On Authentic Public Dialogue

One of the topics that has been consistently on the agenda for the Board of School Directors in St. Johnsbury is bringing back more of our PK through 6th-grade students for in-person instruction. The Agency of Education and the Department of Health's current guidance requires at least three feet of physical distance for those students while they are in our building. With the humblest and sincerest thanks to our Reopening Taskforce (Patrick Campbell, Lydia Cochrane, Louisa Driscoll, Jodie Elliott, Sharma Gencarelle, Kara Lufkin, Jody Oliver, Jeremy Ross, & Carolee Stuart) as well as our Faculty & Staff, we have developed a plan for this to happen in the coming weeks. 

During our virtual meeting on Monday, January 18, we had the largest number of participants in any School Board meeting since I've been serving as superintendent in St. Johnsbury. At one point in the meeting, twenty-six people were participating. There was a spirited and collaborative discussion with members of the town staff about moving Town Meeting Day. We discussed the issue from all sides. One of the Teachers' Association's Co-Presidents was present and shared thoughtfully and respectfully the teachers' perspective. We heard from the Town Manager and the Town Clerk what the experience was like in August and November of holding votes during a pandemic. The School Board weighed all the points from the discussion and ultimately voted to move Town Meeting Day until Tuesday, April 6. The Select Board made a similar decision later the following week. 

The next topic was the aforementioned increase of in-person instruction in our school. Our Co-Principals had combed through the forty-one-page document "A Strong and Healthy Start" and created a table for the Board to review. The table offered pressure points, based on the guidance, where we would have to make adjustments. The document reflected their critical analysis of the current guidance and multiple conversations with our faculty and staff about what the increase in our student body would look like. It was another thoughtful discussion in which various viewpoints were shared. Some parents contributed to this conversation, teachers weighed in, as did our board members. 

Near the end of the discussion, as he typically does, Chair Mark Avery spoke. He carefully and reasonably summarized the discourse and thanked everyone for their participation, recognizing that this is one of the largest meetings he's been a part of as Board Chair. He then stated, "My personal opinion is that the students of St. Johnsbury should be back in school. But that doesn't mean I'm going to direct the superintendent and the leadership team to do so." 

From the time I have been serving in this district, there has always been a mutual respect between the Board and me, as well as the Board and the Leadership Team. There is public dialogue that demonstrates disagreement but rarely has, if ever, been disagreeable. I have connected with people after meetings to ensure that statements from meetings were not taken the wrong way, to clarify any misunderstandings, and to reiterate the shared respect that is a hallmark of the working relationships we have in St. Johnsbury. 

Our national political landscape, and to a much smaller extent, the one in Vermont, is littered with polarizing dialogue between adults serving in public office. While I don't expect what we do in our corner of the Green Mountain State to move the needle where we live, much less our nation, I take comfort in knowing that the educators serving in St. Johnsbury are led by a Board of School Directors who believe in their professionalism, their dedication to our students, and their commitment to meeting every student where they are in their learning journey. 

Public dialogue in service to a diverse community should be just that: diverse. Which means we don't always have to agree with each other. It does mean we must respect each other. I have a deep respect for Mark Avery, Abigail Campbell, Ilene Dickinson, Tom Huntington, and Deane Rankin, who offer their service to St. Johnsbury's students and their families, as well as the larger community itself. I see that respect for all the employees in our school district, faculty, staff, and administration through their words and through their actions. 

All of this makes me incredibly grateful and proud to serve this community. 

Photo courtesy of http://mikewbrubaker.com/

What's in a Grade?

While serving as a superintendent, I've not been able to consistently teach a class. Yet, in every other administrative role I've served in, I've always been able to continue to teach. I think it is one of the most valuable things an administrator can do in their leadership service - continue to do the work that we entered education doing. That is teaching. 

The last time I was teaching regularly, I had a routine on the first day. At some point, I would ask my students, "What grade do you think I got in this class when I took it at your age?" After some pointed questions about my age, several students would inevitably articulate every letter grade possible, including an F! 

So after I called on everyone with an opinion on my previous academic prowess, I would lower my voice and say, "Do you really want to know the grade I got in this class when I took it?" I usually had all the students in the palm of my hand now, and it was typically a unanimous yes! "OK, if you really want to know the grade I got in this class when I took it...," I trailed off, "You should ask my parents! I'm sure they have every report card that came home somewhere in the attic." 

We place too much emphasis on grades. Too much. Especially because, in my opinion, grades are far too often used as a punishment and are also rewarding behavior more than actual academic acumen. But when I started teaching, my professional opinion of grades was very, very different. 

I was that teacher. I gave zeros, I used grades as a punishment, and I rewarded behavior. I had a very complicated "late homework" system, and I offered extra credit. It was unfair, and at some level, I knew that, but I was afraid to move away from it. So what changed, how did I evolve to my current professional beliefs? 

The first thing that happened to me, I've written about before in Our Words Matter. I completely overreacted when one of my students did not have his homework. The second thing that happened is that I read an article that laid out the practical implications of one zero and the numerical challenge facing a student to recover from that. The other thing that I've observed being in schools, being a friend, and growing as a dad is I've seen the emphasis that grades are having on our children's mental health. 

While being in schools, I've heard of students staying up to unreasonable hours to complete their assignments. This may sound too "Brady Bunch," but I was in bed by 10:00 PM most nights when I was in high school. I did not stay up incredibly late until I was in college, and to date, I've never "pulled an all-nighter." 

As a friend, I'm humbled when people ask my opinion about their children's workload or the pressure they're feeling. I'm even more humbled that they've asked me at times to chat with their children. In those situations, I try to be as practical as possible and remind everyone that our emphasis is really on learning. 

As a family, we've taken the approach to grades that the effort matters more than the outcome. This comes from years of having a report card myself with two columns, one for grades and one for effort. When we brought our report cards home, my father would cover the grade column and look at the effort column first. As long as the letter "E" (Excellent) or "S" (Satisfactory) was recorded, any grade in the grade column was welcome in my childhood home. The only time I was questioned about a grade was if a "U" (Unsatisfactory) was assessed for my effort. 

From my perspective, we place too much emphasis on grades, and we're rewarding behavior and not always measuring learning. I don't think grades should be eliminated, and I know we have a lot of work to do as an educational system to ensure that the grade our students see on report cards more accurately represents growth in concepts. Our students deserve better. 

And so do we. 

Photo courtesy of www.sfpsmom.com

Where Did the Time Go?

This week, an e-mail arrived in the inbox that I should have been expecting, but it still surprised me. 

Our oldest son is indeed going to be in high school before the end of this calendar year. It seems hard to believe that is the case, especially given everything that has gone on in our world. And yet, time stops for no one. Not even those of us living through a global health pandemic. This e-mail really touched my heart. 

This month, fifteen years ago, we found out that we were pregnant with Patrick Michael Ricca, named after My Wife's father, who passed away when she was ten. I cried tears of joy when she called me at work and simply said, "What do you want to name him if he's a boy?" When I responded with silence, she then asked, "OK, what do you want to name her if she's a girl?" I put the phone down on the desk and wept. 

We met while teaching next door to each other at a school on the Near Westside of Chicago. Of course, we wanted to have children. And in January of 2006, we learned that would happen for us. 

Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done, and I'm blessed to have someone who does it with me, and candidly, is better at it than I am! I once read that parenting is like living your life with your heart exposed for all the world to see. Those of you who are parents know that you feel deeply all the feelings your own children feel; when they hurt, you hurt with them, and when they feel joy, you feel that joy as well. 

Parenting is also full of firsts - from the moment you bring them home. The first words, the first steps, the first day of school, the first bike ride, the first time in the ocean, the first team joined, the first failed friendship, the first school project, the first report card, the first school dance, the first independent project, the first e-mail from high school. None of it has stopped for COVID.

We look back at the hard moments fondly; we look forward to the unknown with anticipation and some anxiety. Hearing from friends who are "behind" us on their parenting journey and listening to their stories sounds almost quaint. Listening to friends who are "ahead" of us helps us think about the bridges we will need to cross. 

I'm so proud of this young man that I've known for more than fifteen years, whose arrival in August of 2006 took both My Wife and me by surprise. He's learned to navigate this COVID world with the same grace and integrity as he has handled the other curveballs life has thrown at him. And yet, there's still a big part of me that can't believe he's going to high school. 

I know he will find a way to shine in high school, as he's found his way to shine to this point in his life. And still, I see this little face looking at me in pictures around our house. 

Patrick, at 21 months

But I do know where the time went. It went into this young man that I'm over-the-moon proud of. 

The Sound of Silence

On Thursday, January 7, Los Angeles Dodgers former manager Tommy Lasorda passed away from a heart attack. He has been in the Dodger organization for more than 71 years in various roles. As a baseball fan, one of my favorite memories of Lasorda is him dancing and running with his hands in the air after Kirk Gibson unexpectedly hit a walk-off home run in Game 1 of the World Series in 1988. It was Gibson's one and only plate appearance in that Fall Classic, and because of a badly swollen right knee and pulled left hamstring, the home run was even more unlikely. 

When showing My Family that at-bat, preserved forever on the internet, I was struck by something. Vin Scully, the Hall of Fame announcer, went almost one minute and ten seconds saying absolutely nothing after calling the home run itself. Scully was silent as the images of this improbable celebration continued across the screen. In that silence, we saw fans cheering and heard players yelling while Gibson limped around the bases. 

For me, that silence is perfectly reasonable and welcomed - there's something magical about a sports moment like that. I've been present for a walk-off home run, in person, only once in my life. My friend and I stayed in our seats so long after the at-bat that the ushers had to ask us to leave. We were soaking in the moment for as long as we could. 

There are other times when silence is not only unreasonable, it's downright wrong. When people are treated differently simply because of their skin color, there is no room for silence. When there is injustice, there is no room for silence. When there is inequity, there is no room for silence. It may not be the popular thing to say out loud, and still, we need to have the courage of our convictions. We need to speak our truth, speak out against systemic racism, consistent injustice, and the lack of equity. 

When we are silent, racism, injustice, and inequity continue unabated. Those who are impacted by it don't know who their allies are. Those who are impacted by it bear the burden solely on their shoulders. Those who are impacted by it "hear" the message in the silence that it is OK. There is tacit approval in that silence. 

White privilege has served me for the entirety of my life. From long before I was born, when my parents met, to the zip code I was born into, to the schools I attended, to the jobs I have held, to the woman I met and married, to the children we have, to the very life I am living. I cannot change the fact that the world views me differently because my skin is white. What I can do is acknowledge it and work tirelessly within a system that tells people who have darker skin than mine that they are somehow less than me. 

To do that, I cannot, and will not, be silent. 

One Word for 2021

We let Our Boys stay up to watch the ball drop in Times Square for the second year in a row. Last year, it was at the home of our dear friends; this year, it was in our living room, just the four of us. As someone who grew up less than a half-hour north of New York City, it was odd seeing so few on the streets of Manhattan. And still, the ball dropped, 2021 was illuminated, the fireworks went off, and Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" was played. While it looked different, it was still New Year's Eve in Times Square. 

Yes, 2020 looked different. 2020 felt different. 2020 was different. It was an incredibly hard year for so many reasons. Many things changed, and while most of them caused struggles both professionally and personally, there were some silver linings. One of the things I loved most about 2020 was the amount of time I spent with my family. There were no practices to race off to, no overscheduled family calendar of events, no need to be in two places at once. I know that came at a cost, and at the same time, I am forever grateful for the gift of time with My Wife and Children. 

So what did I learn from 2020 that I want to bring to 2021? The one word for 2021 that I want to bring forward is this: connection. It may not always be physical, but it is so utterly necessary for our well being. 

It is what I have spent twenty-five years in education doing, building relationships. At first, it was just with students and colleagues. And as I moved up in leadership, it grew. Buildings, school boards, and communities are all made up of people. People who all put their pants on one leg at a time, who are full of hopes and dreams, for themselves, for their families, and for those who are important in their lives. We need connection. We crave connection. We long for connection. And if it cannot be physical, we find a way to make it work virtually. 

I value relationships over rigor. I value being kind over being right. I value people over institutions. This builds connections. This brings people together. This values the human person. This is the work of education. This is the work of humanity. 

As I regularly do, I have a picture to share in this post. This one needs a little explanation, though. It is a picture of two fairy penguins, and it won the Community Choice Award at the Ocean Photograph Awards in 2020. It was taken by Tobias Baumgaertner, and he was advised by a volunteer that the white one is an elderly female penguin who lost her partner. Apparently, the other is a younger male penguin who also lost his partner. They met regularly, comforting each other, standing for hours watching the lights of the Melbourne, Australia skyline. It took Baumgaertner 3 full nights to get this picture. 

So 2020, I thank you for many lessons learned, some much harder than others. 2021, I look forward to more connection, hopefully physical, but until then, as much virtual connection as we can garner. 

It turns out we're not the only ones on this planet that need connection.