Would I Want to Be a Teacher in My Own School?

One of the most significant shifts that I faced as I made my move from classroom teacher to vice principal, was the realization that I needed to dedicate as much time, care, energy and attention towards the adults in the building as I do to the students. As a classroom teacher the focus is primarily on the students sitting in front of you- and rightly so. It is an enormous responsibility and challenge to create the optimum learning conditions that will ensure that each individual child receives the emotional, social and academic support that they need for their continued growth and learning. As a classroom teacher, I was enormously impacted by this question, poised by Dave Burgess-

If your students didn't have to be there, would you be teaching to an empty room?

I can distinctly remember that moment, and the thought that popped into my head. It was,"Oh crap." Because it forced me to be honest about what I was trying to achieve as a classroom teacher. Was I just trying to get by, to survive, to make my way through the never ending mountain of marking? Or was I trying to empower a generation of engaged and thoughtful global citizens?

I was once again reminded of this challenge when reading The Innovator's Mindset, by George Couros. Couros suggests that in order to create the conditions for innovation and growth, we need to ask ourselves some essential questions, including-

Would I want to be a learner in my own classroom?

As someone who struggled in school myself, as a teacher, I challenged myself to create the learning conditions that would have kept me motivated, engaged and excited about learning. Even after 17 years in the classroom, I still found this a daunting task. 

But again, the shift for me as a school administrator was that it's not only the students that I serve, it's the teachers.  Dean Shareski closes his recent blog post, "Professional Learning is Messy" with this question- 

How do you and your leadership create conditions and opportunities for you to listen?

Dean argues that some of the best professional learning results from opportunities to sit and listen, to hear from passionate individuals, the "smart people" who push us to actively engage with new thoughts and ideas. So like the "perfect storm", each of these elements have challenged me to extend George Couros' question to the following:

Would I want to be a teacher in my own school?

I'm not big on resolutions, and like most educators, my "new year" began in September. But as we move into 2016, I am resolved to help create the conditions in my school that would have inspired, motivated and supported me as a classroom teacher. I am resolved to serve the adults in the building with the same care and attention as I serve the students. No small task. I will make mistakes. It will likely be messy at times. But I also resolve to be as patient with my own learning, my own growth as I was with my students'. To be honest, for me, that's likely the bigger challenge.

I'll let you know how it goes...

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! :)

The Goldilocks Zone of Leadership

The "Goldilocks Zone" refers to a habitable area of space in which planets can conceivably support liquid water, a key ingredient for life. It is the optimal proximity to a star- neither too close, nor too far. It's just right.

Similarly, the challenge of leadership requires us to find that same optimal zone. Effective, innovative leaders must work to create that "just right" environment in which staff and students feel supported and inspired to be their best selves, to take risks and to explore new opportunities. My ongoing challenge is to determine that "just right" level of support. Too much can leave staff and students feeling overwhelmed and undervalued. Too little can lead to stagnation and disengagement.

I'd like to say that I've discovered the perfect balance, that just right zone. But leadership is not a perfect science. There's no exact measurement, no fail safe formula that can be applied to a vibrant and dynamic school community. Because a school community is comprised of a myriad of complex and variable elements, the most essential and the most complex of which is the human element. 

Fortunately, I'm not alone on this journey to find this "Goldilocks Zone"- the place that provides optimal conditions for learning, innovation and growth. I have help. I can continue to rely on the advice and support of my mentors. I can reflect on the open and honest feedback of my colleagues. And I can listen carefully to voices of my students. The key ingredients...

Not too much.

Not too little.

Just right.

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....

It's Not You, It's Me- The Common Denominator

It starts with me...

It's not you, it's me. And I don't mean that in the cliched, "It's actually really you" way. It really is me...

I've always imagined that I was fairly articulate, a good communicator. Although I was slow to begin reading and writing in elementary school, once I caught on, I quickly developed a deep appreciation for the intricacies of language. I am mindful of the incredible power of words- their ability to shift perceptions and transform thinking. I've always felt that clear, transparent communication is essential to building trusting, collaborative relationships. So needless to say, it's been a bit of eye opener to realize that I actually kind of suck at it. Ok, "suck" might be a bit strong... Let's just say, it's an area of growth for me.

Fortunately, I have some incredibly wise mentors in my life. I've written in previous posts how these individuals have helped me to find my edge, and to move past it into new understanding and learning. They push me to examine and question my own thinking, to consider my motivations for doing what I do. They encourage, support and challenge me every day. And they're not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong...

So here's where the "it's me" part comes in. In conversation with a couple of these wise individuals over this past week, I've come to realize that in every scenario where I've felt frustrated, or ineffective in my interactions with others, the common denominator was me. I may have felt like I was communicating effectively, but if there was confusion or concern as a result, I failed to communicate effectively. I may have felt like I was showing compassion and care in my interactions with others, but if there was anxiety or upset as a result, I failed to demonstrate compassion and care. I may have felt like I was providing opportunities for growth and learning, but if that resulted in disengagement or unease, then I failed to provide opportunities for growth and learning. I have been reminded that it really doesn't matter what I feel like I'm doing, what matters is others' perception and understanding of what I'm doing... I know "failed" is a strong word. But I see it as an absolutely necessary realization, an opportunity to reflect, to re-evaluate and to grow.

By identifying myself as the "common denominator", I am gradually moving towards a better understanding of what I need to do to move forward, and to support the continued growth and learning of staff and students in my school community. By identifying myself as the common denominator, I have been reminded that it starts with me.

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.