Rudolf

Due to holiday travel......this week's Monday Musing is a little early........ Happy Holidays

My favorite Christmas story of all times is Rudolf the Red Nose  Reindeer, which I just learned is celebrating its 50th anniversary.   It wasn’t until I was an adult that I really realized why it was I loved the movie so much.  It is because of Rudolf.  Rudolf, you see, is “that child”.  Rudolf wasn’t just simply scared to lead Santa’s sleigh, Rudolf was beaten down, broken. He lacked confidence. Rudolf didn’t believe in himself.  He had lost hope.  Rudolf could have been me.  I was once the child who was picked on, made fun of,  and not successful at very much.  The story of Rudolf has a grand ending.  It is one that I hope I can write one day about me.  Mrs. Bozard was my Santa and she made me believe I, too, could do anything. If you are anything like me, you’ve probably even taught some Rudolfs in your career.  I know I have.  One such Rudolf I had was Roger.  Roger didn’t fit in with anyone.  He struggled in every way imaginable-his parents were both drunks, he lived in pure squalor, he smelled bad many days, he had a terrible learning disability that caused him to be far below his grade level.  One Christmas season my husband and I “adopted” Roger and his siblings.  This was well before the days of kids and shopping for kids wasn’t stressful.  It was fun.  During school one morning, I snuck to Roger’s house and delivered his gifts to his mother.  She asked if I would take them all back and give them the money because the power had just been turned off.  She was, of course, already drunk, and it was 10am.  I gave her the gifts and told her I would see what I could do but I wanted her kids to have presents on Christmas.  The next day Roger came into school defeated.  He cried most of that day and my heart was broken.  He also made no mention of the gifts that should have been still beautifully wrapped underneath their unlit tree, but he made no mention of this. I assumed those gifts were now in a bottle. So, with the help of the district social worker, we were able to find funds to get their power turned back on.  Still the entire Christmas break, I worried if Roger’s parents had sold  his gifts and he would have nothing.  I even found myself driving by his house a few times during break just hoping he would be outside in his new shoes.  He never was. When we returned from break, there was Roger beaming from ear to ear and he couldn’t wait to show me his brand new “kicks” and his Gamecock sweatshirt (yes, even a die hard CU fan can buy a gamecock shirt).  You honestly could feel his joy.  At a football game a few weeks ago, I was waiting on the team to come out for the start of the game when I heard my name being called.  I turned around and while I didn’t recognize him at first I suddenly realized it was Roger.  We talked about his life and the fact that he was there to see the team play because his girlfriend’s son was on the team.  He has a job working for a company that sprays electrical poles for kudzu. He has a few kids and a good life.  His mom died a few years back and his dad was still in Spartanburg.  His brother was in jail and his sister had been down a bad path but he was pulling her out of it and had her and her kids living with him.   What happened next, stopped my heart.  It was time to part ways and he gave me a huge hug. I wished him a Merry Christmas. When he hugged me he said, “I’ll never forget that Christmas when you gave us all those presents. I don’t ever forget and I always help somebody too.”  I just watched him walk away and was once again reminded of the awesomeness of this job.  Every so often I am reminded in the most incredible way of how much what we do matters...not just for a moment but for a lifetime... our lifetime and many others.

This past week was more than exciting for our students.  The holiday anticipation is rampant, but I continually remembered that it is not always joyous for each child in our schools.  Our schools and you are the safe haven that many of our students need.  We provide consistency, love, understanding, medical care, patience, and even gifts.  Some of you have Rudolfs, or Rogers, in your room.  So while your stress level is at an all time high, please remember for some of our students, they are leaving a safe place where two meals are provided for them each day and they know they will be cared for.  Don’t lose that spirit with them even in the midst of the stressfulness of our week.  As you all know by now Mrs. Bozard saw my shiny red nose and knew I could do more than those around me thought I could– just like Santa did for Rudolf.  So I ask you, who is your Rudolf?

All Alone in a Crowded Room......

Saturday did not go as I had planned. I woke up Saturday morning with a fever and a horrible feeling that I was swallowing glass. By mid-morning I knew I needed a help and usually in our home that means my husband calls one of his doctor friends. Yet, on this day it seemed no one was available to help me so I found myself at one of those “Doc in a box” urgent care places. As I was in the waiting room with many other coughing, aching folks (my true definition of torture), I picked up a dated magazine and started flipping through the germ infested pages. I came across an article titled “All alone in a crowded room.” The article caught my attention for the mere fact that I find an oxymoron interesting. Call me a literary nerd if you wish, but the use of this literary technique will get me each time. It could have been the fever, but I thought this article to be interesting in that many people often lack companionship even when they are in a relationship-albeit with a spouse, friends, and even a workplace.  

The more I read, the more I started agreeing with the very oxymoron that first enticed my interest. I realized I was reading about me in so many ways. When I was in high school, I started thinking about colleges-early.  Most of my friends were worried about boys and teasing their hair higher than the day before while I was trying to find the best small college that would prepare me to be a teacher and would not cost me a fortune. When trying to discuss this with my friends, they would roll their eyes and sing Cyndi Lauper to me (Girls just wanna have fun). While in college, I was shocked by my friends who were able to blow off class or stay out all night before a big test. I was no prude, but I often was surrounded by folks who were just not as focused on goals like I was- in fact I very rarely found anyone who had goals. I often found myself lonely with no one to talk to about measurable goals and my future. My first teaching job was in a school with many young teachers who were young mothers. I had little in common with these ladies and most of them were 7:30-3 teachers which left me alone in my planning, reflections, and difficulties as a first year teacher. Just recently, while completing my dissertation, I had many folks in my cohort either not finish, “take time off”, or drop out of the program altogether. In fact, I was the first in my cohort to finish. Many didn’t understand my commitment level and I was even judged for the amount of time I spent researching and writing in an effort to get finished. Others in my cohort were working on their dissertation slowly and were not willing to give up or sacrifice an entire year of their life the way I did. I am not saying either was wrong or right, it was just very lonely to call upon my friends for help and all I got “you’re trying to do too much” rather than the help I needed. As an administrator, I work in a building with 64 other folks each day and have more conversations in some days that I can even count, yet there are moments when I feel all alone.  

After my diagnosis of strep, I was waiting at the pharmacy for the drugs that would hopefully end the idea that I would never be able to swallow again. As it is in our small town, I ran into three JBE kids while waiting all wanting hugs (I politely declined). One student who was in the pharmacy is a difficult little booger. He tests his teacher every day. I struggle with ideas on how to help him with his problems although I know what is causing it-a very bad home life. This little guy wouldn’t take no for an answer and was sitting in my lap before he left. While I must say my first thought was I could be giving his teacher an early Christmas present by gifting this student with strep- we all know even our best students lose their minds the week before winter holidays, I also started feeling a little sad. A man sitting next to me at the pharmacy, having watched three students come talk to me, while all I really wanted was a blanket and a bed, said “I bet you can’t wait for the holidays”.  

This is where my loneliness started creeping back. This man has no idea. Yes, I love the holidays. I will not miss 7am car duty.  I will not miss coming to school in the dark and leaving in the dark. I will not miss getting 60-100 emails every day. I love getting to spend uninterrupted time with my boys without the daily battle of schedules, homework, and grades. I love getting to go out to lunch, to a real restaurant, and catching up with my non-teaching friends. I love watching football every day. I love going to the movies at 2pm. I love staying up past 10pm and sleeping late. But I what I do not love is not seeing our students for two weeks. I worry about many of them. I worry that some may not have enough to eat. I worry that some will not be supervised well. I worry that some will have grave disappointment on Christmas morning. I worry that some will go two weeks without hearing positive thoughts, words, or ideas. I worry that some will move and I will never see them again. And I feel very alone for feeling dread rather than elation for Friday. As you enjoy your two week holidays please remember our students and ensure them that this week is wonderful, safe, and inviting. They may be very lonely until they return.

Not I..........

On the two days prior to Thanksgiving break, our students participated in the Palmetto Bowl challenge.  Using coins, students voted for the team they most wanted to win the Palmetto Bowl (we even had a place for students to add coins if they didn’t care who won the Palmetto Bowl).  All of the money raised was to be given to Spartanburg’s HOPE Center. Because we had just finished our annual Boosterthon fundraiser (which was WILDLY successful by the way) and it was on a Monday and Tuesday before a holiday, I really didn’t anticipate a large amount of participation. I try very hard to have good rapport with our students and one student told me that she hoped Clemson lost the challenge and then asked, if they do lose, what are you going to do?  I thought on it for a minute and realized that I should just dress like a Gamecock if Clemson lost the challenge. 

During Thanksgiving weekend, Rosebro1 and I took the coins to coinstar hoping for at least $100.  Apparently Rosebro1 and I failed estimation in school, and were both amazed when the total given was $302.  However, I realized that CU had lost the coin challenge in a bad way… $92 to USC’s $211.  I realized that I had to quickly find a Gamecock costume and upon having no such luck without spending the $302 for rental, I decided upon my Chicken costume as punishment for Clemson losing the coin challenge.  As one who always tries to uphold my word, I donned my chicken costume all day- including directing traffic in the morning, during a parent meeting during the day, during classroom visits (I apologized already to those teachers), during lunch, and during afternoon dismissal.  That evening, not wanting to totally destroy the Rosebros’ social life, I did take off the chicken costume for Rosebro2’s school concert. I ran into a JBE parent at the concert and he asked me about the chicken suit. As we talked he said that he never can be too sure what I will be wearing as he rounds the traffic circle. Just two weeks ago I was dressed as Elsa, then Captain America, and I always participate in crazy hair day, pj day (a personal favorite), and any other special event any grade level is having. The father stated that he and his daughter often try to predict what I’ll be wearing as they drive to school and he enjoys the conversations so much with his daughter because as a football coach the mornings are about all the time he has with her right now. As he walked away, he stated, “you’re sure not like the principal I had in elementary school.”

I thought about that statement for the rest of the night. Was that positive or negative? Did he mean that as a compliment or was he judging the fact that I may be a little “less professional” than the principals so many schools have?  The more I thought, the more I realized that I was going to take it as a compliment? Yes, I ensure that our student recognition assembly (beginning of coffeehouse) is loud and exciting. I am as loud as I can get when showing excitement for our students. I play music at carpool. I take on every challenge to dress up, I make challenges with students (and usually lose), I dance with students, I will embarrass myself to benefit a child, I have been made into a humane sundae, been duck tapped to a wall (with a very bad ending), I’ve kissed a pig, I even watch their tv shows so I know the characters, I go to students’ church performances, dance recitals, and athletic events, I ensure I know every child by name, I sit on the floor and play board games with students when they need someone to talk to, I do breathing exercises with students when they are upset, and I can get onto a kid when they’ve made unfortunate mistakes. So that Dad was right. I am not like the principal I had. I do this because I don’t want a school like many other schools are.

My elementary principal, nice enough guy, was stern and scary. I never saw him except when I was “office helper” and he was always sitting in his office (and that was a long time before computers). He never spoke and I was so scared of him that I actually threw up one time when I was called to his office. I had actually won an award but even with that presentation he was somewhat cold and not at all enthusiastic.  School was the place I had to go in the morning and waited until my Mom picked me up in the afternoon. Until it became my social life in my teens, I really never enjoyed school. Of course I had two fantastic teachers who made me love learning, but school-not so much. I promised myself that I never wanted to run a school where children felt the way I did about school. I want kids to be excited that their principal wears an Elsa wig, will dance the popular dances, knows the characters on the Disney channel, will be so proud of your accomplishments that she will burst into song.

I don’t want to be “that kind of principal”. I want to be the principal that inspires, encourages, and cheers for our students. So today I am proud that I am not like "the principal I had."

Can we be as passionate about school as we are about sports?

Friday night I was so excited to be at Laurens as the SHS football team took on the LHS team in the 2^nd round of the high school league playoffs. The game was pretty close until the end of the 3^rd quarter when the Vikings got lucky on a muffed punt and then as they say the big “MO” turned our direction. As SHS pulled ahead by two touchdowns, tempers started rising. The other team was frustrated. They’d played hard. They’d worked hard all season…and all off season…. to prepare and they knew that their season was coming to an end. The refs and the coaches all handled the players with class and nothing serious occurred. As Rosebro#1 and I were walking back to our car, we passed the entrance to the gym where some of the LHS players were being greeted by parents and friends. It pulled at my heart strings as I watched some of these “grown men” cry. Rosebro#1 and I discussed this the entire way home from Laurens. He usually gets mad when his team loses. When he does poorly in a tournament, he has a temper tantrum so seeing this uncanny display of emotion from football players moved his as well. Saturday was Rivalry weekend for football.  I went to the grocery store at 7:45am Saturday morning when the only thing awake in my house was the dog. I decided to do a few others things while I was out and upon my return my three boys were camped out in front of the TV daring me to ask them to move and other than to refuel on food and drinks and despite a couple of bathroom breaks that is where they were the entire day.

While I love football, and I really do, I had no desire to watch football games sun up to sun down so I retreated to read a little in my bedroom which eventually lead into me napping. I was rather rudely aroused from my sleep from screaming coming from the game room. Mother instinct took over and I ran to the game room to find out who was hurt and how it happened. I discovered that the only thing hurt were the feelings of one of the Rosebros who was pulling for a team who lost in 2OT on what appeared to be a bad call by the ref. An hour or so later the coach blasted the refs in his post-game conference-which I understand to not really be acceptable coach behavior (but after seeing the re-play-I tended to agree with the coach). We went to a little party for the Palmetto Bowl Saturday night and I was fascinated by the reactions of the game.

I was thinking about all these reactions of the last four days and I thought how wonderful it would be if our schools were full of folks as passionate about school as they are about football. Our teams set goals-win the opener, win the region, win the championship. Do we help our students set goals? Do we have our own goals for the year? Our teams spend hours working together trying to get better each week. Do we look at our PLCs as a way to get better or do we complain that it is one more thing to do? We CHEER loudly when our team scores. Do we do that when our kids do something awesome? We high five when we go into overtime in a game. Did you high five your kids the last time we had no outdoor recess and celebrate that they have 15 extra minutes of learning that day? We chant our school’s cheer repeatedly at games. Does your class have a cheer or a chant or something that everyone understands to gear them up? We go to football games early and stay afterwards. Do you met students early or stay with them late ever to help them catch up, work on their projects or a goal? We read articles, blogs, fan pages on our team. Do you research your practice in the classroom? If you answered no to most of those questions, I would say you’re missing your passion for what you’re doing.  If you can have it in a game-whether it be football or any other sport, I would be safe to say you can have it in your teaching also.  Don’t you think our students deserve it?

Gratitude

Many years ago, I was on bed rest awaiting the birth of Rosebro#1, with little to do but read and watch TV. I became a huge Oprah fan during this time. One particular day, feeling very down about my situation, Oprah suggested, what at the time seemed like directly to me, to keep a daily gratitude journal. Again, with absolutely nothing to do, I took up this journaling idea in hopes to fill up some of the 13 hours a day I was awake and motionless and in efforts to get out of my bed rest blues. What happened is that not only did it give me something to do, but it turned into an almost daily ritual for the past 15 years. The transformation of my gratitude journal is somewhat amusing. Because I try to instill some of my better habits in my children, I have recently had them start their own gratitude journal. As you can imagine, a non-teacher assigned journal writing wasn’t exactly the first thing they wrote in their gratitude journal. I was thrilled that both of my children wrote “Mom and Dad” in their journals. This got me thinking about this whole idea of gratitude for those who love us and guide us.

    My parents were not perfect. They made many mistakes in parenting me and my siblings. Funny thing is they didn’t have perfect children either. They did the best they could with what we gave them. Being the typical middle child, I wasn’t an easy kid to parent. In my youth, I had a drug problem. I was “drugged” to school every day. I was “drugged” to church every Wednesday and Sunday. I fully believe that that “drug” problem prevented many real drug problems some of my peers seemed to battle- whether it was illegal drugs and alcohol or addictions of other kind-envy, gossip, body image, impurities. My parents consistently taught me and my siblings the value of education and the importance of faith. My father always taught me and repeats to this day that there are two things no one can take away from you-your education or your reputation. My parents reminded me daily just how important my education was. I was to work hard each day-regardless of the grade-because I was showing my work ethic and I was to always give my best because my best would be rewarded. With all the things my parents did right, this is certainly one of the best.

   I feel that my parents molded me into a person who believes, at my very core, that education was important, but it was my teachers who made me realize just how powerful education and educators really are. I had teachers who helped move me from poverty to prosperity. I had teachers who changed me from a struggling reader to a lover of all literature. If it weren’t for a teacher, I would have never seen my talent. None of this was easy. I made sure not to make it easy on any of them-my parents and many of my teachers. But I was lucky to have parents who cared and educators who understood the magnitude of their jobs. So in this Thanksgiving season, I pause to give all of my gratitude for what you do each day in the lives of students, their families, and our school community. 

Happy Holidays!

Decision Making

I have made no secrets about my enjoyment of Twitter. It isn’t a Facebook entertainment-like enjoyment but rather an instant professional learning community that I can enjoy whether I have five minutes or five hours. I am involved in several Twitter chats and on one such chat last week the idea of decision making came up. As educators we make so many decisions in one day. Some of those decisions seem minor- which line to use in the cafeteria, what color paper to use on the parent newsletter copies, or trying to figure out the difference between feeling bad and being sick.  We make big decisions as well- calling the parent over a child’s behavior, making a call to DSS over suspected abuse, changing a student’s RTI group.  With the numerous decisions we have to make in one day, it makes good sense that we are going to get some of them wrong every now and then.  Many times these decisions have to be made with little “thinking time.” I sometimes wish we were like the business world and could call a committee meeting when we had a decision to make. Nevertheless, we don’t have that type of time and we must make on the spot decisions. Many times we are making several decisions all at one time. 

My husband often gets frustrated with me because I occasionally refuse to make a choice at home even as easy as what to eat for dinner or what shirt he should wear if we are going out simply because I just can’t make one more decision that day.  On some days, my brain hurts from all the decisions I’ve made that day. I also would like to feel comfortable with my decisions once I’ve made them, but I am not wired in that manner. Even after I’ve made some decisions, I spend time reflecting on those decisions. This certainly happened with a decision that I had to make this week and it all reminded me of an issue last year.  One that makes this upcoming Thanksgiving so much more special to me. 

Last May, at 7:05am on a Monday morning, a group of students and their parents met me in the front office and asked if they could pray in the lobby for their teacher and her baby. There I was with less than two cups of coffee in me and I was having to make a decision. The decision was even harder because what the students and the parents didn’t know was that Mrs. Bryant, their teacher, and her husband were going to be saying good bye to their baby that morning. The doctors had told them that they had done all they could do and the family and friends spent the weekend trying to wrap their minds around what was happening and preparing for every parent’s worst nightmare.  Because I’d had a similar experience, the weekend had also been emotionally hard on me as it brought up deep dark feelings from my past as well as thinking of how to help the staff, students, and our community comprehend the outcome. Additionally, I fretted over how I could ever help Mrs. Bryant and her family know how much we loved them and how to help them through this tragedy. This praying group was persistent and I made a quick decision, mostly because I wasn’t ready to deal with the truth and I needed to get outside and open car doors, to let them pray and thought that while this was a public school, I would figure out how to deal with any complaints later as well as the idea that later that day I would have to explain to these folks that their prayers didn’t work.  (Don’t judge my faith-it was just how I was feeling at that moment)  I spent the entire car pool, thinking about this decision. As the day went on, I made a number of other decisions, as I waited for Mrs. Bryant’s sister to call me with the news that Camden had earned his angel wings. 

Yet, the day dragged on and on with no phone call. Around 5pm, I received a call with tears on the other end-yet the tears were that of joy, as a miracle had happened that day, and baby Camden was still with us and while many questions still existed, he was going to stay with us. I sat in my office chair, tears rolling down my eyes, and said a little prayer of thanksgiving, and afterwards I thought about decisions again.  I realized that in the end, I must remember that I have good judgment (most of the time), my decisions are always purpose driven, always respectful, and I believe that my God is ultimately in charge. Making good decisions is crucial no matter what your job is in our school. Your decisions have profound impacts on others around you. Just as I did that Monday morning, I urge you to make good judgment decisions based on the love of our school, students, staff, and yourself and not based on fear.  When you base your decisions on that love, this will always lead you in the right direction and just like baby Camden, you have no idea just how far you can reach with just one decision.

Happy 1st Thanksgiving, Camden. We’re so grateful for your story. We are so grateful for what you’ve taught us all. 

Let it Go........

Today was Movie Character Dress Up day due to the beginning of our yearly fundraiser, Boosterthon. I dressed as Elsa. My lovely sidekick (my assistant principal), Olaf, got the better end of the deal being able to wear a warm costume all day as opposed to my silk, shear gown. I also had on an itchy, scratchy wig all day (that didn’t fit very well). As I was thinking about dressing up as Elsa I started thinking about that comfort level. Comfort is something I really value. I value comfortable shoes (now that I am older). I crave my comfort foods. I love being in my house, on the couch with my favorite blanket, hot coffee and a good book. As extroverted as I am, the last place I want to be is at a social event-I’d rather be with my small circle of friends. I, and it would be safe to assume we, enjoy our comfort zones. This is probably one reason why we do the same thing over and over, we order the same thing at restaurants because we know it is good, sit on the same pew at church each Sunday, take the same route to school each morning, and it is why Elsa locked herself up in a castle for years. If you have no idea what I am talking about or you haven’t seen the movie Frozen, I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version. 

Queen Elsa discovers at a very early age that she has magical powers to turn things into ice. She has little control over this power thus isolating herself from the people and most importantly from her sister, Ana, until the day of her coronation in which she accidentally traps her entire kingdom in an eternal winter. Full of fear, Elsa flees to the snow covered mountains and locks herself in an ice castle (remember the cold never bothered her anyway). Ana follows after her because she believed in her sister and knew she could use her power for good. Elsa was afraid and refused to return with her sister but rather injured Ana. In the end, Elsa leaves the ice castle, stops the eternal winter, and saves many people’s lives, including Ana.

So why did Elsa lock herself into the castle? She was afraid. She was comfortable in her castle. She felt safe there. Stepping outside of our comfort zone can be scary, it can be hard, it can feel lonely, and it can also be the best thing you’ve ever done. I studied to be a special education teacher. I made the decision not to come back to work after Rosebro#1 was born and then my principal, Mr. Page, called me and begged me to come back to work that next fall. He had an ELA/SS position and wanted me there. I said yes with such reluctance. I was so scared going from 12 self-contained students to teaching 100 6^th graders. I was on a team with some of the best teachers who really helped show me how my years of special education made me a better regular education teacher. Then a few years later, my former AP called and offered me a job at JBE-my pick 3^rd grade, 5^th grade or 6^th grade. This was the school my kids were to attend. It made great sense to move, but it was out of my comfort zone. It wasn’t even on my radar. I was so happy and content where I was. My co-teachers all but packed my room up for me and I went kicking and screaming. I then moved to JBE and pretty much have had the trajectory of my entire career change since then.

That comfort zone is tempting, but much like Elsa that comfort will soon become a prison. I call the comfort zone the Danger Zone. It is in that comfort zone where we forget to grow in our craft. We forget to collaborate with others.  We stop reflecting. We stop learning, We also lose our passion. When passion goes away, a teacher loses so much more than a feeling inside. We are often asked to do many “new” things in education. Sometimes it is overwhelming. Sometimes it is frustrating. Yet, more often than not, it is exciting and fun. Stepping out of your comfort zone (or the danger zone) may be frightening, but the brilliant part in our world of education, is that you don’t have to do it alone. We have folks to get you out of the castle. You can never know just how powerful you are until you face your fears and see what might just happen. It may just be the best thing that has ever happened.

Champions

     It finally hit me a few weeks ago as I had some time to change my summer closet to my fall/winter closet. I put on more weight during last year than I had thought. It wasn’t a huge surprise. I knew it last year. I knew what was happening. Having two teenage sons who are highly involved in multiple activities, I spend a few hours every afternoon either driving kids from one activity to another or at an event my son is involved in which eventually lands us eating out afterwards. Last year was also filled with a tremendous amount of paper work, reports, and a tedious amount of “desk” work. Not to be one to sit at my desk very much, this was a tremendous change for me. I also discovered that the vanilla lattes at Little River Roasting Company, just ½ a minute from school, are better than Starbucks-and they opened at 5:30am just about the time I was arriving at school last year (thank goodness they open later). Then, with the exception of only 4 weekends last year, I spent pretty much 12 hours every Saturday and 5-6 hours every Sunday sitting reading, researching, and writing for the completion of my dissertation. While I completed all of this “desk work” I did what I always do when I’m stressed- I ate. And what I ate wasn’t healthy. As one who has been on a “diet” since the age of 22, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but had little desire or motivation to make much of a change at the time.

     So here I was with very little to wear and a huge amount of disappointment in myself for what I have done-willingly. I made the determination to start the 28-day challenge- no bread, no sugar, no processed food, no dairy, no fried food, 84 oz. of water a day, and so much green tea I thought I would turn into Kermit. I was 100% successfully on this 28-day challenge. Yet, the success on the challenge only took off 8 pounds. I was disappointed yet again. As I was detailing my disappointed to my most supportive husband, he suggested, with some trepidation, that it may be what I was missing was exercise. And you know what he was right.

     After this conversation, I was thrilled when Rosebro#2 asked me to train with him for a 5K and possibly a 10K. He stated that he wants us to do the Disney 5 and 10K next January (2018) and if we train for the next year, we could do it together. I am not sure which he wants more- to run with his Mom or have a trip to Disney-either way-I’m all in.  My next step was research. I am one that needs lots of information about anything. I researched the Disney 5K and 10K program. I researched running-although I used to run as a much younger adult. I researched shoes, C25K programs, routes, times. I probably could have gotten out there are run a 5K with the amount of time that I researched. There were few websites I didn’t explore.  During my research, I came upon a quote from Muhammad Ali that really stuck in my head- “Champions aren’t made in the gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them-a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have the skill, and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill.” The thing is, I know what to do. I have the skill. What I am missing is that unstoppable desire- or will- to get this done and be the very best me I can be. It is called passion and I am thrilled to have my best buddy as my partner as I discover this passion again.

     As most things do, this got me thinking about our work here at school.  What does it take to be a champion teacher?  I agree so much with Ali’s declarative that champions aren’t made in the gym. I believe champion teachers aren’t made just in the classroom. This does not mean that teachers can’t give their best in the classroom-you have to-just as Ali probably gave 110% in the gym, but what makes the difference in a good teacher and a champion teacher is what happens outside of the 7 ½ hours of instruction. A champion teacher is passionate about their work. A champion teacher feels that passion deep inside. A champion teacher researches, studies, and plans for exceptional practice to take place in his/her classroom every day. A champion teacher has a desire-a deep seeded drive- to provide only but the best for their students every day. As much professional learning that takes place for teachers, all teachers are provided with the skill-it is the WILL that is missing that takes a teacher from good to CHAMPION.  Passion drives people to excel by challenging and pushing your work to your limits. Passion excites you and makes the work almost like play, fuels your efforts, and helps fight burnout. Your intense passion about teaching and learning in turn ignites your students to be passionate about learning. Without passion for teaching and learning, a good teacher will never be great. You can’t fake passion. That passion shows in all a teacher does. Passionate teachers are always in my office or blowing up my email with questions. They wonder. They explore. They try new things while demanding that even though the latest and greatest says one thing, they’re proven practice has shown differently. They can defend their practice with data. They are sharing their failures, they question some of my directives, they arrive early and pull kids or they keep kids afterschool, they demand me come to their room to see what their kids are doing, they share readings, websites, new ideas, they share during PLC, they love being at school, they stop at nothing to provide what their current students need-not just the same thing they did last year. They desire collaboration with other teachers in order to share and learn with others. They want to be better every day. They stretch my budget needing items for their class. Passionate teachers are the ones that our students deserve. Being passionate isn’t the only key to championship caliber teachers but it certainly is one of the most important characteristic.  

Tina taught me that.....

It is not very often that I pick up my children from school. When Rosebro #1 was the only one in school, he would ride with me, but when Rosebro#2 started school, my husband started taking them to school. Of course when they were students at JBE, they would come to my office afterschool, and like many teachers’ kids, rode home with me when my work for the day was done.  When they both left JBE, I missed those few moments in the car together each afternoon. Now Rosebro #1 either stays with his Dad at SHS, gets a ride home from our teenage driver next door neighbor, or begs for a ride with a friend’s mom to the golf course. Rosebro#2 stays at his school every afternoon for football practice and on Fridays he rides the activity bus to SHS as he has team manager duties for the football team.  So, it was very unusual, when on Thursday afternoon, I had to pick up Rosebro#2 from his school due to football practice being cancelled because of conferences.  The car line at his school is long. From a long way back in the line I watched curiously at the preteen social dance of activity taking place. I suppose I am like most mothers and worry about friendships, relationships and decisions of our children. It gave me some relief as I watched Rosebro #2 joke and talk with a group of kids as I slowly crept closer to the front of the line. As I did someone other than Rosebro#2 caught my eye. It was that of a former JBE student. One who was at best description-awkward, socially unaware of the consequences of such behaviors. This student had a teacher in 5^th grade at JBE that saw past the awkwardness and found joy. The work of this teacher transformed this student not only academically but emotionally. I saw this student with a group of kids, laughing and joking. It made my heart smile. What may have happened in the strange years of middle school to her had this 5^th grade teacher not worked so hard to make this student find her voice. It also immediately made me think of Tina. 

Tina was a student in my class 15 years ago.  We had a strange departmentalization of core content and I taught social studies to 4 classes and 2 classes of creative writing. It was so very important to me to teach these students the value writing could possess and how expressing feelings, emotions, and wonderings could hold power. I did my own version of writing workshop and spent a great deal of time conferencing with students, helping them edit and revise their pieces, and then building up their confidence enough to share. The community of our classroom was strong. Then Tina entered our class. She was new to our school. She was different. She hadn’t fit in to any one group in the class. The other teachers and I had discussed her- and her lack of work ethic- often in her few weeks with us. So imagine my surprise when during author’s share time, Tina asked to share-even though I had not even conferenced with her on her piece just yet. It was one of those moments as a teacher when you’re caught in a conundrum. The last thing I wanted to do was to harm her eagerness to share-this burst of enthusiasm needed to be celebrated, but I was terrified at the response the other students may give this new student; after all, they knew my expectations, they knew how hard I could be on them-she did not. We teachers have seconds to make major decisions-I so wish I could make non-educators understand this. I let Tina share- while silently praying that this would go well- for all of us. My other students knew that share time was sacred and I was proud, as Tina began, at their interested in her words as she began. 

That week in our mini-lessons, we had been working on hooks. I’d been using Disney movies to show how the movies caught your attention in the first few lines of dialogue and how those movies all began with a screenplay-a writing. Tina began with the words “If you could create just one wish what would it be?” I immediately bit my lip and a few kids even looked at me as they knew one of my writing pet peeves was starting with a question. Her next statement made that pet peeve seem minor when Tina continued with, “My wish would be to meet my mother.” Silence. I seriously could hear crickets breathing. She continued to read her words detailing her mother leaving her father when she was a toddler and that she did “Mom” work around the house-cooking, cleaning, and even taking the clothes to laundry mat-always on Friday night instead of Saturday mornings-when it was not so busy (a fact I remember thinking an 11-year-old should not know). Her writing, albeit lacking in complete grammatical and syntax perfection, told a story that had my class intently listening to every word. As she finished her sharing, her last sentence made a tear escape from my eye when she stated, “This is my wish so that every night I would stop dreaming about what she looked like.”  Tina took a deep breath and waited for “peer feedback”. What Tina got instead was a small applause from a couple of girls that ended with a loud roar of applause and a few “whoops” from a couple of the boys. Tina’s face will forever be etched in my memory as she brushed her hair, that she often used as a veil to hide her face, to the side to reveal a beautiful smile. Quieting down the class, I thanked Tina for sharing and noticed as she walked back to her seat, the manner her peers immediately responded to her in ways they had not 10 minutes prior.

 I realized at that moment-and in many more since then-that our job as educators is so much more than creating great academic scholars. We must create environments where our students are safe enough to learn and grow. Without that type of environment, our students can never be scholars. They will never find their voice. The lack of that type of environment, we harm rather than help our students. 

Hitting a Wall

A teacher and I were discussing after school last Monday just how very tired we both were….on a Monday!  She reminded me that it is this time of year that we all get very tired.  We’ve accomplished so very much in less than 45 days of school.  We’ve unpacked and decorated our rooms, gotten to know our students, we’ve established relationships with our families, we made tons of copies, graded and analyzed lots of work, had plenty of assessments, completed progress reports, made tons of phone calls and conducted several parent conferences.  That is just a simple small list of all that has occurred the last 45 days.  To say that we deserve to be tired is almost the worst understatement that I’ve ever made.

I’m not sure about you but when I start hitting the wall, I sometimes feel like hitting someone (not literally). My Clarendon County temper likes to rear its ugly head.  When I’m tired, I can be quick to anger, quick to respond in a not so kind way, or quick to jab when I should pull back.  Luckily, I have learned this about myself and have learned to spot those signs (most of the time).  

My AP and I were discussing a discipline problem recently and he was reminded of a quote he heard, “small minds discuss people; average minds discuss events; but brilliant minds discuss ideas.”  I wrote it down, as I do with many quotes, and have pondered over that idea for days. 

This is an Eleanor Roosevelt quote.  I’m not sure how much you all know about Mrs. Roosevelt, but she had what I would call the most miserable life growing up: alcoholic father, mother who tragically died of diphtheria, her brothers dying of scarlet fever, and an orphan by age 10 when she was sent to boarding school.  She had a lot to complain about.  I am sure she had many times when she felt like she was hitting a wall.  However, she used that sadness to become an advocate for minorities, the poor, the addicted,and for children and women’s rights.  Even when you feel like hitting a wall, and so many of us do right now, don’t do what becomes the natural thing to do….hitting others (with our words or actions), power through knowing that you are making a difference...with little sleep and loads of caffeine. 

I'm becoming my mother.........

MUSC is a wonderful hospital. Having spent a lot of time there this last month, I can say that they certainly understand the importance of relationships. One of my Mom’s nurses always spent time talking with us-not just about my Mom but about us. One day one of her nurses, spent a lot of time asking me questions about my life, my boys, and my job. Before he left the room, he looked at me and said, you sure do remind me of your Mom.  “You look and act just like her,”  he said. These are not words that many 40+ year olds want to hear. “You are becoming your mother” is what I heard ringing in my ears the entire drive back home. Not that my mom is a terrible person, she is not,  she is wonderful, but there is something about becoming my mother that stopped me in my tracks.  We don’t always like to hear it, but it’s true. It’s in our DNA. The older we get, the more we resemble our parents. If you’re especially close to your parents, you might even start to act like them and before you know it, you are them. 

The more I drove the more I thought about this and the more I thought about school.  Isn’t this true about school? I remember once when Rosebro#1 was in kindergarten and he was “playing school” with then 3 year old Rosebro#2 who wasn’t behaving very well in pretend school (shocking). Rosebro#1 made me cry with laughter at his dead on impression of Mrs. Jacobs when attempting to get Rosebro#2 to do the right thing.  Children mimic our behavior.  I remember that same year in kindergarten being at the public library and Rosebro#1 checked out a book because it was one of “Mrs. Bahnmuller’s favorites”.  You see his love of this book came from his teacher’s behavior. He didn’t guess it was her favorite, she had told him.   

I speak a lot about modeling to our students.  I don’t mean modeling just our behavior or writing or how to work out a math problem, but modeling our own love of learning. We should model how we want our kids to behave.  You model those expectations, but what you should be asking yourself is do you model your passion for learning?  Do you pick up a book and show your kids how much you’ve fallen in love with the words?  Do you model your writing?  Do you tell them about an interesting video you watched or newspaper article you read about something you’re studying in Social Studies or Science.  Do you explain with excitement how you used measuring skills to make curtains at home or order tile for your new kitchen design?  If you don’t how is it expected that your kids will fall in love with learning? If you aren’t passionate, how then can our kids ever be?   As I thought about me becoming my Mom, I eventually was grateful for that statement.  She is a strong, kind, generous, sometimes goofy and airheaded, a graceful Christian woman who always puts her family before herself.  Who wouldn’t want to become that?  When you think about that, when you think about what you are modeling to your students either with your behavior or your joy of being a life long learner, do you want your kids to be that?  Do you want your kids to show your same level of enthusiasm or passion?  If not, you only have the power to change the model. 

Safe Places

When I was a teenager I worked as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly. Before you start laughing, this was THE job to have if you were a teenager in my hometown. All the cool kids, who had to have an afterschool job, worked at the Pig. Prior to my real job at the Pig, I worked for my Dad on the farm and trust me the pay at the Pig was 100 times better. My best friend worked with me. My boyfriend was a bag boy and the parking lot was always filled with teenagers, as the Pig was a local hangout. I loved my job. We always cashed our Friday paychecks at work and one day I had done just that stuffed my (now seemingly small) paycheck into my purse and went about my teenage life. I had probably spent $20 or so of the money by church on Sunday. My parents have always instilled in me to be a faithful tither so I again went into my purse and gave another $20 to my church during Sunday School.  Although I was a teenager, attending a small church meant that even at age 16, I was allowed to be in the church choir, so for the next hour or so I was in the choir. After choir I was hanging my robe when I heard frantic rumbling in the choir room. I soon discovered that during church, someone had come into our choir room and stolen out of all the purses of the female choir members. I ran to my purse and while I was expecting differently the remaining money from Friday’s paycheck was all gone.  I was devastated. Yet, what I remember feeling the most was that in my safest place-my church- I had been stripped of the feeling of safeness. Church was and always has been my safe place. After this incident the church started locking more doors and making it harder to get into the church.

Going to the movies is one of my secret hobbies. Since the Batman shooting in a movie theater a few years ago, I still remain a little anxious about going to the movies. I watch the folks walk in and look at the exit doors and honestly make a little plan in my head about what I’d do if something happened. This weekend I went to see the movie Sully. Tom Hanks portrayed US Airlines pilot Chesley Sullenburger brilliantly in this movie about the Miracle on the Hudson. While watching the movie, I was moved by the emotional display, without any script-only acting, of the landing and getting everyone off the plane and into boats. I watched Tom Hanks’s face and realized that that plane was his safe place. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But it did.  Last week, after our faculty meeting, I sat at my desk in shock and horror watching the live feed from Townville Elementary where two students and one teacher were shot in another school shooting. While church is and always will be my safe place, I have similar feelings while here at school.  I love our school. I look forward to car pool every morning and enjoying our Safety Squad and welcoming our kids to school. I love walking the hallways and looking at the displayed student’s work. I love being in your classrooms. Next to having one of the Rosebros telling me they love me, my favorite thing in the world is having a student read to me. I love hanging in the cafeteria during lunch. I had the best time riding my bike around the track during recess the other day. The last thing we expect is for all of those things to be interrupted by gunfire. School should be a safe place.

I feel strongly, that even with mistakes I make as a leader, I always try to make decisions that are best for our school, staff, students and community. The only time I ever “lose sleep” is thinking about the loss of JBE as a safe place. I do not nor will I ever take lightly the immense responsibility we have to ensure the safety and security of the students entrusted to us. As I was thinking about all of my safe places-I realized one thing holds true. These places-church, movie theater, our homes, our school-are still are safe places. They are safe because of the people we share them with and the experiences we have within the spaces. While in all of them we may do things differently to keep them just a little safer, they still are our Safe places. We make them safe not just in our physical actions of locking doors and gates, and ignoring the door and reducing adult traffic with in the school, we make it emotionally safe by creating relationships with our students and their families. It is through that sense of community and family that will keep us safe-even when the unthinkable happens.

Cheerleaders

Twenty years ago (it is so hard to even type that), I was the cheer coach at SHS. I loved “my girls” and I loved what we did. We started the first competitive cheer squad at SHS and I am embarrassed now when I see Ashley’s SHS squad and how amazing they are compared to how bad we were years ago. One of the reasons I loved coaching was that at that time, I was also teaching ED self contained students. On a good day, this was a difficult job. While I loved it and loved my students, these kids were hard and sad and troubled and amazing all at the same time. They also needed me-a lot of me. I left school physically, mentally and emotional drained many days. And then I headed over to the high school. These girls were adorable. Yes, sometimes dealing with 20 teenage, hormonal girls was much worse than dealing with my 12 ED kids, but overall they were a wonderful distraction from the classroom. I enjoyed their “teenage drama”, their sideline antics, and watching them form as a team and do great things for the football and basketball teams. I loved watching these girls cheer for the teams. There really isn’t anything better than having someone cheer for you. Things came full circle last week, when the night nurse came by my Mom’s room and it just so happened to be one of my former cheerleaders. I was thrilled to see her again as she hadn’t returned to Spartanburg after finishing school at CoC  At some point last week, as I was trying to get my mom to speak, Shimekia was in the room and said something that really resonated with me. Watching me struggle with my Mom and attempting words with her, Shimekia knelt beside me like a player was injured and said “everyone needs a cheerleader, keep it up!” I was discouraged –I was injured-but her words kept me going. She was still my cheerleader and I realized that at that moment I was my Mom’s cheerleader. It got me thinking about our students here and the idea that we are their cheerleaders. We have many students who hear positive words each day. I see it in the car line each morning as they depart their cars with an “I love you, have a great day” but we have many more students who hear nothing-music is on, parent is on the phone or the parent is disengaged. It is one of the reasons that I am loud, enthusiastic, & exciting at car line each morning.  Each student deserves to be greeted by name and with a smile, a hug, a high five, and a wish that they have a great day. In essence I am their morning cheerleader (have no fear, I’m not wearing the short skirt anytime soon). I’ve shared with you before the great Ted Talks video of Rita Pierson (click HERE if you’ve not seen it) who begs you to believe that each child needs a champion. I believe each child-no, each person– deserves a cheerleader. One of the things I do when I walk the halls at 7:50 is look for those cheerleaders. Are you greeting your students? Are you starting your day with a positive interaction because as you know, “kids don’t learn from someone they don’t like.” Do you give high fives through the day? Do you celebrate small moments? Do you talk positively about them? In essence are you your students’ cheerleaders? Do you encourage them? Do you kneel with them when they’re hurt? Do you cheer loudly when they do good? We all deserve to have a cheerleader. Let me know if you need pom-poms.

Fan Club

     Two of the biggest benefits of being done with my dissertation is having my weekends back and being able to go back to football Saturdays with my family.  Last Saturday, we watched Clemson try really really hard to lose to Troy State.  It was exciting for another reason as well because Cedarius Rookard, former JBE student and SHS graduate, plays for Troy and Tavien Feaster, a 2016 SHS graduate, plays for Clemson.  My husband, not being a SC native, married into this Clemson craziness. While he pulls for Clemson, probably out of fear of divorce and the fact that pretty much all men in my family have a gun in their trucks, my husband tolerates Clemson tailgating, 80,000 loud fans, and the insane traffic coming into and leaving Death Valley. But this game was different.  He was super excited to see two of his former players on the big stage. Cedarius was the first player to touch the ball in the game running back the opening kickoff. Unfortunately Troy scored on their first drive, and kicked off to Clemson to none other than Tavien Feaster.  I got such a kick out of watching my husband-as well as trying to explain to the folks around us why we were decked out in orange and purple but cheering for Cedarius and the excitement of seeing Tavien in his first game. 

     As the game came to a dramatic end, my husband (never one to really like this at Clemson) raced down to the field in order to find Tavien and/or Cedarius. Now if you know my husband, you understand why I watched in amazement. He is my polar opposite. I am full of energy, excitement and enthusiasm. I have ADHD and am never still even when sitting, I am loud and can be a tab bit embarrassing while he is laid back, quiet, reserved, and somewhat a wallflower in public situations. But on the field he was almost running over folks to find his former students. While watching my husband act in a non-predictable manner, got me thinking about us with our students.  Cedarius had a great game, but his team lost. Tavien only touched the ball a few times. Yet, my husband needed to high five them, give them a “man” hug, and congratulate them. It was important to him to celebrate with “his kids”. 

     My thoughts drifted to our students. Our students don’t usually make it on the big screen. Our students’ “big moments” may be staying on green two days in a row, finally getting that math concept you’ve been working on for weeks, writing a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end or even engaging in conversation.  But the feelings are the same as if they are on the big stage in front of 80,000 screaming fans.  Do we celebrate those moments? Or do we worry about what they don’t know? Do you spend time patting them on the back for what they did right or do you focus on what is left undone? My husband celebrated with Tavien as if he had won the Heisman and he honestly touched the ball only twice and it reminded me of one of the most important lessons of our classrooms.  Don’t forget to celebrate-big and small. We all need a fan club.

I wasn't prepared for that

     On my second day of teaching (yes, literally my 2nd day of teaching), I had a student,Walter, throw a chair, called me a b%&$^, and bite me.  He was five.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  That same year one of my students watched her mother almost beaten to death by her father.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  My third year teaching, I had a student, a 6th grader, hospitalized after her grandmother had given her a "at home" abortion.  Yes, she was pregnant -at age 11.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  My fifth year teaching, I had a student die in a fire at home.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  My sixth year teaching, I had a child lose his mother unexpectantly and no family wanted him.  He was ripped away from us and into foster care so I never saw him again.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  In the last class I taught, I had a student ask me if I’d ever thought about suicide because she was going to do it that that night.  I wasn’t prepared for that.  I fully believe that we are where we are for a certain purpose.  Call it a higher calling, predestination, fate, or dumb luck.  I believe we are where we are at any given moment because we are supposed to be.  I was not prepared for any of the situations-the horrible ones described previously-or many others such as teaching literacy to a classroom made up of high flyers and non readers and a little of everything in between, math or science when I came out of college with a teacher’s certificate in hand thinking I was an expert on all things education.  I had a desire however and I have picked up a lot of knowledge along the way.  While I had not been prepared, I made it through each one of those situations. Sometimes I used my mentors, my principal, my faith, and/or my team. I handled each moment, some better than others. Sure, I had surges of doubting my abilities to teach difficult students in difficult situations but never, not once did I ask to be rid of my student or wish that I didn’t have him/her.  You see, while I was never prepared, I knew that I was, for the most part, all many of those children had. 

     Last week I went to the yellow mall and stupidly left my interior lights on and came back to a dead battery.  I did what every wife does during football season and called her husband to come rescue her. As I waited, cars would pull up and I would think it was him only to be disappointed when it wasn’t his truck.  But when I finally did see his truck and three faces all beaming at me from the interior, I felt such relief.  I was safe and I knew they would fix my problems (well, I kinda knew-my hubby can heal you but he isn’t that great at the handy man stuff) and I’d be home in no time.  You see for your most troubled students, you are that savior. Many of them have had others in and out of their life-like the glimmer of hope those cars provided for me in the parking lot. For your most troubled students,  you are the one constant in their lives.  This doesn’t make it easy. I know how hard it can be for you and your other kids.  Walter, the biter, never made it fun that first year.  I cried many afternoons alone in my classroom. I cried many afternoons on the way home, to my friends, to my mentors, to my principal.  I wondered if I even wanted to teach.  I wish I could give you a great success story on Walter but I can’t.  I can give you a success story on his teacher.  I never gave up on him.  I wasn’t prepared for that. 

College Colors Day

Our College Colors day on Friday was so much fun. The “tailgate” party we had in the cafeteria was a bit wild and a lot loud, but it was a fantastic way to end the week and begin our long Labor Day weekend. It was great seeing the children in all their college colors. As you would expect in any South Carolina school, there was a pretty even mix of orange and black-not for Halloween, but of course for Clemson and USC. But what I found unusual was the vast spread of other college choices-Spellman, Wofford, UNC, Western Carolina, Winthrop, and even one Harvard. 

As I took pictures and interacted with the students, it got me thinking about how vastly different our students are. Just as we had a variety of colleges represented on Friday on tshirts, jerseys, and hoodies, there are other differences in our children. We have some of the most shy children I’ve ever been around. We have one child who I really wonder if she has or will ever speak to me. We have some who are so loud and boisterous that you know the second they walk into the building. We have some students who are reading well above grade level and some who are years behind where they should be academically. We have some students who are very mature and others who lack maturity. We have some who everyone-students and teachers alike-love and others who have very few “in their corner”. We have students who have a loving home with both a mom and dad, and we also have 2 moms homes, 2 dads homes, single parent, being raised by grandparent, and even foster children. We have home dwellers, apartment livers, and even homeless children. We have just about every ethnicity powerschools allows. We have numerous religious and non-religious backgrounds. As I looked at the variety of team choices, the one common denominator was that they were our students.  

During lunch I got some boos from some non-Clemson fans. I explained to these students that it was okay not to be a Clemson fan, but we had to respect each other’s choices. It made me wonder, how many of our students feel “booed” by their differences.  The best piece of advice I ever received as a first year teacher was to remember that my job is to teach the students I have-not the ones I used to have or the ones I wish I had or the ones the teacher next door has, but to teach those I have right now-all of them-even with their flaws. Even if their coach goes for it on 4 and 4 instead of kicking a field goal. Don’t ever boo your students.

Inspire and Equip

Rosebro #1 is in high school this year. While as a parent that comes with so many emotions, as a student it comes with higher stakes for course work, harder classes, and a nagging mother that reminds him every moment that grades equate to money and that every grade matters.  It also means that he is taking math that far surpasses my math capability.  Math has always been a struggle to me. I don’t understand numbers. I fear them. When I was named the National Assistant Principal of the Year, it came with a full scholarship for my doctorate degree.  It was an amazing feeling to know that a dream that I’d had would be coming true-until they told me I had to take the GRE.  One very hot June day, I went to Greenville Tech and took the online GRE. The Verbal part took almost 2 hours. While it was hard, I felt pretty confident. I took a 20-minute break and then the nonverbal section was to begin. Towards the end of the nonverbal section, I literally started guessing. I didn’t even know where to start to answer the questions. A few weeks later, my scores came in and my verbal score was ridiculously high while my nonverbal score was ridiculously low. I was humiliated that my “full ride” scholarship was at risk because my nonverbal scores didn’t match the University’s standards of admission.  During my dissertation process, I had to rely on some far smarter than me to help with the statistics on my study. So just imagine my surprise when this weekend, Rosebro#1 asked for help with his math homework.  As I was helping him, my mind wondered back to Mrs. Mcnair my high school math teacher. I started telling him stories about Mrs. McNair and how funny she was and how she always laughed at me and my “second chance” tests. I started describing how she would bring in “stuff” like baseball trading cards to help describe ratios, she would use catalogs to teach percentages, and various other real life material. She started each class with a corny joke or math limerick. She was so kind and helpful. She always had us back at lunch time or before school for extra help. It got me thinking. I don’t remember much of what she taught me academically. Clearly she taught me some things and made me grow. She gave me confidence in my math schools. She made me love coming into her class. She made me love school. And while her math lessons probably have had an effect on me, her relationship with me has had a far greater effect. Because students will remember how you treated them for far longer than what you taught them.  I had a great mentor remind this weekend about our district’s mission of inspiring and equipping students. While I want to equip them with a high quality education, it is much more important to me that we inspire them. And that begins with the way we treat them. I would much rather a child leave here knowing how to treat others than knowing how to do math correctly…..clearly math aptitude isn’t the one thing to determine success. By the way, Rose Bro#1 now has a math tutor. He clearly didn't enjoy my math story time. #ugg #teenagers