Writing is my artistic expression. My keyboard is my brush. Words are my medium. My blog is my canvas. And committing to writing daily makes me feel like an artist.
My mom and sister flew in a couple days ago. Today my nephew joined us and 7 of us went out for sushi… a small group but it brought back memories. I forget sometimes how crazy my childhood was. We’d go over to my grandparents house for a typical dinner and there would be 25+ family members there. A family picnic was a convoy. A surprise birthday party would be 60+ people.
I wish my kids spent more of their childhood surrounded by cousins and in the chaos of always being around them and their aunts and uncles, like me and my sisters had. It was such an amazing way to be brought up. I was blessed to have such an amazing extended family experience growing up!
It’s 6:17 and I just got off of a Stair Master. When I am at a gym with cardio equipment I don’t have at home, I like to use it. I was contemplating heading out to the beach to see the sunrise at 6:21, but it would be a rush to get to a good viewpoint from here just in time.
Then in my head I saw the sunrise I took a picture of yesterday. Then I saw an image of the sunset I took the day before. Beautiful. Serene. Majestic.
Running from here to capture the moment today would not have been the same. It would have felt like an effort, and the moment would have been more about documenting that I saw it again, rather than appreciating it.
Tomorrow I’ll plan to be at the water, coffee in hand. I will not lift my camera as I have on previous mornings, instead I’ll just enjoy the moment. Un-rushed, appreciative, and listening to the waves crash.
You can rush to an event, but you can’t rush a feeling you are seeking. You can race to a meeting, and be present, but you also have to be aware of your presence.
I missed the sunrise this morning, but if I rushed to see it, it would not have added value to the memories of sunrises I already hold in my mind. There is the idea of watching the sunset, there is the actual viewing of it, and there is the experience it evokes. Today would have been all about the first two… and so I really didn’t miss all that much.
An interesting fact about the stories we tell over and over again is that with each telling we change the memory. Some stories change very little, either because we have told it so often we remember the recent telling of it as if it was just yesterday. Others may change little because the memory induces such strong emotions that we feel like we are re-living the experience as we tell it. But other stories change quite a bit.
You might ask a friend or family member the question, “Do you remember the time when…?” They do, and when they share their version, that version partially becomes your version as well. “Was it me or you that noticed it first?” A simple question, and then your friend responds and their answer becomes yours… whether or not their memory was correct.
I’m always fascinated to hear a shared story told by two different people, each filling in gaps for the other, each taking turns correcting the other. What does one person consider important that the other doesn’t? What subtle contradictions are there? What is a core memory for both?
One memory, two slightly different stories… two truths, and no lies, even when the stories don’t match. That’s the interesting thing about our memories, they tell us the truth we remember, they tell us ‘our’ truth. And the reality is that the very next time we tell the same story, that truth might just change a little bit.
16 years ago, January 28, 2008, I shared a presentation I did in with some SFU student teachers. Here is a clunky version on Slideshare. Here is the post I wrote about it. And here is the video I made out of it for a presentation at BLC 08 in Boston.
Do not go quietly into your classroom!
The video had close to 100,000 views on BlipTV, which died in 2011… like many of the place I shared that you could find me online at the start of the video. A lot of those links are dead now. But this slideshow and video were pivotal in sharing my transformation as an educator who empowered students with technology. I remember the hours I put into timing the slides with the music, and the the relief of finally thinking it was good enough to share.
A day or two before the original presentation to student teachers, I found out I was going to become a Vice Principal. I was inspired to share the things I’d learned and started another blog, “Practic-All – Pragmatic tools and ideas for the classroom.” Where I shared a weekly series called Dave’s Digital Magic. It only lasted for 19 posts, but it was my way to stay plugged into what was going on in classrooms and to have good learning conversations with some of my staff.
So hard to believe this was 16 years ago… And I’m still exploring the Brave New World Wide Web and sharing what I learn along the way.
I got a ‘Happy New Year’ text from a high school friend yesterday. We connected recently and went to a concert, and while we don’t see much of each other, I consider him a good friend. We met in Grade 10. By the end of Grade 12 and all through Grade 13 (a mandatory step before university in Ontario in the 80’s) he and I used fake ID and would go try different beers in pubs downtown. We also went to the occasional concerts together. He’s European and his parents would were quite relaxed about us drinking. They would buy us alcohol for gatherings at his house, and they’d only ever check in with us once a night, just to make sure no one was drinking and driving. Now we both live out west, but he’s on Vancouver Island and I really don’t see him much.
Getting the text today made me reflect on an interesting insight. I have some pretty awesome friends that I don’t see very often. Geography is the main reason, but it’s not the only reason. I’m also not great at reaching out. That said, every connection, every phone conversation, every coffee, every walk, every meal, every social gathering where I connect with these lifelong friends is a treasure.
Like family, lifelong friends can always be relied on, loyal, and loving… without expectation and with full hearts. But they should not be taken for granted. I’ve come to realize that I need to share just how much I value them as people I love, appreciate, and admire. We don’t do enough of this… I don’t do enough of this. It’s much easier to count on someone silently than to outwardly take the time to share how much you value them.
Now I just need to follow through and share my appreciation.
I probably shared this before, but as a 30 year old, new to teaching, I got used to very little sleep. I’d routinely get 5 or less hours sleep for several nights in a row. A friend and colleague who struggled when he had less than 8 hours sleep told me that I was burning my candle at both ends and that I was going to die 10 years younger because of my lack of sleep.
That night, some time after 1am, I sent him an email basically explaining that I’d done the math and if I lived to 70 and he lived to 80, then I would have been awake longer than him.
Now in my mid 50’s I definitely need more sleep. I also notice that I really don’t function as well when I’m tired. However I still struggle to get 6.5-7hrs sleep most nights in a week. My weekly average is probably closer to 6 than 7 hours nightly. And my sleep is a little more interrupted too.
And this is despite the fact that every medical professional I follow and learn from speaks about the value of sleep. I know I don’t get enough of it. I know this isn’t a healthy choice. Yet I’m still up late writing this and I’m going to be up before everyone else in my family tomorrow morning.
I need to rethink this. I need to schedule longer sleep times… and I need to go to sleep now.
I grew up in a small Jewish community in Barbados. It seems like an odd place for Ashkenazi Jews to be located, but there is a Jewish cemetery on the island dating back to the 1400’s.
However we weren’t Jewish, we were Jew-ish. I shared this previously,
And as for being a Jew, I think most Jews would say that I am not Jewish. You see, Judiasim is a matriarchal religion and my Grandmother, my Mother’s Mother, is to this day a Catholic. She was happily married, a role model marriage like few I’ve seen, to my JewishGrandfatheruntil he died.
So my mom grew up with a Christmas tree and told my dad that having a Christmas tree was something she and her kids had to have. My dad, esoteric rather than religious, was fully on board. In my childhood there were a lot of jokes about our Hanukkah bush (Christmas tree), and my dad’s favourite joke, telling the more Jewish members of the family that they could eat the Christmas ham because the pig was circumcised.
No matter how I look at it, Christmas, Hanukkah, Pass-over, and Easter were no more religious than Thanksgiving. They were opportunities for family to gather and to celebrate each other’s company.
So no matter what your faith, or what holiday you celebrate this time of the year, have a wonderful time with family and friends.
Today was a good food prep day. We are hosting my mom as well as my sister and brother-in-law and their kids for dinner tomorrow, and the making of the feast started today. I haven’t cooked a turkey since some time before we moved to China back in 2009, and with the guidance of one of my secretaries, I decided to try a brine.
That’s what I started my day with, then went on to make two family recipes I’ve never done before. First was our baked stuffing, and then my mom’s baked peas & rice. Working side-by-side with my mom, we spent most of the day in the kitchen.
The stuffing is ready for the fridge until tomorrow, and the rice is coming out of the oven before I finish writing this.
There is something special about traditional family recipes that make them a treasure to eat. I remember the first time I had Christmas at a girlfriend and her parent’s house, and being totally disappointed that I didn’t have ‘our’ stuffing, ‘our’ corn pie, and ‘our’ rice (there wasn’t even rice, just mashed potatoes). I was so disappointed!
Since then I’ve lived provinces away from my family for 30 years, and I’ve gotten used to new foods and new traditions. But tomorrow… Tomorrow I get to feast on some family favourites, and maybe even start a new tradition with brined turkey.
Happy holidays and happy feasting! I hope everyone gathering over the holidays will get a little taste of home. 💜
I forgot all about this until a Facebook Memory came up a few days ago.
“My ‘No Office Day’ Post, (December 11th, 2010) was inspired by a busy schedule whereby I promised my staff I’d see more of them and then promptly got stuck in an almost all-day meeting. The following day, I didn’t bring my laptop to school and spent the entire day in classrooms. I chronicled my day by taking some photos on my phone and uploading them to twitter with the hashtag#noofficeday.”
That quote was taken from my ‘International No Office Day’ post, at the end of August 2011. I feel like I wrote these blog posts a full lifetime ago. It’s kind of neat that this one No Office Day that I had in Dalian, China became an international event. It was fun to read blog posts, news clips, and even watch YouTube videos about other principals spending the full day in classrooms and not their office.
I just dug this up with a Google search. Beyond the Open-Door Policy, and I chuckle at the reporting which stated I had only done ‘scheduled walkthroughs’ for nearly a month. I tried to visit every classroom every day, and said that visit could be a simple walkthrough, but I didn’t have a formal schedule. I also remember this day getting a bit of criticism too, but I don’t remember the specifics.
Still the experience I shared was a wonderful event, and I love looking back at the pictures I took in classrooms. The fact that it became an event and was shared by many others makes me smile. I think some day early next year I might hold another one of these days. I might only do a morning because my one school is so small, I can hit all 4 grades in 4 blocks… and my online school doesn’t have classes I can join.
It will be fun to revive this day and spend a bit more time in classes with kids.
