Nail your next interview! Here's how.

Interview season is here!

And we’d love to help.

Mr Darrin Peppard has been a teacher, principal, and superintendent. He has interviewed many potential candidates and has successfully navigated through his own.

As a principal, I too have interviewed many soon-to-be educators and have been fortunate enough to earn a spot in a variety of educational roles.

Below are a few lessons and tricks we have picked up along the way.

You can listen to our full conversation here, on the Schurtz and Ties podcast, or the Leaning into Leadership podcast.

Come, as you are. But also, come prepared.

Tell Your Story:

• What word or idea do you want your audience to know/think about you and what stories can you share that embody them? Write them down, rehearse them to the windshield, then confidently share them in the interview. Be intentional. It is what your audience will remember most.

Be more than the position:

• No matter the position you are applying for, show yourself as a leader willing to do and be more than that position. Sure, they need you as an English teacher, but how else might you impact or help the building, the district, or the community? Be the go-to person on something other than the position you are applying for.

Be full-throttle you:

• There are things worse than not getting the job . . . getting a job under pretense. Be who you are, fully and confidently. If they love you they’ll hire YOU! Showing up to work and trying to be someone you’re not sounds miserable. Quality educators are not looking for someone to fit in the box. So be confident. Be you.

Remember, it’s a two-way street:

• Sure, you’re the one sitting in the hot seat, but they also need the position filled. Take the opportunity to learn about the district, the school, and the leaders. Ask some questions, take notes, and ask yourself if YOU want to hire THEM! Not only does this relieve some pressure, but it can also put a little confidence in your spine. And confidence is always attractive.

Be a Llama:

• Nobody has the perfect resume. And although we don’t want to spend too much time speaking to our weaknesses, it is okay to acknowledge them. But also, and more importantly, it is imperative that we highlight our strengths, talents, and abilities. Again, BE CONFIDENT! Just don’t brag. Instead, share how your badassness will help students, staff, and the community. Use who you are to protect and support others.

Ask about the kids:

• Don’t forget that at the root of all of this are students. They are impacted MOST by your interview for they either get to have you in their building or miss out. So ask about them. Make them the focus. For you, as well as those who are sitting around the table.

A Few Pitfalls to Avoid:

• Don’t talk too long. Remember, those sitting at the table will be there all. day. long. Give them little hooks they can hang your answers on, and maybe select one or two questions where you dive a bit deeper. Otherwise, be prepared, and be concise.

• Don’t continually bring us back to your weaknesses. You can and should address them, but don’t reference them over and over.

• Don’t speak negatively of previous experiences. Even if they were awful or taught you valuable lessons, you can address them honestly without being destructive. Negative talk about other schools or personnel comes across poorly. Always. Avoid at all costs.

• Don’t ask about $$$. At least not from the gate. We all need to make money and pay bills, so the question isn’t bad, but it shouldn’t be the first. And, probably, HR or a website will answer this question for you.

If you have any questions or would like to chat more, please reach out to Darrin Peppard or Brian T. Miller. We’d love to hear from you and offer whatever guidance we can.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education

Principal Evaluations : How to Use Them and Why They Matter.

Principal evaluations are tricky and can easily be ugly, but they can also be deeply rewarding. For yourself and your staff. After years of having my students evaluate me as a teacher and my staff evaluate me as a principal, I’ve definitely learned what not to do. But also, and more importantly, I’ve learned a few things about what to do.

Being evaluated is never easy largely because no one ever wants to be told they’re imperfect. Even though, deep down, we know more than anyone the flaws we carry. But that doesn’t dull the sting of someone pointing it out.

And that is precisely why principal evaluations are so tricky.

When we are asking those we serve to evaluate us, no matter our intentions, proven kindness, or deepest sincerity to grow and learn, there is still a power dynamic at play. And if our staff sense, even slightly, the possibility of retaliation, the survey will quickly be seen as a trap, a gimmick, and could quite easily become a wedge rather than a bridge.

For these evaluations to be honest, purposeful, and beneficial to our personal growth and the well-being of our school and staff, we need to understand, acknowledge, and protect this unique and fragile dynamic and ensure we do not accidentally (or intentionally) abuse or misuse this imbalance of power. 

Speaking from experience, if our principal evaluations are fumbled, it can cause destruction and discord within a school. 

If done appropriately, however, a principal evaluation will not only build trust and community within your school, it will also grow you into a more purposeful and intentional leader.

#1: Understanding the Power Dynamic. Two Ways to Ensure Your Survey Builds Trust

In a perfect world, our principal evaluations would be done in person. But we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in a world where power is abused, where honesty is often rewarded with judgment, and where trust between those with power and those without is at an all-time low. Therefore, asking your staff to openly evaluate you is extremely damaging as it puts them in an awkward position of either telling you what you want to hear or holding back what they truly feel. And once this happens, once your staff feels manipulated or taken advantage of, trust is broken.

Even though these surveys can be seen as ugly and scary and full of “hurtful feedback,” if we’re asking for feedback and truly wanting to know how our staff feels about our leadership, we must let them say what they feel. Without fear of retribution.

An anonymous survey provides you an opportunity to receive true and honest feedback, it protects your staff from feeling manipulated or bullied - a term I use purposefully because there is an imbalance of power. And although you may not intend to misuse your power, the fear that you can or could is always there.

To ensure your staff feel and are protected from potential retribution, when giving your evaluation, consider the following:

Don’t Read the Surveys: In the past, I had teachers hand in their surveys or submit them online. Then I would read through them one by one, gather data, and share what I had found with my staff. Every so often, however, I would be accused of analyzing the surveys to discover who wrote what. And although this wasn’t true, the perception of it was, leading to a mistrust of me and the system. To combat this, instead of reading through the surveys myself, I provide yet another layer of anonymity by having my Leadership Team read through the surveys and provide me with an overarching narrative. “What themes do you see?” I ask them, “What common thread can you pull out from their responses?”

If you don’t have a team you can trust on your staff, consider an outsider, someone who can provide you honest feedback and tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. Your mom is probably not a great resource on this one.

Having someone else read the surveys does two things:

1. It protects against the accusation or even temptation to analyze the responses and attach marks and comments to individual teachers. It allows you to see you to continually see your staff with a caring heart, rather than a cautious one.

2. It protects you from fixating on the negative. As a fellow administrator recently stated, “I hold my breath when I read them . . . and even if there’s just ONE critical response, that’s the one my brain obsesses over.” Having a small group of trusted teachers read through the comments saves us from overanalyzing and obsessing over the negative comments, allowing us to see the bigger picture.

When we fixate on specific comments or criticisms we can quickly become defensive rather than reflective. We focus more on the words rather than the story. Having a trusted team read through our evaluations allows them to take a distant, larger perspective of what is being said rather than taking every comment personally.

Once your team has helped you discover the larger narrative it's time to present your findings to your staff.

#2: Be an Example. Bring it Back to the Staff.

This is perhaps the most awkward part of the evaluation, but it is also the most important. Standing in front of your staff, vulnerable and honest, allows your staff to see you model how to appropriately, professionally, and purposefully receive feedback. It shows them that you are listening and that you care more about them than you do yourself. 

While presenting:

1. Don’t Protect Yourself. Whatever is said about you, own it. Tell them why you agree, where you have missed the mark, and why you think this is important. Make it about them, not you. If you make it about you, how hard you’ve worked and how terrible this makes you feel, it can be seen as yet another manipulation tool and will crash and burn any progress you have made. Remember, this is a powerful opportunity to show your staff what it means to grow and learn and be better. Be an example of what that looks like.
   
   

2. Provide Solutions. This moment will probably be awkward for everyone involved. Letting the evaluation hang in the air without a plan for how you are going to consider their evaluation will make it even more so. Again, this is a modeling opportunity and a concrete example to them of how YOU want THEM to respond to their evaluations. Model what it should look like and how it should feel. Be hopeful, thoughtful, and excited at the opportunity of moving forward with a solution mindset!
   
   

3. Make it Count. If nothing changes, nothing will change. “What’s the point,” will begin to creep into your teachers' mindsets and conversations. If you’re going to solicit feedback you better be ready to do something about it. Failure to do so will not only destroy any trust your staff have in you as a leader, but they will once again feel affirmed that those in leadership don’t really care about them or their feedback. The responsibility to move forward is ours, not theirs. They did their part by filling out the evaluation. Now it is on us to do something about it. Make it count.

#3: When Creating Your Evaluation, Be Consistent.

Feedback isn’t all that helpful if we cannot see or measure how we’ve grown. When creating your evaluation, it will benefit you greatly to keep the following in mind:

1. Align your evaluation directly to the language and expectations of your district evaluation. Whatever your supervisor uses to evaluate you, make sure your staff does the same. You can always add in a few other things, but if your survey is not aligned with how you will be measured by the district, it will be less helpful. 

2. Keep your evaluation the same, at least from year to year. You will probably always find ways to improve your evaluation, but if you change it too much within a single year, how will you know if you’ve grown? For at least an entire year, keep the evaluation the same to have a true and cohesive evaluation of how you’re doing.

This is Great. But Why?

The last piece of advice I would give comes in the form of a question: Why are you doing this?

Are you doing it to hopefully receive a pat on the back? To message your ego? Because if so, you will be disappointed. Even if you’re great, you’re not perfect. And an anonymous evaluation will tell you so.

Are you doing it to truly grow? And I mean truly grow? Because if not, this process will not only hurt, it will destroy your staff. Instead of learning and growing and moving forward you will defend against what is being said, get angry at the numbers, and become critical and cautious of your staff. Not only will you find yourself walking the halls wondering who said what, but you’ll become increasingly self-conscious every time you walk into a room. You will find yourself searching for allies rather than building a community. And that is the last thing anyone wants.

How you respond to your survey will set the standard for what it means to learn and grow in your school. It is also a golden opportunity to build trust between you and your staff. Especially if you are open, honest, and sincere. Even if you bungle through the first few, a genuine attempt that puts the staff and their needs at the center of your focus will be seen, heard, and felt. It will mean a lot. 

In your journey and pursuit of providing and receiving feedback from your staff, I hope these considerations have helped. If you have any further insight, or if you would like a copy of my evaluations, let me know! I am happy to share. 

You can access my evaluation template here or email me at millerbrianstoriesmatter@gmail.com

Good luck to you! And thank you for walking into this vulnerable mess. Your staff is lucky to have you.

#DoGreatThings!

Giving less than 100% is 100% okay.

As educators, we are expected to “give 110% of every day to every student!” Our parents expect it, our students and colleagues expect it, and we expect it of ourselves. Recently, though, I’ve started to wonder if this expectation is unfair, unhealthy even. For our fellow staff members, our students, and for ourselves.

I think there is an appropriateness in the expectation that we come to work prepared and ready to give it our best- absolutely! I think it’s appropriate that we set the bar high, at giving 100%. I also think it’s okay that fail.

More accurately, I think we probably should.

At our core we are defined by our profession - We Are Educators! - but we are also more than that. We are the million other things that exist outside our schools, not the least of which include the roles of spouses, parents, and children to our parents. And when they call, with tears so loud we cannot hear their words, they steal away from our 100%. And that is okay.

In fact, it is more than okay. It is human. And if we are to teach our students, our staff, and our community anything, it is how to be a better one, not a perfect one.

As educators, at times, we go to work to get distracted because immersing ourselves in our classrooms and buildings is something that can bring us joy and purpose; it can remind us of the largeness and beauty of life rather than the pricks of it (overwhelming bills, rocky relationships, harsh realities).

But showing up and pushing aside the distractions, day in and day out, is also immensely lonely. And dangerous. And in a profession that advertises and celebrates “relationships, relationships, relationships,” living in such isolation seems a bit hypocritical.

If we want to build relationships with our staff and students, if we want to build strong bonds and healthy cultures, along with professionalism we need personalism (which is an actual word, I just now discovered, which means “the quality of being personal”). And the greatest contributor to pursuing the quality of being personal is being comfortable with our imperfections.

As educators, we have enough to deal with. We are underpaid, undervalued, and overwhelmed with keeping the peace between combative people groups and conflicting ideologies. Being personal, being human is not something we should have to worry about. It should be something we embrace.

We need to be okay with not being able to give 100%.

@AdamMGrant

“Marriage is never 50-50” Brene Brown states, and is “the biggest crock of bullshit” she has ever heard.

So too is believing that we, as educators in care of our students, our schools, our communities, AND our families can give 100% to everyone, all the time. Because we can’t.

What we can do, however, is try and give as much as we can sometimes, 80% other times, and on those really rough days where we didn’t get any sleep because the car broke down or the hospital called and Mom needs more testing, we give 20%. And that is okay.

What isn’t okay is feeling guilty about it, putting on a professional face, getting distracted, and demanding that we be 100% when we really only have 70. What isn’t okay is believing that professionalism doesn’t have room for personalism.

A healthy marriage, Brene Brown continues, quantifies where we are. “I’m at a 20 today.” Be it energy, investment, kindness, or patience, saying openly and honestly, “I’ve got 20 to give today” allows the other to endure what we cannot. It allows them to see where we are and say, “No worries. I can pick up the 80.” Or, as is often the case, they can also say, “I’m at a solid 45,” providing both with the understanding that tonight, we need to scale back, order a pizza, and be content with the laundry unfolded and dishes dirty in the sink.

Teacher groups and leadership teams should be no different, no less transparent.

Whether we are showing up to get distracted or showing up distracted, sharing with a few trusted colleagues and building leaders not only builds trust, it strengthens the staff and school community. It builds personalism AND professionalism. Most importantly, it models the greatest rule for a healthy life: Do your best with what you have.

We can be distracted AND STILL teach our asses off.

We can be frustrated with our spouse AND STILL be kind, personal, and available to our fellow staff and students.

We can be worried about Mom or Dad AND STILL notice that student who needs a shoulder to cry.

We can be less than 100% AND STILL be helpful, purposeful, and present. Because the reality is, we are often less than 100%. I know I am, anyway. And when I try my best to hide it, to cover up the fact that I am struggling with outside-of-school issues, I feel even worse. I feel isolated. Sharing that I am distracted allows others to understand where my head and heart are today. It also invites them into sharing about their life, their struggles, and their distractions. It allows us to understand and help each other, just as we are.

Sometimes we go to work to get distracted. Other times we go to work distracted. Neither of which steals away from our professionalism. Both of which push us towards personalism.

Which is exactly where we need to be.

#DoGreatThings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

Blog : Education : On Leadership

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More than anyone, she is his defender.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I believe that now, more than ever.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

Blog : Monthly Favorites

Want kids to graduate? Stop talking about graduation.

When it comes to attending college or university, education has finally brought the pendulum back to a healthy center: not everyone needs to go to college.

When it comes to talking about graduation, however, we are still behind in our thinking.

Let me explain.

In my house, my wife and I rarely talk to our children about following the law. What they do hear is, “Do the right thing.” Instead of the law, we talk about what it means to be quality people of character. Why it’s important to be honest, disciplined in thought and action, to act with integrity, and why we should consider others as more important than ourselves. We encourage our kids to be quality humans, not kids who follow the law.

Why?

Because my kids can follow the law and still be bad kids who are unkind and lack integrity. Following the law is too low a standard.

So too is graduation.

When graduation becomes the goal, two things can happen.

One, we can compromise our ethics for the purpose of achieving our goal. This can look like grade manipulation, bending academic integrity, or cheating. Because if graduation is the goal, and our success and reputation are built upon it, we will do whatever it takes to achieve it.

Two, we can produce a poor product. If a student walks across the stage and receives a diploma while the entire audience sighs in relief (finally, he’s gone) or grumbles in annoyance (what a jerk she was), what was the point? If we have more kids graduating but fewer who are prepared to be kind, thoughtful, and ethical, what have we accomplished? If graduation is our goal, what - unintentionally even - will we compromise in order to achieve it?

Like children merely following the law, we can have students who have earned a degree but are jerks, dishonest, and selfish.

And if that is the case, what then is the purpose of the degree? Was graduation for them, or us?

Now, I don’t think this applies to all schools and every child who has ever or will graduate, of course not. For not only would that be unfair, but it would also be wildly untrue. But that doesn’t mean that it can’t happen, that it hasn’t happened, or that it isn’t a constant temptation for school leaders, teachers, students, and parents. (Case in point, I once had a boss who forced a math teacher to overlook blatant cheating on a final, all because he wanted the child to graduate . . . what did we just teach that child? That teacher? That school?)

And sadly this sort of compromise happens more often than I think we’d like to admit.

Graduating is too low a bar, and if we want to change the world - truly - we need to aim much higher.

Instead of focusing on graduation, let us raise the bar of expectation to growing quality men and women who strive for integrity, live in discipline, have empathy towards others, and persevere. Let us spend more time pointing our students (and ourselves) towards a sense of pride in the things we do and the people we are, not in the achievements we collect.

I don’t teach my kids to follow the law, I teach them to be humans of integrity and character. Following the law is merely a byproduct of something greater achieved.

Like crawling before we walk, eating mushed-up bananas before we can eat a steak, or practicing simple sentences before we write our senior paper, let us place graduation where it should be: a small step in the journey of life. Graduation isn’t the goal, it is a moment of celebration that propels us forward. Or at least, it should.

For many, however, graduation is a big deal. Be it because they are the first in their family to do so or because it is the culmination of years and years of hard work, for many, walking across that stage is a monumental moment in their lives. And it should be celebrated! But again, it is not the goal. It is merely a manifestation of accomplishing a much bigger, much more important task: enduring hardship with integrity and discipline.

Standing atop the mountaintop doesn’t mean much if we don’t have the scars and sweet, aches and pains that accompany the journey. Nor does it matter most if when we summit the last peak no one is there to celebrate with us. It’s the journey that brought us there, and we achieved our goal with our character unblemished.

For as John Candy’s character states, “If we’re not enough without it, we’ll never be enough with it.”

If we want kids to graduate, let’s stop talking about graduation. Instead, let’s talk about what it means to be quality people. Let graduation be the byproduct of something greater achieved.

Repeat Offender, by Catherine Dorian : A Teacher's Story

A month or so ago, my good friend and one of my forever favorite English teachers sent me this write-up, and I loved it.

Miss Dorian was one of my teachers when I was the principal of a small-town high school. She has since moved on to the east coast where she is continually challenging herself, improving her profession, and making an impact on the world of education and in the lives of young adults.

What I love most about this piece is the raw honesty with which she writes. Every teacher can relate to this story as every teacher has lived it. What makes Miss Dorian exceptional, though, is her ability to internalize these moments. Instead of pointing fingers or consuming herself with bitterness, she strives to be better. A better teacher for sure, but also a better person.

Instead of taking it personally, she makes it personal. And in doing so, she gains compassion for the other side. She builds a bridge of understanding, of empathy, rather than discord.

And I just love that.

Repeat Offender, by Catherine Dorian

The other week, I spoke to the mother of a student who plagiarized a portion of an assignment. The mother was really not happy with me and “really not happy about this.” Clearly, her daughter hadn’t plagiarized. Clearly, I was making an unprecedented accusation.  

I gave her some context for the assignment. Her daughter had earned an 80% on a two-paragraph rhetorical analysis of one of the most important speeches on the abolition of slavery in the United States. I have a policy that any student can revise or rewrite any writing assignment before the end of the quarter, a policy designed to teach students to make use of feedback, to experience how time away from writing brings perspective and clarity, and to reflect on their revision process: a policy intended to offset a grading system that fails to teach mastery. Her daughter wants an A in the class, so, in the last week of the quarter, I encouraged her to revise the assignment. If she did, she may be able to improve her cumulative grade; moreover, she would be able to apply the significant strides in her analytical thinking that she has made since writing the original assignment.

“Yeah, I’m aware of your policy,” the mother said. “My daughter has had to rewrite assignments for you on several occasions.”

On the final day of the quarter, her daughter turned in a revision. When any student submits any assignment online, the Google Classroom algorithm does a full sweep of the assignment, checking for areas where the students’ writing is a word-for-word match with an online source.

“Yes, I’m aware of Google Classroom’s plagiarism checks. I’m an educator,” the mother reminded me.

I outlined my evidence: when her daughter turned in her rewrite, Google Classroom flagged it for plagiarism. According to the Google Classroom algorithm, her daughter pulled portions of the assignment from an online source without properly quoting or citing them, five days after I’d taught a detailed lesson on plagiarism and MLA citation with her class.

“Well, she swears up and down that she didn’t do it. I just can’t believe that you won’t believe her.”

I reiterated what I had already explained in my email to her earlier that day. When I spoke to her daughter about the assignment, she admitted to plagiarizing, apologized, said she understood that there were consequences for doing so, and assured me that she wouldn’t do it again. In tears, she explained that she was stressed and just wanted to do well.   

“Well of course, my daughter was stressed.”

Luckily, her daughter plagiarized on an assignment that was already a rewrite of an old assignment. Instead of earning zero points on the assignment, she could keep her original grade of 80%, which would not drastically bring down her cumulative grade, which was an 85% for the quarter.

But my attempt at reassurance only made this mother more indignant.  

We’ve had “countless conversations” about her daughter wanting an A, and yet again, she’d be getting a B on her report card.

That’s true.
And we’ve been talking “for a year” about what her daughter could do to improve.

That’s also true.

Her daughter’s done “everything” to get an A in my class, and I've never once given her the grade that she deserves.

That’s not quite true. I've given her child several sample assignments that have earned high marks, and I've compared/contrasted these assignments with her work, pointing to where she needs to go further in her analysis, add evidence to support her claims, elaborate on her analysis. I have modeled what A-level work looks like (I have a personal policy that I would never ask my students to do an assignment that I wouldn’t do myself, and more often than not, I write the assignment along with my students or show them a comparable essay that I wrote in college), along with several strategies to achieve A-level work. I spend anywhere from 15 - 45 minutes writing her daughter feedback on her assignments, explaining everything that she did well and explaining where she could improve. I've offered her weekly meetings, where I would give her personalized help on all of my assignments; she’s come for extra help only a handful of times in the last ten weeks.  

But my class is the “one class” that is bringing down her daughter's GPA.

My class is the “one class” that's preventing her daughter from getting a scholarship to college.

Ever since her old teacher left, she’s been struggling with English.

“It’s been an entire year with you—” the mother said, “and still, you’re not giving her an A. Good God, give the kid a break.” 

            At this point, I was getting tired. It was past three o’clock, her daughter is one student, and my other fifty-nine students still needed me to prepare their lesson for tomorrow, answer their emails, and give them feedback on their assignments. After that, I had to go home and complete a task for my second job, which provides enough supplemental income so that I can afford to keep my teaching job.

So, I did the only thing that I could think to do.

I apologized for my shortcomings and thanked her for her feedback. I promised to do more to help her child, and I promised that from now on, I would schedule 45 minutes of weekly extra help time with her daughter, where we would do her assignments together and I would ensure that she was doing everything that she could to get an A. I would follow-up with her on every writing assignment and walk her through how she could revise it. I would learn more about her learning style. I would acknowledge how hard she’s working, and make sure that I give her the recognition that she so greatly deserves.

She thanked me. “I’m sorry if I seemed aggressive at first,” she said.

No, no, she wasn’t aggressive.

“I’m just very defensive of my daughter, especially when I know how hard she’s working.”

That’s understandable.

She had to run and get her youngest to a dentist appointment. She thanked me for my time and consideration, said she was “really glad we had this talk,” and hung up. 

Downstairs in the guidance office, I updated the school counselor and the Dean of Students. A few colleagues swapped stories and strategies:

“Once, I complimented her daughter’s dress and asked her to wear a cardigan so that she’s adhering to the dress code. Not ten minutes later, I open an email, and her mom’s written a 1,200-word essay about how I was ‘too obsessed’ with policing what the girls wear.”

“The other week, she emailed me at 1 PM: ‘Call me now.’ Yeah, ‘cause I sit I around all day and wait until she needs me.”

“Oh, her? I’ve discovered that you just have to smile and take it. Don’t interrupt, don’t tell her the facts. Don’t defend yourself. Just let her rip.”

The plagiarism debacle wasn’t unique. I’ve been apologizing for things that weren’t my responsibility since I started teaching. Once, a mother berated me for assigning her daughter—an AP student—“over sixty pages of reading in two nights.” I pulled up the assignment, counted the pages three times, and, in a phone call that would take thirty minutes out of my day, confirmed with her that the assignment was, indeed, thirty pages, but that I would be more cognizant of the workload that I assign next time. Another time, I apologized to a mother for assuming that it was reasonable to ask a seventeen-year-old to check his email and ensure that he’s completed all of his assignments so that he could be eligible to play in what was supposedly the most important basketball game of his high school career. I also apologized to her for my failure to remind her to check his grades in the online gradebook—the gradebook that I updated three times a week, and the gradebook that she’d had access to all year.

I love teaching English because you get to teach about logic and rhetoric. You get to evaluate the strategies of some of the most celebrated speakers and writers of the past and the present. You get to empower students with the skill of supporting their ideas with evidence, with reasoning, with proof that prevails against the tyranny of delusion. You get to refine your own skills as you model the art of rational argument and civilized discussion with students, colleagues, parents, administrators, and school board members. You get to entertain the conviction that language can be a tool for disputing, deliberating, and resolving conflict. 

You’d think that after seven years teaching English, I’d have mastered the art of persuasion. But as I encounter more repeat offenders like the mother pictured here, I understand that no matter the amount of preparation I do for the difficult conversation – no matter Google’s algorithm which confirms the plagiarism, no matter the relevance or rigor behind the curriculum that I teach, no matter the extra hours I put in, no matter the one-on-one help that I offer, no matter the safety nets I rush beneath students who are dangerously close to hitting the pavement—there will still be parents who assume I hate their kid. So I really can’t and shouldn’t take it personally when parents insult me. I can’t and shouldn’t take offense to their skepticism or scrutiny. The best I can do is take it, absorb it, and assume that their frustration comes from their lack of faith in a school system that doesn’t set their child up for success. On that much, we can always agree, and for that much, I can always apologize.   

Thank you, Miss Dorian, for being so open and transparent with your thoughts and struggles! We can all relate. But also, and more importantly, thank you for leading by example on how to show grace and understanding to others. On how to move towards reconciliation and grace, rather than a strong defense.

Truly.

You can connect with Miss Dorian and follow more of her work at her website: catherinedorian.com. 

If you want to hear how Miss Dorian’s words inspired a two-part podcast discussion, check out Schurtz and Ties: a Podcast about Education and culture, Curse of Knowledge vs Gap of Knowledge (Part 1): Analyzing the gaps of misunderstanding between teachers and parents.

Lastly, if you have an idea you’d like to share or someone you believe we could all benefit from, please reach out and let me know! I am eager to share your story.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

Work. It gets the best of me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” He responded.

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

“Because it’s safe, I guess.”

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

"Low burden, high impact" : Acknowledging the Kids in the Middle

Great reminder.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

Yearly Themes : The Do's and Don'ts and Why They Matter

“An organization doesn’t become healthy in a linear, tidy fashion,” Patrick Lencioni writes in The Advantage: Why Organizational Health Trumps Everything Else in Business, “Like building a strong marriage or family, it’s a messy process that involves doing a few things at once, and it must be maintained on an ongoing basis in order to be preserved.”

This messy process, he explains, “can be broken down into four simple disciplines:”

1. Build a Cohesive Leadership Team

2. Create Clarity

3. Overcommunicate Clarity

4. Reinforce Clarity

In short, there needs to be a theme.

More specifically, there needs to be an overly communicated (and clarified) theme that is tangible, actionable, and timely.

A yearly theme provides the clarity every healthy organization needs, for both students and staff as well as the surrounding community members. It also provides unity.

In contrast, a weak or sloppy theme can - quite unintentionally - create confusion, frustration, even destruction.

If you’re working on creating a theme for your school year, here are a few do’s and don’ts to consider.

The Do’s:

When thinking of a theme, envision entering a stranger’s house. You take off your shoes, hang your hat on a hook, and notice, somewhere in the entryway, a saying. Be it painted and framed on the wall or etched in the doormat, it might say something like, “Live, Laugh, Love,” “Gather,” or “Welcome to the s*** show.” Whatever it says, those words were put there intentionally because the owner of the house believes they are important, believes it says something about them, their house, and their expectations. It also sets the tone for how you should act and the things you can say.

Schools are no different.

Therefore, when creating a theme for your school, one that will literally or metaphorically hang by the door and proclaim who you are and what you hold dear, keep the following in mind.

Make it Clear Enough for Unity, Vague Enough for Autonomy

I was once in a district leadership meeting where the superintendent of twelve international schools was trying to create some consistency between us all. Of the twelve, one principal was finding it difficult to get on board, “We are all different,” he would argue, “With different staff, different students, and different needs. We cannot possibly be the same!”

And he was right. But he was also wrong.

A healthy organization understands that in order for people to be motivated, each individual needs three things: Mastery - the ability to get better at things, Autonomy - the freedom to be self-directed, and Purpose - the belief that they are making the world a better place (from Daniel Pink’s DRIVE: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us).

A purposeful theme, then, allows for individuality. It promotes ideas, allows for uniqueness, and encourages growth. It embraces uniformity and combats conformity.

Remember, years ago, Lance Armstrong and his, “Live Strong” campaign? If we forget all the mess around him, we can learn a lot from his slogan and why it was so popular. Largely, because it invited growth and hardships and encouraged us to be better - however that means for us, individually. It was fully inclusive (because everyone needs to endure difficult times), but it was also deeply personal. You could apply Live Strong directly to yourself.

A theme that encourages conformity is restricting and destructive. It prevents questions and squashes creativity, individualism, and advancement.

A theme that encourages uniformity, however, provides safety and growth. It allows individuals to be uniquely themselves under the safety net of a group, a tribe.

When creating your theme, consider the following questions:

Does it provide unity?

Does it allow for autonomy?

Make it Timely. Make it Personal:

This one is perhaps a no-brainer, but that does not mean it does not bare repeating. Yearly themes need to represent your school and community. What they need, who they are, and where you need and want to go. A theme that is disconnected or unfamiliar will be a source of irritation rather than inspiration. “What does that even mean?” they might say, or “He/she clearly doesn’t know us.”

Suddenly, instead of being a rallying cry that brings your staff and students together, it will be a mockery, the source of watercooler gossip, and a potential banner for the opposition.

I experienced this in one of my previous schools with the theme of “Prove You’re Alive.” It didn’t inspire a boycott or rouse any deep or elongated frustrations, but it didn’t inspire us either. Nor did it bring us together. It was just banners in the hallways and me with a megaphone with a few isolated cheers and awkward claps. The purpose of the theme was legit, so too was the goal. The process of creating it, however, was entirely flawed. It was my conviction, my idea, and my vision. And because it was mine, it was not ours. Which made it shallow and impersonal.

In order for a theme to mean something, in order for it to grab hold and move the school community in the same and unified direction, it needs to be personal. The staff need to not only understand where it comes from and what it means, they need to believe that it is important. The best themes come from the staff. As leaders, we can help guide the discussion and provide insights and ideas, but it is the staff that need to build it for they are the ones that will live it.

In order for a theme to stick it needs to be personal. In order for it to inspire change it needs to be timely. In order for it to be both it needs to come from the staff.

Was your theme inspire by the ideas and words of your staff?

Or,

Was it curated and hatched in isolation?

Make it Actionable:

In his book, Deep Kindness: A Revolutionary Guide for the Way We Think, Talk, and Act in Kindness, Houston Kraft warns against the use and public display of cute and playful - albeit well-intentioned - quotes and themes. “While they make for great products and posters,” he writes, “they can do more harm than good. Without paying proper attention, we’ve started to ‘fluffify’ the thing” rather than give it life and meaning and purpose. We’ve oversimplified it, watered it down, and made it a catchphrase rather than a lifestyle.

“The practice of Deep Kindness doesn’t happen just because we believe in kindness,” Kraft continues, “It’s something to strive toward, and a skill set that has infinite room for improvement.” It requires daily and purposeful action.

So too do our yearly themes. Instead of fluffy, intangible ideas or phrases, our themes needs to be something that has substance, that calls people to do something. It needs to be actionable.

In 2021, the year after our nation shut schools down because of COVID, my schoolboard decided to bring students back to school. The problem was we didn’t know how long that would last. We had all the safeguards in place - masks, social distancing, contact tracing, etc. - but no one knew for sure what would happen or how long we’d be in school. Our theme that year was, “Make it Count,” and I loved it because it was a daily reminder that we just didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, so Make it Count today!

And it resonated with everyone. Be it staff members, students, or community members, “Make it Count” directly applied to life. In conversations with family and friends, creating lesson plans, participating in after school activities, and in disciplining behaviors, the reminder to take full advantage of the opportunity was there, each and every day.

Does your theme inspire action for you, your school, and your community?

For teachers, when they are exhausted or frustrated, does your theme remind them to keep moving? To stay the course? Does it bring them back to what matters?

For students, does your theme guide them in the way that they should go? Is it something you can point to when celebrating success or when providing redirection and discipline? Does it help them become better students? Better people?

Does your theme call people to action?

Or,

Does it imply that you’ve arrived?

The Don’ts:

A poorly crafted theme, although often created with good and purposeful intentions, can have negative consequences. Especially if the theme isn’t explained or coupled with actionable do’s and don’ts.

When creating a theme, here are a few easy pitfalls to avoid:

Don’t Make Vague Proclamations:

Themes that make a proclamation about how great we are without a roadmap to gettering there not only keep us stagnant, they create entitlement. “We’re great because we’re great.” And if we’re already great or the best or out of this world at something, then what are we working on? What are we working towards?

Themes that make proclamations without specificity are like farmers planting with Brawndo. “Because it has electrolytes!”

Themes that involve statements such as, “We are out of this world,” mean nothing. Although good intentioned, they don’t lead people anywhere. If it isn’t tangible, actionable, or quantifiable, how will people know what to do? How will they know why they are Out of the World or the Best in the West?

Vague proclamations also, unintentionally so, create entitlement. We are AMAZING not because of what we’ve done, but because of what we are. And what are we? We’re amazing.

But why? And how does our staff, our students, or our community hang their hat on that? Vague proclamations tell us what we are without guiding us on what to do or how to do it.

And if they don’t know how to do something or why they do it, what’s the point?

Don’t Make it Personally Personal.

Themes that are used by leaders to passive aggressively make a point are devastating to the moral and growth of a school.

For example, a theme of “No Complaining” may seem like an obvious bad choice for a school as it is not only aggressive, it is negative and scolding. It’s passive aggressive counterpart, “Good Vibes Only”, however, is not so obvious a bad choice largely because it is sold on t-shirts and stickers and comes with bright colors and wavy fonts. But it is essentially saying the same thing, “No Complaining,” and a staff that is struggling, that needs help and support, and that foresees pitfalls or wants to improve and grow, they will learn pretty quickly that anything other than smiles, compliments, and Good Vibes will be seen as the opposition.

True leaders have hard conversations, clear expectations, and constant communication. They deal with conflict personally and carefully. They take care of their staff rather than abuse or manipulate them.

Themes that are passive aggressive, however, that are personally personal to the leader and are used to manipulate behaviors are not only wrong, they are devastating to a school culture. It handicaps the growth of the school, destroys the bridge of trust between the leadership and the school, and creates (or enhances) a very toxic environment.

Don’t Assume Everyone Understands:

Most any theme can have a positive impact on a school and it’s culture if it is clearly explained. In contrast, any theme created with the greatest intentions but without explanation can fall flat on it’s face.

No matter the theme, explain it. As Patrick Lencioni argues, in order for an organization to be healthy, leadership must create clarity, overcommunicate clarity, and reinforce clarity.

So break it down. Give a rationale, a goal, and steps to achieve that goal. Better yet, have your staff do it for you (or with you), then come back to it time and time again.

Purposeful themes are more than words printed on t-shirts or banners in the halls. They are a vision, a roadmap, and a battle cry for the year. They proclaim who we are, what we value, and the direction we are headed.

They provide clarity. They create unity.

"And" : by Kasey Schurtz

Zuzu, my four year old, is desperate to read.  She loves looking at the pictures in her books but she wants to be able to understand the words too. We’ve tried to satiate her desire to read by looking at sight word flashcards together.  One of the first cards we flipped over was AND.  No doubt she understands that word. Despite her familiarity with it, she scrunched up her face and with a wrinkled nose asked, “What does AND mean?”

Such a simple, easy, complex, difficult question.  I tried to explain that it was an additive. It adds more to something. Not exactly a great “explain it like I’m five response,” so I offered some examples.  

“Like babies and”

Zuzu quickly finished my example by shouting “milkshakes!”  

I was thinking about babies and bottles.  She was right though.  Milkshakes make just about anything better.  And shouldn’t we be looking for as many opportunities as possible to add value to our lives and the lives of others too?  We should add just one more AND when we talk to our family, our friends, and our colleagues.  Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time AND I can’t wait to work with you again.

In the course of our daily trek, we often stop short of a much needed AND.   Worse yet, we often become takers.  We subtract from others.  With the best intentions of all those who were present, I met with a team of teachers to discuss a student who struggled academically.  One by one, each teacher offered up their view of the student with the same sentence frame. He (insert vague positive comment) BUT he (insert numerous perceived shortcomings.) The clause following BUT does the opposite of adding value. Each BUT chiseled away at the perceived value of that child.

BUT. That was not one of the sight words that my daughter was learning which is probably for the best.  She likely would have run around the house shaking her butt or screamed about our dog Murphy having a furry butt. The humor of a four year old.  If that was one of our sight words, not only would I have had to explain the difference between butt and but, I would also have had to talk about how BUT is a negative.  It negates. Dinner was good, BUT the steak was overcooked. Treyvon is a really talented kid, BUT he doesn’t do any of the work I assign him.  

Perhaps unintentionally, BUT erases anything that was spoken previously.  My wife only heard, the steak was overcooked.  Treyvon only heard that he doesn’t do any of his work.  BUT negates words that might have inspired good feelings or helped to build up someone’s self-esteem.  BUT doesn’t solve problems, or look to the future. BUT has a finality to it. AND is hopeful. AND leaves room for growth.  If we can exchange but for and, we may find ourselves adding value to others.  Dinner was good AND I can’t wait to help you make breakfast in the morning. Treyvon is a really talented kid AND we are working together to help him develop a system for tracking his assignments.  By swapping BUT for AND the good feelings remain and new opportunities manifest.  

Considering the value of AND, I’d like to finish with a quick edit to my intro.  My four year old is desperate to read.  She loves looking at the pictures in her books AND she wants to be able to understand the words too. As is, the book already has value and it can offer so much more when she understands the words.  Those we encounter each day, our colleagues, our students, they all have value exactly as they are, and let’s add to that with just one more AND.

If you have an idea you’d like to share or someone you believe we could all benefit from, please reach out and let me know! I am eager to share your story.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

As Educators, We Endure! : Lessons From The Old Man of the Mountain, by Martin Silverman

With 39 years experience in education, seven as a teacher and 32 in educational leadership, Mr. Martin Silverman has seen a lot.

Yet, after almost 40 years of caring for the youth of San Antonio, Texas, he is still innovating, striving to improve, and holding tight to the belief that we will endure.

Which is exactly why I reached out to him and asked him to write a piece on overcoming, on staying strong amidst the struggle, and holding tight to hope. Because very few have lived this long in education and have come out on the other side with a passion for the profession, love for kiddos, and an eagerness to help and encourage those around them like Mr. Silverman. In this, he is truly a unique inspiration.

When most educators of 30+ years are looking for the exit sign, Mr. Silverman is finding new ways to invent himself. Instead of reaching for his 401K, he started a podcast - The Second Question - continues to find ways to innovate and inspire this profession, and when asked, write a guests post for distant friends.

LESSONS FROM THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN

Growing up in the Northeastern United States, one of the iconic sights to see was The Old Man of the Mountain rock formation in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  I admit, I never got to see that formation in real life, but that image was quite famous, and a true symbol of the State of New Hampshire.  There are many lovely legends of this formation from the Mohawk tribe that bring life to this series of granite cliff ledges on Cannon Mountain.

One legend tells the story of a community leader who fell in love with a beautiful Iroquois woman who joined him in his village.  When she had to return to her village to help her people, he promised to wait for her on top of the mountain and watch for her safe return.  The Iroquois woman never returned, having died in her native village.  Her Mohawk lover remained at the top of the mountain, now turned into stone, to watch over the land forever.

The image of the Old Man of the Mountain reminds me of so many timeless icons that endure through history.  That which is built to last endures.  And that brings my thoughts to my long career in education and the challenges that these past few years have brought to all of us.  When I started my career in 1983 as a young first-grade teacher in Houston, Texas, I could never have imagined that 39 years later I would still be at this education game.  And yet, here I am, not quite ready to stop.  It would be easy to throw it in now and retire, but I think about all the monumental societal changes that have happened in the world since I began my career and I realize that this too shall pass.

Here’s an example.  In my first year of teaching, there was this bright, talented Speech Therapist who worked in my school.  He served the students with joy and delighted them with captivating lessons that made the students want to go to their therapy sessions.  In around March of that year he started missing days due to illness, and at one point stopped coming in even to pick up his paychecks.  We were worried about him, but those who were close to him said he had stopped taking calls and had moved back to his hometown to ride out his illness.  By the time the next school year began I had transferred to a different school.  One of my former colleagues told me several months in that the Speech Therapist had passed away from this newly discovered, and deadly disease called AIDS.  He was the first of several educators I knew that passed away from this illness.  It seemed like we would never be the same again. And then we were.

Then the next school year, the state legislature decided that schools needed “help”, and one of the ways to do that would be to give basic skills tests to all teachers and students.  As a way to make this look like good school reform, they also gave us duty-free lunch periods and limited class sizes in elementary schools to 22:1.  Having just finished my second year with 34 first graders and no duty-free lunch this sounded great.  I was also 23 and just out of college for two years, so the basic skills test for teachers was a piece of cake.  However, this new requirement devastated some teachers who had been in the field for decades and had not taken a standardized test in forever.  Note:  At that time there was not a certification test in Texas, nor had there been one in New York where I graduated and got my initial teaching license. Educators were going to leave in droves, and our profession was going to be decimated.  And then it wasn’t.

My point in all of this history is to encourage those of us in the profession for just a few years that perseverance is key in weathering through these tough times.  We have to remember that pedagogy has come and gone, methods have come and gone, educational theories have come and gone, and we are still here, maybe not in the same form, but we are here.  We persevere because what has not changed is the basic relationship between an educator and their community of students, families, teachers, school staff, etc.  We are never going to be cog-builders, we are always going to spark minds to think about things in a different way, and the peripheral nonsense that goes on around us politically and socially are cyclical.  Remember, there has never been a “good” time to be an educator…there have always been challenges, but when you look at the long game it’s still the most impactful profession there is.

Which brings me back to the Old Man of the Mountain.  This true symbol, the cultural icon of the State of New Hampshire, collapsed into the lake below sometime in the spring of 2003.  This was not a cataclysmic event as the structure was known to be weakening and had been patched up several times over the previous decades.  However, the symbol still appears on the New Hampshire license plate, and a group has constructed steel profilers which when viewed at the correct angle, create the profile of the Old Man as it appeared before the collapse.  While the actual Old Man of the Mountain does not exist in granite, it remains a symbol and an icon. 

Isn’t that the true nature of our profession? 

While everything changes and everything stays the same, we continue to renew and sometimes reinvent our passion.  We endure.

If you have an idea you’d like to share or someone you believe we could all benefit from, please reach out and let me know! I am eager to share your story.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

Friday Thought : It's a dangerous world out there. Bring a club.

This quote is often in the background of my mind, especially when moments of life or seasons of life are harder than expected. Be it an overly busy schedule that seems to stretch on for much longer than anticipated, the heavy weight of deep disappointment with friends or family or humanity in general, or the dark loss of unrealized dreams and ideas, there are times where life seems exponentially difficult.

And in such times, I find it almost impossible to create, explore, or inspire great things.

Instead of getting up early to run or read, instead of spending the evenings writing or playing cards with my family, instead of enjoying the moments set before me, I find myself scrolling TikTok for longer than I should, being more agitated than the occasion calls for, or simply unmotivated to do the things I know I should be doing. Instead of smiling, improving, or enjoying, I neglect, coast, and stress.

I sit in the muck and mire, wishing and aching for the fresh smell of mountains.

And it is in those moments, the Jack London quote lumbers to the surface, quietly offering a brief reminder of why we’ve been given a club. To ward off that which would devour us.

For many years, I have interpreted London’s words just as they are, that if I wanted to be inspired, if I wanted to do GREAT things or maintain strong relationships, I would have to fight for it. I would have to battle inspiration or attack success until it gave me what I wanted. But I was wrong.

We can’t wait for inspiration, for success, or healthy relationships to come or materialize on their own, we must get off the coach and get after them with passion and conviction. We have to work! We have to go after them. With a club.

We don’t bring the club to attack the things we love and desire. We bring the club to guard against the things that hope to deter and devour.

The club is to protect us from the snickering naysayers, from the lingering shadows of failure, and from the wormtongue of doubt. We bring the club to help ward off the wolves.

Because the reality is, in most cases, we are on our own with our endeavors, our passions, and our dreams. We may have a few people who will join us by the cozy fire or link arms with us when we’re down, but for the real struggles of self improvement, for the deep work of overcoming our inner demons and getting after the dreams of life, more often than not, we are on our own.

No one is coming.

The club is not to beat inspiration, relationships, or dreams into submission. The club is to protect us on our journey towards those things. It is to keep the wolves at bay so we can continue to push forward, try new things, and improve ourselves, our families, our schools, and our communities.

It is to beat the snake that would deceive us into believing that the best things of life should be easy.

It is to ward of the coward that would try and convince us it is better to retreat and live comfortably, than to fight for what is good and right and true.

It is to threaten the sluggard who would entice us to sleep a little longer, work a little less harder, and be content with “It’s good enough.”

It is to kick the sh*t out the wave of discouragement that comes after thinking of and planning for and loving on others, only to receive complaint, criticisms, and scoffs.

The club is to beat back despair.

For the wolves are coming and they are eager to devour. Therefore, in order to do GREAT things - to Give, Relate, Explore, Analyze, and Try - at times, we must press pause on our goals and dreams and simply pick up the club and plunge into battle.

When instead of gratitude we receive complaints, pick up the club and keep giving and serving and caring for others knowing it is always right to do right, because its right.

When a comfortable life means sacrificing the humanity of others, pick up the club and fight for integrity.

When the incumbent accuses you of being a clown and sneers that your ideas won’t work, pick up the club and beat back the fear of failure or being misunderstood. Be different. Be confident. Be you.

When past regrets try to haunt our current blessings, pick up the club and fight for grace and second, third, and 11th chances.

When gossip and slander knock at our door, pick up the club and defend Truth.

When we want to hit the snooze button just one more time, pick up the club and beat back exhaustion.

When temptation slips through the cracks of our defenses, pick up the club and fight like hell to regain control.

When your neighbors or coworkers make sly or unkind remarks, don’t race to Facebook and post a passive aggressive meme, pick up a friggen club and fight back with kindness and forgiveness.

When our bosses overlook our hard work and diligence, pick up a club and slay the temptation to cut corners.

When you feel alone or abandoned by those you love and care for, pick up the club, chase off self-pity, and find someone to comfort and encourage. Ensure no one else is alone in the fight.

When our kiddos act like kiddos and not the quality men and women we want them to be, pick up the club and attack the sudden and seemingly justified desire to scold and reprimand. Fight for patience and lovingkindness.

When we are enticed to bend our character or sacrifice our integrity for personal gain, when moments and people try to steal our hopes and goals and dreams or threaten to cast a shadow over our joy and passion for life and living - for doing GREAT things - let us pick up the club, dig in our heals, and prepare for battle.

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” - J.R.R. Tolkein

As an educator, father, friend, husband, and constant dreamer of what could be, I find I am often discouraged by the events of the world and actions of others, including myself. Being reminded, however, that the greatest of us have had to endure the hardest of times, that the most beautiful of creations have often been birthed in the midst of despair, and that a rose can grow from concrete has not only been encouraging, it has been uplifting.

And that is what has been on my mind this week.

If you have any, “When (life happens), pick up the club and . . . .” examples of your own, please share and I will add them to the list.

Happy Friday!!!

#doGREATthings!!!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : Blog

Doing Dangerous Things Carefully : How to Engage in Safe yet Meaningful Conversations

“If your gonna make your kids tough, which they better be if they’re gonna survive in the world, you can’t interfere when they’re doing dangerous things carefully.”
- Jordan Peterson

This advice has been on the forefront of my thoughts recently, but not necessarily because of the way the statement was intended. Where my mind has gravitated towards is how this statement plays out in the context of leadership. More specifically, how we as leaders engage in conversations with those we lead.

As leaders, if we do not encourage those we lead to engage in potentially dangerous conversations, not only will we not survive our position, our schools, churches, and companies will crumble because we won’t learn anything. And if we aren’t learning, we aren’t growing.

Below are five ways we can improve ourselves and those we lead by carefully engaging in dangerous conversations:

1. Keep it Secret. Keep it Safe: If those we lead know that our conversation isn’t secret, isn’t safe, if they know that we will share information with others, then for them, the conversation is dangerous. As a leader, no matter what is shared with us, be it work related or not, whatever we hear must be kept safe from the ears of others. Once the secret is out, we are no longer trusted. And if we aren’t trusted, we aren’t safe. And once word gets out that we aren’t safe, we no longer have an ear to our schools or community, losing all opportunity to impact others and make change. The talking will continue, just not with us for it will often be about us. And that is a dangerous place to be.
   

   Helpful Phrase: “It’s not my story to tell.” This allows you the ability to acknowledge that you know about the situation but are unable to share, instilling trust in those around you that when you have important information you keep secret, you keep it safe.
   

2. Don’t take it Personal. Make it Personal: When someone shares dangerous information, often times it is dangerous for them, not us. It might be hurtful or hard to hear - especially if what is being said is a critique on who we are and how we lead - but we are still the one who can do something about it. If we take the information personal, we discourage people from sharing hard information with us because they don’t want to hurt our feelings or make us upset. Nor do they want to jeopardize their job or position. If we make it personal, however, we acknowledge our role and our responsibility. We accept what is being said and commit to doing something about it. And when we do that, we create a safe environment that encourages further conversation and builds a culture of trust. When we take it personal we get defensive. When we make it personal we take action.
   
   Helpful Phrase: “I can do better.” Because we can. No matter the complaint or charge against us, as the leader, we are ultimately responsible. We may not have the answer - yet - but making the situation personal and taking ownership is as good a place as any to start. For us, and for those we lead.
   

3. Circle Back: This is most important. Making people feel heard is important, too. So is keeping their information secret and safe. But circling back, revisiting a conversation or acting on information heard is crucial to creating a safe place because it is the manifestation that you are indeed listening to them, and that we truly do care. When someone shares information with us, often times they are doing so because they trust that we are going to circle back around and do something about it. As a leader, we may not always be able to solve the problems of our staff - largely because they are bigger than who we are and our position - but we can always, always, circle back and check in on our staff, but only if we truly care about them. Just like we would turn the car around for our wallet or favorite pair of sunglasses, circling back to our staff establishes importance. It shows that we not only care enough to think about them, but that they are important enough to spend our precious time circling back.
   
   Helpful Phase: “I’ve been thinking about you.” It’s simple, but it’s also effective. Largely because we only think about the things we care about. Writing a card, sending a text, bringing coffee - or whatever - lets people know they are important enough for us to think about. “I’ve been thinking about you” means I haven’t forgotten about you. Which is huge. Because nobody wants to be forgotten.
   

4. Protect Your Culture. Establish Boundaries: As leaders, it is important for us to be vulnerable because it makes us personable and relatable. But only if we have established boundaries. As Brene Brown explains, vulnerability without boundaries can be dangerous because it is manipulating. When leaders share their struggles, their hurts and frustrations they build connections with their staff. Which is great! When done without boundaries, however, vulnerability becomes dangerous. When a leader shares too much or too often about their struggles, their shortcomings, or their doldrums about the profession (be it the kids, parents, or even their own bosses), two things will occur. One, it will set s standard that complaining and negativity is not only acceptable, it’s the default. The second reaction will be that those you lead will begin to lose faith in your ability to lead. Being human is perfectly acceptable. Being incompetent is not - even if that’s how we feel. As a leader, you carry immense power over the culture of your school. Protect your culture with strong boundaries, not open gates.
   

   Helpful Phrase: “We got this!” As a leader, it is imperative that we continually push our cultures and ourselves towards improvement. Being ignorant or ignoring issues is dangerous. So too is wallowing in them. Accepting them, however, as challenges to overcome not only encourages a positive culture, it unifies a culture. When we say to our staff, our students, “We got this,” we are admitting that there is an issue (establishing trust in our judgement), but we build and establish confidence that we will overcome - that we are capable! Which not only inspires hope, it encourages confidence. In their leader and in themselves.

5. Look past the words. See the story: “In order to think,” Jordan Peterson says, “you have to risk being offensive.” This is oftentimes difficult because it is the words that sting, that resonate, and that stay with us. But beyond the words is a story, and as a leader it is our job to get beyond the spoken words and dig deeper into what is actually happening. Are they afraid? Scared? Or hurt? Because if so, their words might be aggressive, defensive, or accusatory. Which is what makes true and meaningful conversations so dangerous. We can get so focused on the surface of the conversation that we neglect to see what is actually happening. But as a leader, that is our job. To look past the words and see the story. Because it’s not about us, its about them. And they need to know that.

   Helpful Phrase: “Say more.” As leaders, often times our first instinct is to speak up, to provide advice, share a story, or provide explanation. We want to solve the problem or defend our position. But just as often, when those we lead share their hearts, they’re not looking for a solution or an explanation. They just want to be heard. “Say more,” allows them that opportunity while also providing us space. Space from the specific words and therfore distance from the emotions they are invoking. And when we get distance, we get perspective. We see the story. Which, in the end, is really what it’s all about.

Engaging in conversation, in true and meaningful dialogue where ideas are expressed, where personal stories are told, and our hearts and minds and fears and dreams are laid bare, is a very dangerous thing. Done carefully, however, it can change a culture and a community. It can encourage, inspire, and truly save lives. But only if we’re willing to sit, listen, and get beyond ourselves. Which for many - myself included - is often a very difficult thing to do.

But that doesn’t mean we stop trying. Because as leaders, we’re not allowed to; as humans, we can’t afford to. Doing dangerous things carefully by engaging in safe and meaningful conversations is our job, our calling, and our responsibility. So let’s get after it!

We got this.

The Giving Tree, Read by Shel Silverstein

I’ve always enjoyed this story, especially in the classroom because although students tend to pick up pretty quickly the sweet relationship between the tree and the boy, they also feel the pang of selfishness that the boy exudes. “This story is kinda sad,” they say. Or, “He only thinks of himself.” And they’re right. Which leads into the essential question, “What is life all about?”

The discussions that ensue are brilliant.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education  :  Inspiring Art

December 4, 2018 Balance Like a Pirate : Going beyond Work-life Balance to Ignite Passion and Thrive as an Educator

For any educator, this is worth reading. It’s an easy read and can easily be accomplished over a break or long weekend, with the potential to help change life and the lives of those you serve.

Here is a brief snapshot.

IMPORTANT DISTINCTIONS:

“When we talk about personal balance, we are referencing everything that really makes you who you are - what are the “titles” outside of your job, and how do you cultivate them” (pg xxi)?

“Positional balance . . . Whatever you do that earns income or provides you financial stability . . .” (pg xxi).

“Professional balance is just that - how are you continuing to learn, grow, and enhance your knowledge and understanding of your role” (pg xxi)?

Passions: What I would do for free (pg xxii).

Five Favorite Quotes:

“We do not learn from experience . . . we learn from reflecting on experience” (pg 35).

“Leisure is only possible when we are at one with ourselves, We tend to overwork as a means of self-escape, as a way of trying to justify our existence” (pg 74).

“Each person has special talents - the things you enjoy doing when they are away from school. Making intentional time to cultivate your dream and following through with courage and discipline is important not only for you, but for the students you serve. So don’t hide it from your students! You strive to find out as much as you can about their passions, but how often do you share your passions with them?” - “Identity Day”, a school day devoted to students AND teachers sharing on thing they are passionate about (pg 106)

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading” - Lau Tzu (pg 115).

“The longer you wait to do something you should do now, the greater the odds that you will never actually do it” - The Law of Diminishing Intent (pg 124).

For more favorite quotes click here.

For more on . . .

Reading Log 2017  :  Reading Log 2018

Post-it: A Perfect Mistake

“Spencer Silver, the scientist who is partially credited with the creation of the Post-it,” Sinek writes, “was working in his lab at the Minnesota-based company, actually trying to develop a very strong adhesive. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful. What he accidentally made was a very weak adhesive” (pg 168).

Instead of throwing away his mistake, he passed it around throughout the company, “just in case someone else could figure out a way to use it.”

A few years later, a fellow scientist was in church choir practice, “getting frustrated that he couldn’t get his bookmark to stay in place.” It kept falling to the floor. Until he remembered Silver’s “weak adhesive.” It would make for the perfect bookmark.

That mistake is now “one of the best-recognized brands in history, with four thousand varieties sold in over a hundred countries” (pg 169).

Instead of seeing his mistake as a failure, Spencer Silver saw it as a “Not yet.” He also saw that he didn’t have the solution, that he needed a fresh set of eyes to look at the problem. He understood that he needed help. Which is exactly why he chose to work for 3m.

3M “knows that people do their best work when they work together, share their ideas and comfortably borrow each other’s work for their own projects.” There is “no notion of “‘mine’”, which is why, at 3m, more than 80 percent of their patents “have more than one inventor.” It’s also why, in 2009, “when other companies were slashing their R&D budgets to save money, 3M still managed to release over a thousand new products” (pg 170), because “they have a corporate culture that encourages and rewards people for helping each other and sharing everything they learn.”

Rather than serving and celebrating the individual, they consider the group and others above themselves. They stick together, just like the adhesive Spencer Silver attempted to develop in the beginning. (I know, my brilliant display of a word play amazes me too.)

“Successful failure,” my son says, reading over my shoulder, and he’s right. Perfectly so. Because in a society that considers others above themselves, failure is not something to be feared. It is something to be embraced, shared, and endured.

Imagine what our homes, schools, and communities would look like if we lived with a similar approach. Imagine the bruises and the failures. The freedom. The healing. And the beautiful success we would experience. Together.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education  :  On Living