What Really Matters

During the Winter Recess vacation for our East Greenwich Public Schools students, faculty, and families, I learned of two teenage children who passed away. The first young person passed away early in the week, and the second one passed away closer to this weekend. Both left me stunned. While I did not know the first young person who passed away, I knew their family. The second young person I coached while living in Vermont. 

As the dad of two young men, my heart aches. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. I certainly expect our two to do so. These two deaths stunned me. 

As is often the case with life events like this, I have taken the time to reflect, re-center, and re-focus my priorities, not only as a father, but also as a superintendent. Before anything else in East Greenwich Public Schools, we want all of our students to feel safe, welcomed, and included. Before anything else. 

It is our relationships with our students that will make the difference in their lives and nothing is more important than that. We want all our students to have a trusted adult that they can turn to in times of need. We want all our students to have a champion, who sees their potential, advocates on their behalf, and lifts them up when they are struggling. We want all our students to feel seen, exactly the way they are when they come into our building. 

This is our work as educators to cultivate, build, nurture, and maintain relationships with our students. And when I say educators, I mean every single employee who crosses paths with our students. No matter if they work in Food Service or Facilities, whether they are an Administrative Assistant or an Assistant Coach, a Paraeducator or a Principal, whether they in our Technology Department or a Teacher. I always want our students to know there is someone in our schools who is there for them. 

This quote from Dr. Brad Johnson is framed and on a table just to the right of the doorway when you leave my office. It is incredibly meaningful to me because it defines all the wonderful people who have crossed my educational path in my life. I look at it every time I leave, and I want it to be a reality for every single student in East Greenwich Public Schools. 

Our Best

On Monday, February 6, a meeting was held in the East Greenwich High School Library. Those attending were told it was about the graduation requirements for the Class of 2028. However, some of us were told there was another reason: to honor Anne-Marie Flaherty as the Rhode Island School Counselor of the Year. Honestly, I think Ms. Flaherty was the only one who did not know. 

Dr. Patricia Page and our EGHS staff organized a fantastic event with RIDE Commissioner Angelica Infante-Green and Lieutenant Governor Sabina Matos. They even offered me a few minutes to speak, which was very kind, as I've only known Ms. Flaherty for a few months. I had the honor of introducing the best speaker of the morning, Annalee Ambler. 

Miss Ambler was authentic and honest and spoke earnestly about Ms. Flaherty's role in her life. It was clear that their relationship was unique, and Ms. Flaherty beamed while Miss Ambler spoke. Our work is about relationships. That's it. That's the list. 

Miss Ambler said something in her remarks that stayed with me that day and has been with me since. 

"She [Ms. Flaherty] worked with my teachers and I to allow me to continue to be the best academic version of myself." 

That statement is stunning in its power and simplicity. That one sentence captures what we want to do as educators. From the mouths of babes comes the truth. 

Miss Ambler's best is just that: hers. It is unlike anyone else's in our district. No one student's best academic version of themselves looks like another's. That's the joy of education. That is why educators are some of the most amazing humans on the planet. 

On a daily basis, juggling the reality of their own lives, our educators open classroom doors to students, embracing whatever each of their students brings to each day, and work to find their best academic versions. Sometimes those versions are right on top, plain for all to see. Far too often, those versions are buried beneath something else. Perhaps a student skipped breakfast because they overslept. Perhaps a student disagreed with a family member before going to school. Perhaps a student saw something on social media that has them distracted. 

No matter what, our educators are there. And to be clear, I don't just mean our teachers. Every member of our EGPS family plays a role in the lives of our students. Paraeducators support the work of classroom teachers. Facilities personnel make our aging buildings shine. Food service workers feed us daily. Administrative assistants are the first people we see in our buildings, "Directors of First Impressions." 

School counselors allow our students to be the best academic versions of themselves. 

Thank you for being a shining example of that, Ms. Flaherty!

Photo courtesy of www.martinamanca.com

The Hearts of Educators

Recently, Our Boys had school, and My Wife and I had the day off. We went to see A Man Called Otto, the latest film starring Tom Hanks. I've been a fan of Hanks since I first saw Splash in 1984. I loved him in Big, Sleepless in Seattle, Saving Private Ryan, and Forest Gump. I would be hard-pressed to name a film he made that I did not like. 

While this movie certainly had some very dark themes, it is a beautiful story about friendship. Hanks plays Otto Anderson, the perpetual grump in his neighborhood. As the story unfolds, we learn about his life and its challenges. Anderson is a man set in his routines, whose world is upended by the new neighbors that move in across the street. A theme that runs through the movie is that Anderson's heart is too big (after Googling this, I learned the medical term is hypertrophic cardiomyopathy). The irony is that Anderson is such a curmudgeon, how could he have a heart that is too big. 

But we see cracks in Anderson's veneer when he not only begins to welcome the new neighbors but he befriends the young person delivering papers. The paperboy, Malcolm, is a former student of Anderson's wife. When Malcolm is kicked out of his home due to his family's refusal to accept his transgender identity, Anderson welcomes Malcolm into his own home. As it turns out, there were limits to how cantankerous Anderson could be. Perhaps Anderson's heart was indeed too big. 

That is often how I feel about the hearts of educators. They are too big. Not in the medical sense of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy but in their compassion, empathy, and generosity. When I say "educators," I mean anyone who works in a school building. We never know where the vital connection will be in our students' lives. To this day, I still remember the names of administrative assistants, facilities personnel, cafeteria employees, teachers, and building leaders from my K - 12 education. 

Back to the hearts of our educators. They are too big. They welcome one, they welcome all. Regardless of income, skin color, gender identity, or religious beliefs. Students are loved regardless of ability, first language, or homework completion. We welcome them on the basis of them showing up in our classrooms; nothing more, nothing less. We create safe spaces for them to be themselves, so they can learn to their potential. We demonstrate inclusivity in our buildings because, as public schools, we want to learn alongside all students. 

And yet, the capacity for educators' hearts to grow may be limitless. Last week, at one of our EG schools, I happened upon a conversation between three professionals brainstorming ways to reach a family for whom English was not their first language. In addition to English not being the family's first language, their home language was also limited. I grew more and more inspired by the lengths our employees were growing toward to find a way to connect. As the conversation and solutions grew, so did my pride and my heart. 

As I reflected on this beautiful moment in EG, as well as A Man Called Otto, I was reminded of the Dr. Seuss classic, How The Grinch Stole Christmas. I hope no one will take offense if I reword some of the lines from that book to make them applicable to our educators: 

And what happened, then? 
Well, in EG, they say - that the educators' already big hearts grew an additional three sizes that day. 
And then, the true meaning of education came through, 
And they found the strength of ten educators, plus two!

One of the people I wished I had the chance to meet was My Wife's grandfather Norman Watson, who passed away from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy in 1998, eighteen months before My Wife and I ever crossed paths. I saw that heart in a brand new second-grade teacher who worked in the classroom next to mine at our first school. Educators' hearts - regardless of role - by definition have to be too big. 

Our students expect nothing less. 

Photo courtesy of www.mousebearcomedy.com