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.