The Gift of Time

One of my favorite things to do as an educational leader is to give people the gift of time. A tenet that I believe with all my heart is that if you show those who work for you that you value their personal time, they will show you how much they value their professional time. It's fun for me to walk through my office on a random Friday and tell people they can go home a little bit early. There is no particular reason, just giving people a chance to spend a few more minutes with their family or those important to them. 

I learned this lesson from my very first principal, Bridgid Miller. I was a baby teacher on the Near Westside of Chicago, teaching in a building full of families, nearly all of whom were eligible for free or reduced lunch. I was a volunteer, living in a community with other volunteer teachers. We all showed up early and stayed late. It was just what we did. 

And I was a little full of myself. I mentioned how one of the other teachers (a veteran of many years, many more than me) would leave with their students almost every day. Clearly, it was an unnecessary comment, and Ms. Miller pointed that out to me. After I apologized to her, she told me that schools needed to be filled with employees in all different stages of their lives. 

As a recent college graduate, early in my career, the school community was my entire life. Others were contemplating retirement. Others had a family to go home to. Still, others were caring for aging parents, in addition to their teaching duties. I had no idea the story of anyone else's world but my own. Ms. Miller taught me a valuable lesson that day. 

The last part of the lesson is what I still carry with me: everyone deserves the gift of time. She was the principal that would kick us out of our classrooms on a Friday afternoon. She might even stick a $20 in our volunteer pockets and have us buy a beverage or two of our choice on her. "Everyone deserves the gift of time, now and then," she would tell us. So I pay that forward. 

We are almost upon the Winter Holiday Break. At times, it has seemed interminable for a year that started with so much hope and anticipation. And yet, we are teaching, our students are learning. They are making progress, and we are staying open. We offered a vaccine clinic for our five to eleven-year-olds. We have Test to Stay and surveillance testing. We have parent volunteers and employees demonstrating more flexibility than gymnasts. Thanks to our testing protocols, more than 530 times, an asymptomatic student, who is also a close contact, could come to school and stay with us to learn rather than be at home.

And with the onset of this break, I want all of our school community to enjoy the gift of time. No expectations. No work, at least until the new year. Spend time with those who are important to you. Spend time with your family. Spend time by yourselves. 

I'm also mindful that this is not an easy time of year for everyone. Not all families resemble Norman Rockwell. This time of year reminds us of those who have passed away. It can be incredibly challenging, painful, and downright sad. I can't begin to know everyone's story, but I do want everyone to find some peace during this time away from our work. I want everyone to have the gift of time. 

Ms. Miller and I wish for that for everyone this Winter Holiday Break. 

 

Where Does It End?

No, I'm not talking about the pandemic. I'm talking about the list of expectations for educators in 2021. 

This past week, the parents of two sisters who survived the Oxford High School shooting filed a federal lawsuit against the school district. At the district level, that is an expectation, and it has happened after almost every school shooting. Let's pause for a moment to recognize how numb we are to school shootings since Columbine High School in 1999, even as we approach the anniversary of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School. In case you have forgotten, twenty-six people were killed, including twenty first graders. First graders are typically six to seven years old. Our elected officials still believe our right to bear arms is more important than the right to attend school safely. But back to Oxford...

Also named in the lawsuit were the principal, dean of students, two guidance counselors, and two teachers. I have been a professional educator for twenty-five years. I am proud to have earned my licenses and to renew them at regular intervals. It is an honor to shift with the student-based trends in education, notably for proficiency-based learning as well as personalized learning plans. I did not study any of those in my graduate work, and still, it is a privilege to work to make these initiatives a reality for our students. 

But preparing to be named in a lawsuit, post-school shooting might be a bridge too far. 

Consider that before the pandemic began (can you even remember what life was like prior to March of 2020?), schools were already struggling under the weight of the expectations beyond the three "Rs." We were already having thoughtful and serious conversations about the troubling behaviors that were coming to school. After-school programs had grown to be a necessity, not something that was optional. Universal school meals were being debated, as we recognized that students coming to school hungry could not learn. Filling backpacks for the weekend was a way to ensure that students had what they needed when they left our buildings for two days. 

In addition, due to the ineptitude of our elected officials, we remained under threat of weapons being brought to school. So, we worked on active shooter drills, practiced how to barricade classrooms, and learned self-defense techniques. We learned the responses to "clear the halls," "shelter in place," and "secure the building." The Vermont School Crisis Planning Guide is 230 pages. As an aside, we are the only country victimized regularly by school shootings. The only country. 

Now, twenty-two months into the pandemic, educators are berated with learning loss. Our equity issues have been exacerbated. The social-emotional needs have exploded, and I'm not just referring to our students. Teachers have been on a roller coaster, from the highs of being hailed as heroes in the early days of the emergence of this public health crisis to being questioned about whether or not they're working hard enough, despite the paucity of guidance from state leaders in Vermont, and a patchwork of mitigation strategies that have led to a resurgence of this terrible virus. 

On top of all of this, teachers now are asked to accept the reality that they might be sued after a school shooting? I remember precisely what my education law professor told us on our first night of class: the only things needed to initiate a lawsuit are the filing fee and a court clerk. We've seen what might be considered frivolous lawsuits result in a change (see the warning label on your coffee), and plenty of them go nowhere. But I think that we all can agree that suing teachers is a new low in the level of tone-deafness we've experienced? 

Perhaps our elected officials can enact legislation that will shield teachers from litigation after school shootings. If they can't protect us from deadly weapons being brought to school, maybe they can protect us from being sued? 

Or is that too much to ask? 

Photo courtesy of www.forwardky.com, with permission from the artist Al Abbazia

What's In Your Tank?

When I was learning how to drive, I also learned a life lesson. Make sure, especially in the winter, that you have more than a quarter of a tank of gas at any time. For me, I keep this rule year-round. 

As I understand it, running on empty, while a fabulous song by Jackson Browne, is not good for your fuel pump. In addition, even though almost all gas gauges made today are digital, they're not always entirely accurate. Lastly, I was taught sediment collects at the bottom of your tank regularly, and without any gas, the residue will clog your fuel system. So, I never let my tank go below a quarter of a tank for all these reasons. 

My car's gas tank that is. I regularly let my own personal tank go below a quarter. I know plenty of educators who do the same thing. It's not healthy, but we do it anyway. 

Self-care was not something that was taught in any of my graduate school classes. Honestly, I cannot remember it being a word we regularly discussed until a few years ago. We still need to work on it. A lot. 

This week, I had a conversation with a staff member in St. Johnsbury who was absolutely at the end of their rope. This individual has been a part of our school family for many years. And while I'm aware that there are struggles in this individual's personal life, like many of us right now in education, there are struggles in this individual's professional life. 

This person's department is understaffed. There are not enough human beings to do all the work we usually expect them to complete. In addition, the to-do list continues to grow, despite the staff members continuing to decline. 

Our meeting started with a review of a recent interaction with another member of our school family. The other member of our family was asking for something, and realistically, the answer to the question should have been, "No, I can't do this right now." Instead, our kind-hearted, overwhelmed hero said, "OK," and added the request to an overflowing to-do list. 

Saying "no" to someone who you work with, especially if you are in education, and especially if you are in education right now, seems incredibly hard. It would not have been easy to do before March of 2020. Then again, rarely are the right things to do easy. 

In this case, my direct report would have served themself better if they said "no" at that moment. It was not a mission-critical request. It could have been completed before the Winter Holiday Break, not this past week, with no real negative consequences. Yes, the other member of our school family would have had to wait, and that's also OK. 

So as we wrapped up our weekly meeting, I gave that individual permission. Permission to say "no," with compassion. I asked this person to go home and review their to-do list to evaluate what was mission critical in these next few weeks. Prioritize those items for completion, and then judge how many more things their department can take on in that time. When someone came to them with a request that was not reasonable, I asked this individual to practice saying "no," with compassion. 

Education is essential work. I believe that with all of my being. I have committed a quarter of a century to work in it professionally and even more years as a student myself. Setting boundaries and saying "no" is something we all need to improve on. Teachers, paraeducators, facilities, food staff, administrative support staff, leadership - all of our employees need to feel empowered to say "no," with compassion. 

Self-care is not selfish. It is self-care. As an aviation geek and one of the only people who listen to the flight attendants' safety announcements, I know they tell us to put on our own oxygen masks before helping others. That's not a cute phrase. That's real. We cannot help others if we are running on empty. 

No matter how well-intentioned we are. 

Photo courtesy of @gcouros