Tag Archives: metaphor

Responses to change

I’ve been working on rehabilitating a couple injuries. One is a shoulder injury that I’m not sure how I injured it? This has been frustrating because it seems to come back every time I go beyond what I’ve already done. The other is my knee, that I broke in February. It has responded really well to me pushing it, but still reminds me every now and then that it’s not 100% (although these reminders don’t set me back).

My shoulder doesn’t respond to doing something new very well, my knee accepts new challenges and seems to be able to withstand new feats of strength even when I’m panting from the effort.

I don’t benefit from pushing my shoulder hard, but I also can’t stagnate and not give it small pushes. I don’t benefit from being reckless with my knee, but it won’t get stronger if I don’t thoughtfully push and push hard when I do.

I think sometimes we push a group to all change in the same way at the same time. We add something new: a new system, a new approach, a new process, and we expect everyone to respond similarly. But some people are like my shoulder, some like my knee. We need to support the changes we want in such a way that we don’t expect the same responses and results from everyone, and realize that some people are ready to be pushed hard, and others need to go slow.

I think this is one of the biggest challenges that any leader faces when implementing change. No matter how ready the team is, not everyone is equipped to change at the same speed. And the ones that are most resistant or least equipped to change aren’t effective if they aren’t supported in a way that meets them where they are at, or if they are pushed beyond capabilities.

My shoulder has reminded me of this frequently, and comparing it to the progress of my knee doesn’t make my shoulder any more ready to take on the next challenge.

Make your world small

I love the advice from Kevin Cameron to #MakeYourWorldSmall. This summer I got way too involved in following world news, and pandemic numbers, and popular events on social media… most of which were two things:

1. Negative in nature.

2. Beyond my control to have any influence.

This is a time to look inward. To focus on my small community and the things I can influence. I can make a difference at work and with my family… and with myself!

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed right now. It’s easy to feel powerless. However we can make our worlds smaller and empower ourselves with energy currently being expended on things beyond our small sphere of influence.

It’s time to expend my daily mental and emotional energy in places where I’m empowered to make a difference.

Fair weather leadership

We’ve all seen movies where the captain of a boat or a sheriff in a town (who aren’t the stars of the movies) appear to be doing a good job, and everything is going smoothly. Then the crisis hits, the boat starts to sink or the bad guys ride into town, and suddenly chaos ensues. The captain abandons the ship before the passengers and the sheriff either cowers or puts his life on the line recklessly leaving the town at the mercy of the bad guys.

In the movies, the hero emerges or arrives and saves the day. In the real world, these good in fair weather leaders create chaos and upset, and undermine the productivity and well being of their team, and possibly other teams around them. There isn’t always a hero standing by to help.

It’s often difficult or impossible to foresee a crisis. In the case of a sinking boat, there are drills that can be run, but they aren’t ever run when the boat is bouncing up and down in a storm. Some things can be planned for, but others come out of nowhere… like an iceberg in the fog. When a surprise comes along, that’s actually when leadership matters. That’s when lines of communication matter. That’s when people management becomes a priority. Who can help lead? Who needs direct instruction? What can be delegated rather than added to an impossible to-do list. And who can be asked for help?

It’s when a crisis hits that a leader needs to get the most out of their team. Often we think of crisis situations as making a leader great, but my thoughts align more with this quote:

“Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards; they simply unveil them to our eyes. Silently and imperceptibly, as we wake or sleep, we grow strong or weak; and at last some crisis shows what we have become.” ~ Brooke Foss Westcott

Good leadership during the fair weather, before the storm, is preparation for when the storm hits… even if that leadership isn’t recognized as anything special. Not leading well, not pushing the team, when things are calm, may not harm the team during that calm, but it prepares no one for when things get rough.

Leading well in fair weather doesn’t bring much accolades, and may not bring recognition, but it is preparation for good leadership when leadership really matters.

Lessons from nature

Took a bike ride today on a trail near Squamish and passed this massive rock that sheered of an adjacent rock face. Three trees have grown around it, adapting to the shape of the rock. It almost looks like they are there supporting the rock from falling over, like massive pillars burdened by the weight of the rock.

That’s not the case. The rock was probably there long before the trees, and they have grown around the stationary rock. They adapted to the presence of the rock.

In the coming weeks, schools will need to make some major adaptations to the structures put in place due to Covid-19. Some of these changes will be challenging. Unlike the giant, unmovable rock, the parameters of the response will be fluid and changing. Similar to the rock, what we are going to be facing will be long-lasting. This school year will be one where outbreaks determine responses and communities will be impacted.

Covid-19 will be the immovable rock, and we will need to respond organically.

A forgotten dream

Last week I visited my uncle and he reminded me of a dream that I shared with him, 27 years ago, before my move from Toronto to Vancouver.

There is a saying: “To the fish water is invisible.” And that is what my dream was about. I grew up in a pre-Google era, but I had something better… I had my dad. It seemed that no matter what question I may ask, my dad had, and still has, a comprehensive answer. My only hesitation to ask him a question was that I needed to be sure I was interested enough to get his extensive and detailed answer.

The dream was that I was in my bedroom next to my dad’s office and everything was under water. It wasn’t scary, I could breathe. I knew the water was there but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

What was right in front of me was all of dad’s books that I had never read. 1,000’s of books. My dad has read and given away more books than any 50 people would normally read in their lifetime. From my earliest memories I can remember our house containing numerous bookshelves with books double stacked, one in front of the other, with whole sections having books stacked horizontally, so that 6 or 8 horizontal books could take the place of 4 or 5 vertical books.

And I read almost none of them.

The dream was a dream of lost opportunity. Of being blind to the ocean of information that sat before me metaphorically unseen, and literally unread.

I didn’t enjoy reading until I was in my 30’s. I slowed down again after that, getting too busy, until recently in my 50’s when I discovered that I could listen to audio books while exercising, and walking, and waiting in lineups, and commuting in my car.

We often don’t see the opportunities right in front of us. We often take things, and people, for granted because they are right there.

About 8 or 9 years after I moved to B.C., my librarian at the school I was teaching at did an exchange with a teacher from Australia. That teacher and her retired husband went away almost every weekend during the exchange. In a single year they had visited more of B.C. than I had in almost a decade. In fact, more than I have in over a quarter century of living here now.

We are fish, blind to the water we swim in. Sometimes it’s worth stopping and paying attention to what is right in front of us.

Not so open book

It’s interesting to see how much of themselves people are willing to share online. Intimate family moments like the moment parents ask a foster child if they would like to be adopted. Moments of despair, hoping for human connection. ‘Angry Karen’ moments, though admittedly these are seldom shared by the targeted ‘Karen’. Requests for prayer for an unwell relative. Wedding proposals, break-ups, bedroom/bathroom humour, and embarrassing situations that are personal, and confidential, until posted online.

I’ve never been one to keep a consistent journal, but here I am approaching a year of journaling on my Daily-Ink, and I’ve come to realize that I keep some things intentionally out of this reflective space. Not just things I can not share:

“Many challenges in schools can be summarized as: a) Someone was treated unfairly; b) Someone felt that they were treated unfairly; c) A decision that affects more than one person was deemed unfair. Put another way: actions, perceptions, and circumstances in relation to fairness are imbalanced. The moment I dissect one of these scenarios on my blog, I have the potential to undermine any resolution that may have come out of it. I would be unfair and disrespectful to some of the people involved.”

…not just these things that affect the lives of others, but things that directly affect my personal life. It’s not that I’m harbouring some big secrets, it’s just that I choose to keeps certain personal things personal.

This makes writing hard sometimes, because the things that are weighing heavy on my mind are not things I want to write about… but normally this is where my inspiration comes from. So, I sit looking at my blank screen, wondering what I’m going to write about, and deliberately choosing not to write what comes to mind.

Still, I prefer this to being a completely open book. I think some things are best kept to myself, or in my family… definitely not to be archived in a blog post, or for others, shared in a viral video. In my opinion too many people over share, without thought, simply because they can. I share a lot, but a few pages won’t ever be open, at least not here.

Shifting winds

Most school years are like prevailing winds. You know which way you are sailing and you adjust your course a little and keep going.

This year, and especially these past 4 months, have created shifting winds that keep altering the direction we are going, outside of our control.

If you’ve ever watched a sailing race, the most important aspects of a boat being successful are leadership and teamwork. That doesn’t just mean working together when everyone agrees with the captain. In fact, the test of a true team is how well they work together when there is disagreement.

In the coming months there will be some metaphorical rough seas, and blustery winds. To sail through safely we will need good leadership and great teamwork.

In our Province, we have leadership worth following and listening to. It is sad to see a team crumble under good leadership.

In other jurisdictions people are not as lucky. It is equally sad to see a team crumble because of poor leadership.

What we have to remember is that we are all in the same boat. How well will we sail through this rough patch? Calmer winds and seas will come eventually, until then the shifting winds are testing our resolve to work together.

The garden

7 years ago we had a community day at Inquiry Hub Secondary when 3 students organized the construction of our school garden. It was a wonderful day filled with food, family, and community support. But mostly it was about students showing pride in their school. Everything was organized by the students and the event was a complete success.


I’ve been thinking a lot about how empty the school feels these days. Students are working from home, and our garden is empty when this is the time it is usually thriving. It made me think about how some students thrive while others don’t.

Joe Truss asked in a Tweet:

The achievement gap is really the gap between ______ and _______.

And I responded:

…between
those that easily thrive
and
those that need to survive.

This has made me think about the inequality of what students deal with, in a metaphorical sense of a garden.

Some students are given every opportunity to grow… they are raised in a home like a garden filled with fertilizer, and they are given all the nutrients to not only sustain themselves, but to thrive.

Some students have a patch of dirt rather than a garden, and the elements support them sometimes, and sometimes the conditions are harsh.

Some students have parents and teachers who are good gardeners that know how to foster health and growth.

Some students have parents and teachers who are frustrated by their lack of growth and unaware as to how to foster healthy development.

Some students grow like weeds, regardless of the conditions and environment.

Many other students depend on those conditions, and can strive or just survive depending on how they are nurtured.

Schools aren’t perfect, but we can do a lot at schools to help give every student an opportunity to grow. We can be the wards of the community garden sustaining every child, and doing what we can to help them thrive.

Students are learning from home, but are schools still nurturing our students in the same way? Are we just giving them sustenance, or are we fostering opportunities to blossom?

Finding my sea legs

I remember a trip to the Cayman Islands with my dad. We were on the small island of Cayman Brac and we hired a boat to take us to see a shoreline that my dad wanted to explore. The boat wasn’t very big, under 25 feet long, and not designed for anything more than a day trip. The captain was a short, old man with a weathered, leathery face that made him look over 100 years old. He was letting me troll for marlin while we travelled. The waves were choppy, the boat bounced and swayed, and I had to keep my eyes on the horizon to keep from getting sea sick.

At one point I caught a barracuda and after I reeled it up to the boat, I couldn’t get it over the edge of the boat without standing up from my chair. The movement of the boat set me on my ass before I could take two steps towards the stern. The old sea captain put my dad’s hand on the steering wheel and pointed forward. He then walked to me, as sure-footed as if he were a young athlete on a flat track, picked me off the deck and helped me back into the seat. He then took my rod, walked back to the stern and got the fish into the boat. All the while, the boat bounced in the rough seas and this captain casually made tiny little shuffle-step movements with his feet, keeping himself perfectly balanced. This ancient-looking man had sea legs, he was as comfortable with the motion of the sea under his feet as we are on land.

This is my twenty second year as an educator and for the first time in years I feel like I’ve lost my ‘sea legs’. I’m struggling to find my balance. I’ve struggled with work load, and time management, and work-life balance before – I think all committed educators do – but this is different.

I recently discussed with Dave Sands that, “All screen time is not created equal,” but this is where I’m losing my balance. Beyond a daily walk, I’m spending every moment of my time in my school office or at home. During this time, I’m spending a fair bit more time online. When I’m at work, there is a constant flow of video conferences that interrupt any sense of work flow for my other tasks, and so days are very busy, but don’t always feel productive.

My online time at home flows from distraction, to entertainment, to work, to creating and writing, to news, back to work, and then back to news or distraction, with a daily workout thrown in. Recently, I’ve missed workouts, I’ve missed my daily meditation (3 times this month), I’ve spent more time writing (without writing much more than I usually do), and my focus seems scattered.

I need to rework my daily routine during this pandemic. It feels difficult because there is a constant flow of information that keeps shifting what things look like at work. There is also ever-changing news about how our social distancing expectations will change going forward. Metaphorically, the waves keep churning, and I’m struggling to keep my balance on the boat. I don’t have my sea legs. I’m going to rethink and reintroduce some of my routines that have worked for me before, and see if I can steady myself a bit.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint

After today, I’m going to take at least a few days off from posting about school, remote learning, social distancing, and Covid-19. I need to take a break from writing about these things daily, but will admit it’s hard when that’s mostly what’s on my mind. The reality is that these things aren’t going away any time soon. We are in this for a while.

Despite that, the last two weeks have felt like an all-out sprint. There are so many things that need to get done and the days have disappeared into busy blurs of activity and exhaustion.

This can’t be sustained over the marathon we have in front of us. We. Need. To. Slow. Down. This four-day weekend couldn’t have come at a better time.

No, I won’t be taking all four days completely off. But I will let go of work for a couple days. I will continue to exercise and take care of myself. I might be a little lax on my good eating habits. I will sit in front of the television. I will read. I will get outside.

Most importantly, I’ll remind myself that there are more than two and a half months of school left… If I’m going to be my best, it will be because I remember that I’m needing to be my best over a marathon of time, and not just for a short sprint.