Reading, Writing, Arithmetic... & Relationships

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Mostly.

It's also a time of increased stress and anxiety for many students and families. As we near winter break, I am seeing the impact of that on my school community. Although this is a time of joy and celebration for many, for others it can be a stark reminder of what they may be missing from their lives...

So this is a gentle reminder, to myself and to others, to keep a special eye out for those students (and staff) who might be struggling a bit during this time.

Because we don't just teach reading, writing and arithmetic. We are a family. And families take care of each other.

Happy holidays all!

The Quiet Ones

Some students, you just can't help but notice. They're the students whose names you learn first in September. Sometimes it's because they're the first to volunteer to answer a question, or to pick up a notice from the office. And sometimes, it's because they're the one that you've had to ask to stop poking the student sitting next to them, and to please sit down, six times within the first half an hour of class. You know, those ones. For a myriad of reasons, there are students that we just seem to notice.

And then there are the others. The ones who on a busy day, when you haven't gotten to your attendance first thing, you can't quite recall whether or not they were in class. The ones who when the first parent teacher interview comes along in October, you need to look back through your notes to be sure that you're prepared with something to say to the parents. You know, those ones. The quiet ones. For a myriad of reasons, there are students that we just don't seem to notice.

It's hard to write that. It's not something that any educator wants to admit. We do our best to reach out to every student, to learn a little of their story, to support their diverse needs. But with numerous demands on our time, there always seem to be those few students that at the end of a semester, or year, you think to yourself, "I wonder if there was more I could have done?"

The challenge is, that for the most part, the quiet ones tend to do okay. They comply with instructions, follow the daily routines, and make their way through the day without complaint. And yet, they also tend to make their way through their days with very little interaction with their peers. Or with the adults in the building. They are on the periphery our school communities. And that's not ok.

The question that keeps me up at night is, what am I missing if I let the quiet ones slip unnoticed through our hallways day after day? What am I not noticing?

The thing is, I was one of the quiet ones. Those who know me now probably chuckle a little at that... It's not often now that I get described as quiet. But it wasn't until long after school that I began to very consciously push myself outside of that comfortable, quiet place, to find my voice, to feel worthy of being noticed.

And so, as a vice principal of a high school of over 1200 students, and with the help of the members of my school community, I continue to challenge myself to really see those students, the ones who are sometimes doing their very best to remain invisible. Because for that very reason, we need to notice them. Because I don't ever want to ask myself that question again, "I wonder if there was more that I could have done?"

Taking It Personally...

Among the many pieces of advice that I was given as a new administrator, one is reminiscent of a line from a favourite movie of mine, A League of Their Own. Similar to Tom Hank's infamous line, a colleague told me, "There's no crying in Admin..." As harsh as that might sound, to some extent, he was right. As administrators, we are quite often faced with students and families in crisis, families who are attempting to navigate heart-breaking, sometimes enormously traumatic events in their lives. In these moments, it's neither helpful, nor professionally responsible, to allow our own emotions to surface. As time passes, many of us become accomplished at compartmentalizing, maintaining a calm, supportive and empathetic demeanour in the face of sometimes challenging and emotionally charged circumstances.

That mindset is possible in part due to another piece of advice I've often heard- Don't take it personally. Again, on the surface, good advice. Often students, parents and staff come to us upset, angry and frustrated. But just as often, there is a context that is rarely directly related to something that we personally have done. Again, in these moments, taking it personally isn't helpful. Instead, I have learned to stop, and listen- gradually determining the root of the concern...

But sometimes, I think we do need to take it personally.

This next part is particularly difficult for me to write. In October, I wrote about an experience that I had with a student who was struggling. He was rarely attending classes, and was feeling disconnected to our school community. In conversation with this student, I shared some of my own challenges, my own struggles in school. Gradually, over a period of weeks, this student began to attend more regularly, often stopping by my office first to say "good morning" to me. He had amazingly supportive teachers who were also working with him, welcoming him into their classes, working to get him caught up on assignments. We seemed to be making a real difference with this student...

...Until suddenly, he stopped coming all together. This student has since dropped out of school. My heart breaks a little as I write that. Because how is it possible not to take that personally? I'm not suggesting that I alone am solely responsible. In the same way that I would never dream of taking "credit" for the "successes" of staff and students, I know that I can't accept sole responsibility or blame for "failures". But I also believe that part of what makes us effective educators and leaders, is to some extent, taking things personally- putting our heart and soul into our schools, our communities.

In fact, some of the people who inspire and move me the most are those who, without a doubt, take it personally. Ian Landy (@technolandy) and Karen Copeland (@KarenCopeland3) champion for mental health awareness by sharing deeply personal stories of their own children. Pernille Ripp (@pernilleripp) honestly and openly shares a story of when she felt compelled to apologize to a former student for "failing" him. And George Couros (@gcouros) unapologetically wears his heart on his sleeve, sharing and inspiring through personal narratives that illicit both tears and laughter. These are all individuals who bravely share their vulnerabilities with others so that we can learn, and grow from their experiences.

Image Credit

So as much as I know that as an administrator I need to keep my own emotions in check in order to best serve my school community, I can't pretend that it didn't break my heart a bit to learn that this student, this boy who I had tried so desperately to welcome into our school community, had dropped out. It's hard not to take that personally. But at the same time, I can't let it immobilize or defeat me. I can learn from it, and I can move forward. Some days that isn't easy. But it is my responsibility to keep trying.

Update- January 2016...
Happy to provide an update. This student has decided to return to school for second semester. He has missed our school community. Thrilled to welcome him back! :)

An Opportunity For More

Every morning, after the first bell of the day, I stand at the front door of my school and say "good morning" to each student as they come in. Without a doubt, it is my favourite part of the day. New to my school this year, in September when I first began this morning ritual, students were a little unsure of how to respond... I should mention that I'm the vice principal of a high school. Most teenagers are not exactly "morning people". As such, many of my students are still groggily half asleep, earbuds firmly implanted, hoods up, coffee in hand. Initially, responses to my greeting would range from the occasional "good morning" in return, to puzzled glances, to complete avoidance. But gradually, as students became accustomed to this morning routine, they began to respond to my greeting, even initiating the now familiar "good morning" themselves.

But the reason why this is the favourite part of my day isn't simply because of those two words, it's because this morning ritual is an opportunity for so much more. Because under the "pretence" of welcoming students into the school, I can get a pretty accurate overview of any number of other factors that are so integral to supporting student learning. On any given morning, I am able to determine if a student who I know often comes to school on an empty stomach, has eaten breakfast. I can take note of which student is coming in without a coat on a cold morning. I can playfully tease a troubled teen to get a sense of their mindset that morning, and attempt to illicit a shy smile. I can compliment an anxious student on a new haircut or a new outfit, hopefully planting a small seed of confidence and security that will set them off on a good path for the day.

Perhaps even more importantly, are the students who walk through the doors ten, fifteen, twenty minutes late. They get that same cheerful "good morning". Because for some of our students, just making it to school is a good thing. I have learned that there is almost always a context, a story, behind that late arrival.

I can't deny, this morning ritual is a bit selfish on my part. Those shy smiles, those morning greetings, fuel me for the day. They energize and inspire me. They remind me of why I do what I do. They are an opportunity for more...

What is Success? 1200 Stories

What is success? I was privileged to be able to share my story at TEDxWestVancouverED....

In the End, No One Really Cares

The other day, I told a student that I didn't care if he failed. I'm sure he thought I was crazy. And likely the counsellor who was sitting in on the conversation was thinking the same thing. To her credit, she didn't say it out loud.

The student that I was speaking to had been missing classes. In the first month and a half of classes, he'd probably missed more than he'd attended. As a result of this, and several other factors, he was failing all of his classes. One of which he was repeating for the second time. He had come to school on this day, late, but he'd come. Perhaps as a result of the conversation that I'd had with his mom the day before. To be honest, I was just so happy to see him, all I could do initially was grin at him. Thus the, "this woman is crazy" look on his face...

As we waited for his counsellor to join us, I asked him what his favourite thing was about school. He stared at me blankly, and then slowly began to shake his head from side to side. He didn't know. He couldn't think of anything. Although I maintained my smile, inside my heart was sinking. A month a half into school, and there wasn't a single thing that this student could think of that he liked so far. But after a minute or two of gentle probing, he finally thought of something. He liked cooking. Awesome.

In attempt to put him at ease a bit, I began to tell him a little about myself. I'm new to the school, and so I'm meeting many of our 1200 students for the first time. I shared that I'd struggled in school myself, that I'd also failed classes. His eyes widened. I told him that when I'd interviewed for my current position, no one had asked me when I'd learned how to read (grade 2), how many times I'd failed math (twice), or how many awards I'd won (one, in grade 8 Band- thank you Mr. Green). They didn't care about any of that stuff. They just cared about where I was now.

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As the counsellor entered, our conversation continued. I told him that "success" might look a little bit different for him. It might take him a few more times through a course, an extra year in high school, some additional support through it all. And I also told him that I didn't care if he failed a class. I just wanted him to come. That we would worry about the whole "passing" thing a little later on...

As we set out a plan for the following week, one that includes him stopping by in the mornings to say hi to me before he sets off for class, I reminded him that five, ten years from now, no one would really care where he'd started out...they would just care where he finished. I'm not sure if he believed me. He probably still thinks I'm a bit crazy. But as long as I get to say hi to him every single morning next week, I'm ok with that...

My one & only. Thank you Mr. Green. 

Our Stories Are Important

Our stories are important. They form the essence of who we are, and of who we hope to become. And it is through sharing our stories that we learn, we connect and we grow. In fact, I would suggest that it's through stories that we learn best.

This past weekend, I had the remarkable privilege of being able to share a little of my story with an incredibly receptive and warm group of individuals at TEDxWestVancouverED. The opportunity to share my voice, my story, with others was an amazingly empowering experience- a privilege in every sense of the word.

But in the midst of this amazing experience, I couldn't help but think of those individuals in my school community who might not have an opportunity to be heard, whose voices are marginalized or stifled. I thought of the students who struggle with mental health issues, students whose voices might be silenced by overwhelming fear and anxiety. I thought of the families for whom schools can be an intimidating place, perhaps associated with unpleasant memories or experiences.

And so I am mindful of my privileged position- not only do I have an opportunity to share my story, but I have the responsibility, the privilege, to help empower others to share theirs as well...

Photo courtesy of  Rose Pillay

You Will Find Your Way

Perhaps even more so than in previous years, I am eagerly anticipating the first day of school. But moving into a new role, a new school and a new district has also given me cause to reflect on the apprehension that some of our students experience as they approach the start of the school year. For many students, this is a time of rekindled friendships, shiny new school supplies and endless possibilities. But for others, "back to school" is associated with an overwhelming sense of anxiety, even dread. My own struggles in school have provided me with some invaluable insights into this other side of "back to school"... 

And so, if I could speak directly to those students, here is what I would say...

Schools can be rough. They can be filled with unknowns and uncertainties. You will have to navigate unfamiliar hallways, ambiguous rules, challenging courses and occasionally unkind classmates. You will feel overwhelmed at times, even angry or scared. You will struggle. You might even fail. But you will find your way. Maybe on your own, or maybe with some help. And your way might look just a little bit different than everyone else's. But that's ok. Because everyone's journey is unique. And there is no one right way. There is just your way. And I will do my very best to help you find it. 

..........................................................

And so as we embark on the start of a new school year, I am confident that my colleagues will join me in supporting all of our students as they walk through the front doors of our schools, and into our classrooms. Because it is our responsibility, our privilege, to help them find their way.