Tag Archives: nostalgia

Where it all started

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Facebook reshared a ‘Blast from the past’ post with me, it was a Daily-Ink post titled, ‘I teach leadership not followship’. This title is a quote from friend, and first teaching mentor, Dave Sands. What I enjoyed most about seeing this post again was the Facebook comments on it. Here are 2 from colleagues and one from myself:

Dave MacLean:

l’ve drawn from so many experiences from our days as Lakers. Truly the environment that pushed all of us in such a healthy way. So many strong leaders with such mutual respect for each other. I would be lying if I said there weren’t days where I pang for those days of pedagogical debate and learning. Tha for the trip down memory lane. I was recently at Como for an articulation meeting and our legacies are still present in the culture 15 years later.

 

David Truss:

Dave MacLean I can’t think of a richer learning environment than what we had. I believe that more than 1/3 of the teachers we worked with in the first 5 years at Como Lake became administrators… yet it was always about collaboration not competition, and servant leadership, by staff as well as students.

 

Elaan Bauder Gudlaugson:

Dave MacLean, David Truss

Como Lake was my first experience in education that taught me about how I wanted “school” to be. The staff made all the difference.

 

I’m fortunate to have reunited with Elaan, and we have worked together again at Inquiry Hub for the last 5 years. And she’s right… the staff really does make the difference!

It’s hard not to get a bit nostalgic as I head into retirement. And this is a good thing. To this day my closest friends are still people I connected with in those early years of teaching. We knew we had something special going on. We still see former students in the community who tell us things like, “We could tell you liked each other and that you liked us.” And, “Those were the best years of school for me.”

I entered education with an inspiring group of people who were also amazing educators and leaders. We grew up together as educators and we watched our families and children grow up too. I wish every educator could find a community like this in their early years, because I know I had something special.

There is nothing wrong with being nostalgic when I can frame it as being lucky and blessed to have had the opportunities to learn and grow within the community that I got to. It paved the way to a career I can look back on with love, warmth and fondness.

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Update: Two more posts where I share this perspective.

The last dance

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Today I head to an all day meeting of Provincial Online Learning School (POLS) principals. This is followed by an Executive Meeting of our Principal’s organization and the opening of the Digital Learning Conference which goes until Friday. This marks my last face-to-face meetings with these groups, and my last conference before I retire.

I’ve been involved with online learning since 2011. I’ve been on the executive since 2014. This is a special group of educators, and looking back, I don’t think anyone in this group of principals was around when I started, although at the conference I’ll see many educators who have worked in this field longer than me.

It’s a real special bunch of principals and educators who work in online learning. We are a unique group who have far more in common with each other than we have with educators and leaders in our own districts. Our challenges are common, and our relationships to things like audits and Ministry of Education criteria are lived in a way that typical principals and educators have no idea about.

And so for me this is a bit of a last dance. It’s a farewell to a group of colleagues whom I’ve shared a very special bond with. We’ve faced similar challenges, we’ve fought similar battles, we’ve called each other up for support, and we’ve openly shared to make our practices and our schools better. Upon retiring I’m going to miss this group… but for the next few days, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy their company.

Blogging Reader Revival

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I’m not ready to do it, but maybe someone out in the blogosphere can. Do you know what we need? A revival of Google Reader. Somebody with a paid version of a good AI coder needs to get on this. Build a version of Google reader but with some AI brilliance added in.

3 new features:

1. Have it learn from the reader. Whichever feeds the reader spends more time on gets priority in the feed.

2. AI summaries of the posts. The reader can choose from 3 levels, ranging from a one line summary to a detailed synopsis.

3. An audio reader option.

Make it free for up to 6 feeds, $6 a year for 20 feeds, or $12 a year for unlimited feeds. I’m sick and tired of apps gouging us for yearly fees.

So, who wants it and who’s going to build it?

The year that was

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In the grand scheme of things the end of a year is arbitrary. It does not sit on a solstice, it has no real significance in the dance of the planets around our sun. It’s simply a date on the Gregorian calendar, so named after a Pope almost 450 years ago. And yet the end of a calendar year begs us to do some accounting for the year that has past, and it makes us ponder our accountability for the year to come.

It is a pause in the meter of a timeline we all share. A moment to take note, to reflect, to make sense of what was, and to then align with what we think should come next.

For me there sits a simple, key question to ponder: Was it a good year? The answer is less simple. Did I seize it or waste my year? Did I find more joy than sorrow? What will I cherish, and what do I wish to forget? What did and didn’t I accomplish? Was I present enough? Did I create anything of value? Do I keep going ‘as-is’ or make changes?

These are reflections and perspectives I have control over. But 2025 had moments I could not control. A loved one suffered a scary health incident with a slow, lingering recovery. And I lost a sister both unexpectedly and too soon. Reminders that we are only on this earth a short time and time is ultimately limited. Such reminders simultaneously make me want to leave 2025 behind, and yet leave me wanting to hold onto the past… hold on to an innocence, if not ignorance, of the pain of loss.

But that was the year that was, not the year yet to be. That was 2025, a year with only hours left before the calendar is forever left in the past. A year that I leave with a whimper not a bang. Maybe in the grand scheme of things the end of the year is arbitrary, but for me, I’m happy to leave the year that was behind… A reminder to value and cherish 2026 not only this time next year, but meaningful moment by meaningful moment all year long.

Stories that define us

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I heard a quote, not from the original source, which said young people today are going to be the first generation to die with more memories of other people than memories of themselves.

Social media has become so pervasive and so consumed that people spend more time watching other people do things than doing things themselves. And now it’s getting even more extreme with AI videos becoming a large part of social media, with some videos being obviously artificial, but many more seeming real… I fear that not only are people growing up living the stories of other people, but also living invented stories simply to keep them watching. Sure I can say the same about television. I still have memories of watching Gilligan’s Island, Get Smart, Hogan’s Heroes, Looney Tunes cartoons, and yes, even The Brady Bunch. Television gave us stories long before social media. But there was always a hard ending time for tv shows, or at least until the, ‘Same bat time, same bat channel,’ the next day or next week.

The entertainment stories now are not formatted the same. They aren’t designed to hold your attention for 20 to 22 minutes out of a half hour with commercial breaks. Instead, they are like an unlimited stream of commercial breaks. Quick soundbites to grab your attention. Short bursts of information, excitement, or extravagance. All designed to keep you watching the next clip, and the next, and the next. Soon an afternoon that could have been spent creating your own memories has disappeared and memories of other people (real or invented) sharing their experiences becomes the only thing you have to remember.

What are the stories that are defining us today? How are they different than ones previously shared? Are they making our lives richer, or slowing replacing our lives? At the end of a week, how much of your life are you remembering and how many stories that you share and talk about are actually not your stories at all?

Fun encounters

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Got to see a band of grads from my school perform at an event this evening. A couple weeks back my wife and I took her parents to a coffee shop where we ran into a student we both taught in middle school about 20 years ago.

It’s wonderful seeing former students in our community. In fact, that’s my favourite part of living in the community where I’m an educator.

Seeing students grow up outside of school is a wonderful thing.

Going home

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It doesn’t matter that I’m 57 years old and have lived in a different province for 32 years… visiting mom is ‘coming home’. For the week leading up to my visit I had to keep correcting myself. I’d say, “I’m going home to my parents.” It has been over two years since dad died, but ‘home to parents’ is still my default.

I’m not in the house I grew up in. I’ve only ever slept on a couch here. But I still call visiting mom, ‘home’.

I don’t think that will ever change.

Last day

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It’s the last day of school for teachers. Summer break begins for them at 3pm today. I can’t help but feel a bit sentimental at the end of each school year. It really hit me at our grad on Monday, and now again today.

I feel blessed to work at the schools I do. I feel lucky to work with the staff that I do.

It our district we tend to see administrative shuffles around 5 years, and occasionally a principal might stay in a school for 7-8 years. This is my 12th year with Inquiry Hub and 13th with Coquitlam Open Learning. Although most of those years I was actually vice principal, I have been the lead administrator for 11.5 years. That’s rare.

The fact that I’ve been here, at these two unique schools, for this long has been a blessing. In all honesty, had I been moved, I probably would have resigned by now. It’s really, really hard to go back into a traditional box after spending so long out of the box.

But it’s not just the schools themselves that have me feeling sentimental, it’s also the staff. I’m truly lucky to work with the teachers and secretaries that I’ve had the honour to work with. It’s pretty special to walk into a building every day and want to be around the people who you work with.

It is great when I get the opportunity to join the staff in the staff room at lunch. It’s special when the secretaries volunteer their time at evening events because they want to be there to celebrate the students. It’s amazing to watch teachers consistently do what’s great for kids in innovative and creative ways.

On this last day of school I feel blessed. And while I’m certainly looking forward to summer, there is already a little excitement about starting the new year… but that’s getting way ahead of myself. First things first… I’m going to enjoy our last day.

Going to miss them

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We had our grad event last night. Seven performances, mostly from Grade 12’s, and student speeches that left me teary eyed. This one hit me harder than most. These grads feel more like family than students.

I’m realizing that I’ve got some work to do to connect with the other grades next year because it seemed that any time I was out of my office, this was the cohort I gravitated to. Every year seems to offer something a little different. Many students in this group would visit the office almost daily. Grade 12’s need to sign in when they don’t have a first block class, and my secretaries would have full 5 minute conversations with these students. Inevitably I’d get pulled in too.

I get a little nostalgic every year around this time, but I have to say that this grad class was really something special and I’m going to miss them!

Old School Internet

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Our students decided on ‘Old School Internet’ as the theme for this year’s school yearbook. But of course at a maximum age of 18, none of our students actually knew what it was like. So, for my principal’s message, I tried to give them a little taste of what they missed.

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It’s fun for students today to have something like ‘Old School Internet’ as a Yearbook theme, but as someone who ‘lived’ it, let me tell you that you don’t know the pain it caused. Here’s an example: A little-known fact about me is that I designed and patented a bicycle lock. To do this, I had to do a lot of research because a patent can not infringe on other previous patent designs. So back in the old internet days I would have to log onto the internet using my phone (cue the retro sound for this that brings back instant but not gratifying nostalgia)… then I’d go to the slow and clunky US Government Patent Office website and every search would take 15-30 seconds to load. Then I’d see a patent I’d be interested in and that would take 15-plus seconds to load. I’d read about a patent that seemed interesting to look at and I’d try to load the first image to see what it looks like… If I was lucky, it would load in 45 seconds and often it took over a minute. Sometimes the image wouldn’t give me enough information and so I’d have to check the next image… cue the elevator music going through my brain as I impatiently wait and wait and wait for the next image to load… Then I’d realize that I wasn’t interested in that patent and would need to start all over again… And then my wife would need the phone and I’d have to disconnect from the internet so that she could make a call.

So enjoy the nostalgic ‘Old School Internet’ pages in this yearbook, but make no mistake, you are extremely lucky that you don’t have to live in this retro era of internet access… Where you were tethered to a very, very slow phone wire, and every click tested your patience.

(Yearbook cover by Ena S.)