What If?

The start of the holiday season marks a period of deep reflection, a time to consider how experiences have impacted perspectives and progress. For aspiring servant leaders, this is the ideal time to consider how decisions and actions impact members of a learning organization and, most importantly, the children in our learning communities. It is also a period to be grateful for opportunities afforded to us, as learners and as leaders.

A Crystal Ball

Two weeks ago, I received a handwritten thank you note that took me back in time.

It came from a student: a current high school senior, and former student at the middle school where I'm privileged to lead. At one time, this student was also a third grader...in my class.

And now, she is soon-to-be college-bound, with a bright future ahead of her. Where does the time go...

The thank you was simple and genuine, expressing the student's appreciation for taking time out of my day to attend a special event held at our high school. It was then and there that she signed a National Letter of Intent to attend a university where she will study and will play lacrosse.

Who'd have thought, just four years ago, when a new girls lacrosse team was started at our middle school, coached by one of our new middle school teachers that it would so quickly provide academic opportunity of this magnitude: for a student to continue her education beyond high school? And I never could have imagined, a decade ago, that I'd have an opportunity to see one of the children I taught, whose learning progress I monitored through four years of adolescence, go on to launch herself into the next phase of life, on the road to being an independent, productive, contributing adult.



When I think back to the time when this student was in my class, I remember she was a hardworking, unassuming eight year-old, who was serious about learning.

And...she was fast.

As part of an elementary school wellness program, all of the third grade classes started every morning with a ten-minute walk outside. But the students' favorite part was the daily culminating event, when we lined as many students up as we could at a makeshift "starting line" and had three races, in which the students sprinted and two winners declared (one girl and one boy). As a relatively new teacher at the time, I was nominated to race with the students each day. And, as anyone might imagine, I was tough to beat. I was an adult, after all. (Picture a 30 year-old, wearing a shirt, tie, and dress shoes, out-sprinting 75 children each morning.)

There were two students who, without fail, I couldn't beat, one of whom was our soon-to-be college lacrosse player. As a I read her thank you , I remembered those morning races, now smiling proudly at the thought that I lost regularly...to an eight year-old girl. I just wish I knew then what I know now about her. Being able to say I was losing races to a future college scholar-athlete (and telling others that's why she was winning our races) would've been way easier for my bruised ego to take.

Having this unique opportunity - seeing students whom I taught, propel through middle and high school, has often given me cause to reminisce and to celebrate. The memories of working directly with these children, coaching them to their personal best, working with their parents, together, celebrating achievements, navigating challenges, and bouncing back from failures. These are special moments that I will always cherish and that I appreciate now, more than ever, particularly in a leadership role.

A Fishbowl

The direct impact of my efforts are no longer quite as clear or linear as they once seemed, when I taught. At times I do miss that sense of personal fulfillment, that one only gets from being in a classroom. But that experience has provided me a unique appreciation - for seeing the potential in all children. It's also given me the patience needed when implementing systems that don't always cooperate or deliver immediate results or outcomes on neat and orderly adult-established timelines.

In retrospect, I may have been able to predict that I'd someday be at a college signing day for this student. But I've also encountered many former students, who've defined their own brand of success, and in their own time. But I often wonder, what's become of the students with whom I've lost touch? How many others discovered their pathways well after their time under my care and supervision in the classroom? In the last five years, I've had the good fortune to see this, up-close, in my first years as a principal. And I've marveled at the improvement, confidence, and self-worth that students come to discover about themselves, and with varying degrees of adult support.

As Principal, I've committed myself to systematically moving an organization and all of it's members forward, and into position to impact the success of all of it's members: students, staff, parents, and community. And receiving a thank you card from a 17 year-old, serves to remind me of an important lesson...that we owe it to each and every student to have high expectations, high levels of  support for achievement, and tireless patience throughout the process. Because each child's success matters, and a child's defining moments may, or may not happen when it's right, for us.

A Mirror

Each day, the focus of my work is intensely driven by one question:

Is this a decision that is good for children?

It is a question on which I reflect several times each day. It also serves as a filter when I am faced with a challenging or difficult situation that hinges on making a decision with which I am faced. Evidence of this can be recognized in strategic personnel decisions, goals and outcomes that represent a delicate balance of academic, social, and emotional priorities for each student and for groups of students, and a master schedule that maximizes equitable academic opportunities while maintaining a challenging, balanced, and student-responsive middle level program.

And in the end, our most important accomplishments, our results, will be measured in our communities and in our society, and will outlast our direct impact, like that of a teacher, in a classroom, with a student. This will be seen in the form of how the contributions of those on whom our decisions have made an impact will impact others.

This is what becomes the legacy of our efforts.

For the remainder of this school year, I'm committing myself to honestly answering the following "What if" questions.

What if:

1. We consistently made concerted efforts to approach new situations openly, receptive to perceiving qualities that are consistent with future success?

2. We identified such qualities in each child we encounter, keeping the option for success open, daily?

3. We approached every new situation with a learner mindset, expecting and demanding the best of ourselves and those around us?

4. We shifted our thinking, our conversations, and our perspectives?

5. We started viewing ourselves as "leaders creating leaders"?

And...consider the alternative. 

What could happen if we didn't?

Making Connections

As “Connected Educator Month” draws to a close,  I’m thankful for friends and colleagues with whom I’ve connected, at school, through Twitter chats, Google Hangouts, Voxer conversations, webinars, and face-to-face, in professional conferences and workshops. These experiences have continuously nourished my hunger for professional growth and have provided a sense of indescribable camaraderie. In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined this was possible, and I continue to become a better learner and a better leader, through the generosity of other connected educators.

But if I had to choose one event that has defined my "connectedness" this month, I’d have it say it occurred over a four-day stint that was spent…in “the Valley”. More specifically, Frost Valley YMCA, in the heart of the Catskills Mountains, in upstate New York.

------------------------------------------------------------------

My relationship with my daughter has always been fulfilling. She’s an “old soul”; selfless, unassuming, coachable, and diligent. I can say with great humility, that if I’ve gotten one thing right in my life, the kind of person she’s becoming tells me she’s evidence of that.

Then she turned 13.

We all hear the "horror stories" of what happens when children become teenagers. They become moody. They stop talking to you. They become introverted and isolate themselves. This fear of losing this special father-daughter relationship was something I dreaded. With each passing day in middle school, I awaited that fateful day, when she’d cease communicating with me, only to resume normalcy sometime in her 20's (as legend would have it).

And then along came her school’s 8th grade class trip. I was chosen to accompany her and her classmates, as a chaperone. And she wanted me to go.

Was I dreaming?

“The Frost Valley Trip” is one that has received local status, as the trip of all trips. Central to the experience are elements of adventure, environmental education, nature, and fun. The tasks on this trip are known to test one's ability to work as a team member, to persevere through unfamiliar and complex challenges, and perhaps most challenging, to abandon the comforts of home. No home-cooked meals, no warm bed, no family time. No use of technological devices.

That's right - no modern technology - for four straight days.

No cell phone. No tablet. No lap top. No desktop. No television. No. Technology.

This was perplexing, troubling, and borderline unfathomable. While “kids today” use technology as a tool for communication, socialization, and learning, I’ve recently started to question how I might “get by” without a device in-hand. I rely on an iPhone that functions as a watch, calendar, and camera. I use it to send and receive email, to tweet, as well as the more tradition application of placing and receive calls. And if I ever have a question about anything I’ve ever wondered, all I have to do is “ask” my device. The iPad has become something that can also do these things, as well as serve as a tool for teacher observations. The more sedentary option, the desktop, is where countless hours are spent, running and reading reports, drafting presentations, and researching and compiling a collection of best practices.

You call this, “Connected Educator Month”?

------------------------------------------------------------------

As our bus climbed, weaved, and traversed the unfamiliar Catskills Mountains, our service connection dwindled, dissipated, and then altogether vanished. We were left with an unfamiliar feeling of being dis-connected. After collecting our bags, marching uphill to our cabins, and unpacking, we were ready for our four day (tech-free) challenge.

Upon arrival to the site, we were divided into pre-assigned groups of children and adults. Every day, we got messy. We took arduous hikes and participated in a series of strategic teambuilding activities. We picked apples and made cider. We gathered in a circle around a fire pit and shared a read-aloud about how apples of varying colors, shapes, and sizes, when mixed together into a cider, blend well. We studied pond-life, canoed, toured a local historical mansion and estate, and accepted a physical challenge to climb a rock wall with one of three levels of difficulty.  And we reunited three times a day to break bread (where I officially and informally was able to check in with my daughter). Nightly, over 200 students, chaperones, and staff returned to cabins for a good night’s sleep only to start over the following day.

So what does any of this have to do with being connected?

For most of my adult life, I’ve allowed my professional pathway to define my personal identity – as an administrator and a teacher. These labels have been and continue to be a source of pride for me. I am an educator, a leader, and a learner. And I am proud of it.

However, this month, on this trip, I found myself, quite unexpectedly, re-connecting with old familiar labels - dad, teacher, student, (inner) child. It happened quite unintentionally, and it never felt so good.

As the parent of an adolescent, I came to realize the vulnerability and uncertainty that comes with the role of both parent and child. I negotiated “the dance”, resisting the urge to remain by her side and allow her the space to call on me for support, if she needed it. (She did greet me each morning with a “Good morning” and a fleeting peck on the cheek.) There alongside other parents (and more specifically, other dads), we openly expressed our gratitude for being granted time away from work - to unconditionally love each of our kids there with us. As a former classroom teacher, I marveled at the boundless energy and enthusiasm exhibited by the teachers who organized and facilitated the learning activities, which made for an amazingly positive experience for the students. As a building administrator, I was impressed, with the real-time leadership of the Principal and his staff, anticipating and responding to issues as they arose, upholding the non-negotiable to treat each child as if he/she was their own. And as a “child at heart”, I appreciated hiking in the rain, playing in the dirt, climbing, running, and laughing…like a child. And I rooted for each child, as he or she pushed him/herself past their comfort zone, which, ironically, is how I’ve spent my past 18 years in education, and 13 years as a parent.

None of this would have been possible, if not for my generous Superintendent of Schools and an amazing daughter who asked me to accompany her on this trip, despite her adolescence.

So, how was this month connected, for me? I connected, with my daughter, with others with whom I could empathize, and I connected, with myself.

And I did it all, without my iPad or iPhone.

Who Did You Help This Year?

A trusted friend, who works outside of education, once asked me, "Who did you help this year?"

It came during a casual discussion among a group of close friends, in the hours following the end of another school year. Instantaneously, my mind wandered to faces – of students, families, and staff members with whom I had worked so closely that year, as a Principal and member of our Middle School Team. I was all at once, proud, for those I knew we had helped, and for some, frustrated that it seemed like time was our enemy. Either way, I was reminded of the importance of relentlessly building capacity in myself: to do better, to be better…for others.

Every day, we bear a responsibility to help others, and it’s often the most important part of the positions we hold. But this summer, quite unexpectedly, I personally experienced this. I became the answer to someone’s question, “Who did you help this year?”

Saturday, September 13, 2014 was a day that forever changed education on Long Island. The first-ever #EdcampLI was held at Willets Road School, in Roslyn, New York. It started with a heartwarming welcome, and moved into a spirited live #NYedchat. There was a series of breakout sessions, some high-tech and some low-tech, populated on a blank board, starting at the registration check-in. A spontaneous “lunch and learn” with some of the best and brightest, visionaries in education happened, and the day closed with a final, adrenaline-infused Smack Down, where the day’s reflections were shared and learning, celebrated. Start to finish, the enthusiasm was non-stop. This was a day of collaboration I will not soon forget.

An equally inspiring personal backstory was ignited this summer. For those of us fortunate to play a role in the planning of this groundbreaking event, the memory of that experience still resonates. Why? Because trust was built and friendships, started.

While the event on September 13 brought together passionate learners, master collaborators, and fearless leaders, the process that led up to the actual day was as rewarding. It demonstrated the power of an invitation and the importance of our work in education for others.

The last time I experienced a spontaneous, genuine personal connection of this magnitude?

1997 was first year of teaching, a year I can fondly recall as the time when someone decided I was going to be the answer to his question, “Who did you help this year?”

On the first day I set foot in my new classroom, I was met with a firm handshake, a warm smile, and an invitation into a veteran’s neighboring classroom. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I was given a classroom "tour" - closets, cabinets, and drawers were opened, revealing an abundance of supplies, books, and binders that were organized with meticulous precision. Then, my new neighbor shocked me – he told me to come in and help myself, anytime, to whatever it was I needed. I accepted his offer, and to this day, have a mentor and a dear friend, who I still rely on. Why? Because I was the answer to his question – I was who he decided to help that year.

That year I came to realize our purpose in education: Pay it forward. As a teacher, I intuitively believed this about our work for and with children. As an administrator, I have an expanded appreciation for this way of thinking.

Who will you help today?

Maybe it's a student, struggling to open his locker. Maybe it's a colleague, challenged in finding the right words to build or mend a relationship with a parent. Or maybe it’s a parent, trying to “solve” their communication breakdown with a troubled adolescent, their child. Each presents us with opportunities…to help others.

What are the commitments of someone who makes an investment in helping others?

1. Be a good listener. Have an acute perception for “reading” what people need: Do they need to vent, talking without interruption? Do they need to process their ability to make a decision that is right by their students? Do they need to know they’re not alone? Do they need to laugh? Become skilled at perceiving a situation, and accommodating the needs of others.

2. Invest in people and build their potential. If you have something that “works”, share it. If you see someone pursuing a special skill or passion, support it. Anticipate and build on strengths. Grow others in areas where they should be challenged to do better.

3. Invite someone to learn with you in “real-time”. Understand that, despite the risks involved, this is a place where trust is built. Learning is often messy. Sometimes, the most authentic learning happens when chances are taken and adjustments made, as the learning occurs.

4. Share what makes you, you. Transparency is a rare and special quality, because it opens us up and makes us vulnerable: to judgment, criticism, and to being put “under a microscope” by others. To grow and make progress, we have to be less concerned with being critiqued and more concerned with making decisions that represent our beliefs about what’s best for children and the programs that are created for them.

5. Place value in improvement. Don’t have a start or stop time to your learning, or the work involved in becoming better at something. Make the cycle of reflection an essential component to the work we do. And keep moving forward.

The list of what makes someone a valued mentor, and friend is never-ending. For me, it begins with selflessness, humility, and finding a place to insert humor, even in the most trying of times. I’ve been the recipient of this good fortune, more than once in my life and career. And I do my best to pay that forward.

To this very moment, the question, "Who will you help this year?" drives me to be the best learning leader I can be, for those around me.

It’s time for you to commit yourself to deciding:

Who will YOU help...today?

Finding Our Element - Part I: Lessons from our Children

Part 1: Lessons from our Children

“Never underestimate the vital importance of finding early in life the work that for you is play. This turns possible underachievers into happy warriors.”

- Sir Ken Robinson

Each August marks a traditional Schug Family vacation. Together, we experience the treasures of the East Coast shoreline, the serenity of reconnecting with one another, and active engagement in our shared passions. This trip, like so many before, featured countless hours of ocean swimming, running, biking, paddle boarding, surfing, and (this year) parasailing. While each of these activities undoubtedly has its own rewards, this year, was different for me, because for the first time, I lived so much of the experience through the perspective of my oldest son, who is approaching his tenth birthday. On this trip, I came to realize how much he regularly and comfortably models three valuable life lessons that each closely correlate with learning and with leadership:

1.   Think less, feel more. When swimming or paddle boarding, sometimes the more you think, the more difficult it becomes and the less it is enjoyed. Apply this line of thinking to the work we do in schools. While so much of our role requires critical analysis, if we gave ourselves the freedom to be flexible and trust our instincts when working with children, families, and staff what impact might this have?

2.   Find solace in the thought that we are never really alone. Parasailing 500 feet above the Atlantic Ocean alongside my son reminded me of the importance of finding stillness in sharing the beauty of “a moment”. Giving someone our time and our full, undivided attention can make a bigger difference than we realize. When was the last time we did this for someone, and at a time they needed it?

3.   Operate in the present. Watching my kids surfing the ocean waves reminded me of the line from the end of the Jack Johnson song, “Breakdown”: “One of the big lessons you learn about surfing is how to operate in the present.” The rhythm of a rolling tide, the concentration and determination on children’s faces, and the joy of personal success are all moments we have the potential to witness regularly, should we allow ourselves the chance to do so. Do we know where to find these moments and do we invest enough time in celebrating them?   

I’m proud to say that my son is one of my role models. He’s someone who is unafraid to embrace discovering his “element”, every day. He challenges himself, personally, and is accountable, first, to himself. And he thrives in his quest to learn new things. I’ve been fortunate to have many great teachers in my life; however, it’s a privilege to say that he’s the best one I’ve had so far. And he inspires me to push myself to be fearless, in both my personal and professional life.

To be continued...

5 People

 “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

- Jim Rohn

July, 2014 marks the start of my 18th year as an educator. Despite being older, a bit wiser, and somewhat grayer, in some ways, I see myself as being “18 again”.

My focus this summer has been on personal/professional reflection. I’ve been deeply contemplating lessons I’ve learned, as I approach my second decade in education. And I’ve wondered, given the chance to offer som
e advice to my former 18 year-old self, what wisdom could I share? While there's so much I'd want to say, I think I'd begin with five rules. In particular, I'd speak about those I attempt to live by daily, all of which I've learned as a result of the impact made by five influential people in my life.

HAVE INTEGRITY

“It’s nice…to be nice."

This is a pearl of wisdom that I heard my maternal grandfather say repeatedly during my upbringing. “Bumpa” was my original best friend, and we were inseparable. A member of “the Greatest Generation”, he was a Veteran of World War II, was married for nearly 50 years to his bride (my “Granny”), and was a proud father of six children. From as far back as I could remember, I’d sit next to him at the kitchen table and just listen in awe at the simple and honest truths he would share. And while he passed on 18 years ago (during my first year of teaching), if I close my eyes, I can still see his hands and hear his voice. His words about the simple importance of being nice meant something, because he didn’t just say these words, he lived them. And while my 18th year on earth was not always marked with consistent “niceness”, today I make every attempt to keep this idea front and center, with every human interaction that I have.

BE COMPASSIONATE

“It all comes down to hand-holding.”

Dr. Fred Epstein was a world-renowned pediatric neurosurgeon and was someone who became a dear friend to me. He changed my life, and for the better. I was a sickly child, often hospital-bound (but that’s another story for another time) and he was there for me and - even more - for my parents, when he was needed most. And while I am thankful for his dexterity with a scalpel, it was his bedside manner and his ability and willingness to patiently reassure my parents for which I am eternally grateful. See, it wasn’t about how skilled a surgeon he was, but it was his ability to relate, connect, and really listen to people and empathize with their concerns. His steady hands saved lives. His hand-holding warmed hearts.    

BE SELFLESS

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

Margaret Mead was a 20th Century cultural anthropologist, and someone with strong convictions who was not afraid to defend her beliefs. She traveled the world, in a constant quest to understand groups of people and how individuals interacted with one another, within groups. Her work in Samoa, New Guinea, and throughout the Pacific is a lesson to 18 year-olds and school leaders alike: We must seek first to understand, then to be understood, making no assumptions. If we commit ourselves to a cause, share our passion with others, harness our collective energy, and never quit, individuals as well as groups of people will benefit.

BE APPRECIATIVE

“True happiness comes from the things that cannot be taken away from you.”

John Wooden, who coached UCLA Basketball teams to ten National Championships, embodied countless qualities of a consummate leader. Beyond his status as a coach, however, was the value he placed in being a voracious reader and to his players, he was a teacher before all else, focusing on fundamentals for basketball and for life. While he could have very well let his winning ways feed his ego, Wooden remained humble and focused on his team and each of his players, throughout his years of coaching. Even after retirement and his death, his brilliance has withstood the test of time, and serves to remind us of the importance of being grateful for our circumstances.

HONOR YOUR LEGACY

“Treasure your legacy. Appreciate what’s been given to you. Give as much to someone else.”

This is a quote I shared at our Opening Day Staff Meeting in my first year as a middle school principal in 2010. Vince Lombardi, one of the greatest coaches in any sport led the Green Bay Packers to five Super Bowl Championships. He was a teacher and a coach who believed in the power of motivating and inspiring his players and his teams to excellence. And while he is credited with countless words of wisdom, it was actually his son, Vince Lombardi Jr., (ironically, his legacy) who is credited for saying the above quote. The work we do is about paying it forward, and understanding our impact is not necessarily immediate. But every day, we carve out another path of our impact that will last long after we are gone. It is that which happens after we are gone that is truly a measure of what we’ve set out to accomplish.

These are five people whose words or impact I think about almost daily. They’ve reminded me to never take for granted opportunities afforded to us, but rather, cherish who we are, where we come from, and understand the potential for our impact on others, with our decisions, our words, and our actions.

So, now think about other circles we all travel in: in our personal, professional and even in our digital communities (which seem to fall somewhere in between). I would love to invest my time with the five people who I’ve mentioned above, or at least, share a meal with them to harness and soak up their wisdom, but what about you?

If you had this chance, consider:

·         What advice would you offer to your “former” self?

·         If you could take any five people to dinner who would you take?

·         Who are the five people who you'd like to have make up your “average”?

Thank you for reading and for joining me in my pursuit of Learning Leadership…