On Graduation

Since this is only the second time I've addressed graduates of East Greenwich High School, I sought some advice as to what I should say to all of you. I recently heard a sound bite from a commencement address that got my attention. The sound bite came from the remarks that Denzel Washington gave in 2011 to the University of Pennsylvania. Denzel Washington grew up in Mount Vernon, New York. I grew up in Mount Vernon New York. Denzel Washington graduated from Fordham University. I graduated from Fordham University. Mr. Washington and I have a lot in common, in fact, between the two of us, we have two Oscars! Not bad for two kids from Mt. Vernon…

All kidding aside, he gave some great advice. But the best part of his remarks, according to Mr. Washington, came from his wife, Pauletta, when she told him, “To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.”

To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.

You are all preparing to do something never did this coming fall and whether it's a gap year, a job, the armed services, college, or something else, you will have to grapple with this question: How, then, shall you live meaningfully in a world where there are so many claims to what is true and good.

So, if you will indulge me for just a few minutes, I would like to offer two bite-sized pieces of advice to help you to find your answer to that question. Because the answer to that question will be as individual as the 174 of you are. My thoughts for all of you is this: 1. Be kind or, at the very least, be decent.

Be kind, or at least be decent. In whatever you do, wherever you go, whoever you meet. Be one inch kinder, one inch more decent. I assure you that I did not coordinate my remarks with Justice Stern, but if you listened carefully to his remarks at Ivy Day, he said the same thing.

Be kind or decent – simple in concept but seemingly and somehow terribly tricky in our world today.

Consider the following: During a marathon in 2021, a Kenyan runner Abel Mutai was just short of the finish line when he got confused by the signage and stopped, thinking he had completed the race. Another runner from Spain, Ivan Fernandez, was right behind him and, realizing what had happened in front of him, shouted to the Kenyan runner to keep going.

As you might surmise, the Kenyan didn’t understand Spanish. So Fernandez pushed Mutai to victory.

After the race, a reporter asked Fernandez, "Why did you do this?"

He replied, "My dream is that one day we can have the kind of community life that pushes ourselves and others to win as well."

"But why did you let the Kenyan win?" the reporter insisted.

Fernandez replied, "I didn't let him win; he would win. It was his race."

The reporter pressed and asked again: "But you could have won!"

Fernandez looked at him and replied, "But what would have been the merit of my victory? What would be the honor of this medal? What will my mother think?"

I think Mr. Fernandez had a point.

Be kind. Or at the very least be decent.

My second piece of advice: serve others.

I am a huge fan of Aaron Sorkin, the playwright, screenwriter, and film director. He’s written for Broadway theater productions, feature length movies, and television. I’m paraphrasing him in this quote:

I like bands, more than solo acts. I like team sports more than individual sports. This is a wonderful place to come to work – it doesn’t feel like work. It feels like a team. When successful on a team, there’s someone to high five and celebrate with along the way. In failure on a team, it’s a little bit easier when someone’s in the foxhole with you.

He writes that way as well and in 2012, when all of the graduates today were somewhere learning how to read and write in first grade, one of his television shows debuted: The Newsroom, about the fictional Atlantis Cable News network and its team of reporters, anchors and producers took on actual news stories.

However, in the pilot episode, the main character Will McAvoy (played by Jeff Daniels) while on a journalizm panel at Northwestern University, goes on a rant, after a student during the Q & A asks: Why America is the greatest country in the world?

McAvoy excoriates her that it is not the greatest country anymore, though it once was. Since this took place in 2012, every student in this fictional audience has a cell phone, records the news anchor shouting at a college student, it goes viral and McAvoy is given a two week “vacation.” Upon his return though, he’s inspired to do better in his work, what he considers to be a public service. He’s asked at one point, “Is there something bigger we want to reach for, or is self-interest our basic resting pulse.”

Class of 2024, self-interest cannot be your basic resting pulse.

I offer to all of you today that you can reach for something, anything bigger, than self interest by serving others.

Your parents have served you, by choosing to live in East Greenwich, ensuring that you’d go to our public schools.

Your educators have served you, and by educators, I mean anyone you’ve encountered while in our district: Facilities, Cafeteria Staff, Office Administrative Assistants, Guidance Counselors, Social Workers, Paraeducators and the men and women whom we have tasked with making the vision of a Graduate a reality for you, your teachers. They do this by committing to countless hours that you never see. When you arrive to class and there’s an engaging, thoughtful, challenging lesson to be a part of, that is the result of a myriad of minutes that take place when you’re not there. Planning, executing, and assessing learning in the 21st Century is not for the faint of heart. Your teachers are nothing short of amazing.

Your leadership at EGHS has served you. Dr. Page earned a statewide distinction this year as Rhode Island’s best first year principal and Ms. Sylvia, in eight short months, has made her educational leadership clear to every single student who walks through the doors at 300 Avenger Drive. I know this for a fact because I get to spend the first thirty minutes of my week with EGHS as a part of Class Block. What a gift to a superintendent who misses the classroom.

Every single person in this room, besides you graduates, have reached for something bigger, by serving you, Class of 2024. And now it’s your turn.

To close the loop on my reference to The Newsroom, there’s a Sorkin-esque bow on this scene with the college student. As it turns out, being yelled at by Mr. McAvoy did nothing to deter this young woman. She followed the change in his path, and ultimately applied for an internship at Atlantis Cable News. It was long enough after the original incident that McAvoy forgot about her and when he saw her in their conference room interviewing, he couldn’t place her right away… but once he did, he rushed to confront her during her interview.

After asking the recent graduate if she indeed was the one who asked the question that caused his rant that changed the trajectory of his professional world, McAvoy asks why she’s there.

When she responds she wants to be a part of the public service she sees in Atlantis Cable News, she wants to be a part of the decency happening in this fictional world. She is reaching beyond her self interest.

After a beat, McAvoy urges her to re-ask the original question she asked at Northwestern.

With some trepidation and hesitation, she looks up at him and asks, “What makes America the greatest country in the world.”

He responds: You do.

Congratulations EGHS Class of 2024!

Giving Thanks

As the calendar turns to June, we face the prospect of the dwindling days of Teaching and Learning, the lengthening of the amount of sunlight we see, and the reality that summer vacation is on the horizon. It's also a time for me to reflect on our academic year. As often happens, reflection for me turns to gratitude. 

I am grateful for the School Committee, which includes Chair Alyson Powell and Vice Chair Nicole Bucka, as well as members Clare Cecil-Karb, Will Hangan, Tim Munoz, Kevin Murphy, and Gene Quinn. They have navigated a challenging year thoughtfully while consistently putting student learning first. The relationship between a School Committee and the Superintendent of Schools is unique. I am their only employee, and yet, from time to time, I have to work with them to guide their actions. I am proud of our relationship, one that is highlighted by active listening and mutual respect. 

I am grateful for our Town Council, who recently allocated the most significant increase in funding to public education since 2007 - 2008 in EG. Their President, Mark Schwager, and Vice President, Mike Donegan, along with members Caryn Corenthal, Renu Englehart, and Mike Zarella, have, through their actions, not only with this budget but also through their support of the Master Plan and bond, demonstrated authentic support for the students, faculty, staff, and community of East Greenwich Public Schools. 

I am grateful for the Senior Leadership Team: Maggie Baker, Neil Marcaccio, Michael Podraza, Chris Scheib, and Bob Wilmarth. These Department Leaders help me prioritize Teaching and Learning while also attending to the district's day-to-day needs. Their wisdom, guidance, insights, and professional expertise are invaluable. Our meetings are often punctuated by humor, which is necessary when leading an organization the size of EGPS. 

I am grateful for our District Office staff, the people I see in the office daily. They are behind the scenes but have jobs critical to our district's operation. From administrative support to payroll, from federal title grants expertise to retirement gifts, from human resources to special education file management, these individuals handle significant issues with care and attention to detail. Several of us also play Wordle together, which is an added bonus!

I am grateful for our Building Leaders: Beth Cauley, Melissa Centracchio, Maryann Crudale, Dom Giusti, Pat Page, Dan Seger, Coleen Smith, and Molly Sylvia. They seamlessly operate buildings full of Teaching and Learning ensuring that All Means All is not just a catchphrase but a reality for our students. Against the backdrop of increasing student (and adult) mental health needs, a growing necessity of DCYF reports, as well as a student body still reeling from the effects of the pandemic, these educational leaders are partners with families. Our principals are the ones who grow, nurture, and cultivate environments where all students can feel safe, welcome, and included. When students feel those things, they can grow and learn to their potential. When students grow and learn to their potential, they know mistakes are OK. As adults we know that making mistakes is an invaluable part of the learning process. 

I am grateful for our Teachers and all the individuals who are included in that broad term (occupational therapists, speech-language pathologists, social workers, guidance counselors, and school psychologists). The last time I was a full-time teacher was more than twenty years ago. While I have kept a foot in that door of teaching, when I visit buildings, I witness how difficult this work is and the magic that is happening in classrooms regularly in EGPS. Our teachers are nothing short of tremendous, and I am so proud to celebrate them!

I am grateful for our Paraeducators, some of whom work with our students who have substantial needs. Their work is characterized by empathy, patience, compassion, and, in many cases, love. The care they show is, in a word, beautiful. We are incredibly fortunate to have such kind individuals working alongside our teachers in our buildings on a daily basis. 

I am grateful for our Athletics Department. While only a department of two, these individuals give our student-athletes a place to shine when they're not in the classroom. Maintaining academic standards is critical to their success and we have the championship hardware to prove it. Of particular importance to East Greenwich is our Unified Sports Program, teaching lifelong lessons about relationships, people, and selflessness. Perhaps even more important than our championship banners is the reality that both Cole Middle School and East Greenwich High School are National Unified Champion Schools. 

I am grateful for our Facilities Personnel. Our data shows substantial improvement in the cleanliness of our buildings, which is a result of the stewardship from this group of professionals. It is a thankless job, caring for and maintaining buildings six buildings, five of which are older than I am. Still, these dedicated individuals show up every day and show us that these Teaching and Learning spaces matter, not just the classrooms but the hallways, cafeterias, and gymnasiums. 

I am grateful for our Technology Staff. No one calls them to say, "Thank you, the internet is working today." But you can be sure that their phones are ringing off the hook when it's down. They maintain not only our network but also all the EGPS devices in the hands of our students and adults. It is a task that is growing in complexity because of the intersection of education and technology. In addition, the reality of cybersecurity puts significant demands on this department as well. 

It truly does take a village and I am very fortunate to be leading this one in East Greenwich. I wish all our students, faculty, families, and school-year staff a restful and relaxing summer!

Photo courtesy of https://blog.adobe.com

The Kids Always Make It Better

The staff member I spoke to extended their hand, shook mine, and left the room with tears in their eyes. There was nothing I could say to make it better. Sometimes, I have to have hard conversations with adults as part of my work as Superintendent of Schools. 

I reviewed the conversation with the building principal, who was present for its entirety. There was no way to soften the blow; what I had to say was hard to hear. Candidly, it was hard to say. 

As I walked out of the principal's office, I thought, "This is not why I got into education." Twenty-eight years ago, I graduated from The College of the Holy Cross, bound for Chicago and Inner-City Teaching Corps, a volunteer program that no longer exists. It placed recent college graduates in schools on Chicago's West and South sides, in often forgotten places in The Windy City. I did that because I wanted to make a difference in the lives of children. When I ask potential teachers as they interview for positions in East Greenwich Public Schools why they got into education, inevitably, I hear some version of that: to make a difference in the lives of children. 

I did not get into education and, ultimately, educational leadership to make other adults cry. 

While I reflected on that, I started to leave Frenchtown Elementary School. As I pushed the doors open, I was reminded that Donna McPhee had asked me to stop by the next time I was in the building to see her class. I spun on my heels and headed toward the pod that was home to all our second graders and the adults responsible for their teaching and learning. 

As it turned out, I was too late, and they were already lined up in the hall, on their way somewhere else. But as I approached the group, one of them pointed to me and said, "Here comes the elephant man!" It's not what you think. 

It's not in reference to the 1980 film with the same name. It is in reference to one of the times earlier in the year when I wandered into that particular classroom as they discussed a book with an elephant as one of the main characters. Ms. McPhee invited me to be a part of the conversation, and I shared that when I was in Thailand in 2019, my family and I got up close to elephants at a sanctuary on the island of Ko Pha Ngan. In fact, this was our holiday card that year: 

I had promised that the next time I saw that class, I would show them the pictures and videos of us interacting with elephants. This was that next time. But they were on their way to lunch. 

I walked with them into the cafeteria and sat down next to one of the kiddos who was particularly interested in these pictures. While sitting there, the very kind lunch lady, Jen, asked me if she could tempt me with a slice of pepperoni pizza, spicy curly fries, a bag of carrots, and two milks. How could I say no to that?

Before I knew it, there was a crowd of Frenchtown kiddos around me looking at the pictures of the elephants. Then they were telling me Knock Knock jokes. Then, we were all trying to guess the riddles that the adults ask at the end of lunch before cleanup and recess. 

That's why I got into education and even educational leadership. To make a difference in the lives of children and the adults who do the work of teaching and learning. As it turned out for me that day, they made a difference in my life. The kindness of a lunch lady and the simple pleasures of cafeteria life at Frenchtown Elementary School. 

The kids always make it better. 

Sometimes Life Lessons Stick

We had a long day of lacrosse games Saturday. The first game started at 3:30, and the second game was slated to start at 5:30, but because sporting events rarely run on time, it started late. Since the second game started late, it ended late, and our dinner plans, which were already iffy, were now out the window. It would be fast food, the bane of spring sports families. 

When we finally wandered into the Chick-fil-A, it was pretty late, and very few people were in there. We ordered our food and sat down. As we ate, our eyes were drawn to a group of eight young men eating nearby. They were an unremarkable set of boys; nothing stood out about them except for one thing: there was a pile of cell phones in the middle of the table. 

They were talking, laughing, and joking. Some had food in their mouths, some had food in their hands, and some were playing with their food. Their eyes were bright, their voices were loud, and they were all animated. Eight young men on a Saturday night, in a Chick-fil-A, NOT on their phones. It was like a glimpse of what life was like in 1995. 

As My Wife pointed out these gentlemen, our conversation was drawn to one of our favorite Ricca Family traditions: Friendsgiving. Several years ago, when we lived in Vermont, on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, we would host our closest friends and their families in our home. We cooked the turkey; everyone else brought the sides. We provided drinks for adults and children and opened our home to enjoy the people in our world, who would normally scatter to their families on the Wednesday before Turkey Day. 

Two years into our tradition, we added something right at the front door: two shoe boxes. The shoe boxes were for cell phones. Two years into our tradition, we decided we wanted people to look at each other and not at their phones. Two years into our tradition, no one could carry their cell phones past our front door for one night. 

One night, we reasoned, while the most important non-family family members ate, drank, and were merry in our home, would give us more moments of joy. One night without cell phones in our pockets would let us make more eye contact. One night without an alert in our hands would bring us closer to the people who matter most to us. 

That first year was a struggle. People felt awkward without their phones. We saw it, but we muddled through. The second year was better. But a funny thing happened in the third year: we forgot to put the boxes out at the front door. It wasn't the first guest who noticed, but twenty minutes into our Friendsgiving, one of my friends came up to me and said, "Where are the shoe boxes?" Without turning away from the turkey, I directed him to where we keep them, and he went around collecting the phones. Not one person balked at it. Not even the teenagers. 

Back to our friends at Chick-fil-A. The only remarkable thing about them was that we knew them all. They were seven friends of our son Brendan, who turned sixteen this week. They chose to put their cell phones in a pile on the table. My Wife didn't ask them. I didn't ask them. They did it all on their own. 

Sometimes, life lessons stick. 

Can It Be More Than Once A Year?

We celebrated Teacher Appreciation Week in East Greenwich Public Schools from Monday, May 6 through Friday, May 10. Our EGPS Parent Teacher Groups were tremendous. They had daily themes and spoiled our educators with snacks, meals, gifts, and notes. Allen Gammons, an East Greenwich High School graduate from the Class of 1984, bought the teachers and staff of EGPS a coffee and pastry on Friday, May 10. The Rhode Island Football Club is offering all educators complimentary tickets in May, along with an educator rate of $13 tickets for North Bleacher tickets this month. This kind of generosity is humbling. 

And I was reminded of the fact that a little over four years ago, as we struggled with the new reality of this ugly word COVID, Shonda Rimes tweeted the following: 

I am NOT advocating that teachers need to make a billion dollars a year. No educator that I have ever encountered in my twenty-eight years in this profession came to teach to make a lot of money. They all, every single one of them, did it to make a difference in the lives of children. Though speaking of money, I did come across a troubling statistic this past week. It is from the non-profit Foundation for Research on Equal Opportunity. They charted the median return on investment for college majors (bachelor's degrees, and it's troubling (at best) when it comes to education. Here's the graphic: 

Yes, bachelor's degrees in education are dead last in return on investment. The only degree that fares worse is one in Fine Arts. So, per this research, you don't want to be a teacher, and you definitely don't want to be a teacher in music or art. This is discouraging for so many people that I know and love. 

How have we gone from Shonda Rimes' tweet, when COVID was swirling around us, to the reality that it's the worst return on investment? I don't have all the answers, but I know that one week a year of appreciation will not solve this. There will always be a need for educators. Always. We are all a product of education. Every single one of us. Simply being a product of an educational system does not qualify one to judge (or these days) publicly shame educators on social media. That is akin to telling you that Nick DelVecchio cut my hair at his shop on Main Street last week, and you should feel welcome to sit in a barber chair in front of me while I take out my clippers and scissors. 

How do we move from appreciation to feeling valued? Again, I don't have all the answers, but I can offer a concrete suggestion for our community: reach out to share when something goes right in your kiddo's classroom. A note or an e-mail is more than enough to express what you value about what is happening in EGPS. I can give you a recent example from my own professional life. 

I keep an e-mail folder in my inbox called "Rainy Day." This is a folder of messages from people sharing a kind word for my work. It's for those moments when I'm overwhelmed or discouraged by the work of educational leadership. My go-to when I feel that way is to get into an early elementary classroom and get on the floor (I was a first-grade teacher before going into leadership). If I can't do that, I look through the Rainy Day e-mail folder. Currently, the total number of messages in that folder is 33. 

In contrast, I received more than 870 messages on two weeks of medical leave. 

To be clear, I don't want people writing to me. I'm challenging our community to write messages to our staff (any employee of EGPS) once a month during the school year to express how they value the work that we're doing. If each parent with kiddos in our schools wrote one message a month (either physical or e-mail) to someone stating how they valued their work in EGPS, that would move the needle from feeling appreciated to feeling valued. 

As I often do, I was talking about my idea for this week's post with the people I share office space with. This week, it happened to be Bob Wilmarth, our Director of Facilities. He's a man who has demonstrated care and stewardship over the buildings in EGPS for years. When I shared my thoughts about this week's writing with him, he said, "Can't we be kind to each other all year round, not just for a week?"

Truer words were never spoken. 

I Was Humbled and Grateful

On Friday, April 19, 2024, I walked into the outpatient surgery center for my first-ever surgery. I felt pretty fortunate that for the first forty-nine years of my life, I did not need to be unconscious except for routine colonoscopies. I was nervous, to be sure, as I had no idea what to expect that day or in the subsequent ones as I recovered. While I walked in on my own, I was pushed back to my car in a wheelchair for my ride home. 

It's humbling to be that vulnerable, and for the bulk of the days following, I could do very little on my own. I was relying on My Wife for even my most basic needs. Slowly, over the past two weeks, I was able to regain my strength and start to feel like a person who can take care of himself. It's very humanizing to be in a position where someone else has to do almost anything for you. 

Besides being humbled by this experience, I was full of gratitude: 

• I have a job in EGPS that comes with tremendous health care, which allowed me to have the surgery in the first place. 
  
  
• We have an excellent staff in the District Office and a thoughtful Leadership Team that sent me care packages full of fruit and yummy snacks, for me and My Family. They also sent crossword puzzles and sudokus to ensure that my brain didn't turn to mush while I recovered. 
  
  
• EGPS has an Assistant Superintendent, and Michael Podraza brilliantly led the district in my absence. 
  
  
• Even though my inbox had more than 870 messages waiting for me, the work continued in our district. We have marvelous employees who do the work of education every day on behalf of the students and their families in East Greenwich. 
  
  

With thirty-five days of teaching and learning left in our school year, there is still plenty of work to be done. In early June, we will celebrate the Graduating Class of 2024 from East Greenwich High School. There will be moving-up ceremonies for our 8th graders, our 5th graders, and our 2nd graders. We will work smarter, not harder, as the days become warmer and longer and the allure of summer becomes stronger. This is the work of education. 

Even if I still can't put on my socks by myself. 

Photo Courtesy of LinkedIn

It's Not Easy

I rarely get to speak to our teachers and paraeducators together outside of the first days we welcome them back in August. However, on Tuesday, April 2, I had that opportunity. It was Primary Day in Rhode Island, and on that day, we could not have Teaching and Learning for students, as Frenchtown Elementary was a polling place. We could have Teaching and Learning for adults, though. 

For Professional Development this year, we committed to "Back to Basics," otherwise known as no new initiatives. The adults in our district were still feeling the pandemic's ripple effects, and we did not want to increase their workload from a local perspective. We wanted to focus on relationships and ensure that our adults had the tools to keep all our students safe, welcomed, and included when they came to school. To that end, we welcomed Jetta Bernier from the Enough Abuse Campaign. Ms. Bernier presented some incredibly hard information to hear about the insidious nature of childhood sexual abuse. We needed to hear this (again) to make sure that EGPS adults can do everything possible to protect the children in our community. 

So, in front of me was this opportunity. I usually only have once a year to speak to all the people who do the work of Teaching and Learning in our district. At the same time, what we would hear that day was going to be stomach-turning at times. It was not going to be easy. Fortunately, for me, I found some wisdom. Not from another person; from Winnie the Pooh: 

I shared two stories that morning of times I needed help, one of which happened this past February. I hold monthly Office Hours at each of our schools so that if there is something on the minds of our employees, they don't have to go far to find me. As I settled in, a member of our staff knocked on the door and came in. After sitting down, this person shared that they had seen a social media post by a community member in EG about my thoughts on the draft calendar for next school year. 

After first asking if what they read on Facebook was true (which I appreciated!), and when I confirmed that it was, this person shared how upset my thinking had made them. The truth was we needed help with how to handle the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, in our draft calendar. The holiday begins at sundown on Wednesday, October 2, and concludes at nightfall on Friday, October 4. 

When we were thinking about which days we should have off from Teaching and Learning to honor the holiday, I shared that given the choice, I was leaning toward Friday because I was concerned about attendance if we gave Thursday off. I thought that if we gave all EGPS Families Thursday off for the celebration of Rosh Hashanah, many would take Friday off as well. 

This person shared with me how important this holiday is to them and the observance of their religion. Further, the fact that I was thinking about attendance felt like I was diminishing the importance of their faith. So this person asked me to reconsider. 

This person was vulnerable. This person was honest. This person was humble. This person was brave. Without using the actual words, this person was asking for help. Without saying it out loud, I needed help. 

Had this person not come forward, more than likely, we would have gone ahead with my thinking on the draft calendar. This individual's courage helped me to see the error of my ways and my failure to consider all perspectives. We will honor Rosh Hashanah on Thursday, October 3, 2024. 

In my personal and professional life, I cannot do it alone. I would offer that no one in East Greenwich can do it alone, either. We need each other to be our best selves for this entire community. 

We all need to be brave enough to ask for help. 

On Unified Sports

The text came in early that morning. Typically, it's not good news when a principal texts me early in the morning. However, this was a welcomed message from Melissa Centracchio, Principal of Cole Middle Schools: "Unified basketball is playing West Warwick at 9:30. Stop by if you can." 

There was no question I was making time for this. I quickly rearranged my office hours at another school for later that morning to ensure I could get to Cole to witness this. Unified Sports brings out the best in us. It's the best way to play sports, because everyone is a winner before the games actually begin. It's the best way to play sports because the final score means nothing. It's the best way to play sports because it's not about the outcome; it's about the relationships. 

In case you're unfamiliar with Unified Sports, it's a way for students with disabilities to participate in athletics along with typically developing peers. There are uniforms, officials, scorekeepers, and fans. But honestly, the only thing that matters is having fun. 

During the game at Cole last week, there were no traveling calls, even though almost every kiddo ran with the basketball without dribbling. There were rebounds, but the rebounder often gave the ball back to the kiddo, who took the shot and missed. And the only time the referee blew a whistle was to call for substitutes to ensure that everyone got out onto the floor. 

The gym was packed. The entire student body was in attendance. The bleachers were full, faculty and staff lined the walls, because it was standing room only. And when a Cole player scored the first points of the morning, you would have thought the team won the Middle School State Championship. (Which, by the way, the Cole Boys did win on February 17 of this year). 

Players ran up and down the floor, holding hands. They helped each other up, even those on the opposing team. During the game, players smiled at each other. 

After the game, I received this message from Mrs. Centracchio, who had e-mailed the parents of one of our Cole students: 

I am writing to let you know that I am extra proud of Nina today. 

She may have told you that we hosted Warwick Vets today for a unified basketball game. Nina recognized a boy on the Vets team that she went to preschool with, and she approached him to say hi. He was so excited that when he wasn't on the court playing, he'd go right to Nina and sit with her and her friends throughout the game. 

Vets is where I was in leadership before I came to Cole, so I know the coaches well. One, who is a dear friend of mine, approached me after the game to tell me about what Nina had done and how special it was for this young man. She also shared the attached picture with me - so I thought I'd share them with you as well. 

I am always proud of our students at Cole (especially at events like this) and today I was extra proud of your daughter. Well done, Mom and Dad!

Yes, I know this is different from how all sports are played. Healthy competition is expected, even at the middle school level. We can only sometimes hold hands and give away rebounds. 

But away from the court, this is precisely what we want from our students, the little and the big humans of East Greenwich Public Schools. We want them to nurture and maintain relationships with friends they've had since preschool, regardless of their abilities. We want our students, all of our students, to feel safe, welcomed, and included when they come to school. That way, and only that way, I maintain, can they learn to the best of their ability. That way, and only that way, I maintain, they will have the courage to make mistakes. That way, and only that way, I maintain, is the true meaning of All Means All. 

We're flawed humans. That part is not in question. However, unified sports are a window into the depth and beauty of who we really are as those flawed humans. 

Lessons we, more often than not, need to be reminded of by our students. 

The Gift of Time

The NCAA Tournament, known as March Madness, is one of the best sporting events in our country. I love college basketball more than its professional counterpart, and this tournament is one of the reasons why. If it were a best-of-five or best-of-seven series, more than likely, the better team (on paper) would win. However, this is not a series. Instead, there is a different opponent in every round. If a team wins six games in a row, they are the champion!

As of Sunday morning, March 24, my bracket is busted. I picked Kentucky to play Connecticut in the final game. Inexplicably, Kentucky lost to Oakland on Thursday night. That is the joy (for Oakland—a team that few had heard of before that game) and the agony (for Kentucky—a team that hoped to contend for the title) of this tournament. By the way, Oakland lost its second game to North Carolina State and is also out of the tournament. 

There is no such thing as a perfect bracket. OK, it's not that there's no such thing. It's nearly impossible to pick all sixty-three games correctly. The odds of picking that flawless bracket are 1 in 9.2 quintillion. Essentially, it's the equivalent of me picking up one grain of sand and you guessing the exact grain of sand I picked.

This week, I listened to a podcast about the 2019 NCAA Tournament and a gentleman named Dr. Gregg Nigl, a neuropsychologist for Veterans Affairs from Columbus, Ohio. Like many of us, Nigl filled out a couple of brackets that year without any specific pattern. As a Big Ten fan, he leaned heavily on the teams he knew from that conference and ended up throwing in some upsets along the way, like we all do. 

When the tournament began, he and his family were driving to Vermont for a ski vacation. During their drive, they stopped along the way to eat and watch some basketball. It was a long drive, so by the time they arrived on Sunday, Dr. Nigl and his family were happy to be at their destination. 

When they woke up on Monday, Dr. Nigl was surprised by a voicemail that he got from a colleague. Someone from the NCAA was calling his office looking for him. It turned out that as of Monday morning, after the first four days of the tournament, Dr. Nigl had picked a perfect bracket. There were forty-eight games that were played from Thursday through Sunday. Dr. Nigl picked every single one of them correctly. Yes, you read that correctly. Every game from Thursday afternoon to Sunday night, all forty-eight games, were accurate on his bracket. 

This was his fifteen minutes of fame. Buick (a sponsor that year) wanted to fly him out to Anaheim, CA, to see his beloved Michigan Wolverines play in the Sweet Sixteen (the second weekend of the tournament). He was on CNN and Good Morning America. This perfect bracket took over his family's time in the Green Mountain State. 

In Anaheim with his son (Nigl could only take one other person with him), as he got to the arena to watch the game, he found out that the University of Virginia came back and beat Oregon, another pick he had. Forty-nine correct picks out of a possible sixty-three! But before the game started, he saw that one of his picks was in trouble. From his seat in the arena, he watched on his phone, Tennessee lost to Purdue, and his streak of accuracy was over. 

It only went downhill from there. He watched, in person, as Michigan lost to Texas Tech, and in the second game that weekend, he watched Texas Tech take out his Championship pick: Gonzaga. For the remainder of his bracket, Dr. Nigl missed on three of his eight Sweet Sixteen picks. Only one of his Final Four picks actually made it to the last weekend. All in all, he accurately picked 53/63 games in the 2019 tournament. 

This is the fifth anniversary of that fantastic string of predictions. In the podcast, Nigl shared that he and his son were talking about the trip. When his son was asked, "What was your favorite memory of the trip?" His son said, "Happy to be in a cool place with you." 

Not being at a college basketball game in Anaheim. Not his dad being on TV multiple times. Not the hotel, the rental car, the spending money from Buick. Not his dad's fifteen minutes of fame. Being with his dad was the best part of that streak of forty-nine correct NCAA game outcomes. 

As parents, from the moment our children are born, we raise them to be independent beings. We celebrate all the milestones: crawling, walking, riding a bike, and driving a car. All those events are attempts for our children to grow from us. Time slips through our fingers as consistently as the seasons change. That is the gift of parenthood: time. 

For My Wife and me, we have crested over the halfway point. This year, Our Boys will turn sixteen and eighteen and have already had the majority of time in our home that they will spend. Our weekends are often spent in different locations, watching different sports, at different times, texting each other updates from games. Vacations to us have always been precious, but even more so as Our Boys have gotten older. We crave that unscripted time with them, away from the schedules, classes, homework, and jobs. 

What we do in education is essential; it's critical work. The shaping of young minds, especially in 2024, requires preparation, care, and a growth mindset. It takes a district and community beyond who we see in the classrooms to get it done. Yet, the work of our families and the time with our families come first. 

"I picked the best bracket ever, and it was very lucky. But it might have been the second luckiest thing that happened to me that March." (Dr. Gregg Nigl) 

~Thank you to my dear friend Mike Philbrick and the team at ESPN Daily for reporting this story. 

The Kindness of Strangers

It started innocently enough. A "sorta" stomach ache. A dull headache. Nothing specific and nothing truly scary. Our youngest son was a step slower than the rest of us during our vacation. We were out of the country and about to move to another island, one substantially less populated and, thus, with less medical support. To be sure that he was OK, we reached out to our Airbnb host and asked for a recommendation. Armed with the name of the local doctor and an address, My Wife headed out with our youngest. 

As it turned out, our host did more than just share information. When My Family walked into the clinic, they were asked for our last name. When the response was "Ricca," they were shown promptly in to see the doctor. There was no "waiting" in the waiting room. Our host saw to it that our family, a little nervous about being out of the country, was well cared for. The doctor was wonderful: he listened carefully, assessed medically, and sent them on their way with three over-the-counter medications. As he gave directions to the local pharmacy, the doctor also shared his personal cell phone number. If they give you a hard time at the pharmacy, or if he gets worse, text or call. Anytime. 

That night, as we prepared to travel to the more sparsely populated island, our youngest had a low-grade fever—the first time that symptom appeared. Still, he had been checked out by a doctor, and we had the doctor's cell phone. Our youngest felt well enough to move on to the next island, so off we went. That night, though, his appetite started to fade, and he didn't even join us on the beach. I figured he needed a good night's sleep, and after a day or two on the medications, he'd bounce back to his typical teenage self. I'm not that kind of doctor, but that's the pattern I expected since that's what I've seen happen multiple times in his fifteen-plus years on this planet. 

The following day, though, he had not improved, nor had he slept well. My Wife and I took turns going to the beach with our oldest, and the other would stay in the house with our sick kiddo. All the symptoms were rolled into one miserable young man: very little appetite, low-grade fever, headache, and upset stomach. He wasn't getting better. I still expected him to turn it around in another day or so. 

The next day was more of the same, although it seemed like his fever was getting worse and his appetite had disappeared entirely. We had chatted a little bit with our "next-door" neighbors, people who owned their own place in this little corner of paradise. They were friendly and helpful, and we shared what was happening with our younger son, so they would check in on him often. 

It all came to a head that night when Brendan's fever spiked to 102.9, and he threw up. Desperate to connect with someone, we texted the original doctor, who agreed to see us in the morning, but that was a ferry ride away. I hustled to our neighbors and asked for help. They called someone local to the island, and that person put us in touch with a local nurse. Our neighbor handed me her phone and told me to keep it for the night. I must have made a half dozen calls to the nurse that night. While she reassured us medically, with his condition worsening, we made plans to leave and head home the following day. 

As the first ferry was at 8:00, I didn't expect to see our neighbors before we left, so I wrote them a quick thank you note, stuck it on their phone, and put it on their doorstep. As we were pulling out, one of them came across the way to check in on us. We expressed our sincere gratitude and then made our way to the ferry, then to the airport, and finally back home. 

As it turns out, Brendan has pneumonia. He's been seeing his pediatrician regularly since we got back. He's on antibiotics and we're pushing fluids. While he's still not well, there are small signs of improvement. We're still concerned but far less knowing that we're home and have wonderful medical care. 

Our world is full of stories of people who are awful to one another. Where our common humanity means nothing and self-interest is the guiding force. And yet, we encountered the deep kindness of four complete strangers in our vulnerable moments. An Airbnb host. A random doctor. Two "neighbors," who shared a dirt road with us. 

We are grateful to all of them, but especially our "neighbors," Phil and Laura, from Little Compton, RI. 

Photo courtesy of Jo Hudson, www.medium.com

Because of Public Schools

February 26 through March 1 was designated Public Schools Week. On the heels of the National Conference on Education, sponsored by the American Association of School Administrators (AASA), I reflected on what that meant in East Greenwich Public Schools. I was proud of the many things that came to mind. Some of the highlights: 

• Five of the six schools in EGPS are designated as five-star schools. The sixth earned a fourth star, up from the previous year. 
  
  
• We are one of the few communities in Rhode Island that are seeing both steady (if not increasing) enrollment in the schools, as well as steady (if not increasing) community growth in the town itself. 
  
  
• By an almost 70% margin, the community supported an investment of state and local dollars to breathe new life into buildings for the future of education in our community. 

An investment in public education is an investment in the infrastructure of the town itself. We work together, hand in hand. While not always perfect, it works for East Greenwich. What's good for the schools is good for the town. What's good for the town is good for the schools. 

As I thought more about it, the beauty and gift of public schools is that everyone is welcome, regardless of who you are. Regardless of how much your family earns at the end of the year. Regardless of any of the labels that we are fond of using to distinguish one person from another. 

When I graduated from the College of the Holy Cross, I was gifted a book by Marian Wright Edelman. Ms. Edelman, a graduate of Yale Law School in 1963, founded the Children's Defense Fund in 1973. Her entire life has been in advocacy of children, regardless of any of the means we have tried to use to classify them. However, as someone who was involved in the Civil Rights Movement, clearly, Ms. Edelman has a soft spot in her heart for children of color, children who live in poverty, and children with disabilities. I still have this book on my shelf. 

From the book Guide My Feet comes what I believe is the heart of and the mission of public schools in the United States and East Greenwich. This is from a prayer by Ina J. Hughes and encompasses the title of the EGPS Strategic Plan, All Means All. I have framed it for all the employees of the East Greenwich Public Schools as follows: 

As the humans who work in EGPS, we take responsibility for children: 

• Who sneak popsicles before supper, 
• Who erase holes in math workbooks, 
• Who can never find their shoes. 

And we take responsibility for children: 

• Who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, 
  
• Who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers, 
  
• Who never "counted potatoes", 
• Who were born in places we wouldn't be caught dead in, 
• Who never go to the circus, 
• Who live in an X-rated world. 

As the humans who work in EGPS, we take responsibility for children: 

• Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, 
• Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money. 

And we take responsibility for children: 

• Who never get dessert, 
• Who have no safe blankets to drag behind them, 
• Who watch their parents watch them die, 
• Who can't find any bread to steal, 
• Who don't have any rooms to clean up, 
• Whose pictures are not on anybody's dresser, 
• Whose monsters are real. 

As the humans who work in EGPS, we take responsibility for children: 

• Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday, 
• Who throw tantrums at grocery stores and pick at their food, 
• Who like ghost stories, 
• Who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub, 
• Who get visits from the tooth fairy, 
• Who don't like to get kissed before drop-off, 
• Who squirm in church or temple, and scream into the phone, 
• Whose tears we sometimes laugh at, and 
• Whose smiles can make us cry

And we take responsibility for children: 

• Whose nightmares come in the daytime, 
• Who will eat anything, 
• Who have never seen a dentist, 
• Who aren't spoiled by anybody, 
• Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep, 
• Who live and move but have no being, 

As the humans who work in EGPS, we take responsibility for children: 

• Who want to be carried, 
• And for those who must. 
• For those we never give up on, 
• And for those who don't get a second chance. 
• For those we smother, 
• And for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it. 

The Leadership Team in EGPS can point to a child (or, in some cases, multiple children) that fits every single point that Ms. Hughes raises. There are children who come to school in EGPS for whom our schools are where their only consistent meals will be. For some of our students, this is the place where they feel safe and free from the harm of physical trauma. For some of our students, one of our six schools is the only place where they feel seen. 

We have more than 2,500 students enrolled in our district, with more than 250 educators working diligently to ensure they learn to their potential and have the courage to make mistakes along the way. We turn no one away. If you live in East Greenwich, we would love to have you as a part of our PK - 12 educational community. All of our employees promise to make you feel safe, welcomed, and included in our buildings, no matter who you are. 

Because we are your public school. 

Caring, Not Prying

I walked into the Office of Finance, Administration, and Operations, saw the empty desk, and immediately wanted to ask, "Where's name-of-employee?" But I didn't. When the superintendent asks where an individual is, some might think that it's being done out of more than just nice to know. 

I've never been that kind of leader because I've never had that kind of leader. I don't stand at the door with a clipboard and a stopwatch because no one has ever stood at the door with a clipboard and a stopwatch for me. I was able to do my best work with leaders who cared about my personal life, not just my professional life. So, I strive to be the kind of leader who cares about what happens to people when they are not at work. This is why when I see someone not at their desk, I wonder if they are OK, not where they are, and why they're not doing their job. 

We are trying to build a culture of caring in East Greenwich Public Schools for the students and for the adults. In educational leadership, we know that if you don't take good care of the adults, it's hard to expect them to improve educational outcomes for our students. I feel very fortunate that I've had experiences with educational leaders who have demonstrated with their words and with their actions that my personal life is just as important as my professional role. This doesn't mean that they have said yes to every request I've asked regarding my personal time. It does mean there have been enough instances in which I've made a request for consideration of my personal time that have been honored. 

Because that is the truth. We are humans before anything else that we do for work. We are then husbands and wives, daughters and sons, aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, godmothers and godfathers. That comes before we earn any titles at work. I don't know anyone who has approached the end of their life and thought, "I wish I had spent more time at the office." 

And, this doesn't mean we can't have high expectations. You can care about people's lives outside of work and expect great things. When things get overwhelming, we can make adjustments. People have phenomenal capacity if they feel like who they are as a person matters just as much as what they do for work. 

It was just three short months ago when the East Greenwich community lost four people in the span of only a few weeks. When one of my dearest friends lost his father a couple of years ago, he taught me something that has stayed with me. We were sitting together a couple of months after his dad had passed away, and he said, "Ya know, Ricca, everyone was great right around the time of my dad's death and the funeral, and even a week or so after. But then they go back to their lives, and my dad is still dead." 

I'm confident the Zimmers, the Caseys, the Arnoffs, and the Houghtalings still feel the reverberations of those losses. I'm also sure that those close to those families are still struggling as well. While we do have to keep going, we can be mindful of those who are still feeling the weight of missing those members of our community. 

As we return from our Winter Recess, with spring on the horizon, I hope we can re-commit to seeing the humanity of those around us. Before they are students, our more than 2,500 kiddos are someone's sons and daughters. Before they are employees, our adults are someone's husband and wife, daughter and son, aunt and uncle, grandmother and grandfather, godmother and godfather.

In my experience, when you care about people's personal lives, they return that back to you with even more of a commitment in their professional world. 

Photo Courtesy of www.loveexpands.com

On Compliance

Last week, I met with a member of our Leadership Team in my office. This individual came in late, apologizing profusely, and sat down. As we started the conversation, this person apologized again and asked to go to the bathroom. I asked this individual to, first of all, stop apologizing and, of course, let them go to the bathroom. I sat back in my chair, stunned that another adult asked my permission to address a biological need. 

My mind wandered to a family dinner in the Ricca house several years ago when Our Boys were in elementary school. At one point in the meal, one of our young men (I won't tell you which one) asked if he could go to the bathroom. I looked at My Wife, an early elementary educator, before becoming a reading specialist and shook my head. What are we doing wrong in education, I wondered aloud, when my own child thinks he needs my permission to go to the bathroom... at home? 

As I thought more about that and waited for my Leadership Team member to return to our conversation, I thought of dear friends of ours who have a child who is on the autism spectrum. While their child has many gifts and talents, this young person struggles with communication. In an effort to blend in with the rest of the class, this little one follows directions, does everything that is asked of them in class, and in no way disrupts the learning environment. In short, their child is compliant. 

With all three of these examples, I wonder if we emphasize compliance too much in schools? If we do, what are the drawbacks? What are we really teaching? 

While this was all fresh in my mind, I saw this graphic on LinkedIn: 

With the caveat that this is only one social media platform's opinion, there is no mention of compliance. In fact, LinkedIn believes that adaptability is the most in-demand skill of 2024. None of the top ten are remotely close to compliance. 

Before you push back, please know I'm not suggesting that schools become the Wild West. We do need rules to ensure that the humans in our district are safe. We need guidelines to ensure that all students can access their education. Our students need to feel safe, welcomed, and included so they can learn to the best of their abilities and have the courage to make mistakes along the way. This means that we do have to respond to poor behavior. 

And there is a kernel of truth in what LinkedIn is offering us, especially in light of my reflections on compliance. Teachers are no longer the keepers of the content, given how ubiquitous smartphones are. When was the last time you argued over a piece of sports trivia or historical fact? We are all victims of the devices in our pockets or close by. 

Look around our world. We need problem solvers, not learners who are programmed to recite facts and figures. We need analysts, not learners, who can just tell us what caused the War of 1812 and how those factors won't be repeated in the next potential conflict. We need people who can work through differences, with learners who believe things antithetical to values others hold. 

Yes, we need our schools to be places that have predictability and routine. But that predictability and routine need to leave room for creativity, insight, and leadership. That predictability and routine need to leave room for student agency and choice. That predictability and routine need to allow for independent thinking and ideas that are out of the box. 

How do we distinguish between compliance and learning? That's what we have to wrestle with to ensure that our students and adults learn and grow to think for themselves. The future of our world depends on it. 

Not just when they can go to the bathroom. 

Photo Courtesy of www.sourceofinsight.com

Five Minutes

During President Clinton's inauguration in January of 1997, singer Jessye Norman sang a little longer than expected, causing the then-president-elect to be sworn in at 12:06 PM instead of noon. Historians noted that because then-Vice President Al Gore had already been sworn in to his position, that Gore was actually President of the United States from 12:00 PM - 12:05 PM. Gore said that under his presidency, "...the economy was strong, crime was low, and bi-partisan bickering was at an all-time low." 

It seems like such a small amount of time. How often have we texted someone, I'm running five minutes late. Whether or not that's accurate is almost irrelevant. Or we've asked someone if they can stay an extra five minutes after an event. Which undoubtedly turns into ten or more. 

Another perspective on this small amount of time comes from Scott McCreery, an American country singer who won the 2011 season of American Idol. His 2018 song, "Five More Minutes," explores this very theme. As eight-year-olds fishing, a sixteen-year-old hoping for a good night's kiss, and a senior in high school after playing his last football game, the lyrics tell us they all wanted five more minutes. 

For me, though, the most poignant verse came near the end when an eighty-six-year-old grandfather was near death, surrounded by family, "With so much left to say," McCreery too wanted five more minutes. I never got a chance to say goodbye to my own grandfather, whom I wrote about last year, as he passed away in his sleep in 1983. 

I have often contemplated the all-too-quick passing of time. Facebook has a way of doing this to me, as it reminds me of posts from years ago. It is, more often than not, the pictures of Our Children that impact me the most. Wasn't it just five minutes ago that we brought Patrick home from the hospital in Chicago? He will turn eighteen this year. It feels like only five minutes ago that Brendan was born, and we realized that we needed a slightly bigger home as a family of four. Brendan will be sixteen in May and will be learning how to drive. 

As an infant, Patrick, who came into the world almost three weeks early, was colicky and suffered from acid reflux. More than likely because his arrival was sooner than expected. It was a months-long process to identify that it was acid reflux, and those were long, tedious, stressful days (and nights). A dear friend at the time, who was a little further along in the parenting journey, told me something then that still rings true to me today: "The days are long, but the years are short." 

In our six East Greenwich Public Schools, we have more than 2,500 students, whose families are somewhere on their own parenting journey. Perhaps their children are in our Pre-Kindergarten program, just dipping their feet into our educational world. Maybe their children are second-semester seniors trying to figure out what the future holds. Or their children are on the verge of a transition within EGPS. From one of our two early elementary schools, preparing for their next one. Maybe their children are in Eldredge or Hanaford, wondering what life will be like at Cole. They may have an eighth-grader looking down Middle Road, thinking about that school on Avenger Drive. 

We are all doing our best with what we have in front of us. We are trying to do right by our families and, hopefully, at a job we love, so it doesn't feel like work. Our families are more important than anything else. How do I know this? Because if someone gave me five more minutes, I would spend it with them. 

And so would you. 

Photo courtesy of www.quotefancy.com

It's Not Either/Or. It's Both/And.

During the Winter Holiday break, my family and I binged the ten episodes of "Beef." The Netflix mini-series is about a road rage incident that grows into a prolonged fight that entangles two families. It was indeed a challenging show to watch, and yet it brought some hard truths into focus. Some gruesome moments are difficult to see, and there are scenes with intense vulnerability and human connection. 

It's early into the award season for TV shows and movies, but still, "Beef" won six Emmys. During his acceptance speech, Steven Yeun, who earned the Lead Actor award for his portrayal of Danny Cho, said the following; 

"Judgment and shame are a lonely place. Compassion and grace is where we all can meet." 

I have observed that sometimes, in education, we are reluctant to embrace both/and and prefer either/or. I can speak for myself as a classroom teacher; it was a shortcoming in my professional practice until I got feedback from one of my mentor teachers early on in my educational career. A woman, by the name of Loretta Jene (whom we nicknamed Yoda because of her size and her wisdom) asked me during my second year of teaching, "Mr. Ricca, why can't it be both?" I don't even remember what we were discussing, but my educational perspective changed that day. 

We can be forward thinking, and use worksheets. 

We can hold high standards, and have empathy. 

We can expect a great deal, and still scaffold the way forward together. 

Either/or thinking results in judgment and shame. Both/and thinking bring forth compassion and grace. As I've written many times in this very space, we need more compassion. We need more grace. Our work is about relationships. That's it. That's the list. 

East Greenwich Public Schools are a safe place for all of us to come and meet. The strategic plan, entitled "All Means All," specifically welcomes every single learner, young and old, to our community of teaching and learning, spread across six school buildings, and the district office. You need not be perfect. You need only to bring an open mind and an open heart. 

My commitment to our students is that EGPS will be a place that is safe, welcoming, and inclusive so that every student can grow to his or her potential, with the courage to make mistakes. For our adults, I commit to providing the tools they need to be their best professional selves, in service to their students, colleagues, and families. I cannot do that with judgement and shame. I can only do that with compassion and grace. 

More than twenty six years ago, Loretta Jene asked me, "Mr. Ricca, why can't it be both?" The truth of the matter is, not only can it be, it's how it should be. 

Both/and. 

Photo courtesy of www.socialworker.com

An Act of Service

As a Superintendent, several years ago, I started keeping track of the days of the school year. Using a social media platform, I schedule a quote to be posted at 7:00 AM every day of teaching and learning. My hope is that the quote is inspirational or thought-provoking in some way. This past week, the Executive Director of the Rhode Island School Superintendents Association, Thomas DiPaola, shared that he enjoyed these daily posts. I also have to be candid, he wanted me to remind everyone of the number of days until pitchers and catchers report for Spring Training for the Yankees. That number as of today is 25. He, too, is a Yankees fan!

As a result of this exchange, I looked at some of my posts for this week. This one caught my attention: 

I've been a fan of Simon Sinek for a long time, as I resonate with and am grateful for his insights into leadership. This quote is beautiful. This is one of the lessons I've learned in leadership, albeit sometimes the hard way. 

A lot of this has fallen on my shoulders along the lines of my gender. There are a few sayings I've heard through the course of my forty-nine years on this planet: 

• Boys will be boys
• Don't show them you care
• Real men don't cry
• Never ask for help

Since we've got a baseball theme going already, I'm 0 for 4 on all these sayings. I don't believe in any of them. They're in no way helpful, no matter what your gender is. 

The thing is, and there's no escaping it, when it comes to help, you have to ask for it. I first met My Wife in 1999, we started dating in 2000, and this coming June, we will celebrate twenty years of marriage. For sure, I know that one of the ways I can make a mistake in my marriage is to try to read her mind. If I can't read the mind of the person, there's no way that I can read the mind of anyone else. In exactly the same way, I cannot expect anyone, including My Wife, to be able to read my mind. 

With that as the starting point, I expect people to ask for help. I expect it in my personal life. I expect it in my professional life. I expect to do it myself. I know I can't do it alone, anywhere in my life. 

Beyond the expectation, I want people to ask for help. We can't do the work of education, let alone the work of living, by ourselves. Our lives are in no way perfect. Thus, our teaching and learning will in no way be perfect, and our relationships with each other are what make the difference. 

EGPS is a safe place to ask for help. It's a place where we treat each other with respect. It's a place where it's OK to not be OK. Please just talk to us. 

Give us the honor of being there to support you. It's one we take very, very seriously. 

How Do They Do That?

When I was growing up, there was magic when we would listen to the radio to hear if we had a snow day or a delay. We would wake up early, grab a portable radio, and listen to the broadcaster go through every school in lower Westchester County, New York. The hope was that we would hear, "Mt. Vernon Public Schools, closed!" If we missed our town the first time, we would have to listen to the entire list again. How did it happen? Who made the decision? How was the decision made? 

As I've moved along through my educational leadership, a lot of the mystery has made itself clear. There's less "magic" for me and more of a decision-making process I go through as Superintendent of Schools. Clearly, there are no more transistor radios, with students huddled together under blankets, hoping to hear the name of their school district. Now, it's automated. I record one voicemail message. I type one short text message. I write a more extended e-mail. With the push of one button, I can reach out to our entire school community. 

In the interest of transparency, I am sharing some insight into how we make decisions about delays and cancellations when inclement weather occurs. When we know there is snow on the ground, we contact the Town of East Greenwich Department of Public Works to ask for an update. They will share up-to-the-minute information on the current conditions and, if possible, the timetable to address any known issues. We will decide at that point using this information and the forecast for the remainder of the day. That is a much cleaner and easier circumstance than what occurred last week. 

In the case of last Wednesday, January 10, when the weather event was not snow falling or already on the ground but heavy rain, wind, and melting snow. I was prepared to hear that schools did not have power, especially given what happened when we had another rough storm in November. When I talked with our Director of Facilities, Robert Wilmarth, a little before 5:00 AM, I was happy to hear that our schools were ready and all had power. 

We get information from our partners in DPW on days like Wednesday if trees are down, and they always let us know if there's flooding. On this particular day, that information came to us after 6:45 AM, and because we have to notify our bus company of any changes in status by 6:30 AM at the latest, it was too late to call for a delay. 

It wasn't through any fault of DPW. The flooding occurred when the streams overflowed, and that took place after we could inform the bus company. This was simply poor timing. 

I'm truly grateful for our partnerships with the Town of East Greenwich that help us make these difficult decisions when we have challenging weather conditions. I hope this helps our community better understand why we handled the events of last week in the manner we did, with the information we had at the time. 

My best guess at the future forecast is that there will still be a little magic this winter in East Greenwich!

Photo courtesy of www.nataliecramer.com

It's Not About the Grades

I pushed the remote that moved my PowerPoint presentation to the final slide, which said, "Thank You." I exhaled, more than likely audibly. My dissertation defense was complete. I looked at my committee, which comprised three of my professors from the School of Education at Loyola University Chicago. Now, the questions would begin. 

Somewhere between forty-five and sixty minutes later, I can't remember exactly, my dissertation Chair, Dr. Marla Israel, looked at her colleagues Dr. Janis Fine and Dr. Theresa Fournier. They nodded to Dr. Israel, who asked my family, two dear friends, and me to leave the room. We filed into the hall and waited while these three women discussed my presentation and responses to their questions. 

It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. I had poured hours and hours into this work. It was a commitment of our entire family. My Wife would push me downstairs to the basement, immediately after dinner, to my home office. I had promised myself and my children (then four and two) that I would never say, "Daddy can't play with you now. He has to work on his dissertation." Thanks to My Wife's parenting generosity, I kept that promise. 

I couldn't stand still in the hallway. I paced back and forth and, at times, peeked into the room. But I could not see my committee. I hoped the conversation was positive, but I had no way of knowing what they were talking about. 

As I continued to pace, I heard someone say, "Dr. Israel is coming," and sure enough, the door opened, and she walked through it. As she approached me, Dr. Israel extended her right hand to me and said, "Congratulations. Dr. Ricca." I shook her hand, and she pulled me in for a hug. I passed my dissertation defense!

I passed my dissertation defense. I did not earn a grade. How is that possible? 

This was, by far, the most academic work I've ever done. I began my coursework in the fall of 2004, well before my graduation date in 2011. For several semesters, the only course listed on my transcript was "Dissertation Supervision" while I was writing chapters. I would write a chapter, or in some cases, part of a chapter, send it to Dr. Israel, and she would send back edits. We would follow this pattern until we both agreed the chapter was complete. 

The reason dissertations are a pass/fail endeavor is simple. Despite the years of research, family sacrifice, and effort, it's about the learning. It's not about the grade. 

As presented to me by Dr. Israel, a dissertation is about standing on the shoulders of others or carving out a niche that others have yet to fully explore. My dissertation examined the relationships between male early elementary educators and their building administrators. As a former first-grade teacher and someone who grew to a leadership position in education, I saw possibilities to explore. Since I was creating a new space for educational research, none of the members of my dissertation committee were experts in this area. I was the expert in the room. 

As we return from the Winter Holiday Break, we have almost sixty percent of our teaching and learning time together this year with our students. I hope that we can prioritize learning over grades. Grades are important and have their place, and I feel we place too much emphasis on them. Get good grades in middle school to be sure you can take the right classes in high school. Get good grades in high school to be sure you can get into a good college. Get good grades in college... finish that sentence? 

My report cards are tucked away in a shoebox in my parents' attic. It took me three tries to get a 1040 on my SAT, back when there were only two sections. I have been happily married for almost twenty years, and I have two children who bring me pride and joy. I have a job that doesn't feel like work. 

It's not about the grades.