The EGPS Vision of a Graduate

Lately, I've been involved in a lot of discussions about test scores, the colleges our EGPS graduates have attended, and points earned on Advanced Placement exams. It hasn't sat well with me, primarily because of the quote attributed to President Theodore Roosevelt: "Comparison is the thief of joy." All week, I've been trying to ground myself in something deeper for our students and this community, and I realized it was right in front of me: The Vision of a Graduate. 

It was developed before I began serving as Superintendent of Schools, and it is the roadmap for what we expect of our graduates. There are four components: 

• Knowledgeable: Students learn factual, conceptual, and content-based understandings across a variety of academic disciplines. Through "knowledge" our graduates have the ability to transfer content knowledge to a variety of familiar and unfamiliar environments, situations, challenges, and an evolving sense of self and others, within a local and global context. 
  
  
  
  
  
• Connected: Students understand and value connecting with a diversity of people, environments, and perspectives. Through "connections" our graduates embrace the capacity of their individual and collective purpose and action to fully leverage their impact on the interconnected workings of life and the world. 
  
  
  
  
  
• Reflective: Students routinely think about their knowledge, skills, emotions, connections to others, and personal histories and apply their insights to future situations, endeavors, and learning. Through "reflection" our graduates use an evolving understanding of who they are, what they are capable of, how they can positively impact and fit into the lives of others - ultimately taking control of and responsibility for satisfying intrinsic motivations to make a difference with their lives. 
  
  
  
  
  
• Skilled: Students demonstrate diverse skill sets enabling them to communicate effectively, solve problems creatively, think critically, and collaborate meaningfully with others. Through "competency" our graduates have the skills and dispositions necessary to harness and use knowledge of a variety of disciplines, of others and of themselves, to pursue current and future goals in order to find their place in the world. 
  
  
  

There is no mention of test scores, although the EGPS vision includes being able to take knowledge from one conceptual base to another. The expectation is that our graduates will use their skills across a variety of disciplines to "find their place in the world." 

There is no mention of the specific colleges our graduates will go to or that they go to a college at all. This vision does speak to building connections, not specifically where, so that their impact on this world is shaped by their "individual purpose." 

There is no mention of Advanced Placement exams, though some of the analysis and problem-solving necessary for demonstrating success on an AP exam are named. The purpose of those are specifically to ensure that our graduates find their place in this world. 

The reflection I did to return to the Vision of the Graduate is an effort to help our graduates find "intrinsic motivations to make a difference with their lives." 

I live in the real world, and I understand that we must continue to assess our students meaningfully and authentically, so that they have the opportunity to demonstrate their abilities for whatever their next step after EGHS will be. Perhaps it is a four-year college. Perhaps it is a two-year college. Perhaps it is military service. Perhaps it is a job. 

I am turning fifty this week, and one of the realities that I work hard to articulate for my own children, one of whom is a junior and serious about going to college, is that we can't always put a number on what is important. It took me three tries to break 1000 on the SAT in the late 80s and early 90s. I was told I would not get into the college of my choice because of those scores. My mother still has all of my report cards in a shoe box in the attic of the home I grew up in. 

I have lived for a half-century. I am in love with My Wife, of more than twenty years. I have two children I am proud of. I have friends that I could call and they would come at the drop of a hat. I have a job that doesn't feel like work, surrounded by people who share the same educational values that I do. 

I want EGPS students to be knowledgeable, connected, reflective, and skilled. And I want them to be happy, to find love, have good friends, and do meaningful work in the world. 

You can't put a number on that. 

Because of Unified Sports

I had the privilege and honor of watching a Unified Volleyball game at East Greenwich High School last week. What a gift that time was. Unified Sports brings out the best that humanity has to offer. 

Students eligible for special education play with typically developing peers (partners) on the same court. There are officials, scores are tallied, and in the case of volleyball, they rotate with the same regularity as you saw in the Summer Olympics in Paris. The differences are subtle but meaningful. 

• Unified athletes can serve from anywhere on the court. Partners have to serve behind the service line. 
  
  
• Unified athletes are given the benefit of a do-over. Partners are not afforded that same grace. 
  
  
• Unified athletes (perhaps) get a little more coaching than their partners. What I noticed, though, was that our coaches ensured that when our partners were serving, they were "aiming" for the partners on the other side of the net!

The stands at EGHS were packed that evening, and those in attendance cheered for both the EGHS athletes and the Exeter-West Greenwich athletes. The loudest and most raucous sounds came from the volleys that went back and forth several times. It didn't matter who got the point, as everyone recognized the significance of the focus and concentration this took for all the athletes. 

Our EGHS partner students called out the names of their unified peers when setting them for a winning shot. The celebrations when a unified athlete scored were loud and included the student's name. For both EGHS and E-WG, truly, that day, everyone was a winner. 

When I was interviewing for this position two and a half years ago, there was a student panel at the high school. For the first time in my career, one of the students in the room had a visible disability. Perhaps others had an invisible one, but in all my years of interviews with students, I had never encountered an interview panel like the one here in EG. It was my first concrete example that here, "All Means All." 

I was reminded recently that the word "educate" comes from the Latin root word "educere," which means to lead out. A real element of education is to ensure that our students feel safe, welcomed, and included when they come to school so they can learn to their fullest potential. Learning to one's fullest potential means making mistakes along the way. If our buildings are not safe places for mistakes, we will never draw out the unique strengths and potentials of our district's more than 2400 students. 

Our Unified Sports are not about perfection. They're not about keeping score. They're certainly not about winning. They're about the greatness in each one of us. Honoring that greatness and getting better a little bit at a time. 

A life lesson I was reminded of last Tuesday in the gym at 300 Avenger Drive. With thanks to Patty Carrosoto, the EGHS Unified Volleyball Team, and their counterparts from Exeter-West Greenwich. It was a special evening.  

Unified Athletics is a glimpse of the best we can be. 

Like Riding a Bike

I listened to the late Sir Ken Robinson's TED Talk about education more than ten years ago. Sadly, it wasn't in person, but it was stunning nonetheless. He discussed the factory model in education, which we still have to this day. Here's a clip of the most salient points (less than one minute long). If you want the entire talk, click here (it is almost twelve minutes long but well worth it). Thank you to YouTube for both of those clips. 

For some reason, that was in my head when I saw this tweet earlier this month from Brad Johnson (@DrBradJohnson): 

Dr. Johnson and Sir Ken Robinson are on to something here regarding the reality of education. It's not about churning out results like a factory. It's about creating a safe, welcoming, and inclusive place where all students can grow and learn to their potential, making mistakes along the way. It's not about output. It's about input. 

The goal is growth and mastery, not just good grades. We want our students to be better this year than they were last year and to grow even more next year. We want them to make mistakes, learn from them, and not make the same mistake twice. Consider the following examples: 

• How many people learned to ride a bike the first time training wheels were taken off? I would offer that some did, but most of us didn't. I distinctly remember my dad running behind me on a dead-end street in the neighborhood where I grew up many, many times. It wasn't until I learned how to master the balance, pedaling, braking, and turning that I didn't need his support. There were plenty of falls, skinned knees, and hands in the process. To this day, I still know how to ride a bike. 
  
  
• How many people didn't pass their driver's license road test the first time? I passed my first time, but it took me (and my parents) a long time to even think I was ready to sit for this high-stakes, real-world assessment. A couple of my friends did not pass the first time but got specific feedback about the skills they needed to hone before returning to test again. Even if it took more than one try, those friends passed and still have their licenses. 
  
  
• Final example: What happens if you don't pay your federal taxes by April 15? Do the feds give you a zero and wait around to see what you do next year? No - you pay a fine and get a six-month extension. In one of the most basic tenets of our society, extensions are given when deadlines are missed. 

The education process is complex, nuanced, and full of grey areas. It's not like a factory where one size fits all, and we can predict the outcomes simply because of the assembly line our students are on. The educators in East Greenwich Public Schools are constantly tinkering, adjusting, fine-tuning, tweaking, and pruning the lessons our students engage in daily. Planning, delivering, assessing, and then reviewing a topic in a classroom is a professional commitment to the variety of learners and learning styles in our six buildings. 

Do we get it right every time? Nope. Do our students get it right every time? Nope. But we start over again, learning from that day's teachable moments, promising not to make that same mistake again. Both students and teachers. 

Just like riding a bike. 

Did I Stutter?

Still, I can almost smell the movie popcorn, drenched in that fake, goopy, non-butter butter. That day in 1983 when my dad took my brother and me to see Return of the Jedi in the movie theater. For a long time, I still had the stub from the ticket. Remember when there were actual tickets to gain entry to events?

The drumbeat. The blare of the trumpets. The 20th Century Fox Fanfare. Then a pause... Then, the words Star Wars, followed by the crawl that brought you up to speed as to the details of the movie you were about to see. It was thrilling. 

Within that movie's first two minutes, we meet Darth Vader. First, we only see boots, and as the camera pans up, clad in all black, we fully take in one of the villains of this movie. Before we even hear his voice, the sound of the breathing apparatus fills the silent void. But then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You may dispense with the pleasantries, Commander. I am here to put you back on schedule," boomed from the helmeted figure. Voiced, of course, by the late James Earl Jones. 

Mr. Jones was in so many movies that I loved. Of course, the original Star Wars trilogy. I once proudly owned all three (Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi) as a boxed set of VHS tapes. Many a college evening was spent crowded in a dorm room, rewatching them while surrounded by friends. I also loved The Sandlot, The Lion King, any of the Thomas Clancy books-turned movies, The Hunt for Red October, Clear and Present Danger, and Patriot Games. Who could forget his role in Field of Dreams? Mr. Jones was clearly a gifted and talented actor both on stage and in front of a camera. 

In reading about his life recently, I came across a few things about him I never knew: Mr. Jones was abandoned by his parents when he was quite young and sent to live with, and these are his words, "a very racist grandmother." The rejection by his mother and father and the reality of his grandmother's racism resulted in substantial emotional distress for Mr. Jones, which led him, as a child, to stammer and then ultimately to stutter.  By the age of 8, he stopped talking altogether, passing notes in school to communicate. 

It wasn't until high school that a teacher, Donald Crouch, made a connection with Mr. Jones. Mr. Crouch recognized that Mr. Jones had a talent for poetry and encouraged him to write. Then, with Mr. Crouch's encouragement, Mr. Jones stood before his class and tentatively read some of the lines he wrote. Eventually, Mr. Jones grew to recite poetry daily, joined the debate team, and no longer stuttered. While the effects of this disability never entirely went away, Mr. Jones credits learning to control his stutter leading to his career as an actor: 

"In a very personal way, once I found out I could communicate verbally again, it became a very important thing for me, like making up for lost time, making up for the years that I didn't speak." 

All because of a teacher who made a connection, who saw something in Mr. Jones, and together, they discovered what was inside a child who did not speak. 

I wrote about the magic of teaching in this blog just a few weeks ago. This is what I'm talking about. As we reflect on the teachers in our own lives who made this kind of difference, I'm certain that we can all name them—not because of what they taught but because of how they made us feel. 

For me, one of those teachers was Professor Robert Garvey, now retired from the College of the Holy Cross. In the fall of 1992, he convinced a very homesick and very overwhelmed first-year student that he could indeed do the work that was expected of him. To this day, I remember the words he spoke to me: "In my experience, the admission officers here rarely, if ever, make mistakes in terms of students' abilities to do the work." At the time, I wasn't believing in myself. But those words made a difference and inspired me, and because of that, Holy Cross remains one of my absolute favorite places in all the world. On Mt. St. James, I made lifelong friends, grew passionate about issues of social justice, and made a decision that led me to meet My Wife when I chose to volunteer after graduation. 

All because of a teacher who made a connection, who saw something in me. 

Who will that teacher be for the more than 2400 students that come through our doors daily? I cannot say for certain. I do know that when I walk the hallways of our buildings, and when I visit the classrooms and the spaces where teaching and learning happens in East Greenwich Public Schools, I see this magic happening. 

All because of teachers who make connections, who see something in their students. 

Reflecting on September 12

I was born on the island of Manhattan, in New York Hospital (which no longer exists), almost fifty years ago. I grew up in Mt. Vernon, New York, just a short thirty-minute train ride away. We drove into NYC occasionally, but it was usually the Metro-North Train. The ride was closer to twenty-five minutes into Grand Central Station if we got an express train. From there, you could literally get anywhere in The City. 

You could take the 4 train to Yankee Stadium, as I often did, or the 7 to Queens if you wanted to see the Mets. If you wanted to go to Brooklyn, you could take the 5 train and transfer to the C. Growing up, we would often take the S (shuttle) train to Times Square and then take either the 1 or the 9 train downtown. One of my best friends turned twenty-one late in January of 1996, and I distinctly remember a group meeting at the Houston Street stop. After the appropriate shenanigans that a group of 21-year-olds do to greet each other, we oriented ourselves by looking for a dual landmark on the Manhattan skyline: The World Trade Center. 

Please remember, this was well before cell phones were ubiquitous and well before the smartphone was invented. Whenever we went downtown, our parents would tell us to use the Twin Towers to figure out which way was south. We all did it. 

The aviation term was "severe clear" for New York City and the surrounding area on that terrible day twenty-three years ago last week. As someone with a solo pilot's license, I know it's a perfect day to fly, as it's a day with a bright blue sky and almost unlimited visibility. I was settling down in Boston with my first first-grade class. Twenty-four 5 and 6-year-old faces at my morning meeting when the building secretary entered my classroom. 

I stepped away from my morning meeting momentarily. She told me my brother had called the school to tell me that my parents were driving my grandmother into The City for a doctor's appointment. I didn't understand why I needed to hear about this. That was a regular routine in my family. When nothing registered on my face, the secretary, Betty Ann Lawrence, said, "You don't know what is happening in New York? We are under attack." 

My family made its way back to Westchester County safely that day. As soon as my dad heard the news on the all-news station that he listened to whenever he drove, he started making his way back. Fortunately, I did not know anyone personally of the almost 3,000 New Yorkers who lost their lives on that morning. Without a television in my classroom and my basic cell phone in 2001, I didn't know much until I got home that day. 

I took it all in. I was overwhelmed. I cried. 

But what I remember most about that time in my life was the aftermath. On September 12 and the following days that month and that year, the sense of unity that we had, just being the United States of America. The restart of sports, the first "this" and first "that" post-9/11. 

One of my dear friends posted this on social media on the Anniversary of 9/11 last week, and it really resonated with me: 

We don't need another tragedy to be better toward each other, and candidly, I hope we don't wait for one. We can do better by being just one inch kinder, one inch gentler, and one inch nicer to each other. That generosity of spirit has a ripple effect in our world. It really does. Hold the door. Let the other driver go first. Share willingly. We are all human beings doing our best in a world where there are so many claims to what is true and good. 

If you don't believe these little things make a difference, consider that legendary musician Jon Bon Jovi saved a woman's life this week. According to NPR, Bon Jovi, who was filming a music video in Nashville last week on a public bridge that remained open, noticed a woman standing nearby on the outside ledge of the bridge. The singer and another member of his team approached. Bon Jovi waves. The woman returns his gesture of greeting. 

In the seconds that follow, Bon Jovi and his staffer get the woman to turn around. They continue talking. They ultimately help her over the railing and back to safety. Then they hug. 

Just one human to another. 

On Teaching and Learning

Thanks to starting school on the last Tuesday of August and having Monday off for Labor Day, we have yet to experience our first five-day week of this new school year. We won't this week, as Tuesday was Primary Day in Rhode Island. That said, our educators have been planning and preparing for our children's return long before these first official weeks of school. And by educators, please know that I mean every single employee in East Greenwich Public Schools: From Facilities to Food Service, Technology to Temporary Substitutes, Leadership to Long-Term Substitutes, and Paraeducators to Payroll, it takes every employee to make it possible for the magic to happen in the classrooms. 

Make no mistake about it, what happens in our classrooms in EG is magical. Yes, there's hard work involved and sometimes a little luck, but truly consider what it takes to be in a classroom in 2024. I saw the following graphic from the group Teach English on Facebook, and it captures the reality of education: 

The "What Teaching really is" list includes ten more items than just teaching itself. Add to that list the expectation that we reach all of our students and that a lesson rarely resembles "one size fits all," nor do lessons today look anything like how I learned K - 12. Or, for that matter, what lessons looked like when I was a first-grade teacher in 2001. Nor does this take into account the reality that we are still feeling the ripple effects of the pandemic in our day-to-day lives, and you can begin to comprehend the level of commitment our professional educators make to the more than 2,400 students who come to our buildings every day in East Greenwich Public Schools. 

It is natural to rely on our own experience of education when we think about Teaching and Learning. Without question, we can all name our favorite (and least favorite) teachers. More than likely, not for what they taught but for how they made us feel. Still, education is constantly evolving as we learn more and more about what constitutes best practice in education, and we tweak our professional skills to reflect that. Since almost everyone has gone through K - 12 classrooms as students, it's natural to think that we can critique it and offer feedback, having had the experience. That's akin to saying that I got my haircut last week at DelVecchio's on Main Street - want me to cut your hair? 

Yes, we have this community's most precious resources in our buildings on a daily basis. Yes, parents are the experts on their children, at home. We are the experts on how to best educate them when they're in our buildings. Our goal is to create a partnership to ensure that all students feel safe, welcomed, and included when they come to school in EGPS. If that's the case, they can learn to their fullest potential, making mistakes along the way. 

We are #BetterTogether. 

Be the Good Samaritan

One of our sons was driving to work this past summer when he realized he was having car trouble. The car recovered, but at the next intersection, the car died. Unfortunately, he was not entirely through the intersection when it happened. What did he do? He called me. 

It's one of those calls you don't want to get as a parent because there's literally nothing you can do but try to talk them through it. I asked all the relevant questions. Yes, he was OK. Yes, he had turned it off and tried to start it again. No, the dashboard had no lights on to alert him to a specific problem. I was about to put him on hold to call AAA when he told me someone was approaching the car. 

I will be honest: I was initially worried when he told me that. Who was this individual? Was this going to be a stranger trying to take advantage of the situation? Instead of AAA, should I call the police? 

It was clear almost immediately that this was someone trying to help. Through the phone, I overheard this individual tell our son to put the car in neutral (I didn't even think of that), and he helped him push the car out of the remainder of the intersection. As they pushed the car together, the engine caught, and our son was able to bring the vehicle to our service station. 

Three things happened in that brief exchange between Patrick and a stranger:

• The stranger showed kindness, by stopping what he was doing and stepping in to help. 
• The stranger showed empathy, sharing with Patrick that it had happened to him before, and he knew what it felt like. 
• The stranger showed compassion, when Patrick admitted he didn't know what to do. He taught him how to move a car when the engine dies. 

At our Welcome Back Convocation at East Greenwich High School on Monday, August 26, I shared with all EGPS employees that this year, we are about greatness, not perfection. Perfection is impossible to attain, but greatness is within reach. Specifically, I offered that we all could be great if we demonstrated kindness, empathy, and compassion to our students, each other, and the families we serve in this community. I used the following examples: 

• For kindness: In the Summer Olympics, during a preliminary heat of the 100-meter dash, a South Sudanese runner fell to the ground in agony. Before medics could arrive, a fellow competitor from Laos rushed to her side.
• For empathy: Our Director of Student Support Services, Neil Marcaccio's father, passed away. He told me he received more than 150 handwritten notes and cards. 
• For compassion: I witnessed a hug between strangers at the grocery store after a tall stranger kept a short stranger from climbing the shelves to get an item that was out of reach. 

None of these moments I've described were Herculean efforts. Yet, they all made a difference in someone else's life. We are better together when we remember the humanity of others. 

This year, be the Good Great Samaritan.