Feeding Frenzy

Sometimes I accidentally forget to fill my bird feeder for a couple days when it becomes empty--usually when I notice that I do not have a flock of finches, cardinals, nuthatches, woodpeckers, bluebirds, and blue jays roosted in my back yard.  It seems that it does not take long for word to spread in the aviary world that fresh seed is out for all to devour.  Soon, the flock returns to my yard, feasting upon the crunchy morsels, and then flying away to obviously spread word that there is “good stuff” in that yard over there.  Hard to believe that such a small act on my part can create such a feeding frenzy. 

Sometimes our schools can be just that—a feeding frenzy.  After a spell of non-communication with families, any little piece of information seems to spread like wildfire.  Obviously, I prefer POSITIVE messages to become viral, rather than the negative.  It is so easy for the public to think that nothing is happening in the schools if they haven’t heard anything in a while.  That is when the occasional negative message circulates globally in an instant, just because that is the ONLY message coming from the school in a while.  We have a plethora of vehicles to create continual excitement about our schools—social media, email, displays, websites, blogs, videos, and even retro newsletters!  Educators need to “toot their own horn,” for excellence occurs every day, and it is difficult for one person to be omniscient of every instance of awesomeness.  It can be as simple as a tweet about students on a field trip, artwork, lab experiments, or social studies presentations.  It could be a mass email congratulating students on the completion of a major test, project, or initiative.  A parent thank-you post on Facebook could be shared just as often as the tirade about displeasure about school being canceled (or not) due to weather conditions.

A regular diet of small awesome messages being circulated around our communities will significantly outweigh the occasional not-so-awesome ones.  We can all create that feeding frenzy—just don’t let your feeder go empty for too long.

Counting Sheep

Count sheep.  Don’t open your eyes.  I said, don’t open your eyes.  Don’t look at the clock.  Count sheep backward.  Don’t look at the clock.  Slow, deep breaths.  What time is it?  It MUST be close to my alarm time.  3:30 AM.  DRAT!  Looked at my clock.  My desk at school is piled with paperwork.  I hope little Johnny behaves better today.  Did little Susie have dinner last night?  I wish I would have handled that student discipline situation differently yesterday.  Hope I didn’t ruin that kid’s life forever.  Need to email my weekly agenda to the staff.  Seven parents to call and the state standardized test schedule to formulate.  I should get started on my taxes.  Did I miss my wife’s birthday?

No matter what your profession, no matter what your job, we all have restless nights.  Sometimes I wish I could just flip that switch and not think about school for once, but that would completely opposite of who I am.  I am wired to help students and staff be the best they can be.  I’m not always successful, and maybe that is why I wake up in the wee hours of the morning with my thoughts directed toward school.  The desire for me to make life better for others is why I am who I am, and why I do what I do—every day.  A great principal friend of mine includes the following sentence in the signature line of every email he sends to his staff: Today, I will do whatever it takes to help you have a great day! 

Educators (teachers, principals, deans, counselors, paraprofessionals, custodians, secretaries, librarians, bus drivers, coaches) strive to make every day the best day possible for our students.  More often than not, it includes time and energy the public does not witness.  No one said that teaching was an 8-5 job.  How could it possibly be?  Some days you may see a teacher leave the school building before 4:00, but most likely she will be awake at 3:30 worrying about Johnny and Susie, formulating lesson plans in her head, cutting out bulletin board letters, baking cookies as a reading goal reward, searching Pinterest, Twitter, and other websites looking for new teaching strategies, standing in line at Walmart to purchase school supplies for those who cannot afford them, or wondering how she will inspire her students to do their best on the state tests.  Some say, “No rest for the wicked.”  Maybe we should say, “No rest for those who truly care.”  There are those who just do not understand the complete dedication of a teacher, and that is OK.  WE know that we are doing what we are called to do, and we will not give up on any student.  Ever.

4:45 AM—load of laundry done, living room vacuumed, blogpost written.  Too bad today is a two-hour weather delay for our school.  Looks like I will need to brew a second pot of coffee.

I Don't Care Much for Geese

As I peered out of my kitchen window this weekend, I spotted a flock of geese flying overhead.  I can tolerate most animals (well, maybe not a snake, unless you really want to see me jump on top of a table and shriek in hysterics).  If there is one animal that I really don't care for, however, it is the goose.  I really didn’t have a problem with geese until 2003, the year I started at the last school for which I taught.  No, our archrival did not have a goose as a mascot, nor did a goose ever attack me in my sleep.  

For those who do not know, I was a band director for 18 years before I became a principal.  Part of my job that I absolutely loved was designing and teaching the marching band halftime show for football games.  When I was hired at this northern suburban Milwaukee school district, I was warned about the migrating geese that often times roosted in this area.  Geese?  Near Milwaukee?  You betcha!  Every day as the band took to the practice field, the musicians had the duty of chasing nearly a hundred geese who chose to use our “classroom” as their personal rest area on their trek south for the winter.  At first it was annoying to take time to clear these birds off of our field, but as time went on it became a fun ritual to see who could get the closest to these waterfowl.  It didn’t take me long, however, to discover that there was something even worse than the winged intruders on the marching field.  It was poop—goose poop.  If you have never experienced it, it is gross.  For most of first quarter, the band room smelled of nasty, smelly, goose poop.

No one in any teacher training course I took ever told me that I would encounter anything like aviary fecal matter in the classroom.  There are many things that they don’t teach you in college before you actually become a teacher.  It wouldn’t even matter if they did, for you wouldn’t believe it if your professors actually told you that certain events could occur.  Teacher preparation has come a long way since the late 80s.  Today, first-year teachers know more and are expected to do more to actually graduate and receive their licenses than many of us old timers could ever imagine.  As I reflect back to my first year of teaching in 1992, I wish I could just erase that year from history.  I am, however, blessed to know that I didn’t mess up too many of my students.  Actually, I recently found out that one of my freshmen from that year is now teaching social studies at a nearby middle school.  He told me that he remembers when I took the school’s jazz band to the Purdue Jazz Festival that year, and that particular trip helped inspire him to eventually choose that post-secondary institution.  It is scary that I inspired anyone that year.  I made so many mistakes, but don’t we all?  We must not give up when we make mistakes, but rather own up to them, strive to amend our shortcomings, and be determined to become the best educators we can be. 

I continue to make mistakes; I don’t have all the answers.  Sometimes I have to chase away the geese to get to the heart of the lesson.  Even after the geese are gone and the lesson is taught, there still may be goose poop to clean up.  Educators have one of the toughest but rewarding jobs on the planet.  Our classrooms may smell from time to time, but we know that when we persist, students will gain the knowledge and skills needed to be productive citizens in our global society, and be able to pass on the character traits that we strive to instill in them.