I was not Looking for Change

It's change, really.  That's what new is all about.  Change.  For some it happens regularly, for others not regularly enough.  I happen to fall into the former category, where change comes about not as a result of some thing that just happens to you and you don't see it coming, but rather an intentional, sweeping movement that is planned and thought out (not always with identified results, but thought out nonetheless) and, therefore, meant to be.

Change - whether intentional or consequential, planned or just part of life's course - is always meant to be; it's a part of life, a part of how things naturally happen.  Without it we would not grow, would not attain goals, would not, well... change.

And yet, even though we know it is coming, and we know it helps us to grow and to stretch, and we understand the consequences of not changing when times call for something different, it is hard.

This time for me, however, I was not looking for change.  It came for me.

I did not choose to move on,
I was happy
and successful
and content
and challenged
right where I was at.

But as my good friend Koriann writes to me, in her reflection at the end of the school year,
It was time for change "... because the time is right and he is called."

Those words stuck with me, sunk into me, sat with me and next to me for a long while.

As I begin something new - this exciting new opportunity where I will have the privilege of being the principal of a high school I know of only from the perspective of a parent, as it is the school my kids attend - I know and understand that this is the path.  The time was right, and as difficult as it was to say goodbye, and to say thank you to those who have meant so much to me and who have taught me so much about myself as an educator and as a person, this is still the right choice for me and I will only grow because of it.  It is intentional, sweeping, new, meant to be.  It is Change.  And I am so very grateful.

#OneWord2017

Instead of a New Year resolution this year, I am embracing #OneWord2017 to encompass my goals, both personally and professionally.

As I think of my One Word, so many others come to mind; I can’t pick just one.  But I will. Because that is the challenge. So it is kind of like a resolution - those things we resolve to do as the New Year rolls around and we struggle to think of something we will promise ourselves and others to do, to stick to, because it is the New Year.  And then we will feel bad about ourselves sometime around March or April because we didn’t stick to it.  We forgot.  We got busy.  There was too much going on. Life got in the way.

One Word we can do. One Word is just, well… One Word.  Easy to remember. Easy to commit to. Easy to remind ourselves of on a daily basis.  It’s just after all, One Word.  

So I begin the quest to find the word - the One Word that will define me in 2017. It must be something simple. It must be applicable to my professional and my personal life - something people can feel, something others can really acknowledge that, upon being in my presence, they understood.  So here is my list.  This is where I need to begin:

Live

Pause

Reflect

Commit

Presence

Support

Encourage

Motivate

Inspire

Culture

Opportunity

Embrace

Shine

Climb

Relentless

Pursue

Hope

Progress

This is my list.  And after much thought and consideration, I begin to think that maybe my word is not in this list. It should be jumping out at me, SCREAMING at me, making me understand that THIS IS MY WORD!  Take it and RUN with it! Make others believe!

But it’s not, and I have to begin anew.  Or do I?

Because there it was, in the midst of the words I had written:

Believe. The One Word that will define my 2017.  

I Believe in the power of teachers to motivate and encourage their students to be the best they can be.

I Believe in the ability of students to rise above our expectations of them and shine like the brightest stars.

I Believe in myself, and my capacity to see and understand the needs of my teachers, students, community, and family.

I will DO what I BELIEVE in with confidence!

I Hold This to be True: That we can accomplish whatever we put our minds to because of our BELIEF in one another and in ourselves.  

So think about it.  Here is your challenge: Instead of making a list of resolutions this year, pick One Word that defines your goals, dreams, ambitions and who you want to be in 2017.  I’m thinking this might be a challenge for students as well… Who’s up for this?  Could be a great whole-school project, and an opportunity to get creative!

Looking forward to hearing your #OneWord2017!

Real Writers. Real Writing. Real Voices

Same 7th grade classroom.

Different group of students.  

It is a warm afternoon and the fans are on.  

I think back to my days as a 7th grader.  

My teacher's name was Mrs. Zurn.  

She passed away in the mid-90's and I remember her clearly for her loud voice; 

Her booming voice and I remember her because she used to make us write.

A lot.

And it was always about the things that she wanted us to write about, never about the things that I CARED about like music and motorcycles and the ATV's that I spent my weekends on, flying through the cornfields and woods that I lived next door to.  Or my parent's divorce and my dad moving to California and how much I missed him.  We couldn't write about that stuff. 

Instead we wrote about St. Thomas and our favorite lunch, and if we could be anything when we grew up what would it be, and Mother Theresa and what our favorite color was and why, and writing a letter to Pope John Paul II. 

I went to a Catholic school. 

You can probably tell.

Today, though.  I want to talk about today, and the opportunities these kids have to write.  And I know how hard writing is, and as much as I didn't like it when Mrs. Zurn made us write about the topics she chose for us to write about, the one thing it did do for us, was help us get into a habit of writing.  A lot.  

Which is what I hope kids find, that writing can be such a wonderful, beautiful way to express yourself if you just practice it. 

A lot.  

And it doesn't matter what it is.  

Just as long as it is something.   

And it doesn't matter who it is for.  

As long as it's for yourself first.  

YOUR voice is the only one that matters.  

You need to know that.  

You need to know how important it is for us to hear your voice.  

So speak up.  

Get blogging.  

It matters.

7th Grade Blogging Awesomeness

So, I am doing one of my favorite things today, and that is getting into classrooms and being with kids and teachers.  But even better, today I am working with teachers and getting kids writing on their own Blog site! How cool is that!  Will is writing about his cat (just kidding, Will), Quinn is writing about how he hopes his Fantasy Football is better than mine (I have Matthew Stafford as my starting QB, Quinn...), and it goes on and on.  What I am REALLY super excited about, though, is the fact that I get to do this every day.  For a living.  Like, this is my life and I get to spend my days with awesome middle schoolers and middle school teachers.  We work hard, but we also play hard.  This is definitely where it's at.

My hope is that, through this blogging experience, they find voices as writers and realize they ALL have something important to say.  They don't have to be adults to have a voice.  Just one VOICE can make a difference, and I guess that is what we blog for also - to make a difference in someone's life.  To move someone with our words.  From the clicking of the keyboards around the room, my guess is that they are off to a good start.

Surprise Phone Calls and Personal Connections

I'm not certain that I've had it right all these years.  Focused so intensely on test scores and whether or not people were satisfied with how we were doing academically and a host of other things that really didn't matter. If all I focus on are relationships between kids, among adults, and really getting to know one another on a deeply personal level, will all of that other stuff take care of itself? Including test scores?  Perhaps part of the answer can be found in the story of a school day in August, on a day before teachers and kids were back in classes. 

I simply posted a picture of the two boxes of books

that I had ordered for my staff to start the year. I was excited, my administrative staff and I were pumped up, and so I tweeted about it and went down to the cafeteria to set up. It was a Friday, and our first day back with teachers was Monday.

A couple hours later, I go back to the office to check some email and grab a quick bite to eat. Unbelievably, there was a voicemail sitting in my email box waiting for me. Not that it's unbelievable I had received a voicemail; I mean, I'm a middle school principal. We get voicemails all day long.  But this was technically summer still.  And this one was from Adam Welcome, co-author of Kids Deserve It.  He had looked me up on Twitter, and decided to call the school to see if he could catch me. He wanted to thank me for purchasing the books, and just chat about being an educator. It was totally unnecessary, and at the same time I was so thrilled and excited that he took the time out of his day. I called him back, and we ended up chatting for half an hour.

And it didn't stop there.  I also received, out of the blue, a call one evening from a connection I had made this summer through Voxer, and then on Twitter (of course).  While watching the Olympics one night, my phone rings and Dene Gainey is on the other end, from Florida, just calling to check in and see how I'm doing.  Who does that?

The power of these phone calls really changed my thinking about this school year, and about school years past. There isn't anything I can do about those days, about those years, about those moments that I did or did not spend and connect with people. What it did for me was make me realize that I could do better by people. What it did for me was to motivate me, make me want to be the best school leader that I can be.

But how could a simple 30 minute phone conversation have such an impact on someone?

The answer is simple. The power of human relationships does wonders. Think about the relationships we have with our kids, the relationships that we have with other adults with whom we work. As educators we know it is essential for kids to feel wanted, to feel loved, to feel that they matter. They do better when they experience these feelings, when they know that we just can't wait to see them again tomorrow.  It is at this point that real magic happens - the power of school as it should be.  When we focus on relationships, on intentionally being with people, on making them feel like a million bucks when we are in their presence, the environment starts to change.  I mean, everything about the environment starts to change - including test scores - and it is really so simple.  It really starts with making people feel important, helping people to understand how much power they have to do good, to make change, to have an impact on someone else's life.

So my goal this year is simple.  My goal is to be present, to be intentional, and really show up to every single interaction with every single child and every single adult I encounter this year.  And not just that, not just chance encounters; my goal is to seek out opportunities to show up and make a difference in people's lives. What a difference we can make.  Who doesn't deserve that?

If you don't follow Adam or Dene, you really need to.  These amazing educators are doing real work to make a difference in the lives of kids and adults.  Go follow them on Twitter now.
                                   Adam Welcome               Dene Gainey

On Procrastination, Libraries and Dissertations

At the library today, trying to finish the last section of the last chapter during year 8 of my doctoral program. It is the reason why I have not written a blog post since January of this new year.  And I realize, as I sit and watch people back and forth in front of the table where I sit and work, and I watch the homeless men sitting in the back of the library, passing their days in the cool air - reprieve from the heat outside - that this is why I have not found the time to finish this mammoth task.  Because, although it is a mammoth task - believe me, anyone who has taken on the behemoth that is doctoral work understands - it is not unattainable.  It is I who have done it to myself.  It is in the watching of other people that I realize my problem.  I am a procrastinator.  As the end of this dissertation writing nears, and I know my defense is coming soon, I find myself doing everything except the one thing I know I need to get done.

So it is time now.

Today is the day.

I have come to the library for a reason, and that reason is not to watch other people (although this is a mindless and enjoyable thing to do).

The day is mine.

I will blog again when the dissertation is complete, and then I will let you know of my experiences as a working middle school principal who is also a husband, daddy, foster parent, life-changer, reader, half-serious runner, wannabe innovator, and professional procrastinator.

On Re-Takes and Second Chances

There has been a slow shift in thinking around the schoolhouse lately.  Emphasis on the word slow.  Or at least this is what I had thought.  At least in my own building, which is a 6-8 middle school building, where we are working on a number of things, including making sure that people understand the middle school philosophy and the central tenets that should be found in every middle school building; grading and reporting practices that are fair and meaningful to every student; and how we can incorporate student voice into the school day.

What I want to focus on here is the belief by many that learning will occur for all, and that we will do whatever it takes to ensure this supreme goal.

Except when time gets in the way and learning has to, for some reason, end.

This week, I sat in a room with some exceptional educators from around the district's 3 middle schools.  The topic was allowing students to re-take assignments and even assessments in order to ensure mastery. Some of the dissenting viewpoints focused on why it wasn't working, the opinion that students were not learning but instead, just trying to earn a better grade (emphasis on the letter grade and not the learning itself), and the worry that we really aren't teaching "quality life lessons" by offering second chances.

Okay, just to clarify a few things.  This is our first year dabbling with a mandatory re-take policy across all middle schools.  This is also our first year attempting to establish some consistent language and understandings across departments and grade levels.  These are good things.  Good things for both students and the teachers who instruct them.

But these aren't first year teachers.  These are educators who, for the most part, have many, many years of experience across the collective whole.

Why, then, are we wondering if offering 2nd chances is really teaching kids "quality life lessons?"  Why, when someone mentions that offering re-takes is really not encouraging mastery of learning, isn't someone speaking up and screaming, as loud as they can, "AND WHOSE FAULT IS THIS?"

Because I have a feeling I know the answer to this one.  I have a strong suspicion that the answer here, would be the ever-familiar, "Well, it's the student's fault, of course; it's the student's fault they didn't learn it the first time... they've learned how to work the system, and understand that this is a matter of not having to try hard the first time because I know I will get a second chance."

And so I reiterate what I said before, and I also wonder about it and am scared by it:  We believe that learning by all is the supreme goal, and that everyone is capable of learning.  Scan through school and district websites and I guarantee you will see a variation of this statement on just about every one.

But do we believe it? 

I mean, do you know of any educators who, when asked this to their face, would say no to this claim?  I don't either.  Until time gets in the way and the class period is disrupted by that horrendous bell, or the end of the unit is here and we have to give that dreaded summative assessment.  At this point, learning has to come to an end because, of course, if they didn't learn by now then we have to move on.  Every one of them, lock-step in line with one another, all learning at the same pace and all learning the same thing... and all knowing that the learning must come to an end because we, the adults, the professionals, the ones who know best, who have done the research (hopefully), and who have spent billions of collective dollars on advanced degrees, have created this environment where learning is the one variable and time is the one fixed thing, and we know it should be the other way around.

Being the Best

Sunday morning.  Our second oldest is headed back to the airport after having spent the last four days with us.  I dive under my headphones to get something written, knowing that I will have limited time.  The little kids are all jammed in front of Alvin and the Chipmunks and the baby is asleep.  I am through with feeling guilty about putting the kids in front of the tube to get a little time to myself.  Selfish, one might think, and I used to agree, but I no longer care.  Not with 4 foster children all under the age of six, 4 biological children ages 14-28, three dogs - one of which is the size of a small horse - a very demanding career, and a loving marriage of almost 23 years that, regardless of what people might think after 23 years, does not run itself.  These things require time and care and energy and, most of all, love. 

And in order to have all that, you have to be willing to commit.  And make sacrifices.  

What I know at this age (44), and after this much time in public education - 19 years - is that sacrifice is a human endeavor that appears at first as loss.  In order to sacrifice something, really make a sacrifice, you must feel the loss; you must acknowledge that there is something missing from your daily routine.  For example, if you really care about being the best baseball player on the planet, you have to be willing to sacrifice certain things like Twinkies and double chocolate Oreo shakes.  You also have to be willing to add things into your daily routine, like cardio workouts and batting practice and taking 200 ground balls three times a day.  In order to make room for these things, to which you have committed in order to be the best on the planet, other things have to go.  

For me, the things that have had to go are plentiful.  I am not trying to be the best baseball player on the planet (although that would have been cool), but I am trying to be the best father, the best husband, the best foster daddy, the best middle school principal and role model for my school kiddos, the best leader for my teachers, and the best doctoral candidate on the planet.  These endeavors, I am convinced, are more difficult than trying to be the best baseball player on the planet.  The sacrifices made have come in the form of dancing in the kitchen when I know I should be working at my computer, being the consistent disciplinarian when I would much rather be having fun and laughing mistakes away, and letting go of the people in my life who can't - or won't - contribute goodness and usually only add problems and grief to my already overflowing plate. 

This is how I strive to become the best.  These are the sacrifices that, at one point in my life, would have caused me to say yes when I knew I should be saying no.  These are the things I have been wiling to give up - and some I've added - in order to be the best.  I don't have time for anything else in my quest.  Neither do you.  It starts with taking stock of everything going on in your life - all of the things and people to whom you are responsible - and asking yourself what the vision is.  Once the vision is established, it is time to make some commitments.  You will soon see what needs to be cut from, and added to, your daily routine.  Make the sacrifice to become the best whatever-it-is-you-want-to-be.   

Improving from Within

Lesson Study Cycle

I spent the past week working with a motivated team of educators to understand how to help groups of 8th graders move from concrete to more abstract thinking.  It has shown me, once again, the power that a small group of people can have when they set their minds to it.

Japanese Lesson Study as a form of teacher professional development has the potential to change how educators view teaching and lesson planning, how they view what students take away from a given lesson, how students view a block of instructional time in the classroom - whether they are just enduring, or whether they are truly engaged and learning.  A few conditions have to be met and understood first, however, if Lesson Study is to truly make a difference and take hold in any school setting.  This post is not about what Japanese Lesson Study is, or how it works; you can certainly find much on the concept by doing a simple online search.  Rather, my purpose here is to document my thoughts on this intense form of professional development.

After spending the week planning, observing, debriefing, and reteaching with this team, it became clear to me that everyone really needed a break.  We ended the cycle on Friday, still needing to debrief the re-taught lesson, but agreed that it would just have to wait until Monday.  It had been an exhausting week.  Mentally taxing.  But some of the best PD we had ever been through.  

To be clear, this process is not a quick fix; better teaching and deeper understanding do not happen overnight.  Lesson Study is a process, the results of which can be powerful and lead to a thorough understanding of concepts over time.  For example, we were wondering why our 8th grade students have such a hard time thinking in abstract terms.  Is it developmental?  Are they even capable of thinking in the abstract, knowing what we know about natural learner characteristics of the adolescent student?  Through the intense process of Lesson Study - as the team developed the lesson, observed one of the teachers on the team deliver the lesson, debriefed, made changes, and then re-taught the lesson - we discovered that, through careful and deliberate questions, well-placed times for the teens to turn and talk to one another, the intentional use of visuals to aid in thinking, and plenty of built-in time for reflective thinking and writing, our teens are indeed capable of beginning to understand thinking in abstract terms.

In further posts on this topic, I will explore the topic of "soft starts" and how important it is for the teacher delivering the lesson to feel comfortable and able to put her own creative flair into the lesson (as we discovered after the initial teaching of the lesson).  In addition, I will write about how absolutely critical it is that district-level administrators provide support, even if it is only in their understanding that some time out of the classroom is necessary throughout this process (especially for the observation phase of the cycle), and that this time will give back ten-fold in the end.  Especially if increased teacher knowledge and instructional prowess is what we're after.  Teacher knowledge and skill, after all, do increase levels of student knowledge and achievement.  On this, I think we would all agree.  

Until You Know

The academic year is well under way, cross country and volleyball seasons have wrapped up already, fall conferences have come and gone, and it is only early November.  It seems like a lifetime ago since I first walked through the front doors of my new school and began work with new staff, students, and community.  As I sit and reflect upon these extraordinary two and a half months that have gone by, there is a verse from a favorite song of mine that keeps running through my head.  It goes:

The longest hours you'll have in your life, 
Are the ones you sit through to know if you're right.

And then the portion of chorus that goes:

You don't always know where you stand,
'Til you know that you won't run away.

I won't say who the band is, but those who know me may be able to narrow it down...  The point is, I have been in public education for eighteen years.  Thirteen of those, now, have been in administration.  Actually, that's not the point.  The REAL point is that one has to put in long hours, one has to stay and not run away, to persevere, to dig deep and find meaning, to slog through and display an indomitable spirit, your true grit; to, as Abe Lincoln so wisely said: "Determine that the thing shall be done, and then we shall find the way."

They can seem like the longest hours.  And you won't always know where you stand.  But if you don't run away, and you determine that you will just do it because you believe in your heart that it's right and it's good for kids, then you will find that you were right.  Every single time.

The Day Before

It is the day before students arrive - Sunday - and I sit at a little desk in my home office.  The two days of back-to-school-learning-and-acquaintance for my staff are complete, and went so fast that I haven't even had the time to sit and reflect on them.  Did I do enough to motivate my new faculty?  Did I give them enough about me so they really understand why I do this?  Do they feel ready to start the first few days and weeks ahead?  Time will tell, and if there is one thing I know after opening a school year as an administrator for the last 12 years, it's that nothing can ever really prepare you for the first days back with kids... except actually being there with kids.

I know that teachers won't sleep much tonight.  I know that some will even go in to school today and look around the room, move desks around one last time, erase the welcome message they had written on the board and replace it with something more meaningful they thought of saying last night, look over their carefully drafted plans one more time... just to be sure they are overly prepared because we all learned it is better to have more than enough material than not enough.  And boy, do they have enough material to cover.

I think of what I will say to my new students - all 950 of them - as they walk through the doors of their school tomorrow; I think of how they will receive me, their new principal; I think of what I will say as I prepare to deliver the first morning message of the year over the intercom; I think of how I will interact with my new students as I pass them in the hallways and see them in their classrooms and sit with them in the cafeteria at lunch.  This new year carries with it much anticipation, much excitement, much to be thankful for, much to look forward to.  It is the mark of a new start for many, myself included.  What I would hope adults and students walk away from this year with, is the excitement that they were able to try something new, the courage to keep moving forward despite what life throws at you, and the overwhelming feeling and knowledge that they are cared for deeply by those of us who are unable to sleep the night before being with them because we are so very thrilled about what we have chosen as our life's work.