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. 

On the Edge

I am fortunate to have some incredibly wise people in my life. And although I'm notorious for being a bit of a "loner", fiercely independent, and let's just say, a wee bit stubborn, I have come to understand that I need these people in order to continue to learn, to grow, and to expand my perspective of the world around me.

I was recently reminded by one such wise individual of the saying, learning happens on the edge of understanding. The challenge for me is to figure out where that edge is. It means something different for each of us, and it is often a scary and uncomfortable place to be. It should be. Because it means taking a risk, pushing past the familiar, the "known" and charging into uncharted territory. Scary stuff for sure. But as scary as it is, I have gradually learned to embrace, even seek out that feeling. Rather than allowing myself to recoil, to pull back, I have learned to teeter on that edge for a moment, and then force myself over the precipice, on to the other side. Sometimes I can do this myself, and sometimes I need a gentle shove. It's always uncomfortable. It's always scary. And usually the landing on the "other side" is less than graceful, more often than not accompanied by a few bumps and bruises. But, the rewards are enormous!

I've been fortunate over this past year to have had several opportunities to find my edge and to push beyond it to experience new learning, new understanding. Whether it's through yoga, climbing a mountain, or challenging myself professionally, I am learning that although it's often a scary and uncomfortable place to be, with the patient support and guidance of some very wise people in my life, it is also kind of awesome. My intention for the year ahead is to continue to reflect, to explore, to risk and to find new edges...

What's your edge?

Finding the Right Gear

          Finding the right gear can be a challenge. The trick is to try to anticipate the gear you'll need, before you find yourself grinding up a difficult hill. Once you're committed to the hill, it's challenging, almost impossible, to attempt to shift gears- you risk your chain coming off altogether. But to some extent you can decide how you want to approach each hill. You can muscle your way up, employing a higher gear, relying mostly on strength. Or, you can rely more on cardio endurance, shifting into a lower gear and faster cadence. It depends largely on your style, your strengths, and on the conditions you find yourself riding in.

          As I approach a new school year, I find myself trying to anticipate the "gear" that I'll need. To some extent, I can prepare ahead of time. I can rely on past experiences, seek advice and guidance from mentors and gather as much information about my new school community as I can. But the reality is that as much as I can prepare, I will also need to be able to "shift gears", adapting to new circumstances, contexts and challenges as they arise. It's simply not possible to predict and prepare for every eventuality. There will be some blind spots and I won't be able to see each new hill as I approach it. I might even have to take the risk of shifting gears mid hill. But it is these very aspects that contribute to my excitement and eagerness as the new school year approaches. I am so looking forward to the road ahead!

Are You Talking to ME?

          Trust. Relationships. Leadership. Values. Vision. 

I lost count as to how many times I heard these powerful words this past week. To be honest, it's all still a bit of a hazy blur, the result of long hours of learning and connecting with colleagues at the @bcpvpa "Short Course" at UBC. But despite the long hours, I left the beautiful new UBC Student Union Building on Friday afternoon feeling inspired and invigorated. And just a wee bit freaked out.

The short course is essentially structured around the BCPVPA Leadership Standards, which encompass Moral Stewardship, as well as Instructional, Relational and Organizational Leadership. Each day focussed on an aspect of these standards, ranging from discussions on educational innovation and leadership to the "nitty gritty" of the numerous, seemingly unending tasks associated with supporting a thriving school community. If I wasn't already overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of the responsibility of helping to shape the future of our youth, this past week most certainly helped to clarify that most rewarding, yet enormously demanding role. Thus the "freaked out" reference.

BCPVPA Leadership Standards

And I'm not alone. At several times throughout the course of the week, I would catch a colleagues' eye and I could see that they were thinking the exact same thing that I was:

"Are you talking to me?" 

At times, I wasn't so sure. Who was this "superhero" that BCPVPA president-elect Kevin Reimer was talking about? There were more than a few times where I was convinced that perhaps I was in the wrong room, that someone had made a terrible mistake. But as the week progressed, our facilitators and session leaders assured us that we did indeed have the necessary skills and abilities to take on the role of an Administrator. We don't have all of the answers, we don't even necessarily know the right questions to ask, but we have gotten to where we are today by relying on our greatest resources: our colleagues and our "kids".

So in the haze of reflection, I am left feeling somewhat overwhelmed, but also incredibly inspired, to continue on this journey. I will need your help along the way, because what I know in my heart more than ever is that I can't do this alone.

And yes, I'm talking to you. 

Lady Bugs are cool.

Defining Success

          By many people's definition, I was not a "successful" student. I struggled in elementary school with math and writing, and I was slow to begin reading. I have vivid memories of feeling enormous shame after getting back yet another math test that I had failed miserably. I can still see the vibrant red "F" at the top of the page. I was the kid with the multiplication table taped to the top corner of their desk. I also distinctly remember the stigma of being one of several students who were scooped out of class several times a week to be taken for "extra help". I say stigma, because again, I can remember the feeling of shame as I was led down the hallway by Mrs. MacMillian, the resource teacher, to a partitioned corner of the library which doubled as a "resource room". I can remember the colour of the carpet. I can remember the kindly face of my teacher. But mostly I can remember feeling embarrassed.

          In high school, my struggles continued. Although I was an avid reader by that time, often completing books in a single sitting, I still struggled in math and french. My years followed a predictable routine of failing a class or two, attending summer school, and once again failing those same classes the following year. By then, many of the feelings of shame had subsided. Despite my "failures", I was well liked by my teachers, generally considered a "good kid" and was finding some "success" in other classes. I excelled in English, loved to debate in law and won an award in band. However, I was a "good kid" making many "not so good" choices. In hindsight, my teachers must have known, but due to their considerable good will and understanding, my "extra-curricular" activities never landed me in the principal's office, nor did they prevent me from graduating. Barely. 

          In grade 12, having failed several courses over the years, I needed to pass all of my classes to receive enough credits to graduate. A challenging task for a student who was more likely to be found hanging out in the local coffee shop than attending classes. But somehow I made it through. And "back then" I even managed to get accepted into a local college. Much to my parents' enormous relief.

Grade 12 Garr. Don't judge- it was the 80s.

          In college, with the freedom to choose my courses, I was more engaged, enough to do fairly well in my classes. Well enough to transfer to University in my third year. But once again, as a result of a number of factors, I began to struggle in my classes. Another vivid memory- standing in my mother's kitchen trying to decipher the academic jargon in a letter that I had received from the University. I remember asking my mom in disbelief, "Does this mean they're kicking me out?" And indeed, that's exactly what it meant. 

          Perhaps a blessing in disguise. I began to work full time, and enrolled in a French class at the local college. I was encouraged by my professor to watch French soap operas and listen to CBC radio in French. I immersed myself in the language and the culture. And it worked. Once again I was back on track and re-admitted to University the following year to complete my Bachelor's degree. But even then, I wasn't one of those students who was particularly "passionate" about anything. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do "when I grew up". I spent several years moving through various jobs before I decided to return to school to obtain my Bachelor's of Education. 

          Perhaps now, I might meet a more traditional definition of "success". I continued on with my schooling, completing a Masters degree, taught for 17 years in a vibrant and supportive school district, and have recently moved into a Vice Principal position. I have a rewarding job, a supportive family, a nice home... But I am eternally grateful that my teachers didn't apply that more traditional definition of success to the 15 year old me, the one who rarely attended, made poor choices, and failed classes. They clearly had a broader definition.

          I'm grateful for the bumpy road that brought me to where I am today. It provides me with invaluable insight into the lives of some of my students. It provides me with the understanding that behind each student, there is a context, a story. I've seen first hand the impact that a supportive adult can have in a student's life. And I've learned to look very hard for the "good kid" behind the "not so good" choices.