What's Important?

The reality has yet to fully sink in for me.

We will not see our students again in person this school year. Our students will not see their teachers in person again this school year. We will not see our colleagues or meet as a Faculty & Staff in person again this school year.

My head fully understands the science behind Governor Scott's decision. My heart is aching for what might have been had this global health crisis not impacted our world. There are so many unknowns, and yet we must focus on what we can control and what we know.

This is what I know about our future together:

Relationships come first in our school family.
We will prioritize conversations over grades.
We will prioritize being kind, over being right.
We will prioritize people over our institutions.
We will meet students and their families wherever they are.

This is what is important to us. We want our students to know they matter more than what they can do while they are away from us. We want our teachers to know that the connections they nurture with their students matter more than what our students can produce while they are away from us. We want our families to know they are not teachers, nor are they expected to be teachers. We want our families to do what they need to do to care for their families during this difficult and challenging time.

That's it. That's our list. That is what's important to us. We will figure out the rest together.

We are in this together. We are here for you. I am here for you.

Take good care of yourselves and each other.

Photo courtesy of www.strobeleducation.com

On Human Capacity

I remember exactly where I was when I first found out the attacks on September 11, 2001, were taking place. I was reading to 24 first graders in the Boston Renaissance Charter School. It was the beginning of our day and were just settling in.

When I was told the news, I was shocked, saddened, and distraught. My Family lives just outside New York City. I was worried about them, and the unknown was daunting. And I could not show any of that to my students. They had no idea what was happening yet, and it was my job to go on with our day as regularly as I could. I knew I would need to love my students through this.

I'm almost sure that's how teachers across the country have felt as they said goodbye to their students this week and last, unsure of when they would see them again. The notion that what was happening was unlike anything they had ever experienced, the mix of emotions, and the pressure to be brave, while at the same time loving their students enough to give them permission to feel everything is a delicate needle to thread.

In those days and weeks after September 11, I remember struggling through what was becoming our new normal. There were daily updates from Ground Zero, Washington D.C., and Shanksville, PA, with little, if any, good news. Lives were lost, families were struggling, and yet, we were asked to put one foot in front of another and try to go on.

What stood out to me during that time were the ordinary stories of kindness and love, that demonstrated the best of our humanity during a time when we needed it the most. Now, I'm not going to get all sappy and tell you that the world is a better place because of September 11. I am going to offer that it is in the depths of something that earth-shattering that we return to what we know and the basic human decency that occasionally gets lost in our day-to-day lives.

Don't look now, but it's happening again.

Amid the most significant public health threat that we have faced in one hundred years, we are rediscovering the incredible human capacity that lives within all of us. Consider that I had five volunteers - yes, five volunteers - step up when asked to provide child care to essential people in St. Johnsbury! They did not ask any questions, they simply responded to a call for help.

People are singing from their balconies. People are working tirelessly. People are giving away needed food, supplies, and resources for free.

Those are just a handful of examples - please share more in the comments section below this post. We will continue to shine our lights during this uncertain time. We can, and will, shine.

The truth is the things that unite us as humans far outnumber those that divide us. In the same way that we came together as a human family post-September 11, we are coming together during this prolonged departure from our typical worlds. We are all searching for a way through. The only way is together.

We are in this together. We are here for you. I am here for you. 

Take good care of yourselves and each other. 

Photo courtesy of Brene Brown

What Did You Watch on TV?

On the first Friday of the recent mid-winter break, our youngest son was diagnosed with strep throat. While he struggled through that diagnosis, he also caught a mild case of the flu. What was to be a relaxing and fun few days away from the regular school grind turned into a slow march toward recovery, that spanned his entire vacation.

Needless to say, we spent some time in front of our television. As we did, we witnessed two events related to sports that could not have been more polar opposites: The Houston Astros' "apology" and the Memorial for Kobe Bryant.

What struck me most about the Astros' press conference was the stilted, stuffy language. It was carefully crafted and all but empty of any feeling or emotion. From the players to the new manager to the owner, there was no feeling of earnestness. There was no feeling of genuine remorse. There was no sense that there was a real grasp of what had taken place.

In contrast, when we watched the memorial service, you could not help but be moved by what was taking place on the screen. For Vanessa Bryant to eulogize not only her husband but her child as well, demonstrated strength, I hope I never have to summon. Regardless of what you do or do not believe, natural law tells us that our children should outlive us.

In addition to Mrs. Bryant, in perhaps what I might offer was his most beautiful public moment of a professional basketball career, already laden with superlatives, Michael Jordan spoke eloquently and openly about how he was feeling. He shed tears openly, quipping, "Now he's got me. I'm going to have to look at another crying meme." Jordan referred to Bryant as a brother and noted how a piece of him has died as well.

The two events could not have been further apart from each other. One the one hand, one organization, was trying to move forward from a cheating scandal that impacted the outcomes of baseball games. The other organization was trying to grapple with the loss of a player whose life touched so many, both on and off the court. Perhaps it is unfair to compare them, but I think there is a lesson in this.

Perhaps if the Astros had been more genuine with their words, their words would have landed. Maybe if they had admitted their complicity without so many qualifications, they could have put this behind them. Perhaps if the press conference included more moments of courage and strength, we would not be concerned that it could happen again.

The memorial service was a lesson in the resolve of the human spirit. In the light that can shine during some of our darkest moments. The notion that the heroes we uplift all too often are just as mortal as we are, landed as squarely in our hearts just as the tears that fell on the face of Micheal Jordan.

We herald sports figures in this country in a way that is lopsided and wrong. I admit that I do it as well. It is a part of our culture that is unhealthy at times, and yet, sports can also bring us closer together. When we see these sports figures as real people, we can make connections to their humanity. When we can connect to their humanity, we can see who they really are.

For our family, in this case, it's shown us so much more than just a basketball player.

Photo courtesy of www.abcnews.com

I Had the Hard Conversation

Earlier this year, I wrote a post about The Power of And, a direct result of the professional development I took part in with Jennifer Abrams. Little did I know that weeks later, I would have the opportunity to put my learning and writing into action.

I was walking from my office over to the school close to the end of the school day. At St. Johnsbury, like many schools, parking is an issue, particularly at the beginning and at the end of the day. It's something that I'm aware of, and while we have not dedicated the human being hours to a study of ways to better the situation, I try to be mindful of it. On this particular February afternoon, I noted a full circle of parked cars and an individual parked in one of our three spaces reserved for people who have disabilities.

As I approached the vehicle, I could not see a visible disability parking permit. The window was down, and even as I got closer, there was nothing that I could see that gave this vehicle permission to be in the parking spot. This would be a very delicate conversation, as I am well aware that many, many disabilities are not visible or apparent to an observer. Still, I could not see a disability permit, and I believed it was essential to at least ask the question.

When I got near the driver, I took a deep breath and began the conversation.

"Sir, are you aware that this spot is reserved for people with disabilities?"

"Yes, I am," he said. He then turned toward the console between the front seats and produced a Vermont disability parking permit. My heart sank. 

"I sincerely apologize - I'm sorry to bother you," I responded. 

"No, no, not at all, young man. I'm actually glad you asked. I often come here to pick up in the afternoon and am surprised because all these spots are often filled, with no one in the car, and no sticker visible." 

"That's kind of you to say," I responded. "I appreciate you making this a learning experience for me."

"Thank you. I hope you ask everyone," he said. 

"I will," I promised. 

Now, I am not naive enough to think that every hard conversation is going to go this well. I'm reasonably sure that at some afternoon in the future, someone will need to move their vehicle. I also am relatively confident that that particular conversation probably will not be as cordial, nor go nearly as smoothly.

And I'm practicing for that too.

Photo courtesy of www.me.me