Parenting a "difficult child" is hard. And lonely. As a principal, I need to do better.

Being the “difficult child” is hard. Being the parent of the difficult child is even harder. Especially, I think, for moms.

Growing up, I was the difficult child. I had a temper, was rambunctious, and rough. My grandfather used to say that when I walked into a room, things would explode. My siblings simply named me “the animal.”

Yet, most of the time, I was unaware of my difficulty. I would notice that I wasn’t invited to certain events or not allowed in people’s homes or backyards, but it didn’t really bother me because, well, there were forts to build, bb-guns to shoot, and ponds to play in. I got busy. And, in the end, I turned out alright . . . I think.

My second son is much the same way. He too is rough, has “big emotions” as we say, and has difficulty filtering his thoughts and ideas. He isn’t quiet, controlled, or easy. He is all boy, all the time. And just like me, this means he isn’t invited to certain events or allowed to play with particular toys.

Most of the time he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it largely because he isn’t aware of it. Mom, however, is. And it is breaking her heart.

Not only is she the one who has to field the many-times-asked question, “Is something wrong with your son?”, she also has to endure the knowledge that he wasn’t invited to this birthday party, that swimming lesson, or that overnight party because “he’s just too hard.” She has to protect him, from the hurt that surrounds him and from the unfair - or at least incomplete - perception of those who know him, including family.

More than anyone, she is his defender.

After the most recent event, where my wife called me crying in frustration, fear, and hurt - for my son and for herself - a few things crystalized, and I thought I’d share them here, with you.

1. As an educator, whenever I call a parent into my office or classroom to discuss their “difficult child,” I must remember that whatever it is I have to say is not new information to them. They, more than anyone, understand the difficulty of their child - they live with them, after all. So although I need to talk with them about the situation at hand or the plan moving forward, spending a great deal of time talking about their child’s strengths, their gifts, and their talents is imperative! Moms of difficult children hear often why their child is difficult. Rarely do they hear why they are loved. And it is my job to not only see that, but to celebrate it, loudly and sincerely. For the child’s sake, and for mom’s
   

2. I can confidently say that by and large, difficult children have defensive mothers. At times, and perhaps more often than I would like to admit, as an educator, this has irritated me (“Can’t they see I’m here to help!"). And if I’m really honest, on more than one occasion, it has even caused me to think, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Which is terrible.
   Recently, however, I have been reminded that the parents of a “difficult child” are not difficult, they are protectors. They have seen their child picked on, overlooked, and stigmatized - even by his or her surrounding family! And they are tired of it. Exhausted from it. And at times, they are ready to fight back.

   And I need to let them.
   “If I don’t defend him,” I have heard my wife say on more than one occasion, “If I don’t protect and support him - if I don’t love the hell out of him - who will?”
   No one will. At least not like Mom can.
   So instead of getting defensive, of being in any way judgmental toward a parent who comes into my office guns blazing in defense of their “difficult child,” I want to be patient and understanding. I want to relieve them of their burden and of their need to defend and fire back, not give them another reason to reload.

   Yes, their child is causing disruption in the school and classroom, but they are still loved, safe, and wanted. That is what I want my parents of “difficult children” to hear from me. Because I can almost guarantee they won’t hear it anywhere else.

3. “There is something worse out there than being sad,” Tedd Lasso said to his team, “and that is being alone and being sad.” Parents of “difficult children” are not only sad, they are also alone. They too are no longer invited to events or welcome for quick stop-ins. They are often excluded because of their “difficult child,” leaving them to struggle, suffer, and cry alone.
   Even when they are invited to an event or playdate, instead of engaging in conversation or enjoying a few drinks on the patio, they spend their time watching their child, fearful they will say or do something embarrassing or hurtful - something that will affirm the stigma. So Mom will sit, eyes and ears half attentive to the conversation at hand, and listen, worry, and anticipate the “difficult child” that is sure to come.
   And when those moments come, moms of “difficult children” feel, very accurately, the judgment and criticism. They know their child is causing a disruption, and they know it is their job to help them grow and learn and change. Which only makes Mom feel more sad and more alone. Because they don’t know what to do, and they blame themselves.

Empathy often springs from experience. When we experience pain, sorrow, hurt, and loss, we grow in our ability to understand it in others. We build empathy.

Sadly, it took me having to become a parent of a “difficult child” to better understand those parents who have entered my classroom or cried in my office. For although I practiced the words of empathy I did not carry the heart of it. And I can only assume that they felt that void, that distance, that affirmation of aloneness.

Not anymore. And strangely, I am thankful for that.

To all those parents who have been tasked with guiding and loving the heart and mind of a “difficult child,” my heart aches for you. And it understands you, if only just a little bit more.

Which is why, in case you need it, here is your affirmation and charge to go out and defend the hell out of your child! Love them, protect them, and cry for them. Be their parent, in all the best ways that you know how, and be confident that you - YOU - were given this beautiful task of raising them. Be confident in that, and in them.

But also, give grace to those of us who don’t fully understand you, or your child. Us educators, we truly do love and want what is best for you and your child, it’s just that we can be a bit hard-headed and narrow-minded in our experiences and thus our empathy, at times. But we can learn. We can grow. And because we love you and your child, we are more than willing to do so.

I have often said that being a better educator does not make me a better father., but being a better father does make me a better educator.

I believe that now, more than ever.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

Blog : Monthly Favorites

Work. It gets the best of me.

This picture was taken a day after a major accident. I wasn’t paying much attention to the road; I was trying to call a struggling teacher.

I find that, at the end of the day, when I arrive home to my lovely wife and five fantastic kiddos, I’m exhausted. And not just tired exhausted, which I am, but resource exhausted.

I am less patient than I want to be because I used it all up throughout the day.

I’m less caring and intentional with my wife because I spent the day pushing into hard conversations and thinking and caring for others.

I’m less fun and energetic with my kids because my body is soar, my legs tired, and my mind spent.

Work gets the best of me; my family gets the worst.

I am not new to this understanding, nor am I espousing a wisdom previously unknown to every hardworking mom and dad, husband and wife. I am just renewed in my conviction and more aware that, recently, I am falling asleep on the couch while a child is in mid sentence, that I am spending too many evenings watching a movie or binging tv shows because its easier than anything else and I just want to rest.

My wife is generally very understanding and extremely accommodating to my busy schedule and demanding job. Recently, however, I begun to notice a slight (if not more than slight) slip in my time, efforts, and fight for quality family time. More than ever - and I’m not entirely sure why - I’ve adopted the attitude of “I deserve this” when in reality, I don’t. I just think I do. And I think it has something to do with moral licensing.

Moral licensing is “the habit of balancing out our good and bad decisions.” It is the convincing of “ourselves that it's okay we didn't do any recycling this week, because we usually do.” It is the attitude that its “fine to have that second helping of cake because we went on a run yesterday” (via).

Said another way, it is “when we are confident we have behaved well,” that we have “demonstrated compassion and generosity” all throughout the day or week and are therefor permitted little acts of selfishness, impatience, or thoughtlessness. It is the destructive convincing that, in the scheme of the week, day, or life, we have - generally - been a good person and are therefore permitted small acts of imperfection (via).

The problem with this way of thinking is fairly obvious. Namely, it isn’t right. From a basic integrity argument for sure, but also from a relational argument. Just because we are good most of the time doesnt mean we are permitted moments where we can be unkind, unloving, or foolish. And when I write it out, that truth is obvious. When I try and live it out, I find it much less convincing. And I hate it. My wife and kids deserve better of me.

So why is it so hard? Why do I continually do that which I do not want to do?

My son answered this for me the other day when he and I were engaged in a rather heated discussion. He had been rude to his younger sister and I was getting on him. “I don’t like acting this way,” he said, openly and honestly.

“Then why do you do it?” I asked. “Are you like this at school?”

“No.” He responded.

“Then why at home? Why do we get the worst of you?” I asked, instantly thinking of a black kettle and pot.

“Because it’s safe, I guess.”

Bingo.

Work, although safe in many regards, is not nearly as safe as my home.

If I am short with my staff or impatient with my words, I can expect a phone call or visit from my boss. If I don’t show up to work, I don’t get paid. If my behavior is less than what is expected, I will be placed on an imrovement plan. At work, there is immediate and uncomfortable accountability.

At home, there is grace. At home, there is unconditional love. At home, there is comfort. And comfort can be an incredibly bad thing.

I know my wife won’t leave me, just as she knows I won’t leave her. But not leaving is a pretty low bar of expectations. We can stay together for the next thirty years but be completely unsuccessful in our marriage, in raising our kids.

And that is exactly what has been on my mind lately.

When my career is over, when I receive the retirement plaque of 30-some years commitment to this wonderful profession, I don’t merely want my wife and kids in attendance, I want them celebrating their dad. A dad they know, that they respect, and that they are proud of. I want my wife to be excited for the next chapter of life because she has learned from the past seven that no matter the circumstance, I will be present. That in all things, no matter how busy or exhausted I am, I choose her.

Lately, I don’t think she could confidently say that.

In a recent conversation with a friend I found myself saying, “I am defined by my family. My wife, my kids. But I spend more of my days thinking about and caring for my profession - the kids in my building and how I can improve the school.” I spend less time considering how to pursue my wife, support my kids, and build a solid and safe home.

Work gets the best of me. My family gets the rest of me. And that just simply terrifies me.

So what do I do? What does this acknowledgement mean? And, more importantly, what can I do about it.

One, I think flirting with moral licensing needs to go. That’s a dangerous and dark alley, and the fact that I’ve even lingered on the corner makes me sick.

Two, I need to place some of my selfish ambitions aside - or at least be willing to. So what if I gain all that my mind desires - a successful publishing career, a several times recognized blue ribbon school, and great applause for all I’ve done - if my wife and kids don’t know me, don’t trust me, don’t like me, what is it worth? A pile of dirt, that’s what.

And three, give to Caesar what is Caesar’s. I am not responsible for what will happen, only what needs to be done (as I slightly nod to Gandalf). I am also responsible for what I’ve been given. And what I’ve been given is a kind and gracious wife who loves others more than herself and five kiddos who need a dad, a father, and an example. If loving and caring for them lowers my chances of personal advancement, so be it. It is out of my hands. My children, my wife, my family, however, are not. And I need to grip them tightly.

Work may get the most of me, but it doesn’t need to get the best of me. I can love my job, work hard at refining my craft, come home exhausted, and STILL carry some of the best of me through the door. And I must.

Becoming a better father and husband makes me a better principal, educator, and leader because it makes me a complete, more well-rounded person. And when I am a more complete, well-rounded person, work gets the best of me. And so does my family.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

Friday Thought : Keep Knocking

Several years ago, this letter was sent to one of my teachers. It now hangs, laminated, on the wall next to her computer. Recently, she pulled it down and showed it to me. Then, she told me the story.

This young man was not a great student. In fact, he was a terrible student. Be she loved him, worked with and never gave up on him, even when he didn’t show much growth or change - all year long.

Nor the following year.

Nor the next.

Nor the next.

Then, almost ten years later, the above letter arrived in the mail.

My friend has a phrase, "Just keep knocking." And he reminded me of it again the other day. I shared with him how frustrated I was with a particular student, that no matter what I did or said, I was not getting through. "Maybe it isn't your job to 'get through,'" he said, "Maybe all you need to do is just keep knocking," he said.

And I like that.

Sometimes, it isn't our job to solve the issue. Sometimes we are not the ones who will make the breakthrough. Sometimes all we are tasked with doing is knocking. Over and over and over again.

We can't force people out of bed or off the couch. Nor can we make them answer the door. But we can keep knocking. Which, for many, is precisely what they need - the constant thud of someone knocking on the door, reminding them that they matter, that someone cares, and that they are not alone.

Because here’s what I know to be true:

If we stop knocking, they will never open the door. If we knock, they might.

And if we knock long enough, I am convinced that they will eventually open the door. And then, it will all be worth it.

Even if it takes ten years.

Thank you, *teacher*, for knocking.

That’s what I’ve been thinking about this week.

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

Two Documentaries: Torn and The Rescue

If you enjoyed Free Solo, you will love these two documentaries.

What I appreciate about these documentaries, even more so than Free Solo, is that people are using their gift and talents, their resources, to help and save others. They are living in humility. And to me, there is nothing more encouraging . . . or inspiring.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Documentaries 

Right now, we are all rubber bands

@will_santino_illustration

In my most recent staff meeting I handed out a rubber band and asked people to get into groups of three. “Now stretch it out,” I said. And they did, but only to the point of resistance.

“How’s the rubber band?” I asked.

“Fine,” they said, because rubber bands are made to be flexible and to endure. Just like us.

“Now pull a little more,” I said. And they did. Not as much as the first, but still a good stretch.

“What about now?” I asked, “How’s the rubber band?”

“Fine,” they still said, but less assuredly.

“Now pull again.” And they did. “And again . . . and again, and again.” With each and again, they pulled a little less and worried a little more. One teacher even used her free hand to block her face.

“This is where we are,” I said, “We are made to endure, to be flexible, but with each new request, with each new demand, we stretch a little more and a little more and a little more. We are now living in a state of constant fear that we’re about to break.”

We can endure hard seasons. We can absorb change, be flexible, and stretch ourselves further than we thought imaginable. But not forever. Lest we break.

The problem is - for my staff in that meeting and for many of us in our daily lives - we don’t see an end in sight, largely because the problems and issues are far bigger than us, and we can’t do anything about it.

What we can do, however, is show grace. To ourselves, and to others.

Giving grace doesn’t mean we have a free pass to sacrifice our integrity or high standards of excellence - absolutely not! But it does mean that when we fail, we show grace - that we courteous and show goodwill.

You are trying your best. The woman next to you is trying her best as well. The man across from you is trying his best. The kiddos in your classrooms are showing up and trying their best, and your boss is trying her best. But we can only stretch so far. And for many of us, we are walking fearful that, with the next request or burden to bare, we will break.

We can’t solve most of the problems the people around us are asked to endure, but we can give them - and ourselves - some grace. Which, in the end, might be the only thing that holds us together.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought: Love. That's it.

@justinmcroberts

This might be one of the most encouraging posts I’ve written in a long time. For me at least. I hope it is for you, too.

The following passage has been increasingly on my mind and heart lately. And the more I read it, dwell on it, and try to live, the more encouraged - and convicted - I become.

Love is . . .

A modified version of 1 Corinthians 13:

If I am elegant in speech, sharing words as sweet as honey, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 

If I have the gift of foresight and can acutely analyze all things, if I have a belief and conviction that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 

If I give all I possess to the poor and endure immeasurable hardships so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in destruction but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. 

Convicting in that no program, gift, slogan, or initiative means anything if not driven by love.

Encouraging in that, no matter how many times an idea or an attempt to help others fails or is ill-received, if done in love, it is not wasted.

Lean on Me:

Then, this morning while greeting kiddos and jamming to The Rubberband Man Radio on Spotify (a GREAT playlist!), an old yet beautiful song played. Lean on Me, by Bill WIthers

Most Generous Thing:

About an hour later, a principal friend of mine shared this with me. It is no my new favorite question:

What’s the most generous thing you can do today?

Happy Friday!

Keep striving to do Great things and change the world! No matter what we do, if done with love and sincere compassion for others, it is never wrong. For as Allister Begg - an old favorite preacher - used to say, “It’s always right to do right, because it’s right.”

Do right. Do love.

Friday Thought : The Strength of Transparency: What Clydesdales can teach us about fear and support

Yesterday, my oldest daughter Eden (she's eleven) was fortunate enough to help a friend of ours with his Clydesdales. Not only was she thrilled because she LOVES horses, but she was also shocked to learn how delicate these monsters are. "They're so scared," she said.

After prepping the giants for the coming carriage ride, the owner of the horses offered her the opportunity to drive them. Shortly into their journey he handed her the reigns, and a bit of advice. "Whenever you come across a bridge or approach a tractor, the horses get scared,” he said, “They need you to talk to them, to let them know you are here and that they are not alone." My little girl was dumbfounded. "Like this," he said. They were approaching a large fence and the horses were beginning to slow their walk. "I see that fence," he said in a soothing voice, "I know it's scary, I'm scared too, but well do this together, okay?" To Eden's amazement, the horses picked up their pace and continued on their way.

As she shared this story with me, I couldn't help but think of how often we are terrified to express our fears. We want to be perceived like a Clydesdales: strong, confident, and extremely competent. The vision of those old Budweiser commercials, of Clydesdales running through snow or pulling giant loads is awe inspiring and we want to be more like that. Not scared. Being frightened or needing the coaxing from a petite little eleven year-old doesn't quite fit our ideas of what it means to Do Great Things!

But maybe it should.

There is something encouraging - convicting even - about how a Clydesdale lives its life. It knows what it can do and has all the confidence in the world that it can accomplish whatever task is set before it. At some point, however, it also needs to know its fears, warranted or not, are acknowledged as real. Most importantly though, they need to know they are not alone.

Humans are much the same.

Not only do we need to be strong enough to admit we need help, that we're afraid, and that we can't do it alone, we need to be strong enough to know that admitting so isn't weak! It's brave. And it is completely okay.

We also need to be the kind of people that allow others to admit they need help or are afraid. And we do so by being strong enough to not fix their fears or concerns for them. When the moment of fear approached for the horses, their owner didn't hop off and take control of the cart and do their job for them. Nor did he show them that their fears we're unfounded, making them feel weak or foolish. He simply acknowledged their fears and reminded them that he was there. Then, they continued on. Together.

Take a lesson from the Clydesdales and share your concerns, your fears - invite them into your world - so you can continue carrying your heavy load and doing Great things, fully confident that you are not alone.

And neither are they.

The Concrete is not Blank

We are not guaranteed tomorrow, next week, or next semester. If someone has encouraged you, tell them. If someone is struggling, check in on them. If a relationship or hopeful habit is broken, fix it. If something needs to be done, do it. Whatever your conviction or inspiration, don't wait. Get after it and DO GREAT THINGS!!!

“If you wait, it will get dark or it will rain. And then, it will be too late.”

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

The Payoff of Years

“I have to sometimes stop myself when I’m building things and remind myself that I really enjoy it. I enjoy the process of building and it’s not always a sprint to the finish.”

This video is the antithesis of the Instagram culture and a true source of inspiration. Not only does Beau remind us to enjoy the journey, he models the payoff of patience, of believing that all this “junk” or stored things (be it memories or blog posts) have the potential to make something truly beautiful in the end.

I often can’t wait to get to the finish. I want my careers or dreams to be here and now and complete. Yet, it is the process of building, of collecting, and making that will (hopefully) create something beautiful in the end. Largely because it will be something different than what I envision now. Because, like it happened once his wife entered the picture, people will have a say, they will change the plans I have and the way I envision the future, and inevitably make it better.

Man. That is truly encouraging.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living : Beau Miles

Two TEDTalks by Adam Grant Redefine Success and What it Means to be Original

There’s a lot here worth mentioning, but perhaps the greatest advice is, “Being original doesn’t mean being first. It means being different and better.”

Coupled with his next TEDTalk, “Are you a Giver or a Taker?”, the concept of being different and better takes on a whole new weight of responsibility. Being “better” doesn’t mean beating out the competition or winning, it can (and perhaps should) mean being more helpful.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“Not all takers are narcissists. Some are just givers who got burnt one too many times.”

1. Protect the Givers from Burnout

   1. Five Minute Favor:Find small ways to add large value to other people’s lives

   2. Lincioni

2. Encourage Help-seeking

   1. Givers must recognize that it’s okay to be a receive too

3. Get the Right People on the Bus

   1. One taker can ruin the givers

   2. One giver gets bombarded by the takers
      

“Agreeableness and disagreeableness is your outer vernier. How pleasant is it to interact with you? Whereas giving and taking are more of your inner motives. What are your values, your intentions for others?

“Disagreeable givers are the most undervalued people in our organizations because they are the ones that give us critical feedback that no one wants to hear but everyone needs to hear.”

"Success is not about winning a competition, its all about contribution . . . “the best way to succeed is to help other people succeed.”

Pronoia: the belief that other people are plotting your well being.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  : Adam Grant : TEDTalks

Sensible Human Things

There are reasons to fear. But there is also, and much more so, reason to hope.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

Joaquin and Kurt : A conversation about life

There is just so much about this video that I love.

One, his perspective on winning, on greatness, and on how we handle moments of power: “to give a voice to the voiceless.” For whatever reason, those who can act have been given a platform from which to stand and an allowance into our homes and minds and hearts. For many, that is an incomprehensible responsibility, and for many others an opportunity for further gain and self adulation. Those who use that platform for the benefit of others are the ones that no only last the test of time, they significantly impact the world and make it a better place.

Two, his perspective on animals and sentient beings. What I love about this is that it isn’t popular, that it isn’t something I believe in, and that it is probably easily considered radical. But we need people like this (to an extent) because it keeps bringing us back to the center. Without people who challenge our core beliefs, who question our way of living, or who critique our most basic understandings of life (like eating meat), we would easily fall off the cliff of radicalism. Us meat eaters need the Joaguin’s of the world to bring us back to center. And he needs the meat eaters of the world to pull him and his circle back.

Three, this whole damn thought:

We fear the idea of personal change because we think we have to sacrifice something to give something up. But human beings at our best are so inventive and creative and ingenious, and I think that when we use love and compassion as our guiding principles, we can create, develop, and implement systems of change that are beneficial to all sentient beings and the environment . . .

I have been a scoundrel in my life. I’ve been selfish, I’ve been cruel at times, hard to work with, and ungrateful. But so many of you in this room have given me a second chance. And I think that’s when we’re at our best, when we support each other - not when we cancel each other out for past mistakes, but when we help each other to grow, when we educate each other, when we guide each other towards redemption. That is the best of humanity . . .

Run to the rescue with love, and peace will follow.

Soon after watching Joaquin’s speech, I stumbled across this one, by Kurt Vonnegut, and it reminded me of an Austin Kleon Tweet where he mentioned how much he enjoyed reading several books at once because at times it seemed like they were “having a conversation with each other.”

I feel the same about Kurt and Joaquin.

Although a bit abstract in their connection, where I felt Mr. Vonnegut was contributing to the discussion was this. Joaquin was attempting to explain the best of humanity, to help each other find redemption. Vonnegut clarifies what many of us are thinking, “I’m a human too,” and my story looks radically different than hers or his or that person’s over there. Which is fine, because although we each have our own personal story with various possible story lines, the purpose of our story, of all GOOD stories, is to help each other find redemption.

That is the best of humanity! And we are all capable of discovering it, no matter where our story starts.

Unless, of course, you are destined to be a cockroach.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Kurt Vonnegut : Joaquin Phoenix

How Beasts Live : A lil Thursday Motivation

I tend to watch these quite often, but hardly ever post. And I’m not entirely sure why. But this one really got my attention and seemed more appropriate than most to post.

I especially loved the line, “Beasts love the process just as much as they love the prize.” And of course, “Be phenomenal; be forgotten.”

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

Tribalism: America's Greatest Weapon. America's Greatest Danger

The reason it’s so difficult to have a considered conversation about {religion, race, politics, gender, you name it} is that people feel threatened. Not by the implied criticism of the rituals or irrationality of a particular , but because it feels like criticism of their faith” (pg. 82).

Below are two videos about the Evergreen State controversy, surrounded by Seth Godin quotes from his book Tribes: We Need You to Lead.

“Tribes,” Seth Godin writes, “are about faith - about belief in an idea and in a community. And they are grounded in respect and admiration for the leader of the tribe and for the other members as well” (pg. 9).

“In a battle between sides,” he continues, “the best one doesn’t necessarily win. No, the idea that wins is the one with the most fearless heretic behind it” (pg. 43).

“A fundamentalist is a person who considers whether a fact is acceptable to his religion before he explores it. As apposed to a curious person who explores first and then considers whether or not he wants to accept the ramifications” (pg 63).

“A curious person,” he writes, “embraces the tension between his religion ( politics , beliefs, whatever) and something new, wrestles with it and through it, and then decides whether to embrace the new idea or reject . . . It has to do with a desire to understand, a desire to try, a desire to push whatever envelope is interesting” (pg 63).

“Religion at its worst” and I think it’s best to use that term generically, including all things outside religion, “reinforces the status quo, often at the expense of our faith” (pg. 81). Or, at the expense or our integrity, morality, and humanity.

The secret “is to listen, to value what you hear, and then to make a decision eve if it contradicts the very people you are listening to . . . People want to be sure you heard what they said - they’re less focused no whether or not you do what they said'“ (pg. 129.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living : Education

An Island of Peace and Quiet

“You have to be at peace with the fact that something might happen, and you might not make it through,” says Alexandra de Steiguer, the caretaker for the Oceanic Hotel, in Brian Bolster’s short documentary, "Winter’s Watch." De Steiguer has spent the past 19 winters tending to the 43-acre grounds of the hotel, on Star Island, which sits 10 miles off the coast of New England. In the long, wintry off-season, she is the island’s sole inhabitant. (via)

Reminds me of The Light Between Oceans, the book not the movie (that was terrible) and really makes me want to visit the hotel during the winter months.

Can you imagine what you could do and think up with all that time?

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-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living : Short Films

Friday Thought : A Boy and His Dog

I listened to a great podcast recently, about a Boy and His Dog.

The boy, who had fallen on hard times, was selling his dog - his best friend - for a hundred dollars simply because he needed to eat. Being a writer wasn't paying any bills. Little Jimmy didn't really care, though. He wanted the nice dog, but for a better bargain. So Little Jimmy took advantage of the man and his plight and instead offered $25. The skinny kid sighed, knowing he needed to feed his wife and couldn't afford to feed his dog, and finally accepting $40.

Two weeks later, when a screen writer offered to buy that same dog for $200, Little Jimmy once again took advantage of the situation and refused to sell the dog for anything less than $15,000 AND a speaking role in the man's new and upcoming movie! The man had written the screenplay in four days and sold it for $35,000 dollars, only a few days prior.

The dog was Butkus. The skinny kid, Sylvester Stallone (pictured above). And the movie was Rocky.

Whenever I come to work, I am constantly encouraged and inspired by those of you who have chosen to live a Sylvester Stallone sort of life. You work hard, endure hardships, then rather than sitting in the mess of life, you find solutions. Thank you for being that for me, for your fellow colleagues, and most importantly, for the students who have the privilege of being in your presence.

I promise you, they notice.

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Old people doing parkour!

This is the most adorable yet hysterical thing I’ve seen in a long time.

And really, when I’m this old, I hope I am also this bold. These people are already braver than me.

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-N- Stuff  :  Humanity :  Documentaries  : Parkour

This 12-Year-Old painter has a serious voice

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-N- Stuff  :  Inspiring Art  : Great Big Stories

9/6/19 : Friday's Thoughtful Thought

I don't know if you experience themes in you daily life, I know I do. Often actually. Almost weekly, an idea or truth or topic will somehow align itself perfectly and continually show up randomly throughout my days. Sometimes the themes are large and heavy, like the concepts of justice and humanity. Other times its something simple, like the importance of Hamlet being performed in prison. Other times it is something dark, like the role hate plays in our lives and surrounding society. My favorite "week of themes", though, was the one when Russia continually invaded my space and I was then fortunate enough to learn how three Russian men, at different times, prevented all out war against the US, saving thousands of lives.

This week was another one of those weeks, with the theme being, "You are the sum of the five people you hang out with most." It started with an email from my boss, Mr. Thompson, and ended with an early morning conversation with a fellow colleague, Mr. Truax, when he shared how most all of his teaching accolades can be traced back to his early years and the mentors he surrounded himself with. Between the two bookends, this theme continually crept into my thoughts through podcasts (Your Weird, by The Minimalists), my current morning reading (The Art of Gathering: How we Meet and Why it Matters, by Priya Parker), conversations with my son about whom he chooses to hang out with, conversations with some of staff about whom they decide to hang out with, and a conversation with my big sister about whom we decide to "let into her arena" (a phrase from Brene Brown and her brilliant Netflix special, A Call to Courage).

I appreciate the concept that we are the sum of the five people we hang out with most, largely because it’s true! Think of students and how the groups they cluster with are greater than the any of the present individuals, how it encourages kids to act and think in ways they may never do on their own (negative and positive). Think about the people we go to when we're tired or scared or hurt and how the advice they give, and the direction they point us toward greatly impacts the kind of people we are and will become. We are, most often, the sum of the five people we hang out with most.

But it isn't just the people that impact us. It's also the stories we surround ourselves with. News stories, the novels and non-fiction we choose to read, the movies and TV programs we binge or watch on a nightly basis, the podcasts we listen to, and the music that entertains us. These also play a crucial role in the summing up of who we are, how we interpret life and the world around, and how we choose to interact with that life and the world around.

This notion, this truth, that we are the sum of what we CHOOSE to surround ourselves with is deeply comforting to me because it means that although we are greatly susceptible to our surroundings, we are also in complete control. WE CAN CHOSE WHO WE LISTEN TO AND THE STORIES WE SURROUND OURSELVES WITH!!!

Who or what kind of stories are you surrounded by? Do they encourage you to sit in the stink and muck of the situation? Or do they sniff once and then move on and toward a solution? Do they feed frustration or hope? Are they healthy? Or are they toxic?

Because we are not water, simply following the path of least resistance, completely characterized by our immediate surroundings. We are human - we’re alive! - and therefore have a choice on how to respond, how to think, and how to ensure we are healthy by purposefully surrounding ourselves with people and ideas and stories that, as Kim Chambers says, "normalize greatness."

Who are your five that make up the sum of who you are? And perhaps more importantly, what are they - and you - making?

The answer to these questions has been on my heart and mind a lot this week.

May we all work and play and live like Calvin. And then inspires others to do the same.

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-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts

8/30/19 : Friday's Thoughtful Thought

We moved into our new home almost three months ago, and for almost three months I have been putting off two simple tasks: fixing the back door to the house and fixing the bottom shelf in my closet. This last weekend I finally got to them both, and it took me less than 5 minutes to complete the task. Seriously. What was strange, though, was that it wasn't until after they were fixed that I realized just how annoying they truly were. Even now, when I walked near the back door or into my closet, there is a noticeable missing of anxiety that I wasn't even aware was there. With their broken presence gone, I truly do feel a lot better!

I don't know about you, but I tend to do this often. I ignore a simple task that nags at me everyday for little reason other than I just don't want to do it, or because I have other "more pressing things to do." But in reality, taking a literal 5-10 minutes out of my day to fix whatever it is that needs fixing truly relieves me of unneeded anxiety or annoyance, providing more space and patience to deal with the bigger, more pressing things.

Do you have something like this? Have you already noticed a broken or misunderstood teaching procedure? A squeaky or jammed drawer? The grumblings of a possible disruptive student or behavior? Or is there something else either in your classroom or home that, every time you see it, use it, or think about it brings even the slightest discomfort ? If so, make time this weekend to fix it, now, before the year gets into it's groove, and relieve yourself of the little yet constant annoyance that will surely pester you for the rest of the year.

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-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts