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.

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.

Acoustic Weekend

As I began my new position as principal of Rossville Middle/Senior High School, I made the conscious decision to be a “connected principal.”  Yes, in my past positions, I was able to keep up with email from a smart phone, send texts, and take phone calls.  I did not realize that being truly connected could be so much more rewarding.  This school year brought a big change to my career, as I had the opportunity to move back to Indiana, the state in which I began teaching.  With that, I wanted my new school to be the most visible, positive, and vibrant place anyone would want to send their children.  I made the choice to be connected.  I wanted the public to have a clear view of the fantastic events that happen every day—math lessons, welding demonstrations, lunch, drama, music, athletics, selfies, selfies, selfies, and selfies.  Yes, I consider myself to be a Twitter-holic.  It is rare that a school day goes by without tweeting a picture or some other school information.  I wanted our brick-and-mortar building to turn transparent.

While a connected principal can be a great asset to his students, parents, staff, and community, it also comes with a challenge to his personal life.  Believe it or not, educators have lives outside of school.  I can remember when I was in third grade (back in the stone ages), I saw my teacher in the grocery store.  It was as though her goddess-like status came crashing down around me.  Teachers are people, too.  Educators also have families—the loving group that supports you day in and day out, through great days and grim, understanding that education is more than an eight-to-five gig. 

I realized something over the past week.  I have been “plugged in” just a little too much lately.  Even when I am home with my family, even when my phone is “put away,” my mind is still vibrating with digital sparks.  I realized that I have been not paying attention to the people that mean the most in my life--my loving, supportive wife and my fantastic children.  This past weekend I made it a point that my phone stayed locked in my car, no computers were used, and no outside connections were made.  It felt good to just sit and talk, grab a Starbucks with my daughter, have a campfire with my son, and reconnect with my wife.  It is rare that I don’t think about school—that is just who I am.  This weekend I made it very quiet in that arena. 

I made the decision to put aside the electronic keyboards, drum machines, and microphones in my garage band life and have an acoustic weekend.  Going off the grid for a couple days may seem unbearable (just ask your teenager to give up their phone for a few hours).  Being disconnected for a weekend (or even a day) brings such clarity to your senses, allowing you to focus on what is most important to you.  Next weekend, take some time to strum a few chords on the old six-string and hum a few bars of your favorite tune (hopefully not your school fight song)—you will never imagine how loud the silence will be, and how much you will actually hear.  Just listen.

source: freehighresolutionimages.org

The Right Place at the Right Time

Wouldn't it be great if we would be the one-millionth customer at a grocery store and win a $500 shopping spree?  I guess you would need to be at the right place at the right time, right?  Probably.  What about being at a particular location, interacting with a certain person, and somehow influencing his immediate or distant future?

I believe that we are placed in situations that sometimes seem difficult, possibly mundane, or seemingly pointless, yet there is a purpose for us being there.  Being an educator (teacher, administrator, support staff, or other school personnel) is one of the most rewarding professions on the planet, yet at times it is easy to give in, give up, or just float along.  I remember asking myself on several difficult occasions throughout my career, “Why am I here?”  We are here, of course, for all of our wonderful students we teach every day.  Without fail, we provide lessons, guidance, mentoring, and modeling for those shining (and even the not-so-shining) faces.  Even when circumstances seem bleak or overwhelming, there is a purpose for our educational existence. 

Very early in my teaching career, I had the wonderful opportunity to be the band director for a small school district in northern Indiana.  I was responsible for grades 5-12 instrumental music, so I knew practically every student in the entire district, as most were in my class at one point or another.  I had one student who was a bit more difficult than others, and sometimes he made the class (and me) so tense, it would have been easy to simply kick him out of the program.  I persisted, and so did his peers, in making him a contributing member of the class.  He left our school after eighth grade to go to a different high school and I lost track of him.  In 2009, about nine years after he graduated, I received several Facebook friend requests from him, but I declined his invitation several times.  Because of his persistence, I finally accepted his request.  I then received the following personal message from him:

It took me a good long while to realize how important you were in molding me into the man I have become. I was just so hard-headed back then, when all you were trying to do was help no matter how much resistance I put up. I still remember the time you had me and Craig perform the National Anthem for the football game, which was something I would have never done without your championing. It is one of the proudest moments of my life. Thank you for being there for me when it would've been easier not to.

It was one of those moments that made me realize exactly why I love my profession as much as I do.  I responded to him immediately (after wiping the tears from my eyes):

You know, people don't go into teaching for the high salaries or the stellar social status. Teaching is difficult at times, but it is very rewarding to hear that former students have turned out to be wonderful, productive adults. I don't hold any grudges with any students (how can I do that--they are only adolescents and teenagers--they have enough issues that they try to work through every day). Each and every student has affected me in some way to improve not only my teaching, but also who I am as a person. I am proud of all of my students, even those that didn't always accept my teaching methods at the time.

I believe that I was put in this particular school at this particular time for this particular student (and many others).  You never know who you will affect in exactly what way.  The person that will cure cancer may be sitting in your English class right now.  Continue to inspire, lead, mold, and mentor every student in every class.  Educators are always “at the right place at the right time.”

Stir-crazy

Today was the second consecutive day out of school for weather.  Yesterday was Winter Storm Gorgon that dumped six inches of fluffy snow on us, causing a bit of a conundrum for our county.  Today was the arctic blast that sent wind chills to the -20s.  While there is always something to do on my desk, I went a bit stir crazy today, so I decided to have a little fun in my empty school.  I truly miss all of the students and staff when they are not here.  Yes, I got plenty of paperwork done and emails answered, but that is not the same as working directly with our wonderful kids and awesome teachers.

Hope you enjoy my video....

http://youtu.be/_fOiD2bapo8

Addendum (1-9-2015)
Washington Post article:
http://goo.gl/eAZO7T

Snowed in (or not)

Winter Storm Gorgon is approaching, and I am anxiously awaiting for the predicted six inches of snow that will supposedly cripple central Indiana.  Back in the old country (Wisconsin), six inches of snow is merely an inconvenience--maybe a 2-hour delay if it occurred around 5 in the morning, but never a cancellation.  My wife's family is closely tied to another school district in central Indiana.  For the past 18 years I have made fun of them when their district cancels school for days on end for less than a foot of snow.

Perspective.  It is all a matter of perspective.

Doesn't that account for nearly everything when it comes to teaching and learning?  What seems completely obvious to one, may be utterly confusing to another.  Response to Intervention, academic standards, educator effectiveness, technology infusion, anti-bullying, and mod scheduling each bring different levels of comfort or stress to students, teachers, administrators, and parents.  The biggest obstacle to educational progress is the size of the snowdrifts of misunderstanding.  Maintaining communication among all stakeholders in the educational process is vital; teachers, parents, administration, and students may all have different and valid perspectives on current practices and future goals of a school district.  Successful schools allow for voices to be heard, perspectives to be understood, and the well-being of the students to be visible at all times.

It is my honor and privilege to be a part of the Rossville family.  As I continue my inaugural year as Principal of Rossville Middle-High School, I look forward to grow in the manner I serve the staff, students, and families of this awesome community.

Through the composition of this blog post, Gorgon continues to push her snake-haired head into the area, and I wonder if she will prevent us from holding classes in the morning.  If we do, great learning will continue within these walls.  If we do have a snow day, I will go sledding on the hill next to the playground and frolic on the soccer field.  I hope others will join me.  That is learning, too, donchaknow!

Perspective.  It is all a matter of perspective.

I brought my snow pants and boots from Wisconsin, and I am anxiously waiting to use them here in the Hoosier State.  Meet me at the sledding hill.