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