Tag Archives: reflection

Ordinary Moments

I often wonder what ordinary moments weren’t ordinary at all?

Here are 3 examples to think about:

1. The era specific moments.

Remember those times as a kid when you were on your bicycle and you felt a cool summer breeze brush across your face? You didn’t have to be home until the street lights came on and you and your buddies were riding fast and free. Those were special moments never to be recaptured.

2. The decision.

You finally quit the job you didn’t like. You decided to go back to school. You quit something and it’s either a big mistake or the best choice you could have made.

3. The oblivious moments.

It’s just pure luck. You forgot your car keys and had to turn around. Or you looked down at your car radio and didn’t take off right when the light turned green… You did something to delay you and because of that simple moment you avoided an accident.

I wonder how many extraordinary moments we have, which we think are just ordinary?

Open Thinker

I just realized that this past March marked 20 years of blogging for me. And so I checked my post count. I have 357 published posts on Pair-a-Dimes and 2,640 here on Daily-Ink (2,641 when I post this:). That’s just shy of 3,000 posts total.

What made me notice this is that I looked at my LinkedIn profile after someone commented on my post there. At the end of next month I’ll be retired from the school board and another ‘job’ will move up to the top of my ‘Experience’ column. It will be “Open Thinker”. Somewhere around 15 years ago I added this job to LinkedIn, and put the start date as the first month of my first blog post, March 2006.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been openly sharing my thoughts for that long. Just yesterday while chatting with my oldest she told me she was sharing the size of my digital footprint with a new friend. We discussed how I say, ‘my oldest’ and don’t regularly use her name because I don’t think it’s fair to her that if a future employer Googles her name, what would come up are dozens of her dad’s blog posts that include her name. Her openness online should not default to my choices to share. That said, I’m still on her first page if you search her name.

I’m not changing my open writing and sharing any time soon. And next month I’ll probably take a good look at my ‘Open Thinking’ experience description on LinkedIn and revamp it.

Blogging has changed over the years. At one point it was an engagement machine, I’d routinely get 8, 10, 12, even 24 comments on a post. Now I get Likes on my Facebook page and LinkedIn, where I share my posts, and occasionally I get comments. Most people who engage with my writing don’t go to my actual blog. That’s perfectly ok, my only disappointment with this is that comments on other platforms are not curated there the way comments are on a blog. Oh well… times change, tools change, use changes… but what hasn’t changed is that I’m still writing, and openly thinking, out loud on the internet.

Accumulation of stuff

I’m in the process of clearing out my office. It’s fascinating to see the kind of things that accumulate in an office when you’ve been in it over a decade. I am admittedly comfortable with clutter, my slightly ADD brain does not come equipped with OCD superpowers to have a place for everything and everything in its place. So I admittedly have a lot of ‘unnecessary’ stuff.

The hardest things to get rid of are keepsakes that have sentimental value, and yet they’ve ended up in a drawer or the back of a bookshelf, and haven’t been seen for years. While they bring back some memories I’m left wondering, ‘If I take this home, where, except for a back of a drawer or bookshelf, would I put these and when in my life will I look at them again?’

I’m finding the process simultaneously cathartic and melancholy. Melancholy is the wrong word, it’s not a sadness it’s a solemn reflectiveness. I’m excited to be over, to move on to new things, and yet these hidden reminders in my office pull me back to thoughts and memories of the people and experiences I have enjoyed and even loved about this job.

And back to work I go. Serious question: Do I keep the the small hand carved song bird? The piece of brain coral? The stamp set of my name in Chinese? The beautifully hand painted rocks? How about the crochet rainbow bumblebee?

I’m going to be here a while.

Final Advice

I have a friend about to be promoted from teacher to vice principal, and I offered some final advice yesterday. I shared that often people will come to you with a challenge or crisis and to them it will demand an instant response… but seldom does it require an instant response, and the response will often be better with a bit more thinking time.

Of course, emergency situations are different, and responses need to be instant in an emergency. But often the emergency being brought to your attention only requires an immediate response according to the person bringing it to you. Taking time, discovering nuances, and seeking more information will actually provide you with far more data to make your response appropriate.

So how do you slow things down?

First, acknowledge the concern. Then ask questions. And sometimes, take the time to repeat the concerns to confirm you heard them properly, and also demonstrate that you understand the issue. Then provide the person with a timeline that you’ll get back to them.

An example my friend shared was a concern of an angry parent expecting an immediate response. I suggested in this case to do what I suggested above but to take specific notes. This lets the parent know that you are taking it seriously and also allows you to feed back exact quotes at the end of the conversation to reiterate that you fully understand the complaint. Hearing the complaint read back in the exact words that it was stated in is a very reassuring way to end a meeting and let the parent know you understand why they are upset.

Once that’s done you can provide a guaranteed response that sounds something like this: “So do I have that right? Good. Obviously this is a delicate situation and I’ve got some follow up to do. I can’t promise you that I’ll have it resolved by the end of the day tomorrow (or another specific day), but can I give you a call then just to update you on my progress?”

Now you’ve got time to bounce it off of your admin team, and/or Human Resources, and/or to follow up with a teacher, and/or other students. Or at the very least you have a moment to think about the situation without it being delivered in ‘emergency mode’ when it’s not actually an emergency.

Essentially, think of it this way:

‘Your immediate urgency does not dictate the pace of my response.’

I didn’t share any of the following when giving advice but I’ll share this reflection here: Looking back at my career, I think this has been one of my superpowers. But like every comic book super hero power, there also comes a weakness. The metaphorical Kryptonite that comes with this superpower is that sometimes my reaction was too aloof. I did not address the issue with nearly enough urgency in the eyes of the person bringing it to me.

Here is a perfect example I learned from. I was a few months into running an alternative school and two boys got into a physical fight. When the teacher came downstairs to where my office was to tell me about it I asked, ‘Where are the boys now?’ One was in the downstairs lobby with the counsellor, the other was upstairs in the kitchen with the youth worker.

When I heard this, I said, ‘Ok, I’ll be there in a minute’, and quickly finished an email that I was sending to a parent. I literally took under a minute to do this, but that was taken as me not dealing with a crisis seriously. In my head, the situation was handled to a point of everyone being safe, but to my staff, who were all heightened by the very real crisis of a fight, I wasn’t prioritizing them… And upon reflection they were right.

In this case it was not just an urgency, it was indeed a crisis, and I should have responded immediately. Lesson learned. That don’t stop me from using this strategy many times later with the staff, but it reframed what they felt was a crisis rather than something they perceived as urgent but could wait. And by dealing with ‘crisis situations’ faster in the future, I was able to leverage those fast responses to delay and find out more, and respond more effectively, when I could and should give myself more time.

The real challenge is understanding not just my own sense of urgency versus crisis, but also that of the people I worked with. I’m not saying I always got it right after that, but I know that I was a much better leader when I remembered:

‘Your immediate urgency does not dictate the pace of my response.’

Reverberations

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about endings and closure. An endings can suggest a finality while closure has a more positive sense to it, like when you finish a puzzle.

This is a frame that really works for me… for the most part.

Yesterday I had a reminder about something that I had a different kind of closure around. The closure that comes with healing and forgiveness. There is the well known saying that ‘time heals all wounds’, but the lesser known counterpart to that is ‘time wounds all heals’. Sometimes healing comes with reverberations… tiny haunts that can surface in the real world, in the mind, or both.

This kind of closure isn’t the celebratory kind, it’s the kind that lets you move on, hopefully with a previously unknown strength. The reverberations are just a reminder that there wasn’t an ending, but rather an acceptance, a sense of moving on.

The challenge with reverberations such as this is that they are often out of your control. Guitar strings starting to vibrate as a tuning fork is brought close to them do not choose to vibrate. And so it is with reverberations long after what you thought was closure.

Do reverberations upset the healing, or are they part of healing? I don’t have an answer to that question. Is it better to metaphorically feel the full vibrations or push the tuning fork away? I don’t have an answer for this question either. Time will heal, until the next reverberation and then time will wound again… hopefully with a dullness that allows for greater closure when the vibrations settle down.

The two Daves

Yesterday I had the first of a few retirement celebrations. What was wonderful about it is that I celebrated with my good friend, mentor, and brother-from-another-mother, Dave Sands. I started my career a few years after Dave and in my first year I was provided the opportunity to co-teach a student leadership class with him. That was the start of an amazing friendship, and although we only worked in the same building for 2 years, we have truly been colleagues who have had opportunities to collaborate and work with each other throughout our careers. As well, we have had countless breakfasts, lunches, and walks up the Coquitlam Crunch.

The retirement event was wonderful. There were a few fun stories…

A meme or two…

And an opportunity to celebrate our careers.

Screenshot

However, what really made this wonderful were the people who joined us. Yes, we’ve both had pretty successful, and as was mentioned, influential careers in the district. And there were jokes about the different superpowers we possess. But if we actually have any superpowers it’s in connecting with some really great people. What made the event special were the people who joined us.

As I reach the end of my career I keep looking back at the wonderful people I’ve worked with, and the way that I’ve been supported by them. With every accomplishment I can think of there have been amazing people that have been part of the team or who have initiated an opportunity for me in some way. When I reflect on the collaborative journey I’ve been on, again and again, I feel blessed.

Celebrating my retirement with the other Dave allowed us both to appreciate the people around us, but also each other. We both had out-of-the-box kind of journeys and our careers for the past decade-plus have run in parallel. Having each other as friends made the journey so much easier, more enjoyable, and less alone. It was totally fitting to have our retirement celebration together.

Hitting a lot of ‘lasts’

As I approach retirement, I’m start to hit a lot of ‘lasts’. The last time I’m figuring out staffing. The last time I’m supervising a Spring Formal. And tonight was the last District’s Principal Association dinner. I’ve got a few more things that I’ve still got to do more than once, but it seems like every time I turn around I’m doing yet another thing for the last time.

I’ve honestly not thought too much of it in my day-to-day, and often realize I did something for the last time after the fact… But that has taken a recent turn. As my last day at work looms, I have to admit that I’m thinking about it a lot more. The last moment of the last day seems really surreal to me… and it’s getting a whole lot closer.

Leadership blindspots

We all have them, things we don’t see, even when we are looking right at them. We all have things that, over time, we get comfortable with and accept, that we would not accept if our perspective was fresh. We even have good habits that make our team better, but which also leaves us with blindspots because we focus on the progress we are making and miss the (hidden) costs of that progress.

This leaves us with two challenges:

The first being that we don’t know what we don’t know…. We don’t see our blindspots.

The second challenge is that when a blind spot is revealed, it’s often hard to accept. There’s guilt felt in not being aware of it earlier, and there is also the realization that you’ve got to move out of your comfort zone to deal with it… or ignore it and face even more guilt.

It’s an unglamorous aspect of leadership. No one is perfect, there are always things to improve, and whether you see them or not, whether you deal with them are not, you know there are blindspots… and having to face them is not easy.

Close to the source

Please visit Kelly Tenkely’s Substack and read, ‘Staying Close to the Source’. She starts with a wonderful metaphor,

“I was the kind of kid who loved to collect rocks. I was especially taken with any rock found in a stream or lake. Those rocks felt different. They seemed uniquely magical, luminous, and glittering just below the surface. Smooth, as if they’d been polished over time, their colors saturated and alive.”

… “Each time we visit a learner-centered school, I’m struck by that same kind of magic.”

I’ve had visitors to Inquiry Hub tell be they could feel this magic. They’ve described that this is a special place. They’ve been struck by the way our students share their learning experiences, and how open they are to articulate both their learning processes and their personal inquiries.

We still have percentage grades in grades 10-12, we are still a BC, Canada school providing our students with a regular diploma that they would get at any other school. But we offer opportunities that most students don’t get. We can’t compete with elective course offerings a big high school can provide, but we can have students design their own elective… but only after 1-2 years of doing shorter, less comprehensive, inquiries with continual reflection and sharing built into the process.

I’m not sure how this compares to the schools Kelly visited, but her post concludes with:

“May we stay closer to the source where learning happens. 

May we teach educators how to notice, how to listen, how to see the glitter. 

May we trust that teachers can sit beside learners and bear witness to their growth, without needing to pull it out of context to prove it exists.

Learning, when you’re close enough to see it, is unmistakable.”

This spoke to me, and reminded me of the special teachers and students I get to work with. I encourage everyone to read Kelly’s full post.

Coming home

I spent the day travelling today and now I’m home. What a fabulous holiday my wife and I had. It was wonderful to visit with my mom and sister. Unfortunately I spent the entire 10 days with a cough that I still haven’t shaken, but that helped me see the importance of rest.

Normally when a holiday is filled with a lot of down time, I end up feeling guilty, like I wasted the holiday. Not this time. I truly relaxed. I even took time away from my regular routines like meditation and working out… and I did this without the need to beat myself up about it. I just took the time to recover. And as a byproduct, my sciatica has completely gone. I’m not sure if it will return with more activity, but I am thrilled to not feel pain just from standing for a few minutes.

And now I’m home, and the routines return. I’ll be back in the gym early tomorrow. I’ll get back to daily meditation. I’ll start back at work on Monday, ready to enjoy my last 3 months before retirement.

Coming home after a break can often feel like a bit of a slog, but I’m excited to be back, and I’m looking forward to returning to my usual routine… Especially since it’s coming from a desire to get back to my good habits, without beating myself up because I took a bit of time off.