Tag Archives: family

The best they can with what they’ve got.

I’m sure if I go looking, I’d find a similar post I’ve written before, but this idea is worth exploring (again) and it was inspired by Aaron Davis’ comment on yesterday’s Daily Ink.

I don’t remember where I first heard this, but it was decades ago, before I became an educator: “People do the best they can with the resources they have.”

This is such an empowering position to hold when dealing with an upset person. They are trying, they are doing their best, they are hurting and need compassion. This shifts the direction of the conversation, especially when your own buttons are pushed by the person or when they are showing their upset by going on the attack.

If you go into a conversation with an upset person believing they are only there to attack you, that leaves you only with a choice of being defensive or going on the attack yourself. If you go into the same conversation thinking this person is upset and doing the best they can, suddenly you can shift to helping them, even when their strategy isn’t ideal.

This isn’t always easy. Here is an example from a while back at another school: Student does something very inappropriate. Parents are invited in. Parent has heard the student’s ‘creative’ perspective on how they are not at fault. Parent comes in with metaphorical ‘guns-a-blazing’ to defend the kid.

Whether it’s a father or mother that comes in, I call this ‘mama bear’ behavior. Mama bears will do anything to protect their cubs. So, what’s the worst thing that you can do with an angry mama bear? Attack the cub in front of them.

The easy, but unhelpful reaction to hearing a parent defend a kid, who has fabricated a story to the parent about the innocence of their behaviour, is to call the kid out. The harder thing to do is to remember that the kid is scared and doing the best they can, and the parent is angry and doing the best they can. A counterpoint at this juncture can easily lead to an unhealthy argument. So, a softer approach is better.

It’s a matter of remembering that we want the same thing… to take care of a student who has in our eyes done wrong and in the parents eyes has been wronged. And so that parent is doing the best they can with the knowledge and resources they have.

This doesn’t mean that you let the kid off. It does mean that you can take an approach that is more aikido than karate, more deflective and less of a direct attack.

Without going into specifics, I talk about how more than one kid was involved in the situation. I talk about how intentions aren’t always known and that two people can see the same situation in different ways. I ask the parent to remember that the other kid has a parent too, and might ask what they would think of the situation if they were the parent of the other child (this is delicate and not something to do early on, only when the parent is less angry than when they came in to defend their cub).

It’s only when the parent can see another perspective that I then discuss their kid, and the approach is that ‘we both want the same thing’. Without saying it bluntly, the approach is asking ‘Do you want your kid acting this way?’ or more subtly, ‘Do you want your kid being perceived they way they are being perceived?’

In essence, it’s about giving the parent more information and resources than they arrived with, to deal with the situation better than an angry mama bear has defending a cub from danger. It’s about saying, ‘Your kid made a bad choice’, and separating their behaviour from their identity and the parent’s identity too. And then it’s about helping both of them get the strategies and resources they need to make the situation better.

It’s not easy. But when a mama bear sees that you want what’s best for their kid… and that’s really what you want even though the kid made a really bad choice… then the outcome becomes what you intended it to be. That same mama bear parent has, at times, even wanted to go harder on their kid than I do. If it comes to this point, they are still operating under the same pretence, they are doing the best they can with what they’ve got.

Time with friends

We are camping with friends.

Weather doesn’t matter. It has been raining for 2 days. So what!

Time with family and friends is wonderful. It shouldn’t take a camping trip to come to this realization. Tell your loved ones you love them. Tell your friends how much you value them.

Don’t take the people you value the most for granted.

Goodbyes are tough

No matter how long I visit with family, the goodbyes are hard to do. I don’t know if anyone handles them well?

I’m not one that shows my emotions externally much, and this isn’t because I’m holding anything in… I am introverted and I internalize a lot. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.

It’s so much easier these days to say goodbye, with instant contact available at any time, but there is something special about giving your parents a hug. Sitting with them. Laughing with them.

Every opportunity is a treasure.

Appreciating your family

Sometimes it’s easy to take advantage of the people that are closest to you; to leverage the fact that they are just ‘always there’. The very people that would do anything for you in a time of need are the same ones who you expect to be there without showing any gratitude.

Sometimes it is easy to get frustrated by your family; to roll your eyes and think ‘here we go again’, rather than seeing things from their perspective. The very people that most appreciate you for who you are do not always get treated as nicely as a stranger would be treated.

Sometimes it is easy to be triggered by your family; to be immediately upset by something they say or do, something that you would tolerate far more by someone unrelated.

There is the saying, ‘familiarity breeds contempt’, think of the first word in the phrase: familiarity. It is the family, that you are in close association with, that you know best, that can lead to a loss of respect, or lead to disrespect, from close awareness of faults or repeated behaviours that you don’t like.

It only takes an absence of these people in your lives, through time, geography, or death, to help you recognize that your familiarity also breeds love, compassion, and appreciation for those that love you, and that you love. Familiarity breeds love. Familiarity breeds compassion. Familiarity breeds appreciation. Or at least is should.

Who in your family can you show gratitude for today? What’s stopping you?

Rest and relaxation

It has been a week of being on hyper alert. The Coronavirus, Covid-19, has spread globally, and the news virus has been equally as aggressive. I haven’t payed this much attention to the news in over a decade. So with this being day 1 of my 2-week March break, I gave myself a short time limit to read the news this morning and now I’m going into rest and relaxation mode.

I’m going to stop listening to my current audio book and pick a good fiction to listen to. I’m going to enjoy a walk with my family. I’m going to binge a bit on Netflix. I’m going to take an afternoon nap.

Tomorrow I’ll check in on the world again.

A lesson taught with dignity and respect

My grandfather, Leon Bernstein or ‘Papa B’ as he was known, was an amazing man. As I shared at his funeral:

Papa B. is a Giant!

Like many of you, I know this because he told me so.
Papa wasn’t boasting when he said this, he was just telling you the way it is. If you were to measure a man by the legacy he leaves behind Papa would come as big as they get. In this way he is still a giant and always will be.

Here is a lesson that he taught me, wrapped inside of another lesson. It speaks to his character, and to the kind of person I want to be, that I strive to be. It’s a lesson he taught me when I was about 14 years old.

It happened at a family gathering at our house, it was the weekend and both sets of grandparents and a few aunts and uncles were over. It wasn’t a special occasion, our family often connected without a specific reason. I specifically know that it wasn’t a special occasion because I went for a bike ride with a couple friends, and if it was a special occasion, like a birthday, I would have had to stay at the celebration.

When I finished my ride, just before dinner, I came home and I remember that I was going very fast. I reached my driveway and I didn’t slow down. I made the sharp turn on my neighbour’s shared driveway and kept my speed up as I headed to the garage. But at the speed I was going I couldn’t make the turn and I hit Papa B’s car. My handlebar scraped across the car door leaving a scratch longer than a ruler, over 12 inches or 30cm. Then I fell to the pavement and scraped me knee.

It wasn’t a bad scape but standing up I looked at the scrape on me knee and then the large scratch on my grandfather’s car and I started to cry. I went into the house crying and I told my story of riding up the driveway and hitting the car. I didn’t admit to going too fast.

A few adults came outside to look at the car. I still had tears in my eyes as we looked at the large scratch on the front passenger car door. There was a remark about how big it was and the tears flowed. My grandfather spoke up, “It’s all right boy, the important thing is you weren’t hurt. Your knee will heal and the scratch can be fixed. All good.”

And with that we all went inside, me hobbling with exaggeration behind everyone that came outside. I got a bandaid from my mom, and the scratch on the car wasn’t mentioned again that night. I had convinced myself when I scraped the car that I was going to get in big trouble, but my grandfather said it wasn’t important, what was important was that I was ok. It was ‘All good’.

A couple days later Papa B came over and he asked me to come outside. He took me by the hand, something only he could do to a 14 year old in a way that felt natural. Holding hands was something Papa B did with all his grandkids. We walked to the passenger side of the car and he pointed. “See that,” he said pointing to the scratch I had made. “The scratch is horizontal. You were going too fast. If you were going a safe speed, the scratch would have pointed down as the bike fell, but you turned too fast and this scratch tells me so. It’s ok, I know it was a mistake, but I wanted you to know that I know you were going too fast.”

That was it. We went inside and it was never mentioned again.

This has shaped the way I have spoken as a teacher to students in my class, and now as a principal to students in my office. Papa knew all along, but he didn’t want to share this in front of an audience. He waited and taught me a lesson with dignity and respect. It’s easy to be angry and heated and forget to be like this.

That isn’t to say that I always choose to deal with things this way. And sometimes it’s good for students to see you upset, or disappointed with some emotion. But my default is to strive to be like Papa B. To choose a moment that isn’t public. To be gentle and respectful, but also to face the issue rather than let it pass.

Students make mistakes. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. When I remember this story, I remember that how we react to a mistake can be as much of a lesson as the lesson the mistake has to offer. Others deserve the same respect that my Papa B gave to me.

Advice to a younger me

My youngest daughter turns 18 today. She graduates high school in June.

I’m writing this in the same living room my wife and I sat in before taking her to the hospital for my daughters delivery. The same living where that happened for my older daughter who is now 20. The furniture has changed, our cars have changed, my hairline has changed. Our kids have grown up. I feel relatively the same.

Sure my aches and pains take longer to heal. I have memories that have faded. I see lines in my face that were not there before. I seem to have lost certain memories. But I feel the same. I feel like less time has passed. I feel like two decades have raced by.

Have you ever wondered, if you could go back in time and tell yourself something, what would you say? What would you say to the younger version of you?

I’d say, “Commit both time and attention to things at the same time.”

That’s all. I wouldn’t want to say anything else other than ‘be more present’. Of course this is advice I could and should take now. After all, if the last two decades blinked by, that’s a pretty strong suggestion that the next two might go just as quick, or faster.

The land of giants

I remember a comic strip where a son and father in winter coats were in front of a house with big icicles on it.

Frame 1: The boy says, “Wow dad, look at the size of those icicles!”

Frame 2: The dad says, “They were a lot bigger when I was a kid.” And the kid responds, “Come down here”.

Frame 3: The dad is kneeling down, eye level with the kid, and the dad says, “Wow, look at the size of those icicles!”

– – –

It’s not always easy to see things from the same perspective as we did when we were younger. For me, I remember people around me being giants (in more ways than one).

My grandfather, Leon Bernstein or ‘Papa B’, was one of those giants. Last night on Facebook Messenger, I connected with my 2nd cousin Lee, his full name is Leon, named after my grandfather. He is my grandmother’s brother’s son, but Lee is only 4 years older than me. Still, growing up in Barbados as the oldest grandchild on one side and second oldest by 5 days on the other, Lee was so much bigger and older, and I looked up to him when we came to visit.

I feel blessed because when I was a kid, all the giants in my life were good to me. Wonderful parents, grandparents that spoiled me, aunts and uncles who treated my like their own, 2nd cousins who taught me football (soccer) and cricket.

Some people have to grow up with angry giants, and some with monsters, my land of giants were exceptionally loving and kind. I truly feel blessed, and I thank Lee for reminding me of this.

Let the holidays begin

It’s the last day of school before the holiday break and I’m really looking forward to the time off with my family! I’m already eating too much, and so my treadmill run this morning will be longer and slower for a good calorie burn, and I will try to keep up my time-restricted eating to prevent some of the late-night snacking. But I will also indulge a bit too. Last night I was in bed by 8:45pm, I can tell that I need a break.

One thing that I always think about this time of year is how different the holidays are for many of the students in our schools:

  • Some will have holidays that make us envious, while some will stay cooped up at home with ‘nothing’ to do.
  • Some will celebrate the holidays with presents, some will not.
  • Some will eat to their heart’s content, some will eat whatever they can get.
  • Some will feel the love of a complete family, some will feel the loss of a loved one more than any other time of the year.
  • Some are excited about the break, some are dreading it and wish it wasn’t so long.

We sometimes forget that the joy we feel for the holidays is not always felt by everyone. For those of you in schools, pay attention to who might need a bit of your time and attention today. Celebrate the start of holidays by spreading some cheer with some of the kids that need it most.

Also, if you are in the spirit of giving, help Inquiry Hub Student, Andrew, raise money for young teens that will have very little over the holidays. Support Covenant House in Vancouver.

Happy holidays!

Poppy by Roy Henry Vickers (Free)

In Remembrance 2019

Both of my grandfathers are Jewish and they escaped Europe before World War II. One left Poland with his parents, siblings, and his uncle’s family. The rest of the family stayed because they were in the sweater business and didn’t know what they would do in a warm destination in the Caribbean? For some of them, wiped out in the 2nd German invasion of Poland, the answer would have been ‘lived’.

My other grandfather was in the Ukrainian show cavalry, much like the Canadian Royal Mounted Police Musical Riders, but he was too short and would stand on his stirrups during inspections. One day a guest inspector had them dismount and he did not pass the inspection, so he was going to be sent to the regular army. He bribed a doctor to say he had a medical condition and escaped to Italy, then in an adventure that I’ll share another time, he found his way to British Guyana, where my father was born, then to Barbados where my parents met.

We moved to Toronto when I was 9. As a young teenager, I still knew very little of the war, but my grandparents knew people less lucky than they were, who did not escape Europe. I remember that we were at a party once and many of my grandparents friends were there, including some that still had their tattoos from concentration camps. We were in an apartment party room, with about 50 to 60 people and as was usually the case we had more food than we could possibly eat. When my family cooked for a gathering, at the end of the night it was rare for us to not be dividing up as much food left behind as was eaten! We had an abundance of food that night and so it was shocking for me to hear the following story the next day.

The party was in full swing and it was time for everyone to forgo the snack table and start eating dinner. My aunt was behind one of my grandparent’s friends, who was a holocaust survivor from one of the concentration camps. In front of him was another person in line. The person in front of him added some chicken wings from a platter of wings that was still almost full, and as this person looked for more food he held his plate slightly behind him. My aunt watched the holocaust survivor take some wings off of the person in front’s plate and place them onto his plate in one quick motion. It happened so quickly she had to think about what she actually saw. Then she also saw the almost full platter of wings still on the table, available for all to have.

It was still upsetting for my aunt, even as she retold this story the next day. I still remember the story over 35 years later. What did this holocaust survivor endure that, even in a time of overabundance, he had this urge to steal food from another’s plate? What was he re-living? What other ways did his past haunt him?

When I watch videos of veterans today, and hear stories of those who fought in wars, many say they wake up every day thinking of the friends they lost. When I went to the War Museum in Dieppe, France,  I heard video accounts of a massacre, that bore valuable lessons for the Western Allies before their D-Day attack. And when I visited the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem, Israel, I truly began to understand the horror of man’s inhumanity against man. I wrote a post that reflected on this visit titled ‘Two Wolves‘ that I still re-read and share every Remembrance Day. From that post, I will leave you this quote, followed by the poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ by Canadian World War I doctor, John McCrae:

“There are parts of History we should not forget. After all, World War One was the ‘war to end all wars’… And so I am writing this on Remembrance Day for a reason. Whether it be concentration camps and the Holocaust or Hiroshima and Nagasaki or genocide in Russia, Rwanda, or East Timor… or any tragic historical event worth remembering… we choose to remember so that we do not repeat our mistakes. We must want and hope that things can be better. We must see lessons learned, not resentment and mistrust. The past will repeat itself if we do not see ‘joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith’… faith that tomorrow can be better than today.”

Take time to remember those that served, those that suffered, and those that were lost, so that we can have the freedom and liberties we have today.

—–

In Flanders fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
~ John McCrae, May 3rd, 1915

In Flanders Fields

Thank you to Roy Henry Vickers for sharing his Poppy design, used as the feature image for this post.