The Beauty in Ordinary Things

It is fair to say that we are living in extraordinary times. 

There is very little of our lives that feel normal, or at least the way they felt before March of 2020. We wear masks regularly, we cannot hug those outside of our "pod," and we have to be physically distant from others. Schools, it seems, are bearing the brunt of this, and it really seems antithetical to what education was designed to be. Case in point, I was speaking to a teacher recently who relayed a story to me about how, when walking with a young person to the bathroom, the young person extended their hand to hold hands for the walk. While the teacher wanted nothing more than to hold that young person's hand, for the sake of public health, the teacher gently replied, "I can't right now." And while it broke that teacher's heart to share that story, and it breaks my heart to retell that story, the teacher did the "right" thing. 

So what is one to do when living in times like this? How do we find our way when we cannot do the basics of relationships with those we see every day? I offer that we need to look to the ordinary and find the beauty in everyday things. And as a huge fan of the TV show The Office, I know how poignant this really is. 

As I've written plenty of times before, the best part of being a superintendent is visiting classrooms. I can interact with students, teachers, and learn along with them. I can sit and read, listen to what students are learning, and connect with the adults. Rarely, if ever, do I need to redirect students with more than a "Put your eyes on the learning," while I'm in the room. I genuinely have the best of all worlds, like the silly uncle who shows up for dinner, with no disciplinary responsibility to my nieces or nephews whatsoever. 

In the course of my time this year, I've already been received art from our St. J students. This first picture is from a kindergarten student who gave me the express instructions: "Show your friends and your family, but not your neighbors!" 

This picture below is from the daughter of a colleague who was in the office one afternoon this week. We've interacted a little before on Zoom, but this was our first time meeting each other in person. 

The simplicity of both gestures - or really any time a student gives me something - always lands on the softest part of my heart. I'm proud that I'm a known person to our school community, that I'm visible, and students know who I am. And while they don't truly understand what a superintendent does, as long as they know I care about their growth and learning, I am a happy camper. Their kindness in giving me their work never fails to genuinely touch me. 

My final example is this: 

Yes, that's a salad with my name on it. Perhaps I can give you some context. 

Before the pandemic, our cafeteria had a fresh salad bar that we could partake in, and I was happy to take advantage of it regularly. I even wrote about it in an earlier post What's On Your Tray? I've missed having this healthy option at work, especially since I will share that I've gained a few pounds since the emergency school dismissal in March. 

This week, our cafeteria announced they would make salads for those of us who were interested in having one by merely filling out a form and submitting it to the Food Service staff the day before. I was really excited to have this be a part of my day again but didn't truly recognize just how much until I went and picked up the salad above. I brought it back to our conference room and literally did a chair dance. So much so that the rest of my Leadership Team dubbed it "The Joy of a Salad." 

But a salad is so ordinary, you might say. It's nothing really; it's vegetables with meat and cheese. But in these extraordinary times, we need to find our moments of happiness in things that we perhaps take for granted. We need to find our way with others through smiling eyes if we cannot see the rest of their face. We need to savor the moments when our hearts sing, and we forget that we're living in extraordinary times. 

Like when students in your district give you pictures. Or the joy of a salad. 

We need to find the beauty in ordinary things. 

Photo courtesy of www.me.me (from The Office)