Learning from others

You all know I am a Clemson fan. Die hard, blood runs orange kind of fan. My Dad played football at Clemson and I was taught from birth where my loyalties must lie. But, I will tell you that I am huge fan of the new quarterback for the USC Gamecocks. I love his story.

If you don’t know, Ryan Hillinski is a true freshman who has been thrown (no pun intended for a quarterback) into the spotlight due to the season ending injury of the starting senior QB. Ryan is from California, a long way from SC, and comes from a family of athletes. Ryan’s older brother, Tyler, was the starting quarterback for Washington State. Without any signs of depression or sadness, Tyler Hillinski committed suicide in his family’s home in January of 2018. The Hillinski family, while devastated over the loss of their beloved Tyler, began Hilinski’s Hope- a charity that promotes mental health awareness and reducing the stigma among college athletes. They even recently scattered some of Tyler’s ashes on the island of Kauai (which touched me as it is a part of our school theme).  Ryan’s parents, emotionally unable to live in their family home after Tyler’s death there, made the decision to move to Columbia to be closer to Ryan and be able to follow his career at USC.

If you follow college football, Ryan was forced into play after starting QB Jake Bentley was hurt. He had a rhythmic first start against Charleston Southern impressing USC fans and quite frankly worrying USC opponents. He had a decent game in a loss against #2 ranked power house Alabama. Yet, this Saturday, his team played Missouri and they did not fare as well as they had the previous two weeks. I was in Clemson and didn’t watch the game, but saw some of the reactions on Twitter.

I woke up Sunday to some harshness and criticism yielded towards The State newspaper when they published an article entitled “Hillinski Hope Sinks”. When I first read the Twitter criticism I, too, was upset that a reporter would use the title of the Hillinski family’s foundation as a “cute” way to describe a bad game for the QB. As a side note, this is a part of sports and social media that upset me badly. It hurts my mommy heart how mean folks can be hiding behind the screen of a computer. I felt, like many others, that the reporter should be accountable as well as the newspaper. I was outraged that the reporter would use the name of a heart filled, sensitive organization to describe a game.

Then I got to thinking some more. I am daily criticized. I face criticism every single day either face to face, over the phone, via email, on social media, and mostly behind my back. Sometimes that criticism is warranted. Shockingly, I am human, and not a robot, and do make mistakes. Many times, I am criticized for things out of my control-traffic on the road in front of school, a bus issue, state rules and regulations, etc. But most of my criticism comes when dealing with an issue that I had nothing to do with to begin with. So with that perspective I began thinking differently about the writer of the newspaper article. While I didn’t like the title of his article, I didn’t retweet it. I wrote an email to the author of the article about growth. I wrote to him about making mistakes, how to learn from them, how to go about fixing them, and how to make sure you don’t make them again. I also gave some advice about thick skin-because he’s going to need it in the next few weeks. I then made a donation, albeit small-I am an educator, to Hillinski’s Hope. I didn’t hide my criticism. I went to the source and told the truth-kindly, nicely, and with grace. I sure wish the entire world did the same. Maybe we can start. Maybe we can model that for each other, our students, and our community.

Is Golf an Individual or a Team Sport?

Rosebro1 loves golf. He was devastated when his doctors would not let him play anymore. Golf was the perfect game for him. He is self motivated. He was totally focused on his game. He knew each course he played. He knew the lowest score he had made on that course and always challenged himself to score lower. He knew each hole on each course he played and he set goals for himself to do better each time. He got to know which clubs worked best for which shot. He knew how much power he had with his driver. He knew that his putting game was on spot. He knew that he needed to learn more skills for chipping. He was constantly challenging himself to do better than he had done before.

Yet, his game effected his team. Last weekend he and I were talking about golf as we passed a golf course. He misses it. He stated that it is an interesting sport to play but he never could decide if challenging himself helped him achieve more or if the team concept made him play harder. He knew that he had his own goals with each hole with each match, but he also knew that what he did effected the other players on his team. His score-his individual score- could help his team win or lose a match.

As he and I rode in silence for a little while and I tried to think of something inspiring to say to my heartbroken kid, I thought about the old, tired but true statement, “a mom is only as happy as her unhappiest child.” And then, as it so often happens, I started thinking about school and I changed the subject while I bored Rosebro1 with my analogy.

Working in a school is much like a golf team. Each of us has our individual strengths and weaknesses. Each of us is responsible for what happens in our own classroom or office. We set our goals on what we want our students to accomplish. We know what we are really good at and we know where we need work. We know which “driver” to use when we need the most power. We know what aspect of our teaching “game” needs the most work.  But as individual as that work is, it is a part of the bigger picture. We cannot work in silos and think that what we do doesn’t effect the rest of the school.

Just think about going into a reflection meeting and being the only person to have taught the planner. It is hard to reflect as a “team” when others haven’t done the work. Think of heading to a field trip and not everyone has collected permission slip forms. We can’t accomplish as a team if we don’t do what is expected of us as an individual.

In my first year teaching, I befriended a teacher in 4^th grade who has become a great mentor. I loved her spirit. I loved her work ethic. I loved her passion. I wanted to learn everything I could from her. One afternoon I was leaving and she was still in her classroom. I walked in to talk- and probably get advice. She was sorting writing papers. I asked why she was sorting them and she said something I’ll never forget. She said, “those kids over there,” as she pointed to a small stack of papers, “they had Mrs. Smith last year.” And? I thought. “I have to grade them differently because Mrs. Smith doesn’t teach writing. No one wants her students.” No one wants her students. I’ve never forgotten that statement. It hurt me to the core. It hurt me because I’d never heard her speak negatively of anyone. But it hurt me because I was naïve to think that that would ever be true.

Everyday that we don’t do what is expected of us as teachers, we let down our team. We make the job of someone else harder. Not only do we hurt students. We hurt each other. Apathy towards others kills an organization. I never want to work in a building where apathy exists. It is wildly important to remember that what you do individually is important to you. It is important that you have goals, you seek help when you don’t know, and you work with passion. It is important to you, but it is important to the team. I would hope no one would ever, ever want to be known as the teacher where “no one wants your kids.” Be the teacher where others are begging to have your students after you’ve worked your magic. There could never be a higher compliment as a teacher. 

Watermelon......

When I was a little girl, I was my Granddaddy’s (we called him Eaddy) favorite. Well, at least, I was his favorite until my brother was born. We all lived on the same property in different houses with my Eaddy and several other aunts, uncles, and cousins. Every morning of summer, Eaddy would pick me up and we would head to the field. I would spend what seemed like forever picking a watermelon from the patch. The watermelon I picked always seemed huge. I was never able to pick it up but my strong, able Eaddy would pick it up and carry it like a baby and throw it carelessly on the back seat of his Ford LTD. We would head down a long dirt road and I sat right there in the front seat-albeit without a seatbelt- knowing exactly where we were going. Eaddy would take me to the creek where I would jump out of the car almost before he stopped it. I would run to the creek and put my feet in, skipping rocks, and looking for worms. My Eaddy would take the watermelon out of the car and he would gently place it in a makeshift basket made from limbs and logs in the creek. The creek water was cool and that watermelon would sit in the creek all day.

We would soon leave the creek and head out where Eaddy oversaw the massive farm he owned. It was on these daily trips I learned to be an inquirer. I asked questions about everything. My Eaddy would also ask questions back. He also gave me glimpses of his wisdom and of his wise leadership skills as well. I remember once he was fussing at a worker about something he had done. He handed the man a pencil and said, “you need to erase and start over.” The man replied, “erasers are for people who make mistakes.” My grandfather responded with something I’ve always remembered, “No, erasers are for those willing to correct their mistakes.” It is something I’ve always held onto. Around the end of the day, Eaddy and I would get back into the car and head down the long dirt road again. I would squeal with delight as we got closer to the edge of the creek. I would run to the back of the car as Eaddy would open his trunk and take out a large knife. I then sat at a small homemade picnic table that had been made. Eaddy would wade through the water to get the watermelon, bring it back to the table, and slice it open with the sharp knife. The cool water made the watermelon so very cold and each time we did this, the watermelon was just as delicious as it was the first time. This truly is one of my favorite childhood memories.

I was thinking about this the other day just when I cracked open a watermelon that has been in my refrigerator. I thought about the anticipation of the afternoon. Each morning we went to the creek knowing what treat it would leave for us later that afternoon. As I sliced the watermelon in my kitchen, I thought about school. How many of us “squeal with delight” when we think about teaching our kids? Every single time I rode down that dirt road with Eaddy I knew what we were doing…every single time…but I was so excited every trip. I couldn’t wait to pick a melon, put my feet into the creek, skip a rock, open up the melon, and eat the amazing sweetness of that watermelon as it dripped down my chin. 

Do you get excited about your lesson plans? Do you get excited to learn more about your students? Do you look forward to watching your kids grow? Do burn with excitement about the memories you’ll make with them this year? Do you smile when you get out of your car thinking about what you’re going to accomplish with your kids?

Now I am not dumb. I know that some days are just harder than others. I know we have 9-12 hour days sometimes. We have difficult situations. We have tons of requirements. We have lots on the to do list, but we also have a room full of kids who deserve your “squeals of delight.” I hope you’ll never lose that-for them and for you.