What's your favorite burner?

I have started this email several times. Each time, I delete it, stare off for a while, and then start again. The words change each time, but the theme stays the same: connection.

I'm reading The Giver to Mrs Bahmiller's Connection class, and a recent line struck me. "They have never known pain," it reads, and "the realization made him feel desperately lonely." I think many of us experience the same, and not because those around us have never known pain, but because we are often too afraid to share our pain. We hold it in, hide it, or try our best to mask it for all the reasons why we do. Fear, embarrassment, or whatever else.

There is also a weird realization that, at times, we can be surrounded by people and still feel alone. I see it in a somewhat comical way with our MSers. More than a few times, when investigating a situation, they will refer to their "good friend." When asked, "And what's their name?" more times than not, they will only know their first name. Sometimes, they won't know either, yet they still consider them a good friend! I shake my head in amazement, but not for too long because I am not too far off. I may know the names of the people I work with, but do I know anything more? I see them daily, but could I tell you their kids' names, what their spouse does for work, or which stovetop burner is their favorite? 

Sometimes yes. Often times no. 

This isn't bad, necessarily, but I don't love it either. Largely because of that line from The Giver and the realization that because no one could understand him, because no one could connect with or relate to him in any way, he felt "desperately lonely." 

How many of our students feel this way? Surrounded by students and seen by staff but fully disconnected?

How many of our staff might come to work, teach their butts off, and then head home feeling unknown?

How many of our friends do we connect with, send memes and GIFs to, laugh with at the bar, or greet in church yet never truly connect with? 

I know I'm guilty of all three. Which is probably fine and mostly normal. But I still don't like it. I know I can do better. That I need to do better. 

So here is my unsolicited challenge to you:) . . . Think of one person from each of the above categories (student, colleague, family or friend) and intentionally connect with them. Spend seven minutes listening to them, checking in on them, and searching for information beyond your typical conversation or banter - see if you can discover their favorite stovetop burner. 

At the very least, you will have spent 21 minutes listening to another's stories. 

At the very best, you will ensure someone does not feel "desperately lonely." And I would wager, neither will you.

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

Friday Thought : Bucket by Bucket

Last night, while hauling concrete out of a basement, the young man working with me dropped his buckets and said through exhaustion, "I feel like this pile isn't getting any smaller. " 

And it reminded me of education. Of parenting. Of life. 

At times, the task at hand seems insurmountable. At other times, it feels like we aren't making a bit of difference, making any progress. Minus the blisters on our hands, what is there to show for all that we've done? 

But if we stop and look at where we've come from, we CAN see progress. It just takes time, dozens (if not hundreds) of conversations, and continuous and methodical acts, done over and over again before we can see all that has been accomplished. 

Large and seemingly impossible tasks are rarely completed quickly or with a sudden wave of action. More often than not, they conclude slowly, methodically, one small bucket load at a time. 

Luckily, just like the task of hauling shattered concrete, as educators, parents, and people, we are not asked to do this alone. Others with buckets and sweat on their brow remind us of how far we've come, encourage us to take a break when needed, and inspire us to keep hauling. 

Because the pile is getting smaller. Our dreams are getting closer, our debts getting smaller, our children are growing in character. Bucket by every friggen bucket. 

Just because it doesn't feel like it, doesn't mean it isn't happening.

A basement half-cleared of debris is proof. 

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

#doGREATthings!

Give. Reflect. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : Blog

Friday Thought : Clean on the Other Side

One of my favorite movies is Shawshank Redemption.

And one of my favorite scenes is near the end when Andy Dufresne escapes the prison, Morgan Freeman's voice narrates:

"Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of *poop* smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want to​. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile . . . and came out clean on the other side."

We are all crawling through our own unique rivers of poop. Some are work-related. Some are personal. All are real and smelly. What I love most about the quote above is the challenge, the reminder, to endure these times of absolute *poop* in such a way that when it ends, we too can come out "clean on the other side."

And we do so by shouldering each other burdens, even when we are tired, stressed, and overwhelmed.

We do so by leaving our hardships and hurts at the door and loving our neighbors, students, and coworkers anyways.

We do so by leaning into hard conversations, with empathy and grace.

We do so by battling against the “survival mode” mentality of hardship, by denying the lure of complacency, and by refusing to allow our circumstances to dictate who we are and what we do.

I know this is easier said than done, but if it is never said, it is rarely done. And I want it to get done.

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

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.