September

Friday Thought : A Far Greater Achievement

I recently stumbled across a fantastic blog entitled Gaping Void that is full of short, inspirational, and encouraging thoughts. 

This is a rewording from a section of their most recent post:

I’m pretty sure at the end of my life no one is going to wax lyrical about some staff meeting I ran or the class I taught in 2023. But, if I do my best to lead with values, purpose and principles, they just might say that I was a decent person. And to me, that’s a far greater achievement. (You can read more of the short post here).

Throughout this week, as I've wrestled with how to best and most reliably communicate with parents, tried to iron out kinks in the school's procedures, and continually dealt with student behavior, the conviction of HOW I do the things I do has continually come to mind.

I don't want to focus solely on checking off all the boxes on my to-do list, for although they are important, they don't change the world. They merely keep it moving. HOW I check those boxes has a much greater impact on the students, the staff, and the surrounding community. And I need to constantly be aware of that. Improve on that. 

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

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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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 never stop, they might.

And if we knock long enough, I am convinced that they eventually will. And when that happens, 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.

Friday Thought : The Patience of Repair

Friday Thoughts are back!

After taking the summer off, it’s time to get back into weekly reflections.

But before I do, I wanted to share a quick update. In hopes of exercising my personal discipline of reflection, I have started posting Daily Thoughts, Monday - Saturday. If you’re interested in seeing them, please follow me on Facebook or TikTok.


Now, a Friday Thought:

Often times it feels that things break and crumble much faster than it takes to build them. And that, for me at least, is super frustrating. Especially when it’s something I care about.

Sometimes, our humanity is responsible for the destruction. Be it from our selfish nature or limited understandings, we make decisions that have destructive consequences - for ourselves and for others.

Other times, however, the destruction experienced is just part of life.

Over the summer my son broke his arm. It happened instantly, and for a 15 year old boy who was anxious for the adventures of summer, it was devastating. And not because of the pain, but because of the time it would take to heal.

And he is not alone.

Whenever we experience brokenness, be it of body, mind, or spirit, we - like my son - are eager to heal. And just like my son, we are anxious to heal as quickly as we were broken.

Wendell Berry, the legendary American novelist and poet, understood our desires, which is exactly why he warned us against them.

The temptation for us all is to believe that the solution needs to be as large as the problem itself; that we need a positive and equal reaction to every negative and destructive action.

The problem with this line of thinking, according to Berry, is that large-scale solutions rarely produce the desired and much needed outcomes needed or desired. In contrast, the best solutions are often small and meaningful decisions, made consistently over time. Fast and large reactions often create greater problems. Slow and portioned decisions allow for healing. Just like our human bodies.

As of today, my son’s arm is healed. It took a second to break and over 10 weeks to heal. Which, for many of us enduring our own brand of brokenness, doesn’t seem fair. But that is not for us to decide.

What we can decide is what to do with our time of healing.

We can keep showing up, we can keep trying and stepping out, and we can keep discovering new ways to help and notice others.


It takes a long time to restore things. It takes even longer to restore GREAT things.

But in the end, the wait is always worth it. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.


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

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.


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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.

Friday Thought : Leave it at the Door

This week, gratitude and generosity have been on my mind. Especially when times are hard or seem extremely bleak, it is hard to be grateful or full of generosity because, really, we’re just trying to survive, to put food on the table, and to not cry in front of the kids.

How do we move on from these moments of sadness? From these pits of despair?

I don’t know. But ensuring others don’t feel the same and trying to make them feel seen and heard and loved - even if just for a moment, sometimes seems to help. Not fully, not completely, but a little. It helps to know we’re helping.

This is what teachers do, almost daily. They give of themselves by leaving their shit at the door and loving the hell out of their students. They give, even when their marriages are a mess, their homes are in chaos, and their lives seems to be falling apart. Because that’s what quality teachers do. And as educational leaders, we must therefore work even harder to ensure that they are replenished, that they feel loved, appreciated, and known. We must fill them up.

Friday Thought : A Boy and His Dog

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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.

Friday thought: remembering 911

This photo was taken of Port Authority Police Officer Christopher Amoroso shortly before he went back into #2 World Trade Center and was killed in the collapse. (Photo by Todd Maisel/NY Daily News Archive via Getty Images)

This photo was taken of Port Authority Police Officer Christopher Amoroso shortly before he went back into #2 World Trade Center and was killed in the collapse. (Photo by Todd Maisel/NY Daily News Archive via Getty Images)

I saw this photo earlier this week and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Obviously, the gravity of the situation and the memories of this tragic day has been on all of our hearts and minds. But what struck me most about this photo, however, was the specificity of this man's actions, of this man's story.  I don't know about you, but I've never had to make such a decision, to put my life on the line or risk serious injury for another. But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it and wondered how I would respond in such a moment. Would I rescue those nearby? Or protect myself first? Not only did Officer Christopher Amoroso save the woman who needed his help, which clearly was a dangerous situation (his bruised eye), he returned to the scene and tried to save another.

This type of decision, this type of action, does not happen in a single moment. He didn't wake up that morning and decide, "I'm going to die a hero today." Instead, he probably woke with the same mindset he had the day before and the day before, and before, and before. Instead, he went about his day, acting similar to the many days before, routinely serving, thinking of others, and doing the right thing. How do I know that? Because conflict reveals our deepest truest selves. Because fear reveals what we care most about - ourselves? Or others? And when Officer Christopher Amoroso was confronted with one of the greatest conflicts our American soil has ever experienced, he chose to serve and protect others. He chose to be brave.

"Bravery," I tell my kiddos, "is not acting without fear. It's acting in spite of it, while you're surrounded with it, while you're immersed in it." I can only imagine how terrified Office Christopher Amoroso must have been. Yet, he still ran back to the burning towers, in hopes of saving another. Because he made that decision many days prior as he built himself into a routine of sacrifice, service, and bravery.

Doing the right thing - doing the hard thing - is a daily choice that becomes a habit, a reaction, and a lifestyle that allows us to do - when the time comes - the seemingly impossible. This is why small things matter, why character and integrity matter, and why holding that string that connects us all is so important. Because when we begin to falter, when our weaknesses begin to rear their ugly faces, we can look around and see our brothers and sisters holding us up inspiring us to stay strong, to do what is right and - if needs be - head back into burning buildings. 

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9/6/19 : Friday's Thoughtful Thought

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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.

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

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