Sometimes Life Lessons Stick

We had a long day of lacrosse games Saturday. The first game started at 3:30, and the second game was slated to start at 5:30, but because sporting events rarely run on time, it started late. Since the second game started late, it ended late, and our dinner plans, which were already iffy, were now out the window. It would be fast food, the bane of spring sports families. 

When we finally wandered into the Chick-fil-A, it was pretty late, and very few people were in there. We ordered our food and sat down. As we ate, our eyes were drawn to a group of eight young men eating nearby. They were an unremarkable set of boys; nothing stood out about them except for one thing: there was a pile of cell phones in the middle of the table. 

They were talking, laughing, and joking. Some had food in their mouths, some had food in their hands, and some were playing with their food. Their eyes were bright, their voices were loud, and they were all animated. Eight young men on a Saturday night, in a Chick-fil-A, NOT on their phones. It was like a glimpse of what life was like in 1995. 

As My Wife pointed out these gentlemen, our conversation was drawn to one of our favorite Ricca Family traditions: Friendsgiving. Several years ago, when we lived in Vermont, on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, we would host our closest friends and their families in our home. We cooked the turkey; everyone else brought the sides. We provided drinks for adults and children and opened our home to enjoy the people in our world, who would normally scatter to their families on the Wednesday before Turkey Day. 

Two years into our tradition, we added something right at the front door: two shoe boxes. The shoe boxes were for cell phones. Two years into our tradition, we decided we wanted people to look at each other and not at their phones. Two years into our tradition, no one could carry their cell phones past our front door for one night. 

One night, we reasoned, while the most important non-family family members ate, drank, and were merry in our home, would give us more moments of joy. One night without cell phones in our pockets would let us make more eye contact. One night without an alert in our hands would bring us closer to the people who matter most to us. 

That first year was a struggle. People felt awkward without their phones. We saw it, but we muddled through. The second year was better. But a funny thing happened in the third year: we forgot to put the boxes out at the front door. It wasn't the first guest who noticed, but twenty minutes into our Friendsgiving, one of my friends came up to me and said, "Where are the shoe boxes?" Without turning away from the turkey, I directed him to where we keep them, and he went around collecting the phones. Not one person balked at it. Not even the teenagers. 

Back to our friends at Chick-fil-A. The only remarkable thing about them was that we knew them all. They were seven friends of our son Brendan, who turned sixteen this week. They chose to put their cell phones in a pile on the table. My Wife didn't ask them. I didn't ask them. They did it all on their own. 

Sometimes, life lessons stick. 

Can It Be More Than Once A Year?

We celebrated Teacher Appreciation Week in East Greenwich Public Schools from Monday, May 6 through Friday, May 10. Our EGPS Parent Teacher Groups were tremendous. They had daily themes and spoiled our educators with snacks, meals, gifts, and notes. Allen Gammons, an East Greenwich High School graduate from the Class of 1984, bought the teachers and staff of EGPS a coffee and pastry on Friday, May 10. The Rhode Island Football Club is offering all educators complimentary tickets in May, along with an educator rate of $13 tickets for North Bleacher tickets this month. This kind of generosity is humbling. 

And I was reminded of the fact that a little over four years ago, as we struggled with the new reality of this ugly word COVID, Shonda Rimes tweeted the following: 

I am NOT advocating that teachers need to make a billion dollars a year. No educator that I have ever encountered in my twenty-eight years in this profession came to teach to make a lot of money. They all, every single one of them, did it to make a difference in the lives of children. Though speaking of money, I did come across a troubling statistic this past week. It is from the non-profit Foundation for Research on Equal Opportunity. They charted the median return on investment for college majors (bachelor's degrees, and it's troubling (at best) when it comes to education. Here's the graphic: 

Yes, bachelor's degrees in education are dead last in return on investment. The only degree that fares worse is one in Fine Arts. So, per this research, you don't want to be a teacher, and you definitely don't want to be a teacher in music or art. This is discouraging for so many people that I know and love. 

How have we gone from Shonda Rimes' tweet, when COVID was swirling around us, to the reality that it's the worst return on investment? I don't have all the answers, but I know that one week a year of appreciation will not solve this. There will always be a need for educators. Always. We are all a product of education. Every single one of us. Simply being a product of an educational system does not qualify one to judge (or these days) publicly shame educators on social media. That is akin to telling you that Nick DelVecchio cut my hair at his shop on Main Street last week, and you should feel welcome to sit in a barber chair in front of me while I take out my clippers and scissors. 

How do we move from appreciation to feeling valued? Again, I don't have all the answers, but I can offer a concrete suggestion for our community: reach out to share when something goes right in your kiddo's classroom. A note or an e-mail is more than enough to express what you value about what is happening in EGPS. I can give you a recent example from my own professional life. 

I keep an e-mail folder in my inbox called "Rainy Day." This is a folder of messages from people sharing a kind word for my work. It's for those moments when I'm overwhelmed or discouraged by the work of educational leadership. My go-to when I feel that way is to get into an early elementary classroom and get on the floor (I was a first-grade teacher before going into leadership). If I can't do that, I look through the Rainy Day e-mail folder. Currently, the total number of messages in that folder is 33. 

In contrast, I received more than 870 messages on two weeks of medical leave. 

To be clear, I don't want people writing to me. I'm challenging our community to write messages to our staff (any employee of EGPS) once a month during the school year to express how they value the work that we're doing. If each parent with kiddos in our schools wrote one message a month (either physical or e-mail) to someone stating how they valued their work in EGPS, that would move the needle from feeling appreciated to feeling valued. 

As I often do, I was talking about my idea for this week's post with the people I share office space with. This week, it happened to be Bob Wilmarth, our Director of Facilities. He's a man who has demonstrated care and stewardship over the buildings in EGPS for years. When I shared my thoughts about this week's writing with him, he said, "Can't we be kind to each other all year round, not just for a week?"

Truer words were never spoken. 

I Was Humbled and Grateful

On Friday, April 19, 2024, I walked into the outpatient surgery center for my first-ever surgery. I felt pretty fortunate that for the first forty-nine years of my life, I did not need to be unconscious except for routine colonoscopies. I was nervous, to be sure, as I had no idea what to expect that day or in the subsequent ones as I recovered. While I walked in on my own, I was pushed back to my car in a wheelchair for my ride home. 

It's humbling to be that vulnerable, and for the bulk of the days following, I could do very little on my own. I was relying on My Wife for even my most basic needs. Slowly, over the past two weeks, I was able to regain my strength and start to feel like a person who can take care of himself. It's very humanizing to be in a position where someone else has to do almost anything for you. 

Besides being humbled by this experience, I was full of gratitude: 

• I have a job in EGPS that comes with tremendous health care, which allowed me to have the surgery in the first place. 
  
  
• We have an excellent staff in the District Office and a thoughtful Leadership Team that sent me care packages full of fruit and yummy snacks, for me and My Family. They also sent crossword puzzles and sudokus to ensure that my brain didn't turn to mush while I recovered. 
  
  
• EGPS has an Assistant Superintendent, and Michael Podraza brilliantly led the district in my absence. 
  
  
• Even though my inbox had more than 870 messages waiting for me, the work continued in our district. We have marvelous employees who do the work of education every day on behalf of the students and their families in East Greenwich. 
  
  

With thirty-five days of teaching and learning left in our school year, there is still plenty of work to be done. In early June, we will celebrate the Graduating Class of 2024 from East Greenwich High School. There will be moving-up ceremonies for our 8th graders, our 5th graders, and our 2nd graders. We will work smarter, not harder, as the days become warmer and longer and the allure of summer becomes stronger. This is the work of education. 

Even if I still can't put on my socks by myself. 

Photo Courtesy of LinkedIn

It's Not Easy

I rarely get to speak to our teachers and paraeducators together outside of the first days we welcome them back in August. However, on Tuesday, April 2, I had that opportunity. It was Primary Day in Rhode Island, and on that day, we could not have Teaching and Learning for students, as Frenchtown Elementary was a polling place. We could have Teaching and Learning for adults, though. 

For Professional Development this year, we committed to "Back to Basics," otherwise known as no new initiatives. The adults in our district were still feeling the pandemic's ripple effects, and we did not want to increase their workload from a local perspective. We wanted to focus on relationships and ensure that our adults had the tools to keep all our students safe, welcomed, and included when they came to school. To that end, we welcomed Jetta Bernier from the Enough Abuse Campaign. Ms. Bernier presented some incredibly hard information to hear about the insidious nature of childhood sexual abuse. We needed to hear this (again) to make sure that EGPS adults can do everything possible to protect the children in our community. 

So, in front of me was this opportunity. I usually only have once a year to speak to all the people who do the work of Teaching and Learning in our district. At the same time, what we would hear that day was going to be stomach-turning at times. It was not going to be easy. Fortunately, for me, I found some wisdom. Not from another person; from Winnie the Pooh: 

I shared two stories that morning of times I needed help, one of which happened this past February. I hold monthly Office Hours at each of our schools so that if there is something on the minds of our employees, they don't have to go far to find me. As I settled in, a member of our staff knocked on the door and came in. After sitting down, this person shared that they had seen a social media post by a community member in EG about my thoughts on the draft calendar for next school year. 

After first asking if what they read on Facebook was true (which I appreciated!), and when I confirmed that it was, this person shared how upset my thinking had made them. The truth was we needed help with how to handle the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, in our draft calendar. The holiday begins at sundown on Wednesday, October 2, and concludes at nightfall on Friday, October 4. 

When we were thinking about which days we should have off from Teaching and Learning to honor the holiday, I shared that given the choice, I was leaning toward Friday because I was concerned about attendance if we gave Thursday off. I thought that if we gave all EGPS Families Thursday off for the celebration of Rosh Hashanah, many would take Friday off as well. 

This person shared with me how important this holiday is to them and the observance of their religion. Further, the fact that I was thinking about attendance felt like I was diminishing the importance of their faith. So this person asked me to reconsider. 

This person was vulnerable. This person was honest. This person was humble. This person was brave. Without using the actual words, this person was asking for help. Without saying it out loud, I needed help. 

Had this person not come forward, more than likely, we would have gone ahead with my thinking on the draft calendar. This individual's courage helped me to see the error of my ways and my failure to consider all perspectives. We will honor Rosh Hashanah on Thursday, October 3, 2024. 

In my personal and professional life, I cannot do it alone. I would offer that no one in East Greenwich can do it alone, either. We need each other to be our best selves for this entire community. 

We all need to be brave enough to ask for help. 

On Unified Sports

The text came in early that morning. Typically, it's not good news when a principal texts me early in the morning. However, this was a welcomed message from Melissa Centracchio, Principal of Cole Middle Schools: "Unified basketball is playing West Warwick at 9:30. Stop by if you can." 

There was no question I was making time for this. I quickly rearranged my office hours at another school for later that morning to ensure I could get to Cole to witness this. Unified Sports brings out the best in us. It's the best way to play sports, because everyone is a winner before the games actually begin. It's the best way to play sports because the final score means nothing. It's the best way to play sports because it's not about the outcome; it's about the relationships. 

In case you're unfamiliar with Unified Sports, it's a way for students with disabilities to participate in athletics along with typically developing peers. There are uniforms, officials, scorekeepers, and fans. But honestly, the only thing that matters is having fun. 

During the game at Cole last week, there were no traveling calls, even though almost every kiddo ran with the basketball without dribbling. There were rebounds, but the rebounder often gave the ball back to the kiddo, who took the shot and missed. And the only time the referee blew a whistle was to call for substitutes to ensure that everyone got out onto the floor. 

The gym was packed. The entire student body was in attendance. The bleachers were full, faculty and staff lined the walls, because it was standing room only. And when a Cole player scored the first points of the morning, you would have thought the team won the Middle School State Championship. (Which, by the way, the Cole Boys did win on February 17 of this year). 

Players ran up and down the floor, holding hands. They helped each other up, even those on the opposing team. During the game, players smiled at each other. 

After the game, I received this message from Mrs. Centracchio, who had e-mailed the parents of one of our Cole students: 

I am writing to let you know that I am extra proud of Nina today. 

She may have told you that we hosted Warwick Vets today for a unified basketball game. Nina recognized a boy on the Vets team that she went to preschool with, and she approached him to say hi. He was so excited that when he wasn't on the court playing, he'd go right to Nina and sit with her and her friends throughout the game. 

Vets is where I was in leadership before I came to Cole, so I know the coaches well. One, who is a dear friend of mine, approached me after the game to tell me about what Nina had done and how special it was for this young man. She also shared the attached picture with me - so I thought I'd share them with you as well. 

I am always proud of our students at Cole (especially at events like this) and today I was extra proud of your daughter. Well done, Mom and Dad!

Yes, I know this is different from how all sports are played. Healthy competition is expected, even at the middle school level. We can only sometimes hold hands and give away rebounds. 

But away from the court, this is precisely what we want from our students, the little and the big humans of East Greenwich Public Schools. We want them to nurture and maintain relationships with friends they've had since preschool, regardless of their abilities. We want our students, all of our students, to feel safe, welcomed, and included when they come to school. That way, and only that way, I maintain, can they learn to the best of their ability. That way, and only that way, I maintain, they will have the courage to make mistakes. That way, and only that way, I maintain, is the true meaning of All Means All. 

We're flawed humans. That part is not in question. However, unified sports are a window into the depth and beauty of who we really are as those flawed humans. 

Lessons we, more often than not, need to be reminded of by our students. 

The Gift of Time

The NCAA Tournament, known as March Madness, is one of the best sporting events in our country. I love college basketball more than its professional counterpart, and this tournament is one of the reasons why. If it were a best-of-five or best-of-seven series, more than likely, the better team (on paper) would win. However, this is not a series. Instead, there is a different opponent in every round. If a team wins six games in a row, they are the champion!

As of Sunday morning, March 24, my bracket is busted. I picked Kentucky to play Connecticut in the final game. Inexplicably, Kentucky lost to Oakland on Thursday night. That is the joy (for Oakland—a team that few had heard of before that game) and the agony (for Kentucky—a team that hoped to contend for the title) of this tournament. By the way, Oakland lost its second game to North Carolina State and is also out of the tournament. 

There is no such thing as a perfect bracket. OK, it's not that there's no such thing. It's nearly impossible to pick all sixty-three games correctly. The odds of picking that flawless bracket are 1 in 9.2 quintillion. Essentially, it's the equivalent of me picking up one grain of sand and you guessing the exact grain of sand I picked.

This week, I listened to a podcast about the 2019 NCAA Tournament and a gentleman named Dr. Gregg Nigl, a neuropsychologist for Veterans Affairs from Columbus, Ohio. Like many of us, Nigl filled out a couple of brackets that year without any specific pattern. As a Big Ten fan, he leaned heavily on the teams he knew from that conference and ended up throwing in some upsets along the way, like we all do. 

When the tournament began, he and his family were driving to Vermont for a ski vacation. During their drive, they stopped along the way to eat and watch some basketball. It was a long drive, so by the time they arrived on Sunday, Dr. Nigl and his family were happy to be at their destination. 

When they woke up on Monday, Dr. Nigl was surprised by a voicemail that he got from a colleague. Someone from the NCAA was calling his office looking for him. It turned out that as of Monday morning, after the first four days of the tournament, Dr. Nigl had picked a perfect bracket. There were forty-eight games that were played from Thursday through Sunday. Dr. Nigl picked every single one of them correctly. Yes, you read that correctly. Every game from Thursday afternoon to Sunday night, all forty-eight games, were accurate on his bracket. 

This was his fifteen minutes of fame. Buick (a sponsor that year) wanted to fly him out to Anaheim, CA, to see his beloved Michigan Wolverines play in the Sweet Sixteen (the second weekend of the tournament). He was on CNN and Good Morning America. This perfect bracket took over his family's time in the Green Mountain State. 

In Anaheim with his son (Nigl could only take one other person with him), as he got to the arena to watch the game, he found out that the University of Virginia came back and beat Oregon, another pick he had. Forty-nine correct picks out of a possible sixty-three! But before the game started, he saw that one of his picks was in trouble. From his seat in the arena, he watched on his phone, Tennessee lost to Purdue, and his streak of accuracy was over. 

It only went downhill from there. He watched, in person, as Michigan lost to Texas Tech, and in the second game that weekend, he watched Texas Tech take out his Championship pick: Gonzaga. For the remainder of his bracket, Dr. Nigl missed on three of his eight Sweet Sixteen picks. Only one of his Final Four picks actually made it to the last weekend. All in all, he accurately picked 53/63 games in the 2019 tournament. 

This is the fifth anniversary of that fantastic string of predictions. In the podcast, Nigl shared that he and his son were talking about the trip. When his son was asked, "What was your favorite memory of the trip?" His son said, "Happy to be in a cool place with you." 

Not being at a college basketball game in Anaheim. Not his dad being on TV multiple times. Not the hotel, the rental car, the spending money from Buick. Not his dad's fifteen minutes of fame. Being with his dad was the best part of that streak of forty-nine correct NCAA game outcomes. 

As parents, from the moment our children are born, we raise them to be independent beings. We celebrate all the milestones: crawling, walking, riding a bike, and driving a car. All those events are attempts for our children to grow from us. Time slips through our fingers as consistently as the seasons change. That is the gift of parenthood: time. 

For My Wife and me, we have crested over the halfway point. This year, Our Boys will turn sixteen and eighteen and have already had the majority of time in our home that they will spend. Our weekends are often spent in different locations, watching different sports, at different times, texting each other updates from games. Vacations to us have always been precious, but even more so as Our Boys have gotten older. We crave that unscripted time with them, away from the schedules, classes, homework, and jobs. 

What we do in education is essential; it's critical work. The shaping of young minds, especially in 2024, requires preparation, care, and a growth mindset. It takes a district and community beyond who we see in the classrooms to get it done. Yet, the work of our families and the time with our families come first. 

"I picked the best bracket ever, and it was very lucky. But it might have been the second luckiest thing that happened to me that March." (Dr. Gregg Nigl) 

~Thank you to my dear friend Mike Philbrick and the team at ESPN Daily for reporting this story. 

The Kindness of Strangers

It started innocently enough. A "sorta" stomach ache. A dull headache. Nothing specific and nothing truly scary. Our youngest son was a step slower than the rest of us during our vacation. We were out of the country and about to move to another island, one substantially less populated and, thus, with less medical support. To be sure that he was OK, we reached out to our Airbnb host and asked for a recommendation. Armed with the name of the local doctor and an address, My Wife headed out with our youngest. 

As it turned out, our host did more than just share information. When My Family walked into the clinic, they were asked for our last name. When the response was "Ricca," they were shown promptly in to see the doctor. There was no "waiting" in the waiting room. Our host saw to it that our family, a little nervous about being out of the country, was well cared for. The doctor was wonderful: he listened carefully, assessed medically, and sent them on their way with three over-the-counter medications. As he gave directions to the local pharmacy, the doctor also shared his personal cell phone number. If they give you a hard time at the pharmacy, or if he gets worse, text or call. Anytime. 

That night, as we prepared to travel to the more sparsely populated island, our youngest had a low-grade fever—the first time that symptom appeared. Still, he had been checked out by a doctor, and we had the doctor's cell phone. Our youngest felt well enough to move on to the next island, so off we went. That night, though, his appetite started to fade, and he didn't even join us on the beach. I figured he needed a good night's sleep, and after a day or two on the medications, he'd bounce back to his typical teenage self. I'm not that kind of doctor, but that's the pattern I expected since that's what I've seen happen multiple times in his fifteen-plus years on this planet. 

The following day, though, he had not improved, nor had he slept well. My Wife and I took turns going to the beach with our oldest, and the other would stay in the house with our sick kiddo. All the symptoms were rolled into one miserable young man: very little appetite, low-grade fever, headache, and upset stomach. He wasn't getting better. I still expected him to turn it around in another day or so. 

The next day was more of the same, although it seemed like his fever was getting worse and his appetite had disappeared entirely. We had chatted a little bit with our "next-door" neighbors, people who owned their own place in this little corner of paradise. They were friendly and helpful, and we shared what was happening with our younger son, so they would check in on him often. 

It all came to a head that night when Brendan's fever spiked to 102.9, and he threw up. Desperate to connect with someone, we texted the original doctor, who agreed to see us in the morning, but that was a ferry ride away. I hustled to our neighbors and asked for help. They called someone local to the island, and that person put us in touch with a local nurse. Our neighbor handed me her phone and told me to keep it for the night. I must have made a half dozen calls to the nurse that night. While she reassured us medically, with his condition worsening, we made plans to leave and head home the following day. 

As the first ferry was at 8:00, I didn't expect to see our neighbors before we left, so I wrote them a quick thank you note, stuck it on their phone, and put it on their doorstep. As we were pulling out, one of them came across the way to check in on us. We expressed our sincere gratitude and then made our way to the ferry, then to the airport, and finally back home. 

As it turns out, Brendan has pneumonia. He's been seeing his pediatrician regularly since we got back. He's on antibiotics and we're pushing fluids. While he's still not well, there are small signs of improvement. We're still concerned but far less knowing that we're home and have wonderful medical care. 

Our world is full of stories of people who are awful to one another. Where our common humanity means nothing and self-interest is the guiding force. And yet, we encountered the deep kindness of four complete strangers in our vulnerable moments. An Airbnb host. A random doctor. Two "neighbors," who shared a dirt road with us. 

We are grateful to all of them, but especially our "neighbors," Phil and Laura, from Little Compton, RI. 

Photo courtesy of Jo Hudson, www.medium.com