living up to the expectations that we had so painstakingly and lovingly announced publicly.  We didn't like the feeling of starting over constantly.  What we discovered throughout this process, however, was that we weren't wasting our time having fruitless conversations around test scores and academic initiatives.  Were these important?  Of course they were.  We knew that, and they were in place.  They had a purpose.  They are part of life in the schoolhouse.  But they were taking care of themselves.

Because we engrossed ourselves in conversations around Culture and how to constantly "Do Culture" better, everything else took care of itself.  After 8 years, we were the only elementary building in the district to be meeting and exceeding in all areas of AYP (remember this??).  And the only thing we changed was the Culture of the building.  It was the only thing that mattered.

27 Years (Thoughts on School Culture, Part II)

27 years ago I was 21.  My dad was my age currently - 48.  I don’t recall what he was doing at that time of his life, but I know that I was not in a good place. I had graduated high school and taken a year - or maybe two - off, working odd jobs and not liking too many of them. I had decided that I would move back home after living in what I can only call a “drug house,”

where people were using their kids as mules, and
I was waking up to people shooting heroin into their veins, and
snorting cocaine into their nostrils off of broken shards of mirror, and
I was the only one to somehow still be holding down a job.

And while I didn’t think about it at the time, I am now very thankful that my mother even let me move back home.  I decided to enroll at the local community college, and begin working at my stepfather’s gas station, pumping gas and doing oil changes and tire rotations and minor automobile things of that nature. I was not a mechanic, and had no plans of being a mechanic, although at one point I do recall entertaining ideas of taking the business over.  I’m glad I didn’t, though.

Every decision I made from that point on - as a teacher, a Dean, an assistant principal, principal - all led back to those days in my troubled youth and early twenties, days where drug dealers were my mentors and the only time I ever looked anyone in the eye was when I was trying to pass off that I was telling the truth to avoid getting beat up or killed.

While those days are long gone now, and I am the first one in my family to achieve the status of Doctor, the memories still haunt me, still motivate me, still remind me of what could have been...

And so I use them.  I use the memories and I use my experiences and I use what I know internally to be good and true and right... I use all of this with what I bring forward every day onto the high school campus.

It is what I lean on when leaning into a kid who is

failing or
making excuses or
not pulling his weight or
allowing things to happen to him instead of the other way around...

It is what I know about building culture. Because this is the first step.  This is where you begin.  You have to know what you are bringing with you every day, what you are putting out there every day, what you are leaning on every day, before you can ever begin talking about culture, before you can ever begin to understand how to change a culture, or to know what it smells like or feels like or looks like.

I brought my dad into this a few paragraphs ago.  There are some obvious reasons why he showed up today, and some not-so-obvious ones as well.  One of the not-so-obvious reasons is that I have not seen him in over 5 years.
Until today, that is, when we met for lunch.
And so he was on my mind and I had to write about him so that I would be ready for our meeting.

While that lunch meeting with my dad is not the subject of this entry (good fodder for a future post, however), he does play into this Culture Equation.  He does have a part to play.

It's in what I bring every day.  I need to recognize it.
It's in what I put out there every day.  I need to be able to name it.
It's in my work with students and teachers every day.  I need to be able to understand it.
It's in my blood and my emotions and my head and my heart.  I need to be able to harness it.

It's the energy that we bring to the school campus every day.  If we don't know it, we don't know ourselves.  If we don't know ourselves, we can't possibly begin to know others.  If we aren't able to get to know others, we can't begin to recognize and understand culture.

Thoughts on School Culture, Part I

What I understand about culture today is not very different from what I thought about it 5 or even 10, 15 years ago when I first started out in administration.  I hadn't really thought about it much before then, however.  When I taught, and when I was the Dean of Students at a middle school, what I thought most about was what I was going to do that day - survival stuff.  Now, it seems all I think about is the culture of the place and what it looks like, feels like, smells like - to both outsiders and insiders alike.  People ask how you know what the culture of a school is like, and to be honest, there really is no data to show that.  There is no possible way - not even through a survey - that you can measure the culture of as school in order to tell how that school is doing in this category.  The only one sure way to know, is to spend as much time as possible within the four walls of that school, with those teachers and adults, with those kids in their classrooms and in the cafeteria and hallways and at athletic and performing arts events.  This is the only way you will know for sure what the culture of a building is like.  And trust me, you will know.

The first time I really started paying attention to this phenomenon known as culture was when I was offered the principalship of W.J. Murphy Elementary School.  It was a bright, chilly afternoon in early January of 2003 and my principal, who was my first real mentor and fellow administrator, had called his admin team into the office to tell us he was leaving; he had taken a principalship at a neighboring high school.  We were shocked, I remember, and didn't know quite what to make of it.  I was too new in these shoes, but did the only thing I thought of to do - congratulated him and asked if he would write me a letter of recommendation.

By early May of that year, as we were wrapping up at the middle school, I had been on a couple of job interviews and finally accepted the elementary school position at Murphy Elementary.  I remember the interview clearly.  At least 15 people were sitting around a conference room table in the district office basement.  At the head of the table sat the assistant superintendent and the Mayor of the town.  I have always had much respect for principals, but to call the Mayor in?  Wow.  This must be some gig.

A month later, as I'm moving myself into the new office - the first real office, with an actual principal's desk and the word PRINCIPAL carved into a nameplate on the office door, who should give me a call and invite me out to lunch, but the very same Mayor who sat at the head of the interview table and asked questions I was sure I had gotten wrong.  I shared this with her when we sat down together for lunch as the agreed-upon day arrived, and she just laughed and told me that there were candidates who were much better suited for the job of elementary principal - those with actual elementary principal experience, for example - but at the end of the day, what it came down to for every single person sitting down at that interview table, was:

my personality and ability to speak truth and life into every single question,
the fact that I looked at every single person around the table
and held their gaze when speaking to them,
the way I remembered each person
and thanked them by name at the end of the grueling, two-hour interview that day.

I may not have had the experience, but I was honest about what I did and did not know, and offered them something different - something they had been missing for a long time: a fresh outlook and a cheerful disposition.  That was it.  That is what the Mayor of Round Lake Park disclosed to me at our lunch date that day in June as I was preparing to take on my first principalship.

I have carried that memory with me for the last 16 years - the Mayor's words to me, how she made me feel, the trust she and others were putting in me to lead and work alongside those teachers, those children, those parents and community members.  That was really the first time I began thinking about culture and what culture is, what it means, how it feels, what it looks like on a day to day basis.

The first day of school that year was an eye opener for me in terms of culture.  As I walked the lines of children awaiting the morning bell telling them it was time to file in and get our year started, a father walked up up to me and said, "I can tell I already don't like you."  A teacher approached me later that morning on break while her students were at Art and said, "This is a really toxic culture here, I hope you know what you've walked into."

I didn't know it at the time, but I would need to call up those warm and fuzzy feelings from my lunch date with the Mayor many times that year...

#OneWord 2019 - Commit

The post that follows contains select events and experiences that stood out from 2018.  This is NOT a resolution post.  I don't make resolutions.  Instead, I break them.  Like, for example, the fact that I don't regularly write in this space as much as I should.  That is probably someone's resolution: to write on my blog daily.  If I resolved to do this, it would get broken.  There is no doubt.

So let's see where this goes.

2018 Highlight Reel:
1. Leaving the comfort of middle school life and seeking a position at the high school level
      (in a previous post, I wrote about how the opportunity called to me; I wasn't the one looking);
2.)  Adjusting to life with 4 adopted children (we are still adjusting, by the way - kids who come
       from traumatic environments never stop being kids from traumatic environments);
3.) Our son's 18th birthday and the subsequent meaning of this event (college searches, the
      realization that our youngest biological child would, most likely, be leaving home at the end of
      his Senior year);
4.) The marriage of our daughter and her storybook wedding in Rye, Colorado (our decision to drive
      cross-country from our home in Illinois to the wedding in Colorado with all of the kids in a
      rented 12-passenger van is the subject of another post...);
5.) The selling of our beloved Turnberry home and subsequent October 31 move (yes, we moved on
      Halloween) to the Cobblestone home just one month after our daughter's wedding adventure...
6.) Hosting Thanksgiving Dinner for 18 a mere three weeks after moving in to the new house (the
      top half of our double oven broke down on Thanksgiving morning; there was still lots to be
      thankful for, however).

I mentioned before that I break resolutions.  I see no point in resolving to eat healthier when I know darn well that if my son offers to go and bring back ice cream, I will probably say yes.  This doesn't mean that I don't know the value of eating healthier (which I do), only that I am a sucker for ice cream... and for people buying it for me.

What I DO see the point in, however, is making commitments. 
You commit to something, you better live by it. 
It's stickier. 
I also know that it's what many people are afraid of - Commitments. 
It's taking a piece of yourself and putting it out there for all to see and no matter what...
no matter what, not taking it back. 
It's a very vulnerable place to be. 
I get it. 
But committing to something, to someone, shows that you understand the value of that person, that thing. 
A commitment means that your word is your bond, not meant to be broken. 
It becomes you. 
It is who you are. 
This is very different from a resolution, whereby you resolve to get better, to do more, to do less, etc.

I look back at my Highlight Reel from 2018 and I begin to wonder what the tape for 2019 will look like.  I know it will contain more of the same and, indeed, I hope it does.  It's the path we are on, the path we have chosen, the path that He has selected for us and so we will follow.

But what I can Commit to is to get out in front of that path and Lead from it.  What does this mean, to Commit to Leading from the Path you are on?  On the one hand, it's a submission to be content where I am at in life - to slow down and enjoy what we have, what we have been gifted with; I do believe that there is a great need for us to slow down and just Be.  On the other hand, it means that I still understand my responsibility as a Leader.  As such, it is my honor and my duty to figure out how to be content on the path, and still lead from it. 

I don't always follow my own advice.  As I mentioned before, I break resolutions more than I stick with them.  But I do, at the start of this New Year - 2019 - Commit.  I Commit to:

Being in the Moment
Leading with Heart
Building strong Relationships
Understanding the Path I am on
Listening for Clarity
Being Content
Just Being

#OneWord 2019 - Commit