A Journal of the First Year | Sixteen


This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.png

21 | March | 2019

It is my intention to share some reflections on the highs, the lows, the excitement, the routine, the successes, the failures and everything in between which I experience the course of the next 10 – 12 months, my first months as a full-time principal of a high school.  Writing this journal will help me grow. Reading it may make you laugh… 


Next week, Spring Break comes to Mullen High School. If I am honest with myself I have to admit that I am very ready. I admit this even in the context that the school, just last week, was closed twice for Snow Days. “Was closed twice” is an interesting turn of phrase. To be more accurate, I should have written “I closed school twice” last week.

Regardless, despite the fact that I had two work from home days last week, I am still looking forward to the break. My wife and I will travel, we will see one of the kids who lives out of state, we will be able to set our own schedules, something that rarely happens in the life of a teacher or administrator.

But I am aware, and I have read on twitter and discussed with my colleagues with increasingly regularity as breaks are approached, that not everyone is as excited as I am for a break and, in this, I mean students and staff and faculty alike. For some, being at school means safety and routine and calmness and predictability. Not every student will go away and travel. Not every staff member is looking forward to the interruption in school.

So, though I am, frankly, thrilled by the prospect of sleeping for a few days until after the sun rises, I know that not everyone feels this way and I will strive to keep them in mind next week. In my gratefulness for some down time, I want to be aware that this is not what everyone is going to experience.

A Journal of the First Year | Fourteen


This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.png

21 | February | 2019


It is my intention to share some reflections on the highs, the lows, the excitement, the routine, the successes, the failures and everything in between which I experience the course of the next 10 – 12 months, my first months as a full-time principal of a high school.  Writing this journal will help me grow. Reading it may make you laugh… 


I have spent the last few days thinking about mentors. I have had a great many in my life – mentors who I trust and attempt to emulate and mentors who I pay attention to because they do things so differently than I that I rarely seek to accord myself as they do. This is a kind of mentorship, too.

And, as I have settled into my role as principal of Mullen High School,  I have to admit that I am a mentor for others, that some look to me in that role. This is an interesting realization and one that I actually grapple with quite a bit.

Frankly, I have been thinking about one mentor specifically, one who changed my life in ways incalculable. One I have known for over 30 years. One of the kindest, most gentle, most affirming people I’ll ever encounter. One who shared with me his love of education in the best way imaginable: he simply lived it honestly and authentically. I have had cause to think about the impact he has made in my life in sharp relief this week because he shared with me and with my best friend (another mentor of the kind we rarely consider – the peer mentor who challenges, cajoles and loves) that he – our mentor – does not have much time life on this earth.

To say that the news shocks and wounds is an understatement and I am still processing it, still considering a world without him. I am not ready yet to acknowledge and absorb this.

But what I have been able to do this week is to consider all that he has represented in my life. All that he has done. All that he continues to do. 

In ways big and small, I can point to how he changed me, changed my path, changed my existence. This is not hyperbole. This is fact. He encouraged an early interest in writing when I was a high school student. He shared with me his love of education. His dry wit has become a part of me. His compassion a standard to attempt to reach. His peacefulness and unflappability a seemingly unattainable height. His love of others a beacon.

In football, pundits talk about coaching trees, those coaches who were influenced by other, mentor coaches and who have gone on to lead teams of their own. It would take more than two hands to count the teachers and administrators that my mentor has launched. And, by extension, it would take a supercomputer to number all the students and staff and teachers those people have touched through the years.

What a gift.

That he has made me who I am is without question. And any good I do serving the faculty and staff with whom I walk is a testament to him. Utterly.

 

A Journal of the First Year | Thirteen

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.png

7 | February | 2019


It had to happen. Perhaps I ought to be surprised that it did not happen until this past week.

At some point, and I knew this intellectually beginning the role as principal, I was going to make a decision that made sense, that was necessary that I was wholly committed to and that made me question whether or not I was fully supporting the faculty I serve – fully supporting them both individually and collectively. 

I had that moment this week. 

It was the first time.

I did what I could do to explain my reasoning to all involved.  I spent time with individuals, with department chair and teacher, and time with the department overall. I tried to be transparent. Authentic. Honest.  I don’t believe (but who can really judge their own intentions with absolute clarity?) that I was not trying to justify or defend, only to explain.

It didn’t feel great and this is through no fault of the people with whom I was speaking or did speak over the course of the situation. They were terrific.

But, a week later I am still wondering if what and did and the manner in which I did it served the faculty well. I do not doubt my decision. I believe it was the correct one. 

I just wonder if I did right by the people involved.

I tried. I tried very hard. Perhaps that’s enough.

It’s been a week of lessons… perhaps next time we’ll talk about Colorado snow.

 

A Journal of the First Year | Twelve

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.png

(L) 1994      (R) 2018

24 | January | 2019


Intellectually, I have known that part of the work of being a principal is being very, very flexible. Typically I frame that concept as being ready to change my schedule or my plan as needs dictate but I often think about it in those parameters: “Hey, be ready to skip a meeting or to take one, you never know what’s going to happen” is how the self-talk has gone during my half year as principal of Mullen High School.

But we experienced a day a couple Fridays back and a morning just this week that expanded my idea of what flexibility really requires and just how important a concept for principals (at least this one) it is!

The day began with snow, and a fairly significant amount of it. The snow hit during the morning drive and, with consultation with and support from my administrative colleagues, it was determined that a late start schedule was required. That would be one of the easiest decisions of the day as things turned out! That afternoon, within the span of 90 minutes, three things happened: a major plumbing issue, a sparking fire in a breaker box and a significant roof issue that led to the partial flooding of an office.

The plumbing issue was first. A bathroom pipe had been broken by a student and water was, literally, shooting from floor to ceiling, arcing over one of the stalls and splashing against the opposite wall. How did I hear about this? I was called to the sodden restroom over my trusty walkie-talkie. I can honestly say I had never seen anything like this. It was pretty spectacular.

We settled this issue down fairly quickly. Our terrific maintenance staff got the water turned off, repairs underway and we informed people in about a third of the building that they would be without water for the rest of the day. 

I returned to my office.

Moments later, I heard my colleague and one of our assistant principals whose office is across the hall from mine exclaim. I went across the hall and saw water from snow melt pouring – that’s the right word – through his ceiling. Clearly the roof was compromised. We moved anything in the line of water, as it were, and brought trash cans in to collect the run off.

I returned to my office.

Within moments,  another call came over the walkie. This time I was asked to come to an office that housed a major breaker box. I arrived and was greeted by our Maintenance Director (who was, himself, still in the midst of dealing with the broken bathroom pipe) and someone I did not recognize. As it turned out, the person I didn’t recognize was an electrician who said “stand back and watch.” I did. Seconds later, a spark and small flame shown inside the breaker box. I immediately thought we would have to dismiss school but was assured the issue was under control but all power through out the same hallway affected by the water shut down would have to be turned off directly at the end of the school day. 

So… a group of us informed the exact same set of people who had no water that they would be losing their power.

I returned to my office.

And just this past Tuesday, another snow storm timed – thank you, weather gods, to coincide with the morning commute – hit. Early in the morning, a group of us collaborated on the decision to put the school on another late start. I began my drive and realized about halfway through it that we needed to close. I pulled off the side of the road into a shuttered Rite Aid and made the necessary updates and calls.

Whew.

My takeaways from all this? First, I love, love, love this work. Love it.

Second? Flexibility is my friend and it does not always come easily to me. I do not know that I’ll have many more days like the Friday I recount here, but I know I’ll be faced with many, many more snow events. The through line in these: be flexible. Be nimble. Don’t get too locked in to any plan or any course. Be ready for the unexpected.

I love this work!

Teach & Serve IV, No. 21 | In Review…

For this last edition of 2019, here is the school year rundown of blogs, the Year in Review as it were… perhaps you missed something you may wish to review.

A Journal of the First Year | Ten

(L) 1994      (R) 2018

It is my intention to share some reflections on the highs, the lows, the excitement, the routine, the successes, the failures and everything in between which I experience the course of the next 10 – 12 months, my first months as a full-time principal of a high school.  Writing this journal will help me grow. Reading it may make you laugh… 


20 | December | 2018

There is very little that resembles a school as it approaches Christmas Break. The sense of anticipation of weeks away from classes infects and excites both the students and the staff and faculty alike days before the actual last day before vacation hits. The halls buzz. The energy changes.

It’s a fun time of year.

There is no better way to go into this Christmas Break than that.

As I approach this break in my first year as principal, I am filled with deep gratitude to the faculty and staff with whom I journey at Mullen High School for so many reasons. I am so thankful for the work they do with our amazing student body, for the care they give to them, for the love they show. I am humbled by them.

Truly.

Breaks give us opportunities to reflect and to assess. In this first year, I have been asked many times how I am doing and how I think the year is going.

I can say with sincere and deep honesty that this year has not proceeded in a predictable manner. I am doing different work in different ways than I possibly could have anticipated as are many of our staff and faculty. The group of professionals which began the year here is not the same group that embarks on Christmas Break. People have gone and people have arrived. Some of us are in different positions. Some of us are doing unanticipated work. Some of us are thrilled. Some of us are wondering about next steps. Some of us are fatigued. Some excited for the days immediately following break.

In all of that, in the unpredictability of the days and weeks and months that make up the trimesters here, in all that we have done, I can say that I am so happy with these first months. I am so proud to serve this faculty and staff and student body.

I am so blessed.

Teach & Serve IV, No. 9 | Take the Time

Teach & Serve IV, No. 9

Take the Time

October 3, 2018

Why is she so successful in getting students to care about her and the subjects she teaches?

Because she cares about them. Deeply. And she is not afraid to let them know it

My wife is a high school teacher. A veteran. She has been doing the work for years and she simply knows her stuff. I admire her so much and respect what she does and how she does it. I want to be more like her in so many ways, including the manner in which I work with students. I have been able to watch her in the classroom – we used to team teach – and I have had hundreds of hours of conversation with her about teaching and about students.

I have learned her secret.

Why is she so successful in getting students to care about her and the subjects she teaches?

Because she cares about them. Deeply. And she is not afraid to let them know it.

A case in point: last year, as she was moderating an after-school club, there was an issue with a student. Unbeknownst to my wife, this student was being removed by a coach from a role on a team, a role for which the student had worked very hard and a role he very clearly wanted. The young man was stressed out, maybe by the club, maybe by the coach, maybe by his school work, maybe by other forces. He was at his wits end. And he lost it.

He fled the room screaming and ran from the building – and this was after hours.

My wife, who had been working in another classroom heard the commotion (perhaps it is appropriate to note that the coach who triggered the event did not call for my wife). She went out after him and got him to stop running, quit yelling and calm down. She brought him back in the building, asked him his concerns, engaged him and told him that, given his state of upset, he would need to call a parent to pick him up from practice. She listened in as he made the call.

Perhaps any competent and caring educator would take these steps. While I would argue that experience has suggested to me that may not be the case, let us accept that most would do so.

It is the next steps that distinguish my wife.

She spoke that night with the student when he returned home. She spoke with his mother that night as well. She spoke to them for hours. She made a plan for the student to come to the next practice and meet with the coach – a meeting my wife moderated. Following that meeting, she spoke again on the phone with the student and the student’s mother. She offered to go out to coffee with them. When she realized that the dynamics at play for the kid and his family went beyond his role on the club, she brought in the appropriate resources.

She could have walked away or shied away or dealt with the scenario in any number of less responsible and less satisfying ways.

She did not and the kid’s life was better for it.

My wife took the time to engage the student. She took the time to listen. She took the time to care.

Our students and our children deserve more teachers like my wife in their lives.

Teach & Serve IV, No. 8 | When to Care, When Not to

Teach & Serve IV, No. 8

When to Care, When Not to 

September 26, 2018

Separating the essential from the trivial and being able to place the other stuff on a continuum in between is crucial. Acknowledging and responding to what is real and acknowledging and moving on from what is not is a skill that good leaders have.

The work we do can be difficult. The spotlight we are under can be bright. The frying pans we dance in can be hotter than the fire.

But the fire can be pretty damned hot, too.

As educational professionals, an analogy that comes to mind and is most accurate is that we are on stage. Being on stage implies being watched.

By an audience.

Often that audience is highly critical of our performance and members of it can be quite clear about their feelings concerning our work. They can be vocal. They can be challenging. They can be curt. The mechanisms by which they make their feelings known are, perhaps, too readily at hand: texting and email. These are immediate and they hit in real time.

Educational professionals live our lives publicly. Our words are scrutinized. If we have a social media footprint, our Snaps and Tweets and Instas are reviewed. If we do not desire this kind of attention, we may wish to consider other work.

Bad reviews are going to come to us. That is part of the game. So, what do we do when we are nailed by a negative critic or receive a comment that is hurtful? How do we react to these kinds of feedback?

We are best advised to hold on and take a beat, draw a breath and compose ourselves.

There is a first step to the process is to calmly (as calmly as possible) analyze feedback from our critics. We have to determine what is significant and what is not – what is real and what is false. We have to examine what we hear and weigh it. Measure it. Reflect on it.

Because, and here is the magic – get out your pens – we do not need to care about everything. We do not need to react with the same energy to everything. Not every comment is equally important nor is every critique equally valid.

Knowing the difference is key. Separating the essential from the trivial and being able to place the other stuff on a continuum in between is crucial. Acknowledging and responding to what is real and acknowledging and moving on from what is not is a skill that good leaders have. It is paramount that leaders have this ability.

If not, every critical comment sounds the red alert klaxon. Every brusque remark keeps one awake at night. Every negative review generates consternation.

They are not all the same thing. They are not all on the same level. Knowing the difference makes the difference.

Not for nothing, we should apply the exact same steps when we are praised… perhaps with a higher degree of scrutiny.

EduQuote of the Week: May 28 – SUMMER, 2018

EduQuote Will Return This Fall!

Let’s do what we love and do a lot of it.

– Marc Jacobs

Office Door Quotes 2

EduQuote of the Week: May 21 – 27, 2018

Medical Services Week

I’ve never met a person who does not want a safer world, better medical care and education for their children, and peace with their neighbours. I just don’t meet those people. What I meet, over and over again, as I travel around, is that the essential human condition is optimistic – in every one of these places.

– Eric Schmidt

Office Door Quotes 2