Friday Thought : "You suck at your job!" And other truths.

AI generated image.

"You suck at your job," I was recently told by an angry parent.

"You're probably right," I responded. 

Shortly after, she picked up her child and I dealt with another student. 

Later that night, I was thinking about the interaction, and although my response was out of frustration, the more I thought about it, the more I agreed with the statement because I do. Not entirely, maybe. Or at least not holistically in how she said it, that she meant it. But the obvious truth is I'm not perfect - not even close. I probably even suck at portions of it. And although I'm not okay with it, it's reality. And it's where I'm at.

Because here's another truth bomb . . . When some of the staff started their teaching experience, I was a middle schooler! Which

Again, it doesn't make it okay, but it does make it okay because who among us is perfect? Is a master at their WHOLE craft, be it a profession, parenting, adulting, or simply just living? Who among us doesn't suck at something?

But also, who do you know that eager to do our jobs? Who is standing in line, ready to step into our shows, and shoulder our responsibilities?

The crickets are deafening. 

Which is why I think this scene so often. It's from the movie Fury, a WWII tank movie. And it is one of my favorites. 

Four men are sitting in a tank, waiting for a battle they cannot win when one of them - who has mastered very little in the art of war and combat - quotes the Bible, "'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"

Then suddenly, they are ready. They are prepared for battle. 

Not many of us suck completely at our jobs. But all of us feel that way at times. Some of us are even accused of it. Even exposed of it. But when the question is asked, "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" We are the few who stand and say, "Here am I. Send me!"

And I cannot think of a more courageous and noble thing - to do what needs to be done when no one else wants to do it. 
Thank you for doing it. Our world needs more people like you. Our world survives and thrives because of people like you.

Even when you suck at your job.

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

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Friday Thought : Light up the Room

I love this quote and have been thinking about it all week.

I don't ever want to be the kind of person who makes a decision because I hate another or want them to lose. I want to make decisions based on what is best for those around me because I want us all to win. 

As a quality person, I'm sure that is a no-brainer for you as well.

I do, however, find myself struggling a bit more when the decision could mean I lose, or lose out. Be it in opportunity, favor, or advancement of some sort (position, popularity, financial - whatever), when the fear of loss creeps in, the tendency to hold back suddenly flares up a bit stronger. Suddenly, my selfishness and desire to "win" get pushed to the front of the line. And I hate it. 

So I rebuke it, beat it back and vow to never let it happen again.

Then it does. Again and again. And I hate it. 

Last night,  "A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle," the quote read, "and the room gains everything," I thought. And I was reminded - yet again - of just how powerful purposeful giving can be. Be it time, materials, forgiveness and grace, or simply love, when we give, we do not lose something of ourselves, we simply add light to the room. 

And I love that. 

Lighting up the room . . . That's what I've been thinking about this week. 

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Friday Thought : Get Nervous Again! Make the leap.

When I was a kid, my family (and later my friends) would take weekend getaways to Turkey Run. The hikes were beautiful and the canoe trip was so much fun. Especially when we got to the bridge. 

I don't know how high it is, but I'm confident it's high enough to discourage many from jumping. Or, at the very least, create hesitation. I know I did. Every time, I would stand at the edge, consider it for several minutes, almost jump several times, then eventually leap. It was terrifying. But it was also invigorating. 

And in many ways, that's how I feel about March.

Much like the drive to Turkey Run, at the beginning of the school year, we are excited! We're pumped to meet and teach our students, and we're very clear with them about our norms and expectations. We're also very deliberate in our conversations and holding students accountable.

Then October hits and we plan for Halloween. December brings Christmas parties, January is filled with reunions and re-establishing routines, and February is blah. By March, we expect students to know how to behave, but with the winter months dragging on and on, it seems they - and we - have forgotten how to be. 

We're low on energy. 
I know I am, anyway. Maybe you are too.

This is why I am encouraging us all to Get Nervous Again. Make the Leap!!!

If it's a hard conversation with a student or students that you've been delaying because they should know better . . .  get nervous again and leap! Dive into it.

If you are somewhat snug in your routine of teaching but have something you've wanted to do but just haven't gotten around to it because of this or that excuse . . . get nervous again and try it!

If there is a job you've wanted to pursue, a conversation you've needed to have, or an opportunity you've kept on the shelf, please, get nervous again and leap!

It's always most terrifying right before we jump, a blur as we fall, and rejuvenating once we're done. It's what we talk about for the next year, until we stand yet again on the ledge, wondering if it is worth it. 

Which it is. Every single time. 

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Friday Thought : Show them they are real

Well, I didn't see this coming . . .

A few days ago, my buddy sent me a podcast entitled, "The Year of Taylor Swift." I was incredibly hesitant to listen, but because I trusted him, I decided to give it a listen. 

I am so thankful I did. 

Even if you are not a Swifty, her story of struggle, success, transparency, and brilliance is deeply intriguing. It is her ability to connect with millions of devoted fans, however, that is most impressive. If not convicting. 

Near the end of the episode, after the hosts walk us through her journey of success, betrayal, and redemption, they say this:

"Show somebody that they are real and you'll have them for life."

And I can't stop thinking about it. 

When sitting with my oldest daughter and she is expressing her frustrations and concerns about life, basketball, and our parenting, more often than not, my first inclination is NOT to be patient. Nor are my first words always helpful. Which is why she gets frustrated, quiet, and sometimes distant. 

Showing her that she and all of her middle school-sized emotions and fears are real is what brings her close, what opens her up to thoughts and input, because they are what make her feel loved, feel seen. It's what makes her feel real. 

When a parent calls and accuses me of "targeting {their} child" or "doing nothing" about the bullying their daughter is experiencing, often I want to defend, explain, and provide the bigger picture. Every time, it doesn't work. Not if it is my initial reaction, anyway, or my sole objective. Because it only validates what they already believe: that I don't see them. 

Allowing them to be frustrated, however, and affirming that what they are struggling with (even if I don't understand) provides them with what they need: an opportunity to be heard, to be real. And once that has been established, they are willing to accept a slightly different perspective of the situation. Because they trust us. 

And when they trust us, we have them for life. 

Dang. An episode about Taylor Swift . . . I did not see that coming. 

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

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Friday Thought : Things worth a Damn

Early in the week, the following quote came across my computer:

"Because anyone who has ever done anything worth a damn, knows that they probably weren’t the main beneficiaries of their efforts. Our work may have lit up the world, but we still remain down in the mud, somehow" (via). 

As educators, we understand this. We understand that no matter our good intentions, our allowances of second, third, and forty-third chances or how much we truly love and care for the students and staff around us, we will most definitely find ourselves, somehow, down in the mud of false accusations and unfair judgment. 

And that can be discouraging. Because it is. But only if we focus on the mud. And only if we interpret being in it as a bad thing. 

"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena," Theodore Roosevelt said, "whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood {and mud}. . . who spends himself in a worthy cause."

Mud pasted on our jeans or splattered on our faces is not the result of being trodden upon, it is the evidence of our work. Just like the mud the marks the efforts of a running back who gave his all in a hard fought game, or the dirt that marks two young girls collecting wood, so too we, as public servants and servant leaders, are marred and dusty-faced because we are all in. We don’t stand on the sideline or hide in timidity. We engage. We lean towards difficult solutions, wrestle with ugly realities, and embrace the hard conversations. We are muddy because our students are. Because life is. And we do not shy away.

We care more about cleaning the world than we do ourselves.

Thank you for that. It isn't always easy to get messy, to slip and fall, or to sit in the muck and the mire with our students, their parents, or the staff next door. But it is always right. 

As educators, it is our calling, above all else, to ensure others are the main beneficiaries of our labor for that is the core of education and the heartbeat of teaching! To embrace our gifts, our talents, and our resources and to proudly use them for the benefit of others. Because "doing something meaningful . . . will pay off in the end, it just might not pay off for {us}." As educators, we are okay with that because that is what we do. That is who we are. 

That is who you are.

Because you genuinely care, your work provides light to the world. The mud is proof that you were there.

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

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Friday Thought : Single Mothers Need Help, Too

I recently read a short articleAZsdf, “Do it for the Plot.” The article is about purpose. It states, 

"Whatever path we take, we are always confronted with the same question eventually:

Does my path (my life) make a good story? Does my narrative make sense? Is the narrative the one I hoped for, or at least, is it worth telling?

And if the answer is “no,” we are consumed by the regret, disappointment and bitterness of “the unlived life.” If the answer is “yes,” we can at least die knowing we gave it our best shot.

I don't know about you, but I am never content with the idea of leaving life unlived. I want to embrace my experiences, deeply learn from every engagement, and make a difference in the world around me. I want to do GREAT things! This also means I am often discontent. Mostly when I’m tasked with trudging through the mundane or seemingly insignificant tasks for they seem exactly that - mundane and insignificant.

Especially in the development and telling of my good story.

But then, this week, my wife was out of town and I was tasked with caring for our five children. Rather quickly, instead of a #DoGreatThings mindset, I was slowly reduced to a #SimplySurvive mindset. Especially after getting sick. Suddenly, I didn't care about living a good story or changing the world. I simply tried my best not to puke, forget a child somewhere, or lose my patience too quickly. 

And it convicted me. Single mothers need help, too.

We don't need to accomplish big and mighty things in order to have a compelling and purposeful life. We simply need to help. For although we may not tell the story of how we brought dinner to the single mother down the road or share with friends how we covered a shift for a coworker so they could run home and make dinner for their kids, that doesn't mean those stories aren't being shared, that they don't matter.

They may be boring and rather blah stories for us to tell, but for those we helped and served and provided a moment of reprieve for, those simple acts of service are the very moments, the very stories, that encourage and inspire them. They’re the stories that help keep them going. And they are their favorite stories to tell. 

They are also our favorite stories to hear.

Stories of service, when people step into moments of need and give a bit of their humanity remind us that it is the small and simple acts of kindness that move and change the world, not the grandiose. 

Helping the single mother won’t make the local news or circulate on social media. It doesn’t make a good story because it doesn’t change the world. But it can change hers and the little hearts she cares for. It can change their story.

And these moments are everywhere, all the time. But we miss them when we are consumed with our story. When, like the article asks us to, we are more concerned with the plot of our story than we are the characters in it.

For as Chis McCandless, the ultimate adventure-seeker and plot-builder discovered far too late,

happiness - life - things

are only real - only purposeful,

when shared.

Just like a good story.

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

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Friday Though : What we Focus on is what we See.

Just recently, while on a layover at the O’Hare Chicago airport, I overheard a man thanking the gentleman who was cleaning the urinals, and I was jolted for a moment. We don’t often see the man who cleans the toilets. Even less do we hear them thanked for their services.

But in that moment, I was aware of both. I was also suddenly aware of just how clean my urinal was.

On my way out, I too thanked the man for his diligence, and ever since, I’ve been trying to be more aware of those who selflessly and scrupulously serve my school and community, many of whom do so in the dark of the early morning or long after the last student has left for the day. Like the bus drivers who wake up extra early on October winter mornings and ensure our kids get safely and on time.

There are others too, of course. Like the kitchen staff and crossing guards, the engineers or custodians, and of course the office or support staff who are often unnoticed in their efforts because we have become accustomed to their presence and the role they play in ensuring our schools run so smoothly.  They aren’t ignored, but they aren’t fully seen either. Until they are absent. Until the many little things that they do so quietly and without applause or Facebook posts are left undone. Then, suddenly (and continuously), we are reminded that things don’t just happen on their own, that there are people working diligently behind the scenes, and that they desperately matter.

That what I’ve been thinking about this week. What am I focusing on? And what am I not seeing? In my home, my community, and in my school. Who is right in front of me yet not fully seen?

Or, when considering my students, what about them do I focus on (because it is obvious and consistent) yet fail to see? Because yes, that child is frustrating and rude and often struggles to follow our school-wide norms, but is that all that he or she is? Because if that is what I am focused on it will also be all that I see. And they are so much more than those mere behaviors.

For as my good friend recently said, “If all we see is the ugly in a person, we’re not looking hard enough.”

All of this, in a week where I stumbled across the inspiring story of Trea Turner, a baseball player in Philadelphia whose disastrous season was turned around by a standing ovation he did not deserve, have brought me to a goal for the month of November: Acknowledge the behavior; Applaud the potential.

For that student who is a constant disruption, we must focus on the behavior and acknowledge it as inappropriate. But we also need to see their whole person. Their gifts, their hopes, their potential, and we must applaud the hell out of them whenever possible. We must see all of them, and we must choose to love them entirely.

For that student who is excellent. Who gets straight A’s and volunteers for every student-lead club. We need to focus on their behavior and acknowledge its greatness. We need to applaud their potential to impact their community and future world, but we must also see the whole person. Their struggles, anxieties, and fears, and we need them to know that it is safe to be imperfect. We are still there for them, applauding our faces off, because we love them entirely.

For although we are focused on their behavior, we see their entire person. That is our focus for the month of November, and I am so excited to see what will come of it!

Then, just yesterday, on my drive home from a perfectly imperfect educational week, it dawned on me . . . Does this not also apply to my staff? My family? And to the man who cleans the urinals at the airport? Does it not apply the the stranger on the streets or the neighbor across the street?

Does it not apply to the face I see in the mirror, every single friggen morning?

What I focus on is what I see. And I want to be more intentional about seeing so more! About celebrating more, forgiving more, and applauding more. Because that’s what brings us together and inspires people to better. That’s what encourages us to be human.

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

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Friday Thought : Thank you for being brave

I am currently reading, Everything Sad is Untrue, by Daniel Nayeri, and this paragraph has really stuck with me these past few days:

“Does writing poetry make you brave? It is a good question to ask. I think making anything is a brave thing to do. Not like fighting brave, obviously. But a kind that looks at a horrible situation and doesn’t crumble. Making anything assumes there’s a world worth making it for.”

Education is all of this.

To all my educational brothers and sisters, thank you for being brave, for looking at the constant and continuous mess of life (and the lives of those you teach and serve), and for choosing to not let it and you and those around you crumble.

Thank you for being brave, for creating! And for assuming there's a world worth making it all for.

Lastly, a poem, from Everything Sad is Untrue:

That fly

Sailing

On a leaf

Of hay

On a sea

Of Donkey piss

Raised his head

A sea captain

"Obviously the best thing to be in that story is the donkey. But if not that, then the fly who is an adventurer of new lands and not a refugee. But definitely don't be the pee river. And definitely don't be the leaf, wallowing in it."

I'm not entirely sure how this applies to us all, but it seems encouraging . . . and brave. Ten points to the person who can provide a fantastic interpretation of the poem, as related to education. Good luck! And . . . . go!

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

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Friday Thought : Don't Take it Personal. Make it Personal

"Don't take it personal, make it personal."

I gave this advice to a fellow principal a few weeks back. "If we take it personally,” I said, “we get defensive. If we make it personal, we take action. We do what is best."

As educators, we are in the business of taking action, doing what is best for staff and students, and helping others succeed. The problem is, this profession is so personal!

We give up time with our family, pour into other people's kids before our own, and sacrifice COUNTLESS of unpaid hours so that OTHERS may flourish. 

Only we know how much time we spend planning, thinking, and worrying about our profession, our students, so when we are criticized, scolded, offered unsolicited suggestions, or overhear/read unflattering comments about who we are and what we do, it is difficult to not be offended.

When a parent yells or accuses of not caring for their child, we take it personally.

When a Facebook group rants about the decisions we’ve made, we take it personally.

When students refuses to work in our class or asks to be moved from our classroom, we take it personally. 

And when we take it personal, we get defensive. When we get defensive, oftentimes, we lean towards making decisions that are best for us, for our ego, rather than what is best for the parent, the student, the situation.

I know I do, anyway. Because I care so much about what I do and about who I serve, because I know the sacrifices my family makes - the sacrifices I make - whenever I am challenged or criticized, whenever my intention are questioned it is easy for me to get take it personally, to get defensive.

It is easy for me to easily fall into the trap of protecting me.

But then, I am reminded of truths such as this: "A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in." Said another way, a society grows great when people care more about others than they do themselves. Which, as an educator, is exactly what you do, each and every day.

When we take it personal we get defense, we point the finger, and complain that there is no shade. When we make it personal we take action. We plant trees.

That is what I've been thinking about - and wrestling with - this past week: "Don't take it personal, make it personal."

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Friday Thought : "Liar!" And the shield that protects us.

Yesterday, one of my teachers and I were involved in a phone conversation with a woman who believed something inaccurate about our school and norms. Each time I tried to explain or clarify, the woman on the other end would interrupt by yelling, "LIAR!" 

The conversation ended without much reconciliation or agreement.

Later in the day, my teacher texted me, "I know I shouldn't be, but I'm mad." 

"Don't be:)" I texted back, "Integrity is doing the right thing . . . which we (especially you) have done. False accusations sting, but they are merely that . . . false. Because we (know) we have done the right thing." 

Fortunately for us, we also have documentation.

I share this because, as educators and people who work with people, who experience the valleys and peaks of humanity, and who are required to engage in hard and honest conversations, we are an easy target for false or misleading accusations. And that can be extremely frustrating. Even hurtful.

Integrity, however, is our shield. Not against false accusations, but against fear and uneasiness. Against it ruining our day and the opportunities to impact the people around us. 

We can be mad at false accusations because they hurt, of course they do! (I know I get mad when falsely accused . . . so maybe I need to edit my response to Mrs. Miller:) but we can also be confident. Confident that we have done the right thing, that their accusations will find loose footing, and that we can continue loving and caring and enjoying the people around us. Because that, too, is acting with integrity. 

And that, for me at least, is an encouraging - as well as convicting - reminder.

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

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Friday Thought : Why the sound of ripped-up carpet is more important than the carpet itself.

Yesterday, my son sent me this picture with the caption, "Wild {our dog} destroyed the downstairs carpet."

And I was pissed. So was my wife.

Wild is supposed to be an outside dog, but with the weather plunging into the negatives and me not completing her outdoor housing, she has spent time inside. Yesterday, as my wife needed to run out for the day, she put Wild in her kennel. When she returned home and discovered the mess our dog created, Wild was placed outside for the remainder of the evening. 

Later that night, as the temperatures began to drop, Wild was once again brought inside and placed in the entryway where she lay on her blanket. Shortly after, my wife joined her. From the living room couch, I heard her say, "I love you. I'm still mad at you, but I love you."

And two things came to mind.

One, love covers a multitude of mistakes. Even when someone's actions are destructive, hurtful, or upsetting, love allows us to still make the best decision for them, even when we are angry or frustrated at them. As educators, when our students, coworkers, or parents act in a destructive manner, we can still (metaphorically, of course) pet their ears, scratch their bellies, and bring them back inside. Because we love them, and we want what is best for them. (just to be clear, rubbing our students,  staff, or parents’ bellies is NOT an appropriate interaction . . . neither is petting their ears. Letting them inside because it is cold outside probably still holds up).

We don’t have to like someone to do what is best for them. We simply have to love them.

Two, behavior is communication. Wild is an extremely intelligent dog. She clearly and efficiently lets us know when she needs to go to the bathroom, when she's hungry or thirsty, and when there is a potential intruder nearby. However, she struggles to communicate what she is specifically afraid of or worried about. She can’t articulate if she is bored - especially when we are not around to hear - when we are not present.

Our students' or loved ones’ inappropriate behaviors are often frustrating because they are destructive. But oftentimes, they are a cry for help, for understanding, or simply to be seen. They are moments of communication. Even though they are old enough to clearly communicate that they are hungry or need to use the restroom, there are plenty of thoughts, emotions, and feelings that they cannot express. Even when they’re old enough to walk to school, watch rated-R movies, or carry a driver’s license.

When those around us act out or are behaving unlike their typical self, are they trying to communicate a need? A fear? Are they wrestling with something they can’t quite put into words?

And more importantly, are we listening? Are we present? Or, are we fixated on the ripped-up carpet?

Damaged carpets can be replaced or covered by a nearby rug. They are merely things. And things are never more important than the people that damage them. 

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

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Friday Thought : Look Beyond the Problem. See the People.

At times, life gifts us themes. Most often, they come at the appropriate time. Here is been my gifted theme this week. And yes, it has come at the appropriate time.

Monday:

In a conversation with a mentor from Texas (shout out to you, Mr Jeff Springer!), he referenced this scene from the movie Patch Adams:

"Look at me," the old man says. "If you focus on the problem, you can't see the solution. Never focus on the problem, look at me!" When dealing with struggling students or adults, we must choose to "see what everyone else chooses not to see." The person.

Tuesday:

This quote came across my Instagram feed: "If I wanted to ruin you, I would convince you, over a long time, through disappointment and empty promise, that something you think or something you do is more important than the people in your life" - Justin McRoberts

For whatever reason, the people in our lives are the people in our lives. And they are more important than any thing or opinion we might have. For as Justin McRoberts also says, "The person you are talking to is more important than the thing you are talking about. Every time.”

Wednesday:

In a Zoom conversation with an old teacher buddy of mine (lookin at you, Mr Kasey Schurtz!), he said, "Love should look like discipline. And discipline should look like love."

Holding ourselves and others accountable is often uncomfortable, but if done in love (holding their interest above our own), it is necessary, good, and true. For as my mother made me memorize as a child, "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, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails ."

And the same should be said about discipline.

As educators and parents, we are entering the thick and heavy season of academic and change. Our students and children will be growing and learning a TON these next few weeks and months. Which is GREAT! Amidst it all, however, may we never forget the PEOPLE who are around us - staff, students, family members - for they are the reason WHY we are here.

And I have needed that reminder.

This past week, when my schedule has been more full than the minutes allow, when I run from one dumpster fire to the next, from meeting to meeting with side conversations along the way, and as I try and keep a building full of hearts and minds safe and headed in the right direction - all while the needs of family and home are pulling and calling - it is so unbelievably embarrassing how quickly I fall into the trap of Get. Stuff. Done!

And in doing so, I can often forget the people around me.

The one struggling with the weight of a sick parent and hard decisions ahead.
The one wrestling with mountains upon mountains of change, and the struggles it creates.
The one who needs a quick check in and “how you doing? You okay?” but also the brief moment of sitting and actually listening and not anxiously checking the time or text messages.
The one who needs me to sit on the couch and hear her woes and fears of a new season because really, more than anything, she is scared and insecure and doesn’t know or understand her true strength.
And the list goes on and on.

This week, the theme of people has been strong and a bit heavy handed. Which probably means I need the reminder. And more importantly, that I should listen.

Choose to see what others choose not to: the people behind the problem.
Place people above what I think and what I do.
In all things - especially in discipline - choose to love the people who have been placed in my life.

Every time.

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

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Friday Thought : Three with Empathy

“Three with Empathy”

In a recent podcast, a friend shared this phrase with me, and I love it.

Whenever he engages with a student or staff member, he reminds himself to be present in the conversation and with that person by focusing on Who they are, How they are, and What they need.

With my school’s theme this year of, "Don't Miss Out! : Be Present," not only were his words applicable, they were also deeply encouraging and convicting.

Who are You?

When engaging in a conversation, what can I learn about WHO they are? And how might that understanding help me gain empathy towards them and their situation (what is the origin?)?

• How many siblings do they have?

• What was their childhood like?

• Are they financially stable or currently struggling to pay the bills?

• Is anyone in their immediate family sick or battling with chronic illness?

• Is their spouse employed? Happy in their employment?

Their life outside of work deeply impacts who they are when they come to work. Understanding WHO they are provides us insights into how we can help, where to support, and where to give grace.

How are you?

Instead of simply joking around or talking shop, have I truly asked How people are doing? And have I allowed time or space for them to answer?

I was recently told by a teacher that sometimes she feels that “What I share goes in one ear and out the other.” And she wasn’t wrong. Although it was hurtful to hear (because I had been intentionally checking in on her), I needed to hear it because it was how she was doing. Life had been hard, really hard, for this teacher and she had shared some of those struggles with me. She let me know HOW she was doing. And I dropped the ball a few times. I allowed the business of the day to invade my clarity and forgot to check back in.

Asking people “How are you” often invites a shallow response because people are accustomed to their words going in one ear and out the other. Allowing enough time and space to hear the answer - even a difficult one - is crucial to engaging empathy. So too is ensuring that we head back to the person, the conversation, and reengage with HOW they are doing.

What do you Need?

Asking, "What do you need" is an easy question to ask, and I often do, but where this question has convicted me (in relation to empathy) is understanding that people don't always need a task completed or a job done . . . sometimes, we just need an empathetic ear, with no plan to fix anything, just listen. And if I'm truly listening, I hear WHO they are and HOW they are doing. I gain understanding. Which almost always opens the door and makes room for more empathy. Which is exactly what everyone NEEDs.

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

#doGREATthings!

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Friday Thoughts : Blog

Friday Thought : Leadership is Simple. Make a "To be" list.

A few days ago, an old teacher of mine reached out. She was struggling with her building principal and was sharing how she was feeling alone and unsupported. “I mean,” she said in a moment of exasperation, “Leadership is simple. Not easy, but simple.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Support your people,” she replied.

And I have not been able to get that out of my head. As a principal, father, husband, and friend.

Dan Allender defines a leader as “anyone who wrestles with an uncertain future on behalf of others - anyone who uses her gifts, talents, and skills to influence the direction of others for the greater good.”

Which means, everyone is a leader. Everyone. Yet, so often we miss our opportunities to lead, influence others, and make an impact toward the greater good because we’re distracted by being busy. Which, according to Allander, is the moral equivalent to laziness.

Being busy seems like the polar opposite of laziness, but a busy person is not so much active as lost. A lazy person does little to nothing while a busy person does almost everything, but the similarity is that both refuse to be intentional.

They refuse to be courageous.

Courageous to step into hard conversations with their staff, spouse, children, or friends.

Courageous to be open about their struggles, failures, and gaps in abilities.

Courageous to step into situations of vulnerability.

I know I’m guilty of this.

When I get busy with projects and tasks I can accomplish a lot of things, making myself feel productive, needed, and important. So too does my exhaustion. “I worked so hard today,” I can say to myself as I doze onthe couch while my kiddos clean up after dinner.

And I did. I accomplished a lot. But did I lead or support anyone?

Now, I know you might be saying, “Getting that to-do list IS supporting your staff, family, or community.” And it is. But, like most things, it is also incomplete. If I spend my entire day on my to-do list, I accomplish a lot but miss out on so much more. I miss out on wrestling with the uncertain future of others.

Recently, alongside my “to-do” list, I have added a “to-be” list.

The tasks on my to-do list are menial. They keep the building or house in order, and running smoothly. The items on my to-be list are the important conversations or interactions I must have in order for the greater good to be accomplished - they are the things that remind us what we’re here for! They are not the things I must do but the HOW I must do them.

Things like:

To be present in my conversations, not looking at my phone or thinking of the things that need to get done.

To be purposeful in my gratitude and acknowledgment of others.

To be mindful of stories told so I can remember them, refer to them later, and understand those around me better.

To be patient with the struggling kindergartner knowing full well he does not come from a healthy home.

To be silent with my children, allowing them space to share their hearts rather quickly jumping in and “solving” their problems.

To-do lists provide those we lead with the things they want.

To-be lists provide them with the things they need: intentionality, purpose, and courage. To-be lists require us to stop doing They require us to be human. And for many of us - for me for sure - that is what makes them so difficult.

It’s also what makes leadership most rewarding. Because it allows us to lead, walk with, and be guided by others as we all continually strive toward the greater good.

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

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

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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.

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!

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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 : Leave it at the door. be Awesome.

My friend, Ron Hardy

I was in my third year of teaching, I think (maybe fourth) when much of my life was far from where I'd hoped it would be and I was beginning to struggle with confidence, joy, and purpose. Unsurprisingly, it began to impact my teaching, my classroom, and my students. Only, I didn’t notice.

Then, I somewhere around Christmas, I received an anonymous email from a student that was written from an anonymous email account informing me that I was not doing a great job, that my teaching was sub-par, and that he (I think it was a he, at least) and his classmates deserved better. Luckily, I received that email on a Friday so I could spend the weekend sulking, arguing, excusing, then finally accepting that he was right. I needed to do better. Because he and they and my colleagues and my family deserved better. And because I was better.

The following week I started writing, "Leave it at the door. be Awesome." on the bottom of every lesson plan. A few weeks in, I made it the footer to my lesson plan template which I have used ever since, reminding me each and every day I sat down to create a lesson to leave whatever struggles, issues, and frustrations I might have at the door and be Awesome.

I wasn't perfect after that, nor did I always leave everything at the door. In fact, every now and then I would gather it all in my arms, squeeze it through the door, then drop it right in the middle of the floor for all my students to see. Like the day I spent sharing memories of my childhood best friend because the night before I had discovered it was the anniversary of passing. He had been gone for almost six years, and I never even knew. We had lost touch over the years, and when I discovered he had passed away six years prior, I felt terrible, guilty, and at a loss.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

So I wrestled through it with my students, I shared some of my favorite memories, talked about how the night before I could only see so much of Ronnie in my son that I ended up holding him for almost an hour while I talked about my childhood friend, and I talked with them about loss and life and the struggle in between. Then I had them share memories of their friends and families and write brief notes to those they mentioned. It wasn't all that academic of a class, but kids referenced it for years as one of their favorite classes and, ever since, I have committed to sharing his story with whomever I can during the month of October, the month he so abruptly left this world.

Sometimes life and circumstances seem more than we can bare. Or, as Bilbo Baggins said, it can make us feeling exhausted and "thin . . . stretched, like butter, spread over too much bread."

In those moments, for me at least, it is healthy to remind myself that I am needed - by my students, my colleagues, my family, and my community. That I am bigger than my circumstances, better than what some might think or say about me, and that I am able to help and serve and do great things, even when I don't feel like it.

People need us. They need us to be great, to be better than we often feel and sometimes think. They need us to be their mothers, fathers, friends, counselors, encouragers, planners, champions, and safe places. They a need us to be Awesome. Which means, sometimes, that they need us to be vulnerable and open and raw. They need us to be human. Which is great! Because that is exactly what humans are. Awesome.

And because we are, we can also be.

Leave it at the door. be Awesome.

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-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts