98. Inspirational Improvement
Continuing on my list of my personal 100 Things of Awesomeness, is something that I call inspirational improvement which is, fortunately, something that I see quite regularly as a Principal. It comes in all shapes and sizes, some of which are easy to see and some of which are far more subtle. It’s the kind of stuff that fills your soul.
The easy ones:
· academic achievement
· athletic championships
· superb fine arts performances
The subtle ones:
· a student setting a goal and then meeting or exceeding it
· a teacher tackling the challenge of a new teaching area or teaching style, then mastering it, and then sharing it with a colleague
· an anxious student making a friend
· passing a math test
· a behaviourally challenged student having multiple “good days” in a row
· the best teacher/student/leader that you know putting in the blood, sweat and tears to improve something that they already do better than anyone else
· public speaking for the first time
So here’s my thing: no matter how great or seemingly small, as leaders we need to make a point of not only seeing these improvements but by acknowledging them in a meaningful way. Sure, it’s easy to congratulate a provincial winning team or a prestigious scholarship winner, but sometimes—many times—those little victories, the math test, the public speaking and the appropriate-enough-to-arrange-a-play-date-with-a-new-friend type of conversations—are equally worthy of praise and recognition because often they require the same amount of pre-planning, effort, blood, sweat and tears as the biggies do. Last year, the fact that a student actually TRIED his public speaking assignment was a huge victory. Sure it was way too short, and yes he was nervous, but he wiped the sweat back—literally—announced his title in a clear voice and read his notes, something that was an impossible challenge a week earlier.
As a father, I also get to see inspirational improvement every day with my own kids. Sometimes it’s academic, sometimes it’s emotional, sometimes it’s through kindness to others, and sometimes it’s just that they finally “get it”. This weekend, however, it was all about the snow. I have two young skiers and one young snowboarder in my family. The oldest is 11 and the youngest is 3, so their learning curves are all very different. It is quite a moment when a child moves from “pizza feet” to “French fries” over the course of an entire ski season, and then, in three days, can keep up with me, parallel skiing through trees and powder, at the start of this season. The same is true for my little snowboarding shredder. He spent the better part of three seasons grinding down the mountain on his back edge, regular and goofy-foot, before he finally started linking his turns. Now? His confidence is through the roof and he is willing—wanting—to try anything that I can throw at him on the hill. The youngest? Making it though an hour of getting bundled up, clipped into skis, sliding down the bunny hill and home to the hot tub without tears is improvement enough to be proud of.
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