Savouring the Bites

It all started with the duck terrine.

It was January 8, 2011, and my wife and I were enjoying a weekend getaway right after the Christmas break.  Perhaps it was this unlikely decompression, planned because of a full calendar and not because it was the weekend of choice, that helped things change for me.  The funny thing is, it took almost one full year for me to figure out what the change was.  I certainly knew that it was there, that something had happened...was happening.  But I wasn’t sure just what it was. 

Until last night.

But, it all started with the duck terrine.  Terrine is a wonderful, coarse sort of pâté, and for some reason, that terrine, that day, pulled some kind of emotional response out of me.  I had never experienced that sort of a reaction from food before, and it was wonderful.  While my wife sat back, laughing, my back turned to jelly and I felt my knees get weak.  And it has happened since.  Not just with food, but with other good experiences, and I have noticed that it usually happens when I get a quiet moment—that quick chance to sit back and reflect—so perhaps it is something that I create myself.  It has happened with at home with my wife and kids, at my school, while fishing and hunting, over meals and snacks, and during visits with friends.  And always, I catch myself sinking into that chair a little deeper than normal and enjoying things a little more, never quite sure why I was feeling so good, just happy I was.

But, last night, that all changed.  We decided to enjoy some of our venison steaks for dinner (yes, food again...), and as I got the steaks ready I decided that I really wanted a glass of red wine with them.  This is unusual for me; as the only red wine aficionado in the house I don’t ever open up a bottle so that I can have a glass.  I always wait for company. 

But this time it seemed right.  I poured the glass and let it sit so that the bouquet could open up while I grilled the steaks outside on the BBQ.  I got everyone’s plate ready, and then tried to get 5 seconds of quiet so I could enjoy a small bite of the steak with a sip of wine.  I didn’t get the 5 seconds.  I probably didn’t even get one.  My wife called me melodramatic—and she was right. 

But here’s the thing, here is the “moment”:  I didn’t need quiet.  It tasted wonderful. 

Even better than I remembered.

I became aware, for the first time, that I was savouring that bite.  I was savouring that sip.  I was savouring that moment.  I used to need a campfire, and exhausted body and a cold night on a mountaintop to make a meal taste that good.  Now it seems I just need the right food, the right people...the right attitude. 

Maybe, just maybe, I can make my moments instead of bumping into them.

This is a change in my life.  For so long, I have used the motto:  Eating Life in Big Bites.  It was a way for me to remember to enjoy the things around me, to experience all of the experiences.  And while I still am having those big bites—seeking out those experiences and really enjoying them—I am starting to truly savour them. 

That is what I realized the other night.  Instead of chasing the good things, I am enjoying them all:  the big and small bites;  the delight of a treat;  relishing a moment.  I think that I am hitting a point in my life where I am really appreciating, well, my life.  I am not chasing a career, trying to collect more things, worried about the things that I don’t have.  I am enjoying what I do have and the things and experiences around me. 

I am savouring the moment, and it all started with the duck terrine.

Christmas Tree Hunting

99.  Christmas Tree Hunting

There is nothing quite like jamming your family into the truck with a hand saw and hot chocolate at the ready and a permit to harvest a Christmas tree in your back pocket.  We did just that this last weekend, and what a great time we had.

School is so busy at this time of the year.  Reports cards are being done (or not), classes are busy preparing for the annual Christmas Concert, and everyone is busy sharing flu and cold bugs, dealing with the challenges of buying Christmas presents for everyone, fitting in all of the staff parties and socials, and of course all of the emotional “stuff” that comes up in the lives of our friends and family at this time of year.  Whew, how do we make it through December every year? 

Of course, this is why it is so important to pull together with your family, whether it is a trip up into the mountains to find that perfect Christmas tree, a visit with Grandma or just 15 minutes to sit together over a cup of hot chocolate on a cold afternoon.  Take the time to recharge your body and your soul.  For us, the Christmas tree adventure was amazing.  We dragged along a family from the UK and headed up into the snow.  We had blue skies, hot chocolate and a wonderful time.  We found the perfect Christmas tree, all 15 feet of it, and headed down the mountain Grizwald-style with the tree leashed to the top of the SUV.  It was quite a sight, and something that the kids will chalk up into their memories as one of the important things that we need to do at this time of the year.  And that, it what it all should be about.

Bon Bon Ice Cream



100.  Bon Bon

Inspired by the Book of 1000 Awesome Things, I have started a list of my own 100 Things of Awesomeness.  Coming in first on my list has to be this special seasonal treat.  We have been eating Peppermint Candy Ice Cream since we were kids, and now I have my own kids hooked on it.  It's like the new Christmas orange.  Do you remember, looong ago, when it was such a treat to have those special Christmas oranges?  They were small and so sweet, and always came wrapped in that green tissue paper.  And then, they started to become called Japanese oranges, and they were still special, and the most expensive ones (always at your friend's house) were wrapped in white tissue paper.  You still had to wade through seeds back then, even on the white paper-wrapped ones.  But now, you can get them anywhere almost any time of the year.  The "special" has long disappeared for me, and that's exactly what makes Bon Bon so special for us; if you blink, you miss it, for a whole year!

Our tradition is to call Peppermint Candy Ice Cream in our house "Bon Bon"--from the francais-langue side of the carton, and somehow--unbelievably--we missed out on it last year.  I can't figure out why other than that we traveled away for the days before Christmas, and that I detest shopping after work on those crazy last days before the Christmas break.  You can imagine my sheer delight yesterday, when rounding the corner passed the produce isle and toward the cocoa powder, I saw it.  It was on one of those end-of-the-isle displays, and I would like to say that I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye.  But, I didn’t.  I saw it a mile away, and it was like time and all noise stopped, the clouds opened, and a beam of light came straight from heaven and shone, golden, on our Bon Bon. 

A bit dramatic?  Yes, but that is really how I felt.  You see, you can’t just find this ice cream anywhere, and you can’t just get it anytime.  That is why it is so special.  It gets to be one of those small little pleasures—all creamy and minty, always with the chance of getting a small piece of peppermint candy in any spoonful—that we so look forward to every year.  My wife and I because it was a special treat when we were kids, and my kids because they see that it was a special treat from back in the olden days when mom and dad were little (if that could have ever happened!).  My grocery store is the only one that seems to sell it, and it comes from Island Farms, that wonderful dairy on Vancouver Island.  Thank you Island Farms, I don’t know what I would do without you (and I will give you a second shout out in the summer when I go back to my hometown to the only ice cream parlour that still sells your cherry custard!).

And the best part of this story?  It was on sale.  $8.99, cut down to $5.99 a carton with your membership card.  I have a membership card, so guess what?  I bought two.

There was no way I was missing out this year!

Ten past eight is too early to sigh...

I got some great advice from a friend today.  We'd both been at work for a while, but connected around 8:10 am.  I looked up and sighed, and she said "Come on, it is way to early in the day to start sighing!"

I started to recount all of the reasons for me sighing, but she was right.

I was thinking about the a challenging conversation from the day before, and two new ones that I expected today.  I was thinking about yesterday's expensive repair bill on my new truck, the work that needed to be done to re-arrange our Cub Scout evening for next week, and having to travel out of town twice on the upcoming weekend while still finding time to go and cut down our Christmas tree.

And, she was right.

These were all things that I didn't need to be worrying about.  Half had happened already, and the other half would happen whether I wanted them to or not.  The challenge from yesterday was predicted, unavoidable and over.  The truck bill was of my creation, and--really--I was just happy to have it back after 10 days.  The Cub Scout meeting, well, they always work out and we have 7 leaders to share the load.  And the first of the challenging conversations happened today, and--if I am honest with myself--went very well.  I should have predicted that based on past conversations.  As for this weekend?  Yes, we were traveling out of town, but 1 hour on Saturday and 30 minutes on Sunday.  Both are for family birthdays, and both will be a lot of fun.  Almost as much fun as bundling the kids up into the car and driving up the mountain with permit and saw in hand as we search for the perfect Christmas tree.

She was right, and I thanked her.

And, then I went into an assembly with the students and watched a wonderful performance from a traveling groups that had us on their tour calendar.

And, I had a great time.

And, my day needn't have started off with a sigh.

Happy Birthday Mom!

It's my mom's birthday today.  Moms are great, aren't they?  They bring you into the world, care for you and get you ready for that inevitable push out of the nest.  They are your teacher, your counsellor, your reality check and your idol.  How many of us have declared "I am never going to marry,  I am just going to live with my mom forever."  Granted, I was about 4 when I said that, but I am still very very thankful for all of the lessons that I learned from my mom.

Happy Birthday Mom!
xoxo

Atomic PowerPoint

I was scanning through my blog reader last night, and came across a great post about building better PowerPoint presentations.  As someone who gets—forcibly—exposed to far too many (bad) PowerPoint presentations, I feel that it is incumbent upon me to pass along worthy PPT tips when I find them.

In a recent entry on his blog, Seth Godin talks about the atomic method of creating a PowerPoint presentations.  If we assume that an average person talks at a speed of 10-12 sentences per minute, and that an average talk lasts about 5 minutes, Seth figures that you will need a minimum of 50 slides (1 per sentence) for each presentation.  Some of these slides will have words and some will have images, but they will all contain a single idea.  These are your atoms, the smallest, most basic points in your conversation.  Seth tells us to then link the slides together, and start practicing the presentation.  Where things don’t fit, drop them out.  When slides seem to fit together, combine them. 

Take your most important ideas and points, and work with them.  Take all of the fluff that doesn’t add value to the presentation and dump it.

In other words, take your atoms, and start building molecules...

...and always avoid those dreaded bulleted lists.

Who is your Lex Luthor?



Lex Luthor is a fictional supervillan and the arch nemesis of Superman.  “Who is your Lex Luthor?” is a phrase used by Jerry, in the TV sitcom Seinfeld, to identify another person’s arch nemesis.  For Jerry, it was Newman, the bazaar postman who lived upstairs.  For Elaine, it was Sue Ellen Mischke, the braless wonder.  For me, and most people who are really honest, Lex Luthor lies deeper within.

We are our own worst enemies?  How can that be?  We know what things and people that we like and dislike.  We know what makes us happy and what doesn’t.  We can even predict that an situation, based on past experiences, will foul our mood—unless something is done to ready us for the challenge ahead.  In simple terms, if we know that something will bother us we should be able to avoid it, shouldn't we.  But if Lex Luthor is hiding inside of us, he  could pop out at any moment and if he is always there, does that mean that he can always take charge? 

The answer is no. 

No, because we know how to defeat our personal Lex Luthor.  No, because we know what his kryptonite is. 

I learned from a very good friend to tackle the things that I dread head on.  He has this wonderful way of taking stock of a situation and deciding what needed to be done.  Once decided, he pauses and takes a deep breath and at this point, I always know what is coming out of his mouth.  “Well, I guess I had better...”, and he adds in the thing that none of us really wants to do.  The thing is though, he really knows himself and that means that he knows that things will not get better for him or his issue if he delays the action that is needed.  He knows that, for him, putting it off will make him stress, and that will worsen the situation.  Honestly, I have learned a lot from this (thanks Chris), and I have found that by asking myself “What would Chris do”—instead of the long breath—I get the focus to see my next step.  Tackling a difficult conversation works best for me when I do not put it off, and knowing that helps me reframe a challenging situation into one that I feel more comfortable managing.  Knowing me is important too.  I know when I am overtired, when I am grouchy, and when there is something from work bothering me at home or vice versa, and knowing that allows for me to build a plan for success when something thorny rears its head up.  I also know that remembering my mantra of “a small moment doesn’t have to define my whole day”, helps me keep things in perspective.  There is nothing worse than feeding one of the little things until it grows and grows into an energy-devouring monster.

Knowing me helps me to predict a challenging week aheads of time.  For example, the last two weeks of November always seem to be a high stress time at school.  The rush of the new school year is over, the weather starts to turn and the days get shorter and darker.  The excitement and business of the Christmas season is still a week or so off and people are tired.  Knowing this, I was able to reframe my last two weeks into some of the most positive ones of the school year.  I still had difficult the conversations, I still dealt with the slippery roads, driving home in the dark, and the early morning wake-ups to get the driveway shovelled.  And, I still had tired people—myself included—all around me.  But I got organized and I defined my priorities.  I made up a list of things that were necessary to get done and things that I would like to get done.  Instead of putting off conversations, I took time to plan through my thoughts.  I started something fun with my staff that I call the Winer’s Club;  instead of whining about the time of year individually and alone, we are collecting wine together for a season-ending draw on the last day of school before the break.  And, I am bringing in lunch for the staff because they have worked so hard this year and they need a nice thank you before going home to recharge with their families and friends. 

I even took a run out into left field.  In a time where I felt too busy to do finish anything that needed to be done and too tired to do it, I leaned on one of my passions—flyfishing—and started to eek away some time, every night, to sneak downstairs and tie a few flies.  Some nights I tied flies, and some nights I re-organized my tying area.  One night I reorganized my flies into sensible boxes based on fishing species and insect type.  Another night I reorganized my tying materials.  One night I tied a few very complicated flies that will likely never get wet, and another I mass produced tonnes of an insect that I have only encountered once (albeit in epic proportions).  The funny thing is that adding in something new didn't make me tired, rather it gave me energy.  Instead of making me more overwhelmed, I found my thought far more clear.  By taking care of myself, even for a small amount of timne each day, I began to find myself more able to help take care of others.  What a great feeling.

In a nutshell:

·         I reframed my problems

·         I took the things that were dragging me down, and turned them into a pathway for success

·         I dipped into my energy well, and let my passion fill my bucket

·         Made it through one of my toughest times in the calendar feeling full of life

·         I took my lemons and made me some lemonade

So, who is your Lex Luthor, and what is your Kryptonite...and what are you going to do about them?

Early Literacy

I spent the afternoon today, working with our kindergarten students on the Concepts of Print portion of our Early Literacy Screener.  It was nice to connect with the children outside of the Principal role, but more importantly, working with the screener has really helped me understand the District’s literacy screener that we use to build a literacy profile for each student.  The inservices that we have been provided have been great, but things really started to make sense to me when I had out LAT teacher administer the screener on me;  what better way to understand a tool that we use than to have to work with that tool on a very personal level.

Today was a start.  I had a 90 minutes of connecting with our youngest learners, and I took one thing off of the plate of a very busy kindergarten teacher.  Tomorrow, it’s Phonological Awareness for grade 1s...

Lest We Forget

We had our school Remembrance Day Assembly on Thursday.  We planned for the local Legion to bring their Colour Guard, for some of our older students read In Flanders Field and some of their original Remembrance Day poetry, and for many of our students to wear their uniforms from Cadets, Scouts, Guides, Cubs, Brownies, Beavers, and Sparks and then lay wreaths at the Cenotaph.  We even had a school family provide a WWI bugle with all of the battles it had served in etched on it between the bumps and dents left by falling shrapnel at Lena, Ypres, the Somme, and Vimy Ridge. The plan was good and our guests arrived, and then everything started to go wrong.  Oh Canada would play in the first two devices that we set up, and the music brought for The Last Post didn’t work in our cd player, in the stereo or the two laptops that we tried.  We were literally on Plan D when our teacher-librarian used her iPhone to download it from iTunes.  We kept our heads, crossed out fingers and started the assembly—sweating.  In the end, it all worked out and we breathed a huge sigh of relief.  And then, after the students left, an elderly woman came to the office to let us know that she was a girl during WWII, and that this was the most touching Remembrance Day service that she had ever attended.  She said that it was relevant and thoughtful, and that whoever put the program together did so with great care and consideration.  Wow.

I think that that last comment is an important reminder about the effort that we put into things and our worrying about everything being perfect.  No one—apart from a Principal, a teacher, a teacher-librarian, and the representative from the Legion—knew what a fuss we had happened getting the assembly ready.  the audience just knew that we hit the mark, and that is the point in the end.  Isn’t it?

I Never Realized That...

...when I made changes that allowed for Earth Science 11 students to complete a test—successfully—that I was improving my instruction.  It was 1998, and I thought it just made sense, and it represented a real shift in my teaching practice from “following along” with my peers to choosing my own direction.  Tests didn’t need to huge marathons of questions, so I reduced a test given to me by a peer from 237 multiple choice questions, plus a 40 mark short answer section, plus essays to tests with 100 multiple choice questions, plus an extended answer section.  I didn’t think that tests didn’t need to be full of tricks, so I reduced the number of choice per multiple choice question from 5 to 4, and then went through the PLOs an removed all questions that were duplicated somewhere else and not actually part of the curriculum.  Then, I made some adjustments for a second test for students with learning disabilities, really focusing on what the key learning outcomes were, and further reduced the choices per question to three (I had decided that I wanted to test what they knew, not how well they could figure out my test).  I took the old written section, combined the best parts of the old test with my learning outcomes and came up with 10 really good questions, and then did something crazy:  I gave the kids the questions in advance of the test.  There was, however, a catch.  They would be required to answer 3 of those 10 questions on test day, and the three questions would be of my choosing.  Having three blocks of this class, I could also mix up the questions that I asked each class to do.  It wasn’t any more work for me;  I had already created a grading rubric with exemplars for each to help the class study.  Feeling pretty good about myself, I did something else that some colleagues though improper:  I offered the test designed for the student with a designated learning challenge to 5-6 other students who always worked hard, but never, ever passed their tests.  Guess what?  They passed this one.  The other students?  Not only did they do well, but I gradually moved toward a “choose the 3 questions that you can answer best model”.  We covered the entire curriculum—really well, in fact—and the students came to class believing that they could be successful.

...when my Social Studies department decided to improve students writing through 3 common assessments that we teachers then marked, collaboratively, using the pre-determined rubric that the essay question was built around that we were using our assessments to inform our instruction.  We didn’t know that this was called Assessment for Learning.  We didn’t even do it because we thought we were cutting edge.  We did it because we were having challenges agreeing with the English department on how to improve writing, and—even worse—because we felt that some of our department members were providing an easier “ride” through our course than others.  We were trying to level the playing field.  But, then an amazing thing happened.  Because we all taught different courses, we all had a different amount of sections of this particular course at one particular time.  That meant while I had 1 block, a colleague had 3.  To even out the marking load, we decided to sit down and mark together.  Our administrator was ahead of his time, and offered us some TOC coverage to work collaboratively during the school day and we were off.  I learned more from that common marking time about good teaching from my colleagues that I had learned in the previous year.   We had to pre-arrange our marking criteria, and once we did we decided to share it with our students.  It’s funny, by attempting to fix a problem that might not have existed, we used our common knowledge and experience to greatly improve our learning and the learning for our students.

...when I embedded online tools into my instruction that I was actually changing the way we were learning in my classroom—my learning included.  I thought that “teaching students in the medium of their generation” (Dave Matheson, circa 1998) was my moral imperative, and I honestly didn’t realize that level of academic success that my students would achieve.  I started off trying to justify my blended model of online learning by creating so many assignments to check for every trivial piece of content that I became buried in papers.  I couldn’t keep up!  A colleague suggested that I try to use discussion boards, and to make the students more responsible for their learning.  Desperate, I tried it…and it worked.  I feared that they would miss out on content, but found that by using a case study approach they picked up all of the pieces they needed and then worked in class at a much higher cognitive level.  This class of students had a class average more than 5% higher on than any other class in the school on our common assessments.  It was amazing, and the change came about by accident.

We have a tough job, and sometimes it is important for us to reflect back on a job well done.  Spend some time this weekend thinking of some of your successes, and use those feelings to help you put together something wonderful for your students next week.

Leading With Lollipops

I saw this video for the first time last year, and it was someone else who showed it to me (thanks Norm).  I took it back to school and showed it to my staff, because it was perfect.  I wanted to let them know how much I appreciated the hard work that they were doing every day, that they were making a huge difference in the lives of kids every day, and that I understood how few thank yous were sent back in return.  I also wanted to let them know that--sometimes--the most meaningful moments for some people are, well, missed by others.  I always expected that when my big thank you came, I would be not only be ready for it, but expecting it.  I was wrong.  My life-changing thank you came about because of an incredible tragedy. 

I was working in another district as a Vice-Principal, and was attending a celebration of life at the school for a former student who was tradically murdered.  At the service, another student came running up to me, exclaiming that he was hoping that I would be there and that we could catch up.  He told me that he was a commercial airline pilot, that things were good and stable for him, and that--gulp--I had saved his life.  Wow, saved his life.  That statement still hits me like a tonne of bricks.  He said that he was at a point of not caring about school or life and wasn't trying hard, and that I pulled him aside and had a really hard conversation about what it was that he wanted to do with his life and about doing things in a way that allowed people to see the real him and not just the facade that he was hiding behind.  I gave him the gut check to decide how he was going to be remembered, and then gave him a chance to make up all missed work and get caught up but only if he was going to give a real effort and stop playing games.  He said that conversation and the following weekend gave him the pause to see his life clearly, and he made a choice to follow his heart--that person hiding inside his chest--and walk away from the life of gangs, drugs and violence that had enveloped his older brother.  So you see, when he told me that I saved his life...he meant it.  The problem for me was that I didn't remember the conversation.  Sure, after some reflection I put myself back into that Geology 12 classroom, sitting down beside him and talking to him about wasting his talent.  Sure, I could remember the late afternoons setting up and explaining rock labs and sending him home to complete the write ups.  But, it didn't play back like a movie, and it wasn't glamourous.  And, it wasn't me who did any of that work, it was him.  I just pointed him in the right direction, and promised to be there to help should he choose the right path.  Maybe that is a lot, and maybe I was foolish to expect anything more.  I was so proud if him that day, and I still am.  I also know that there will be a time in his life where he will use that experience to help someone else make a big difference.  How amazing is that?

So my challenge this weekend is for everyone to dig deep and find that person who made a difference for them.  Chances are it will be a teacher, but it could be anyone.  Then, find a way to track that person down, and hand them a lollipop or some other reasonable or symbolic facsimilie, and thank them for making a difference in your life. 

It might be the most important thing you do all year, and it might make a far bigger difference than you could ever imagine.

From My iPhone

I have spent 2 1/2 hours in the last two days covering kindergarten and grade 1 classes. It has been a good opportunity for me to help get to know the newest students in our school, and it helped out our teachers. Having this opportunity to get into the classroom helps remind me that we always have to keep the people--the kids and the staff--first, and the paperwork second. No matter how big the pile of stuff is to do, this still isn't a desk job.

This is my first iPhone post. I am interested to see how it turns out.

Proud to Be a Canadian

We had a remarkable day at school today, celebrating Canadian Citizenship Week by hosting a Canadian Citizenship Ceremony.  Our kids worked so hard to get the gym decorated and set up, and we all dressed in red and white and watched as 53 people—including one of our students—from 17 different countries became new Canadians. 

I was so proud of our students and our school, and so proud that we were able to share in such a wonderful moment in the lives of these new Canadians.  I spoke to a family of four from Ukraine who came from a village very close to the one that my grandfather came from.  I spoke to a wonderful couple from Texas who were so happy and proud to be Canadians and who were so grateful that they were able to share such a touching ceremony with our kids.  I spoke to a man from Australia whose wife had just been hired onto the district as a teacher, and another family from England who had lived here for 13 years and were finally “officially Canadian”.  But I didn’t get a chance to catch up with the elderly man who sat in the very front row, on the corner to the right of the judge.  He had a beautiful smile on his face, and sat there quietly weeping for the duration of the ceremony, occasionally removing his glasses to wipe away the tears running down his cheek.  As Principal, I sat up with the dignitaries and shook the hands of every new Canadian following their few private words with the judge.  It took everything this man had to shake my hand, as he was so overcome with joy that his body was trembling.  I looked for him as the line neared its end and saw him, for an instant, through a break in the crowd;  however, the gap closed and he disappeared before I could find a word with him.  We wanted to know his story, but his quick exit probably left a bigger mark on us because it left us with an image of him choosing to be Canadian.  He wasn’t born here.  He may not have grown up here.  But he chose to be here today to become a Canadian.

I am so proud to be a Canadian.

I am so proud to be the Principal of this school.

Finding My Way

A good friend is moving away. 

My friend is a good leader and a good teacher.

My friend does not like public attention, and always tries to push the team to the front for any credit or accolades.

My friend set me up for success.

My friend is a great supporter, had my back when I needed it, but also never let me off the hook when I needed to stand up and be counted.  I needed that.

My friend made me wear my big boy pants.

My friend has a great laugh, and so do I.  My day works better when I use my laugh, and it was great to work with someone who made that okay.

My friend gave me the time—and the permission—to settle into my role, and to find my way.  Not by telling me the way, but by asking me to dig inside myself. 

My friend really helped me to find my way.

My friend made a difference to me—a big one.  I will help to pay back that favour by making a difference to others who cross my path.

I am grateful that our paths crossed, and excited for the opportunities that lay ahead of my friend.

My friend is moving away, but can't get rid of me that easily...

Living on an Island

 

Wow, I thought that this was going to be an easy post, but I am into the 5^th draft and not convincing myself of anything else other than the topic is more complex that I first intended (and even understood).  I wanted a brief and concise “rah, rah” kind of salute to networks, and I ended up on so many disconnected tangents that I had to put the writing away 4 times to give me time to reflect and digest.  Hmmm, maybe that is the real point of writing these things down?  But, I digress...

Early on, I had many people talk to me--professionally--about the importance of building a network of support, and some even tried building this network for me.  It didn’t work in most cases, of course, because it wasn’t authentic or genuine.  One event, however, stands out for me as the moment that I really began to take my personal networks seriously (meaning that I stopped taking them for granted), and that was a keynote by Alan November for an administrative institute that I attended about six years ago.  Alan spoke to us about technology in education, but came at it from an angle that I hadn’t really considered before.  He demanded that we use the technological tools available to us to connect to the rest of the world.  Not randomly, meaningfully and in the best interests of kids and education.  Not to do so, he argued, was malpractice.  Needless to say, he had my attention.

Skype was reasonably new to most people in the room back then, and Alan used Skype to call a professor at some US university to get a point of view on an educational question that we were discussing.  Alan didn’t know all of the answers, but he knew where to go to get them.  His confidence was in his network. 

I have never forgotten that lesson.

So, here are my questions for you:

1.       Who is your key contact when you find yourself in a jam at work?

2.       Who is your moral compass when you bump up against an ethical dilemma, or find strain in a relationship?

3.       Who do you seek out for comfort and security?

If you don’t know the answers to these questions, please, take the time, right now, to find them.  My guess is that they will all be found right in front of your nose.

I used to think that we could not live on islands, and that we had to build bridges to connect our communities.  That is not exactly true anymore.  We can live—physically—in isolation, so long as we stay connected to that web of support around us.  But we need support, and it comes from people that we trust, and not in gigabytes or in megapixels. 

People are important. 

It is important to remember that networks can only work if they run on two-way streets; having someone as part of your network likely means that you are part of theirs, and while giving advice is easy, asking for it is difficult.  Connect with your network and promise to ask for help.  Then, go home and make a stronger promise to yourself. 

Promise yourself never to suffer in isolation. 

Promise yourself to seek help when help is needed; it is exactly that humbling of character that builds character.

Now go and connect with someone important to you. 

Rhymes with Orange

This morning, over our oatmeal with blueberries, my eight-year-old son announced that he wished someone would invent a word that rhymed with orange.  “You know, like norange, dorange or hippopotorange.”  “Really?” thought the proud parent.  I know that this kid is pretty bright, and he loves to learn.  I wondered what amazing and creative connections were happening in his brain that led him to this thought.  What innovative things will he do if someone actually invents this word?

Wow, this was getting deep, so I did what any good teacher would do:  I threw it back at him, and asked why he wanted someone else to invent a word that rhymes with orange?   I sat back, smugly, waiting for that amazing learning connection and life lesson that my son was going to share with me.  His answer came, and it was clear.  It stunned me at first, and it took me some time and reflection to really grasp, for within its simplicity was a meaning far more profound than I expected.

He said...wait for it...“Because then there would be a word that rhymes with orange”, and he followed that statement with that look we parents get when an eight-year-old has to explain something so obviously obvious.

Why is it that as we “grow up” we need to mine for meaning in everything that we do, and that the older we get the deeper that meaning has to be? 

This was a good lesson for me today, and it is about “being serious” all of the time.  I mean, being a principal is serious business, isn’t it?  People want me to be in charge, to have a plan and to demonstrate direction.  But, what about having fun?  What about forgetting about deep meaning, and digging down instead for that creative little boy inside of me? He is still there, somewhere, and he pops up every now and then.  He laughs because it feels good, and uses humour to try and cheer other people up.  He loves to learn, and can get lost in this thoughts whilst obsessively following creatively divergent thought tangents.  He often finds great meaning in the smallest of things, loves it when his senses tingle, and finds making connections between something learned and something new absolutely irresistible.  He stops to smell the roses.

 Maybe, I need to start explaining more things in my day with “because...”.  Not “because I said so”, not “because that’s how we do things”, not “because that’s the most logical thing to do”, and not “because that is what experience has taught me”.  Nope, just because that’s the way it is.

I think that am going to have some fun and play soccer with the grades 3s today at lunch. 

Why you ask? 

Just because.

What Fly Fishing Has Taught Me About Leadership

Lesson 1: When you can’t see your way, stop and eat a sandwich

Mentors are funny;  they don’t always appear to play the leading roles in your life as your life is happening.  That is to say, sometimes it takes considerable time and reflection to realize who your most significant role models are.  In a younger life, I lived and taught in Calgary while my wife completed medical school.  There, through a colleague, I met a wonderful life mentor who at first seemed to be only playing the role of my fly fishing coach.  He taught me so much about the world of fly fishing, all of which was steeped in ethics, morals and values, and because of this his lessons keep creeping back into my life in ways that are very different from how (I thought that) they were delivered.  One memorable day, he was teaching me how to read water on a small spring creek.  He graciously offered me a very productive section of the creek to fish, and asked me to tell him what my plan of attack would be.  I looked at the stream—not seeing much—and pointed out a small rock where a fish had splashed as the place that I would cast to.  He thought about this for a minute and then announced that we needed to have lunch.  “Have lunch?” I thought, “But this was supposed to be the great water that we had hiked all day to get to”.  I was confused.  So, we sat down and pulled out our sandwiches, and while we ate an amazing thing happened.  That quiet, bubbling creek suddenly came to life.  That little fish by the rock was still bringing a lot of attention to itself, but I also started to see insects emerging, individual current streams twisting just underneath the surface, and then quick flash of some very large fish rising to take insects off the surface.  Their rises were almost undetectable.  “You see that one”, he said, “that one is a big fish.  There was no splash, but you can see how much more water he moved than the little one that you had been watching earlier”.  I caught a lot of big fish that afternoon, most of which I would have walked right past without noticing had I not stopped to have that sandwich.

What I Learned:  When you can’t see your way, stop, slow down and pay attention to the little things.  Sometimes, all of the chaos in front of you will transform into a clear direction.  I also learned that while little fish made the big, splashy rises, the bigger fish made small—almost un-noticeable—dimples in the water.  How do you think they got so big in the first place?  Sometimes, the biggest fish, the biggest issues, challenges and successes, and even the biggest allies need that extra bit of care and attention to uncover.

Lesson 2:  There are three stages to fly fishing

In the first stage, the fly fisher is usually young, energetic and ready to take on any challenge.  He puts tonnes of time into his craft, always works hard, and tries to catch as many fish as possible—every time.

In the second stage, the fly fisher still pushes hard every time, but doesn’t worry about the small fish.  In fact, they begin to annoy him.  This guy wants to catch big fish—every time—and will often sacrifice an entire day just to hook into that big photo-worthy lunker.

In the third stage, the fly fisher begins to look around and realize that it is the experience that counts most.  Fish are great, but it is the beautiful surroundings, the company (or the quiet), and the overall experience that is most meaningful.  Catching a fish is a not only a bonus, but a moment to savour.  This guy always comes home happy. 

What I learned:  It can’t be a competition forever, even if you are in competition with yourself.  There has to be hard work, and it must be balanced with fun for anything to be sustainable.  Also, when you focus in too much on specific, defined and minute goals, you can lose sight of the big picture and the reason why you are doing this job in the first place.

Lesson 3:  Always wade with caution

There is a saying in fishing circles that slow waters run deep, and I guess the reverse is true about faster, shallow water.  It doesn’t matter how circumstances appear to your eyes when it is your feet that have to shuffle along the bottom feeling for a secure foot hold, all-the-while looking three steps ahead for your next move.  A steadied, thought-out approach is always best, as an impulsive and reckless approach often leads to trouble.

What I learned:  Even though things look smooth on the surface, strong currents and hazards frequently lurk down below.  You always need to be planned and organized enough to have the confidence to deal with a surprise from underneath, and when in doubt ask for help from someone who has traveled this route before.

Lesson 4:  Some days, the fish don’t bite

Back in grade 6, my class read My Side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George.  When we were tested on the book, we were asked “When is the best time to go fishing”, and the answer was “when they are hungry”.  I have never forgotten that the answer to that question.  It does not matter how prepared I am tying all the right flies, having all the right gear, getting to the right spot first, and—even—having the right sandwich;  if the fish aren’t hungry, they won’t look up and bite.

What I learned:  There has to be a plan, and it has to be well-thought out.  However, even the best plans don’t work if you present them to an audience that doesn’t want them.  Sometimes, you really have to work hard to develop a relationship with that fish to really understand them before they will rise up and take what you are offering.

What I have learned most:  Enjoy the moment

It can be overwhelming trying to lead an elementary school all by yourself, but things get so much easier when you stop to look around and remember what a wonderful and exciting place that you are in.  Where else can you find so many people happy to be there every day, and so excited to learn?  Where else do you get to learn so much every day?

20x20

I came across something intriguing on Chris Kennedy’s blog,”The Culture of Yes”, and it really got me thinking.  PechaKucha is a presentation style where the presenter shows 20 slides, each for only 20 seconds.  The slides are set to automatically forward and the presenter simply talks along to the images.  Hmmm, imaging all of those boring, drawn-out presentations that you have subjected to re-booted, edited and condensed to the more salient 20 nuggets.  Gone would be all of the data-packed slides, gone would be the presenter reading the text to you, and in their places would be images, brief quotes and simple text, spoken to for 20 seconds, and then replaced by the next image or text, and so on.

I see real potential for using this style of presentation in the classroom.  The 20x20 format forces a tonne of reflection through the editing and condensing, and then reinforces content mastery through the careful selection of images needed to represent those condensed ideas.  I would even consider a 10x20 format; it would double the amount of presentations that could happen in a class, and simplify the process even further.

Check it out.  I would be very interested to hear how PechaKucha worked in your classroom.

Bucket Fillers

Yesterday, at our welcome assembly, I had two of our leadership students read the book:  Have You Filled Your Bucket Today? A Guide to Daily Happiness for Kids by Carol McCloud and illustrated by David Messing.  The point of the story is that we all have imaginary buckets that get filled when we do kind things for other people.  The opposite is also true:  our buckets empty when unkind things are done.  I sent everyone home yesterday with a challenge:  to think about a way that you can help fill someone else’s bucket.  I arrived at school today, with my bucket in hand, and collected as many of those positive thoughts that I could and my bucket began to over flow.  I had many parents ask why I was carrying a bucket around labelled “Fill My Bucket”, and I then called their child over to explain bucketfilling to their parents.  The best moments came, however, when the parents told me about the bucketfilling discussions that their children brought home last night.  How cool is that?

So, are you a bucket filler?

Welcome Back To School!



School is officially back in session!

The students are excited to be back at school and visit with their friends and teachers and to share all of the fun that they had this summer.

The teachers have their rooms primed and ready, and are excited about a fresh start with a new bunch of eager minds to work with.

And the parents?  Well, the ones that I spoke to on the playground this morning are just happy that school is back in session.

Welcome back everyone!

Re-Post #2: Using My Super Powers

This is the last re-post of something that was never posted.  It was supposed to hit the Internet on October 29.  I love the bit about my kids and their enthusiasm towards the world around them.  I also like the reminders of the Provincial Student Leadership Conference;  two years later, and they still inspire me.  School start up is tomorrow morning, and I can't wait until the playground starts to fill with young minds, ready to learn.

When I told my kids that I had found my Inner Superhero, my 6-year-old son was amazed.  He actually stepped back an eyed me top to bottom--out of the corner of his eye--trying to figure out where my superpowers were hiding.  How do we lose that enthusiasm?  That acceptance of what could be, not because we know it’s true, but because we want to believe--so bad-- that it could be.  His imagination is still too pure because it hasn’t had to sit in a stale, musty old box yet.  He doesn’t have to worry about thinking outside of the box;  his whole world is outside the box.  Boxes are things that your mom puts your old junk in, the stuff you don’t want or use anymore, and they get crammed into those dark forgotten places.  He knows that adults don’t really have superpowers, but that corner of his eye still wanted to believe that anything could be possible.  Sometimes, just because it would be so cool.  Isn’t this leading?

His younger brother bounces.  Bounces back when he falls.  Picks himself up when he is down.  Smiles when he thinks you are mad, because he knows it will make me laugh and everybody feels better when they are happy.  Why do we stop doing this?  Isn’t this loving?

Their older sister wants to learn.  She wants to learn about everything.  Her last three questions tonight were:  What is a financial account?  Why do we stop asking questions?  Why do we plod along, frustrated, and not stop to ask for directions?  She thinks it is easier to ask.  Too stop and find out the answer so that she can start up again and move forward--with confidence.  Isn’t this living?  Isn’t this learning?

What an amazing weekend.  My school district just wrapped up hosting the provincial Student Leadership Conference, and here are my top points...

Crayons are for colouring (Mark Scharenbroich)  Share, don’t compare.  We need to share our talents and not compare them;  when we compare, we add numbers, and when we add numbers we begin to differentiate.  We need to be happy for out friends, for their gifts and talents, and share our telants with them.  Instead of worrying about who has the best pack of crayons, let’s just plop them down on the desktop and colour.

On finding your inner superhero... (David Garibaldi) A superhero is an ordinary person who does extraordinary things. Everyone has a passion in side of them.  The real question is:  are you putting purpose to that passion, and using it to benefit and inspire others?

On building, then sharing, school spirit (Ian Tyson)  People won’t cheer until they feel connected.  But, when connected, they will do amazing things together.

Everyone is beautiful (Hannah Taylor)  It  doesn’t matter what people smell like or look like, it matters what is inside of them.

...now go out and inspire.

Eating Life in Big Bites

Following my motto of living life in big bites, I squeezed a few last drops out of summer today.  I took a friend fishing, and today this friend caught his first ever salmon and did it on a fly rod--quite an accomplishment for someone who had had never fly fished before.  The sky was blue all day, the sun was shining and we had the river all to ourselves.  Ahhh, it was heaven.

Here's to all of you squeezing a few more drops out of your summers.  Cheers!

Re-Post: Finding My Inner Superhero

I thought that before I start writing something new, I should go back to some of the posts that I wrote previously, before that crazy urge to push the "publish" button came over me.  Below is the closest that I came to blogging before last week.  I like this article;  it still stands for what I want to say--and who I want to say it to.  A special thank you to Terry for being the one to convince me to actually do all of this.

Friday, October 23, 2009

This is actually my thank you, but that will make more sense later.  Sometimes, I think that I spend far too much time trying to grasp the big picture—while stumbling around and dealing with “all the little bits” that are part of everything that we do.  I spend a lot of time worrying.  

Worrying about doing a good job.  

Worrying about helping the people who need help.

Worrying if my contributions are big enough.

I am easily inspired.  I so often sit in awe watching the amazing world around me:  students doing great things without realizing how significant they are; colleagues working through difficult situations with the kinds of patience and grace that I wish I had more of; my young children eating life with such big bites that I am find myself so proud that I get emotional;  my wife excelling at an incredibly stressful career and still being supermom at home, and—even more amazingly—“getting” me as she does so well.  

I got inspired at two professional development workshops this week.  One, by Damian Cooper, was on assessment and it was amazing.  The other was by Mark Scharenbroich and he helped me all find my inner super hero.  My mind moves a mile a minute at these events.  Ideas materialize, crystallize and grow.  Tangents break off and multiple story lines continue.  Somehow, it is all amazing and it all fits.  I leave excited.  Rejuvenated.  And the challenge is to take these nuggets and do something real with them.  Not just an idea.  Not just tell a friend, but actually do something real.  And that’s where I get stuck.  I think this is where we all get stuck…

…and so, back to my thank you… 

I left the session with Damian Cooper completely revved up.  He just seemed to say the right things for me at the right time.  My notes are covered with all of the things that I would like to do when I have my own school.  The things that we need to do now to move some of the things that need moved in my school.  He even gave me some lubricant to help satisfy some squeaky wheels.  I tried to run up my Superintendent and thank him for supporting me by providing me with this outstanding opportunity.  I needed to thank him for helping me grow.  Anyway, you know how these things work.  I bumped into him, but in that bathroom and that just didn’t seem to be the right place for a thank you.  And then I had to get back to school. 

“I’ll call him”, I said, and then started to think.  

“But then I will also need to call Dave.  He has been the single biggest mentor to me, and is responsible for so much of what I have accomplished.  And what about Susannah—her address at the conference was bang on.  I need to learn how to do it like that and with so much class.  And what about Brian, and Bruce?  Don and Richie?  Dayton, Rob and Chris and the other Dave?  Mr. Oldale?  Scott G?  My dad?  What about my kids?  My wife?”

They all need to be thanked.

So here it is:  Thank you.  Thanks a lot.

It seems a bit small.  Well, more than a bit.  Which brings us to this:  my blog.  I work with people everyday.  I ask students to look at themselves, to dig deep and decide for themselves what that person inside—the one that only they see—is all about.  And then I ask them to let that person out.  It’s not fair, I say, for that person to stay hidden.  It makes us guess and that’s not fair either.  Not fair for you, but also not fair for the rest of the world.  There is a hero inside all of us, and we need to let that hero out.

I need to take my own advice. 

I make contributions to my world.  I have many more contributions to make.  I need to see people see the contributions that I have tucked away inside of me.  I need to take the time that they have given to me and return it to others.

Here are my contributions:

For all of the times that someone has listened, advised, scolded or inspired me.  To those that took the time to mentor me, know that I will take the time to mentor others. Mark Scharenbroich told us to share and asked us not to compare.  When we share, we get along.  We inspire.  But, when we compare we bring numbers into it and we start to see differences.  We see discrepancies.  We see that someone has something that we don’t and that makes us upset.  We rank and order things.  Don’t worry about your friend having better crayons that you, he said, just be happy for them.  And draw.  

I going to try and celebrate my friends more.  I am going to be a leader and let my inner hero out more often.  And not just the comfortable bits, but all those little pieces that I am not always so sure about.

I am a good listener.

I have a great sense of humour, and people like me.

I think in spurts and talk a lot, and my best ideas often come when I am quiet.  When I am quiet, I am not upset; I am thinking.  Good ideas come out of this.

I make great connections; between ideas and with people.

I have great ideas, and get very excited when I find myself outside of the box.  I need to get outside of the box more often

I can multitask, and work well under pressure.

I like to laugh and I love to have fun.

I try to lead a very full life, and I try to eat life in big bites (thanks Willow).

I need to go and grab the people with those amazing skills, and have them work with me.  We can share those great qualities, and make amazing drawings together.  

They can make me better.  

We can become amazing together.

Thank you for the time that you have invested in me.  Thank you for being an inspiration to me.  Thank you for helping me find my talents and for helping me to develop them.  I promise to use them and not to let them hide any longer.