Friday Thought : Elevator Thinking

I recently listened to a podcast where the innovation of elevators was addressed, and it got me thinking . . .

In the early stages of elevator invention, a great deal of time was spent considering how to make them faster because waiting several minutes, in a small space, in awkward silence, is uncomfortable for everyone. The problem was, because of safety, they couldn't make the elevators go faster. They were stuck.

So, what then? If we can't improve the product, how do we achieve our goal?

Answer: Change the experience. 

Instead of spending time and energy working on how to reduce the time spent in the elevator, innovative minds shifted towards changing how they spent time in the elevator. Soon after, elevator music was introduced. Then mirrors. They focused on the experience rather than the outcome. And in doing so, they achieved their desired outcome: make the elevator ride faster, and less awkward.

And this had me thinking . . .

As an Educator:

Educators are problem solvers by nature. When we encounter a problem, be it academic or behavior, we solve it. We create intervention plans, develop and/or modify curriculums, and do whatever else is needed in order to achieve the desired outcome.

The problem is, we get stuck thinking of how to improve the product rather than considering how to change the experience.  And sometimes, that keeps us in a box of innovative thinking. 

Where can I shift my thinking away from large-scale, “vertical” thinking? Because sometimes, like the speed of an elevator, there are problems that cannot be improved - they are what they are - and instead of fixing the problem, I need to change the experience with the problem.

As a Husband:

Often times I spend a great deal of time considering how to improve my marriage with major changes/interventions, when really, I should simply focus on the surrounding "experiential" things that bring me to the same desired outcome.

Marriage counseling, although often helpful, isn’t always needed. Sometimes, instead of considering large-scale changes or interventions, I need to be more mindful of how I greet my wife in the morning, respond to her when she's having a hard day, and spend more time considering ways to bless/encourage her. If I change the experience, I can often achieve my desired outcome of a healthier relationship, more intimate conversations, and a more confident, secure wife.

As a Person:

I am a “fix it” sort of person. My wife says I am incapable of resting, largely because I cannot sit and do nothing. I have to be working on something, improving something, building something.

I also struggle with the impatient belief that my efforts will produce instant (or instant-ish) success or change. And there are very few things in life that have such quick and immediate outcomes.

Elevator thinking has encouraged me to be patient. And to consider the Prayer of Serenity:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; and Wisdom to know the difference.

Elevator thinking encourages me to change what I can. But when I can’t change it, instead of simply accepting it with a hands-up, I give up sort of mentality, it asks that I change THE EXPERIENCE around the things I cannot change.

Elevator thinking is still active, even when we can’t do anything about. It is the difference between blind optimism (Good Vibes Only!) and active optimism that accepts the reality of the situation, while also doing something about it.

Where in your classrooms and schools, relationships and life interactions, can you get outside the box of Linear Elevator thinking (must go faster!) and move towards Horizontal Elevator thinking (just add mirrors!)?

Where can you change the experience?

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

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : Blog

Friday Thought : Gap of Knowledge vs Curse of Knowledge.

photo by @justinmcroberts

In Make it Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die, Chip and Dan Heath mention "the curse of knowledge." 

The curse of knowledge is when we become so familiar with something (an idea, way of life, purpose statement) that we can no longer remember what it was like to live without it. And because it is so familiar to us, we struggle to relate to those who don't understand it. In our minds, the concept is so simple; in theirs, it is complex and confusing. 

In a recent conversation with an old friend, I was convicted of how this divide of knowledge impacts our relationships with parents. 

As educators, we understand schools. The routines, expectations, norms, and the day-to-day pulse. We read books about learning and classroom culture, we attend conferences, listen to podcasts, and chat with colleagues. We eat, sleep, and breath education. And because we do, we cannot imagine what it would be like not to know so much about our schools, our classroom, or education at large.

Many of our parents, however, have a limited understanding of all that happens within a given school day. When they visit our school or chat with us on the phone, they come to us with gaps of knowledge. And the problem with gaps of knowledge is NOT that there are unknowns, it is how we fill the unknown. 

Our brains are pretty amazing at filling in the blanks of missing information. We take what we know (or think we know) and quickly fill in the gaps of knowledge or understanding. This practice, although normal and natural, often creates a false or incomplete reality of the people, places, and things we are trying to understand.

Our parents do this all the time. Especially those who have a natural mistrust of schools. Especially those who have had limited experiences. They take a single conversation we have about their child, generalize it, and then fill in all the unknown gaps with unfair, at times unkind, but almost always incomplete information. 

And we wonder why, when working through conflict, it feels more like a battle than a brainstorm.

Many of our parents have a misunderstanding of what we do and who we are because they have limited knowledge and experience of the educational system. Many educators have a misunderstanding of parents' perspectives because we forget what it's like to have gaps in our knowledge of that educational system.

My goal, and my encouragement to you, then, is twofold:

1. Tell your story, often and in a variety of ways. Call parents and celebrate your students/their children, email stories of the week that simply provide insight into your days, post random moments of life on social media. Fill in the gaps of knowledge with actual stories of what you're doing, who you are, and why you do what you do. 

2. Give grace. Many of our parents have no clue what we do or how we do it - how could they unless they walk in our shoes? When they come in, then, frustrated and full of incomplete assumptions, listen. Hear their concerns, listen to their stories, and look for the deeper fear that is almost always present. For as my friend said, "We aren't afraid of the dark, we are afraid of what we imagine is in the dark." And what we imagine is almost always scarier than what is real. 

And the same applies to teachers, principals, and support staff towards our students and their families.

Educators have a misunderstanding of our students because we have limited knowledge and experience of their homes, their families, and their lives. We have some knowledge and understanding - what we see and experience during the school day - but what happens after they leave is unclear. We have large gaps of knowledge that are often filled in with what we think we know.

Understanding this deficiency not only allows us to grow in our empathy with parents, as we try to understand the fear and confusion of life and decisions, it also opens the door for curiosity, for questions, and for new discoveries. Instead of resting in our gaps of knowledge, we seek further and deeper understanding. Which, in the end builds us together rather than keeps us apart.

Whenever parents and educators come together, often times, one side suffers from the curse of knowledge, the other from the knowledge gap.

And no matter our role, be it parent, teacher, or educational leader, our task is to turn on the lights. For when we do, we fill in the gaps and provide a firm foundation from which we can build relationships with parents, community members, students, and each other. We create a culture of understanding and trust, and we eradicate fear. 

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

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : Blog

Friday Thought : Making it Personal

“Don’t take it personal,” I found myself saying to multiple teachers this week, and I’ve been wrestling with it ever since.

The first time was with a teacher whom I had to intervene with and step on her toes a bit with a decision she didn’t particularly like. The other was with a teacher who was struggling with a student who was physically and verbally attacking her, “Why does he have to be so cruel?” she said through puddling tears. “Don’t take it personal,” I said to both of them and instantly regretting it because how could they not? As an educator, we pour our lives into this job. We sacrifice family, personal time and finances, we devote our hearts to the people we live with and serve. We give our whole person. How can it not be personal?

This past week, instead of saying or believe that we “shouldn’t take it personal,” I’ve begun to wonder if making it personal is exactly what we should be doing. When it isn’t personal, when its calculated, cold, and non-relational, that’s when bad things happen. That’s when we make decisions that are based solely on budgets rather than considering the people. When it isn’t personal we make decision based on numbers and forget about the people - the very thing we are here to help and serve!

With the first teacher, the one I offended by making a calculated decision, because she took it personal we had to have a heart-to-heart conversation. We had to GET personal. And for almost an hour, we talked out the situation, why it happened, how it could have been handled differently. Then we discussed how to move forward. We BOTH acknowledge our own humanity in the situation and sought to understand the others. We made it VERY personal, which allowed us to reconcile, to connect more sincerely, and to build trust. Because it was personal we dug deeper, cried more tears, and learned a great deal more about each other, our triggers and stressors, and about our person. Because it was personal we can now trust future decisions because we trust the person.

Making it personal allowed us to heal, and to grow.

It also allows room for empathy, as it did for the teacher with her abusive student.

Last week, this particular teacher was in my office several times because a kiddo that we’ve been working hard with was having a difficult week. He was constantly running out of the classroom, was vulgar and disrespectful, and had become increasingly violent with a few students, staff, and particularly this teacher. “When is enough, enough?” She asked, wiping tears from her face, “He’s literally beating the shit out of me.” And he was. But sending him home wasn’t an option. So we continued one, throwing darts of ideas at the wall, hoping at least one would stick.

Then, we had our Christmas concert.

We were nervous about how this young child would do, if he could handle the pressure and the audience, but we decided to try anyway with multiple staff nearby, ready to pounce if ever he needed our support. Which he did. Just not in the way we anticipated.

Throughout the concert, this little man stood on the stage, without moving and without singing, arms crossed, and pouting. Never once did he even mouth a single word to any song. Then, when it was over, when the parents gathered around to take pictures and wrap up their kids in hugs and kisses and praise, this little boy crumbled into his teachers arms and cried. “My parents didn’t come,” he said between sobs.

Later that day, that same teacher was in my office crying again. But not for herself. She was crying for this little child and asking over and over, “What can we do for him?” She could barely control her grief for this child.

After a while, we brainstormed many ideas, but mostly we talked about how she shouldn’t take it personal. “When he goes off, it isn’t about you. He’s reacting to something else.” But like the teacher above, the moment I said it, it felt wrong. Or at least incomplete.

Yes, don’t take it personal in that when someone is unkind or rude, often times, it isn’t about you at all, it’s about something bigger, something more personal to them. Behaviors are often times signs of communication - especially for kiddos - and we shouldn’t take them personal. But yet, we also should take it personal because than we can know best how to act, how to care for and love those in need because we understand what it means to hurt, to suffer, and to need grace and compassion. Taking personal means you can BE personal!

Seeing this young child as a complicated person allows his teacher - allows our school - to game plan ideas and solutions that are PERSONAL to him. Making it personal makes us more invested, more empathetic, and more patient.

On a day when TikTok is advocating “Shoot Up Your School Day,” Seeing the people behind our decisions and at the other end of our actions is exactly what we need in education right now. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because then we get to wrestle with the best and most important part of our jobs: the human being stuff.

Don’t take it person. Make it personal.

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-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : The Right thing to do

Recently, a teacher was struggling with a difficult decision. Help another, or help herself. Without much deliberation, she chose to help another.

"You okay?" I asked.

"No." She said, "But it's the right thing to do." And then, with a smile on her face, she accepted the burden that was not hers to bear and went about her day.

This short interaction encouraged the hell out of me. It also reminded me of a situation that happened a few weeks ago with two of my struggling students.

One student (let’s call him Shawn) spent an hour or so walking around my table, purposefully pumping into and kicking my chairs, and generally being pissed off. When he finally sat down, I tried talking with him. He wanted no part of it.

“You only get this way when something is bothering you,” I said. “So what happened?”

He said nothing.

“I heard you had a rough weekend,” I continued, “You wanna tell me about it?”

He started to speak, in half sentences, sharing about the weekend he had at a distant relative’s house. “She was so mean,” he said, speaking of his cousin, but he couldn’t really articulate why or how. He did, however, begin to get worked up again. Until another student joined us in my office.

When little Timmy (not his real name) entered the office, I wasn’t shocked. He was a cute little kid with little structure at home, zero discipline, and was routinely off his meds. He had been in and out of my office all morning, but this time, I didn’t have time for him.

Shawn, however, did.

“I need to go help in the cafeteria” I said. Which was true. We were down several aides that day and we needed extra hands and eyes on the kiddos as they ate their lunch. “Shawn,” I said, “I need you to watch over Timmy.” Which was not true. My secretary and the counselor were nearby and could easily have taken over. But I had a plan.

“Shawn,” I said again, grabbing some books, blank pieces of papers, and a few crayons, “I need you to read or draw with Timmy so I can go help in the cafeteria. Can you do that for me?” He didn’t really answer, just grunted, and moved towards the table. I left.

Over the next couple hours, I checked in on Shawn and Timmy but didn’t interrupt because they were doing great! Shawn even worked on his homework as he helped Timmy draw and color. You could hear their laughter throughout the whole office.

Then, after bringing Timmy back to his class, Shawn was finally ready to talk.

Shawn didn’t need to sit and focus on his needs, on how he was hurt and frustrated. Nor did he need me to remove tasks and responsibilities from his day. He needed to get outside himself, to consider another, and to get to work. He needed a bigger purpose.

When we’re only thinking about ourselves we only think about ourselves. But when we consider others, when we see beyond our pain and sorrow and frustrations we see that there are others who are in need. Helping them gives us purpose and a better more clearer perspective.

“No,” my teacher said, knowing full well what the extra work and stress was going to mean for her. But she also knew would it would mean for the one she was enduring it for. “It’s the right thing to do,” she said, truly joyful.

Because it was. Because it is.

Friday Thought : Normalize Greatness! And then rest.

Earnest Shackleton

"Normalize Greatness." I shared this quote at the beginning of the year, and as we head into our final week of the semester it has repeatedly come back to mind.

The days leading up to Christmas break are tough. We're tired, kids are antsy, projects and papers are due, and well, we're tired! For some, very tired.

Yet, the end is near! Now is the time to dig in and finish strong. Which can be very difficult to do.

So, if you will allow, I'd like to (hopefully) encourage you with this:

I recently finished the book Endurance, which I shared about a few weeks ago (the story of Ernest Shackleton), and I could not help but be fully inspired. Not only did Shackleton and his men brave and survive the frozen south, loving in relative contentment for over a year on the floating ice, but once they finally discovered land it quickly became apparent that it had nothing to offer and that they must quickly move on. So Shackleton and a few choice others set sail for a larger island some several hundred miles away. They were guided by the stars alone, through some of the worst oceans our world has to offer, for roughly two weeks, never really sleeping and quickly running out of water. But they survived and reached their needle-in-a-haystack- destination. Quickly, however, they discovered they were on the wrong side, and because of boat and weather conditions, they could not sail around. So Shackleton and two others decided to walk across the island. The only problem was nobody ever had, because the "saw-tooth thrust through the tortured upheavel of mountain and glacier that falls in chaos to the northern sea. In short, it was impassable" (pg 327).

Shackleton knew it. The men knew it. But, there was no choice. So they ventured on and conquered the just-about-impossible.

"The crossing of South Georgie has been accomplished only by one other party. That was almost forty years later, in 1955, by a British survey team . . . that party was made up of expert climbers and was well equipped with everything needed for the journey {and well fed!}. Even so, they found it treacherous going" (pg 347).

Yet, Shackleton and his men survived. They were also not surprised when they did. Because they had normalized greatness.

This has been extremely convicting for me lately because it is a tangible reminder of how great our bodies and minds can be. But then, the second I say it, the second I begin to believe it and start to live it out, another very real truth comes to mind. The plight of Boxer.

Boxer, the beloved horse from the brilliant short novel Animal Farm, held firm to his motto, "I will work harder" living it out daily, reciting it often, and becoming a great inspiration to his fellow farm animals. His motto encouraged him to get up earlier, work later, pull harder, and, at times, carry the entire success of the farm upon his broad shoulders.

But then, he fell. He broke. And was quickly sold to the local knackers.

Shackleton's story is a great reminder of what we can endure, what we can accomplish, and what we can overcome, if only we normalize greatness and get after it!

Boxer is a great reminder that we can't always be doing treacherous and crazy things all the time. At times, we need a break, to step away, and to heal.

As we head into our final week, remember Shackleton and continue to normalize greatness. Then, as we head into our Christmas break, remember Boxer and get some rest. A new journey will be waiting for your return:)

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : Be Earnest

This week's #PositiveSignThursday word is "Earnest" which means (in my own words, anyway), being a man or woman of sincere conviction, of behaving in a way that aligns with one's moral compass and character. Or, as David Goggins recently said, "The truly successful people in life have learned one thing - and it might be the greatest separator between average and becoming nuclear!!! - and that is learning to do when you don't want to do!"

This word has become an unintended theme in my recent readings, starting with the story of Earnest Shackleton (how great of a name is that!!!) and his journey throughout the South Pole. Before that, was Randy Pausch, a Carnegie Mellon professor who was diagnosed with cancer and, with only months left to live, gave his Last Lecture. He then turned his final words into a book, which my librarian was kind enough to recommend.

Below are a few of my favorite quotes from the book.

“There’s a lot of talk these days about giving children self-esteem. It’s not something you can give; it's something they have to build . . . you give them something they can't do, they work hard until they find they can do it, and you just keep repeating the process” (pg. 37).

“The brick walls {in life} are there for a reason. They’re not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something” (pg 52).

“No matter how bad things are, you can always make things worse” (pg 88).

“It’s a thrill to fulfill your own childhood dreams, but as you get older, you may find that enabling the dreams of others is even more fun” (pg. 115). In other words, what teachers do, almost every single day!

“Complaining does not work as a strategy. We all have finite time and energy. Any time we spend whining is unlikely to help us achieve our goals. And it won’t make us happier” (pg 139).

“When you’re frustrated with people, when they’ve made you angry, it just may be because you haven’t given them enough time . . . in the end, people will show you their good side. Almost everybody has a good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out” (pg 143)

“Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right” (pg. 147). The power of "I AM"!!!

Rocky didn’t care if he won the fight, “He just didn’t want to get knocked out” . . . “It’s not how hard you hit. It’s how hard you get hit . . . and keep moving forward” (pg 147).

“Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted. And experience is often the most valuable thing you have to offer” (pg 149). Balance Like a Pirate says, “We do not learn from experience . . . we learn from reflecting on experience”

I would encourage you to print out one or two of the above lines and hang them in a place where you can see them often, as a reminder, to be earnest in your days and decisions and reactions. As a reminder to not live merely by how we feel, but by what we know to be good and right and true. To live by conviction!

To be earnest.

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