Aponie

The greatest joy of being a school principal is that no two days are alike. The greatest challenge of being a school principal is..... that no two days are alike.  Each morning I look at my Friday forecast. While the staff has a Friday forecast with highlights of what they need to get done on the Friday forecast, mine is filled with all the stuff that I didn’t type for the entire staff. I have a fabulous color coordinated to do list each day, and a neatly organized desk each morning. I set about my day, each day, with goals for the day. Rarely does my day go as expected. Rarely is anything on my to-do list done and rarely is my desk neat and organized after 10am.  I learned quickly as an assistant principal and as a principal to expect the unexpected. Large challenges present themselves every day. I also learned quickly as an assistant principal and as a principal that I cannot let those large challenges serve as roadblocks to derail the most important work in this building- which is the teaching and learning.

The last month as principal has been rough. The tragic loss of a faculty member, being in the news in an unkind light, parent pressure to make changes to our traffic and carline, and a school break in….are just a few of the major things I’ve been juggling this month. I had a principal colleague call me to “check on me” the other day. I told him that I couldn’t talk to him at that moment because I had some students reading to me. When I called that principal back his reaction was interesting. He stated that he was surprised I had folks in my office and that I should just close me door and get some work done. I really had had a lot on me lately. Huh? What? Shut my door and get some work done?

Have I had a lot to juggle? Yes. Have I had a lot of reflecting to do on our work here? Yes? But, please understand I am not complaining. So much good has happened because of the “bad things” that happened this last month.

Due to Miss Emma’s death, I have seen how much this little school means to our community. I know we all saw and felt the love from folks who fed us, sent cards, and sent flowers. But you could spend an entire day reading all the emails I received from community members who wanted to send condolences and wanted to let this staff know they were praying for us. While I would rather be in the dark about how much we are loved by this community, and still have Miss Emma with us, knowing that we are loved has been amazingly uplifting. Having lost my own father by the reckless behavior of another person, I was able to be there for Miss Emma’s family unlike many others having just walked through their shoes some 8 months ago.  I wish I could share with you some of the text messages I’ve received after our not so nice news report. Let me just say, we have some folks who more than “got our back”…in fact in many cases, I had to talk them off the ledge. It is so nice that what my father always said is true “Live your life so that if anyone says something bad about you, no one will believe it.” I’ve laughed so much about the burglary because I try hard to be the kind of principal who would never ask a teacher to do something that I wouldn’t do myself…..and because I left my door open (in order for service solutions to clean prior to Thanksgiving) my office is where the theft occurred. Now how many times have I begged that your classroom door be locked and closed at the end of the day?!?!?!   I was thrilled that, even though we were robbed, our safety measures (albeit the lack of my very own) worked. Because you all had your doors closed and locked, things were not nearly as bad as they could have been. Additionally, a sweet older neighbor of ours from the condos next door, replaced the Relay for Life money that was stolen. My heart smiled when I received that money (and I quickly deposited it rather than keeping it in my desk drawer!!!). He didn't need to do that, but he loves this place enough to do that for us.

So, so MUCH good from bad.  I could most absolutely focus on the bad. It is tempting to get sucked down that rabbit hole. It is so easy, so very easy to do that, but why would I when we have it so, so good. In the last few weeks whenever I was really upset or wanting to run down the “poor pitiful me” road, I would go into a classroom. I saw teaching. I saw learning. I saw students collaborating. I saw students creating. I saw students reading, I saw students writing. I heard our students sing. I saw students solve problems. I saw students run. I saw them create in art. I high fived students in the hallway. I ate lunch with students. One day as I was walking in the hallway on the way to take a phone call, a student stopped me and said, “Dr. Rose, can you spell aponie?” While I was in a hurry, I just couldn’t let her go without helping. I didn’t really understand the word so I asked her again and she repeated the same word-aponie. I asked her to read the sentence she was writing and she said, “Once aponie time.”  I missed the phone call, but I was able to help a child.

And this is what we are here for. The rest of the stuff is just a part of the journey. Never lose sight that we are here to help a child. 

Call me weird....Call me crazy....Just remember it's for the kids.

When I was a little girl I hated school. I mean really, really hated school.  I was chubby, wore glasses, had a huge gap in my teeth, and struggled with reading. I had teachers  in first and second grade who were ill-equipped to deal with a student who had the struggles that I had.  Almost every morning of 2^nd grade, I had a stomach ache. Many mornings I was throwing up in my Mom’s Ford Esquire station wagon. And, while I thought at the time she was the worst mother ever, she kicked me out of my car and made me go to school anyway. I cried many days at school. I cried in the car on the way home. I cried doing homework. I absolutely hated school.

Then in 3^rd grade, Lynn Bozard entered my life. The first day of school she had a cute snack made out of medical gloves (pre-Pinterest). She dressed up as Ameila Bedila. She sang songs to us-all the time-and God rest her soul, she couldn’t sing. She brought in manipulatives for math-something that I had never seen before. She brought in fire trucks and ambulances when we were doing a unit on community helpers. She dressed up as an Indian when we started studying SC history. I remember one day when she came to school dressed as the Statue of Liberty. She read to us throughout the day. Her read alouds always had something special…homemade puppets, funny voices, participation from the students. She was never without a smile-even when I missed every spelling word. She was never without a kind word-even when I tore up my vocabulary test when I knew I didn’t know.

She was what I strive to be every single day as an educator. Our school district uses the words Inspire and Equip in our mission statement. She was inspiring. She made school fun. She made school exciting. My mother often called her the miracle worker because for the first time in three years, I was happy to come to school. I couldn’t wait to do my homework. I loved for my Mom to talk to my teacher. I loved being in her room. It was 39 years ago when I was in her class and I remember books she read to us. I remember her costumes. I remember her funny voices. I remember her silliness. I remember how she was patient with me. I remember her asking that I come to school early for extra attention. I remember that she had me come to school on Saturday mornings for tutoring. I remember the feeling of the last day of school.

Not only was she inspiring, she equipped me every day with not only content knowledge, but with confidence. She helped me learn to read-something up until that point I had been unable to do well. She helped learn how to communicate. I remember her telling my Dad one day that I was a great writer and that I always had great ideas. She made me feel confident-something I had not found until that point. She equipped me to continue loving school and loving learning.

I often have people ask me why I dress up in car line, why when I do read alouds in classrooms I never make it boring, why I embarrass myself continually to make kids happy, why I work after 5pm, before 6am, and many weekends getting programs, activities, and experiences ready for our kids. Why do I do all of that? I do all of that because one of my core beliefs about education is that if we create an environment where kids feel safe, loved, excited, enthusiasm and appreciated, they will love school and they will love learning.  If we are not excited to be here, I kids will not be. If we are not enthusiastic about learning, they will not be. If we are not loving on our students, they will resist us. If we are not appreciative of what they can bring to our classrooms, they will feel rejected.

Be Lynn Bozard.

Thanksgiving

My father was a wise, wise man. And as I come to this first Thanksgiving without him, making that sentence past tense breaks my heart all over again.  When I was a child, my parents wanted nothing but the best for their children. Giving a strong Christian background and surrounding his children with faith-filled individuals was of the most importance. It is one reason why my father, along with others, started a private school in our town. I attended that school from 4K to 12^th grade. When I was a teenager, my mother had cancer. This took a huge toll on our finances. Paying tuition, even at a school my father help to found, became difficult. New, designer clothes and shoes lessened. I remember other families from the church bringing meals and I remember hand me down clothes from others. I also remember one student at school making fun of me to others because her family was helping my family. I wasn’t even sure what that meant but I later found out that her father had paid the tuition for the remainder of the year for me and my siblings. (How I wish Gofundme had existed back then!) I remember crying and talking to my dad about my poor life…an absent mother who was possibly dying of cancer, babysitting my young brother, working on the farm, not having cool things like others, and being made fun of because our family struggled. My father told me something that day that I’ve held onto ever since. He said that if everyone put their problems in a bag and hung them on the clothesline and were able to pick, we’d pick our problems back up over other people’s problem every time.

As a teenager, I really didn’t believe him. As an adult, I now understand what my Dad was talking about. It is so easy to look around and see what I don’t have, where I am struggling, how much I left to do, and how tired I am. But what I forget is that everyone has problems. No one has a perfect life. As educators we are beaten up, not well respected, work way too hard, too many hours, and are asked to be educator, counselor, psychologist, mom, doctor, and friend to students. I often remember when dealing with a difficult student that the reason behind their behavior would probably not make me made, it would break my heart.

As I thought about all of this and a message about Thanksgiving, I was reminded of a story. A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Until it suddenly stopped making any progress and looked like it was stuck.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily, although it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The man didn’t think anything of it and sat there waiting for the wings to enlarge to support the butterfly. But that didn’t happen. The butterfly spent the rest of its life unable to fly, crawling around with tiny wings and a swollen body. Despite the kind heart of the man, he didn’t understand that the restricting cocoon and the struggle needed by the butterfly to get itself through the small opening; were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings. To prepare itself for flying once it was out of the cocoon.

Our struggles in life develop our strengths. Without struggles, we never grow and never get stronger, so it’s important for us to tackle challenges on our own, and not be relying on help from others. Thank you for struggling along with us as we continue to make our school the most caring environment. Thank you for struggling along with us as we continue to study best practice in order to give every child, every chance to succeed. Thank you for struggling along with us as we develop and grow our practices of compassionate schools. Thank you for struggling along with us as work hard to develop well rounded, balanced students and offering extra opportunities for students outside of the classroom. Thank you for struggling along with us as we collaborate with each other rather than working in silos.

Thank you for what you do in our school each and every day. Our students are better because of you. Our community is better because of you. I am better because of you.

#45

I turned 45 this summer. It should be a big deal to turn 45, ½ way to 50, the idea of living more already than I have left. But honestly if I haven’t learned anything in the last year and half, I’ve learned that every day on this side of the grass is a good day.  And 45 didn’t have some crazy effect on me.

On my birthday, I read a terrible, horrible no good article on schools in South Carolina. It made me sad. It made me mad. It made me wonder how folks who have no clue what we do each day could write such horrible things about schools. So on that day I decided each week until my 46^th birthday I would write about one good thing we are doing in education. I figured on my 46^th birthday I would publish my 46 things that are right in education. Yet, last week, for many reasons, I didn’t have time to make my weekly submission to my list (hence why the list will have 46 things rather than 52).

I entered school today with a heavy heart. It was a tough weekend attending two funerals. Saying goodbye to a staff member was hard. It was a lot harder than I thought. It was so cold this morning. When I arrived at school it was clear but about 100 steps before I made it to the door, the clouds opened and a monsoon started-and ended as quickly as it began. Carline started with a car with a dead battery, two safety patrol were sick and not on duty, and I forgot my umbrella while directing traffic. When I made it into the office I had an upset parent on the phone. Seriously before 8am and I was not happy. So I pulled out my journal and decided I needed an entry in my list of things that are so right in education.

I realized I needed to share today’s entry with you all because maybe, just maybe you needed to hear something we do right also:

#16.  Education isn’t just about academics. We work so hard to ensure that each student is on grade level. We talk about reading levels, interventions, critical thinking, writing skills, RTI, and special services all the time. We want every student to reach mastery of standards, but what we focus on more than ever before is the social and emotional well-being of our students. In our school, education is not simply about feeding the mind, but it is also about feeding the heart and the soul. Many educators I surround myself with feel that if we fail our students emotionally, then we have not succeeded.  I wish for every student to  score “exceeds expectation” on every tests we give them. But more than anything I want students who say kind things, sit with someone who is sitting alone, offer to help, are friends to the lonely, encourage each other, share, look for the good in others, and offer a smile when it is needed. So what is right with education, it is right that we understand our education the heart is just as important as educating the mind.

And about the time I finished a precious 1^st grade came into my office and shyly walked into my office and said, “Hey Dr. Rose. Do you need a hug?” And people wonder why my office is in the middle of the school? Why yes, I’ll take that hug.

If not you, who?

This was not my intended Monday Musing for today……………..

I have satellite radio. It is one of the very few non essentials that I can’t do without. I love music-love all types, but more than anything I love talk radio. I also love being in a car for hours and not losing a station or having static on the station. On Saturday I was alone in my car for 8 hours.  Part of the time I listened to a football game (again on satellite radio…which is worth it alone to be able to be anywhere and listen to your team on the radio). During half time I switched over to a talk station and heard the terrible news of Pittsburgh Synagogue Massacre.  At first I thought they were discussing the bomb scares of last week, but I quickly understood that I was wrong.  I listened with such horror as again the sanctity of worship had been destroyed by hate fueled gunfire.  I wept as I listened to the mayor speak about this neighborhood, Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood actually.  I couldn’t understand the hate that led to such anger and violence.

Sunday, I attended the funeral of a 32 year old man who shot himself. The service was powerful but difficult. The music was beautiful. The pastor was inspiring, yet I left with such a heavy heart. I wept for his mother. I wept for his children. I wept for the mother of his children. As his sister spoke about him, I wanted to run to the front of the sanctuary and hold her. I couldn’t understand the pain that led him to do what he did, but I sure wish he had called me prior to him pulling the trigger.

Today, after dismissal, I had a voice mail from a friend of mine. She teaches at an elementary school in Matthews, NC, and her son is a student at Butler High School. A student shot and killed another student this morning in the hallway of Butler High School. My friend was upset. She was upset because her son knew the shooter. She was upset because this isn’t supposed to happen at school. She was also upset because her school was on lock down and he had no communication with her son for a couple of hours. She was upset because school resumed a few hours later. While I sympathized and listened, I could not understand her fear, her pain. I couldn’t understand a world where we would continue school hours after a student was killed.

I sat at my desk staring at what was my real Monday Musing for today and clicked the delete button. I had this overwhelming need to say a few things. And while this may not be educational, school leadership, or remotely related to the betterment of our school, I need to ask, “How are you?”

I have a friend who could be standing in a burning building holding a gas can and she would say, “It’s all good.”  When I know better, that is always her answer. Every single morning I greet 500 kids and a multitude of staff members as they enter the building. How many times do I ask each of those people, “How are you this morning?” Overwhelmingly the answer is “Good.”  I don’t believe all of them. I don’t believe the child who gets out of their car and their parent could not get off their phone long enough to whisper “I love you” or “Have a great day”. I don’t believe them that they are good. I don’t believe the child who I called DSS about on Thursday when the Mom’s not so nice boyfriend dropped her off in car line this morning. I don’t believe the teacher who I know is going through a dissolve of marriage. I don’t believe the teacher who hasn’t slept in days because their child has been sick. I don’t believe the teacher assistant who is worried about money because we pay them so very little.  You see, it isn’t the words “It’s good” that I pay attention to. I pay attention to the energy, the facial expression, the body language, the light, or lack there of, in the eyes, the sincerity of a smile, and the posture. I look to see if in fact it really is “all good.”

Then I worry. I worry if my awareness of all those things is enough. I worry if we’ve gotten so used to a fast paced Facebook, Twitter, Insta, Snap Chat kind of life that we all pretend that “it’s all good.”  

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with it NOT being “all good.” It is okay to not be ok, but it is not ok to stay there. It may be a difficult class; it may be issues in your marriage, aging parents, troubles with your children, difficulties with anxiety, depression, money worries, guilt, or health issues. Everyone struggles.  Having struggles doesn’t make you weak-it makes you human.

I needed anyone who reads this blog to know that it is okay to not be okay. But it is not okay to say something. My door is always open. My phone, while usually unanswered, will always call you back. My house is always stacked with coffee and comfortable chairs if you need to sit and chat. My prayer journal always has room for more names. My heart is big enough to help take on your pain.

When I see the struggles of those around me in just the last 48 hours, I wonder if those who caused so much pain to others were in pain themselves. We, as educators, sometimes take on the world. But, who, just who, is taking care of you?

My sister was sick last week. I only found out because I needed to drop something off at her house and had a free afternoon to run to her house. I was so mad when I caught her on the couch at what looked like her deathbed. When I asked her why she hadn’t called-I could have at least brought soup or clearly more Lysol- she stated, “You’re so busy. I didn’t want to bother you.” This crushed my soul. Do I give that vibe off? Am I so busy that I don’t know someone needs me?  I looked at her and she repeated something my father always said to us, “If not you, who?”  Please know no matter your struggle, no matter your pain, no matter your fear or hurt or anger, I’m never too busy. I truly believe “If not me, who?”

Again this wasn’t my intended Monday Musing today. And I apologize for using this platform in this way, but possibly, just possibly someone needed to hear it.