HS Principal

The end of third quarter has passed, spring has sprung, and the final push toward graduation reminds us that this time of year belongs to our seniors. The seniors have lots of good memories to look back on and an impressive array of  accomplishments to be proud of. They have been accepted to many excellent, selective, and competitive colleges, they have won prestigious awards and achieved both inside and outside the classroom. Whether they realize it or not, they are part of one of the most progressive eras in CDS history. Although we have had computers in the school for many years, never before have teachers integrated the use of technology in the classroom as they have this year. If I had to describe the class of 2010 in terms of their education at CDS I would call them the first truly digital class.

And yet, putting a label on this class does not do them justice. Obviously they consist of unique individuals who, when examined on their own merits, remind us that each label is either misleading or simply wrong in terms of describing the individual members of this class. I did not know these students before I arrived in the high school. In fact, it is fair to say that I know the juniors, sophomores and freshmen much better than I know the seniors having worked with the former in the middle school. But I can honestly say that I have grown very fond of these students and have developed relationships with them that I will cherish and remember.

Occasionally there are events or decisions that strain those bonds or challenge those relationships. Recently I had to shut down the senior lounge and I took no pleasure in doing so. I also even feel a bit reluctant to share this information with you because, in many ways, I consider it a private matter–between me and the seniors. However, I know it will be a very public issue and has already become a topic of discussion so I will share my thoughts.

I don’t know the history of the lounge but I can honestly say I have been uncomfortable with its existence since I arrived in high school. It is not that I do not trust the seniors, but it is  an issue of concern for many reasons. The lounge is very private–part of its point, I suppose–and it is difficult for me to walk by and know what is going on. As the principal, I must know what is going on at all times, and not being able to simply look and know makes me uneasy. I have to go out of my way to see if everyone is behaving and following the rules. However,  it also means I cannot know at a glance if everyone is safe. If something happened to a student who was alone in the lounge, I might not discover it for a long time.

I understand the seniors’ desire for a place of their own. I don’t agree that it should be a private place, but I understand the territoriality of groups. The senior lounge went beyond marking a special territory for the seniors. It gave them a private place and definitely elevated their position in the high school as a social group. At the same time, it posed a major inconvenience for me and my responsibility as their guardian. Nevertheless, I inherited the situation and I lived with it.

The seniors probably don’t realize that having their own place in a school with very limited space is incredibly fortunate. I currently do not have a dedicated classroom for every single teacher. We do not have a middle school library. We have one soccer field and one gym that the entire school must share. Despite these limitations we find ways to make it work and we thrive. Our student numbers have increased over the years and we have learned to adjust. I would like to think that we make full use of our facilities and take nothing for granted.

The seniors probably believe the reason for the closure hinges upon a single act of vandalism. I make that assumption because one very responsible individual cleaned up the mess after I closed the lounge and asked if it could be re-opened. As much as I appreciated the effort of this individual, I did not shut the lounge because of one act of vandalism. The graffiti was definitely the catalyst for the closing, but it was simply the last act of many that forced me to make the decision. And I do not blame this on the class of 2010. The acts of vandalism that forced me to close the lounge have gone on for several years without consequences.

The privilege of having a special place comes with responsibility. Over the years, many seniors chose to treat the space with less and less respect. Instead of doing everything they could to guarantee their right and the rights of future seniors to keep this privilege, individuals from each class chose to see how far they could go to challenge and disrupt that privilege. The vandalism would start from day one, escalate throughout the year and culminate in a final act that seemed to have to outdo the previous year. Rather than passing the torch to the next class the goal became to make the place as unwelcoming as possible to the new group. In other words, rather than taking pride in the privilege and passing it to the next group, the idea seemed to be: now that we are leaving we are going to destroy the decency of the place and make the next group suffer if they want to use it.

I know that all the seniors did not participate in vandalizing the lounge and school property. I also know that not all the seniors participated in cleaning and restoring the lounge after the damage done by the previous class. A group of seniors took charge of that task and the others simply benefited from it. I also know that many seniors chose to look the other way as their colleagues committed acts of vandalism, played music louder than was acceptable, and played music during class. I am not sure how many of them gradually joined in on the destruction as these acts grew in boldness and severity with seemingly no consequences to the perpetrators.

I spoke to the seniors at the beginning of the year about the group responsibility necessary to maintaining the privilege of the lounge. I warned them that if they did not police themselves the lounge would be closed. I allowed them many chances throughout the year, yet they continued the same pattern as in previous years. I have no animosity or hard feelings toward the seniors and I would hope the feeling is mutual. However, school is a place for learning.  Although many felt that they were entitled to destroy furniture because they purchased it, gradually that attitude was extended to school property. Although it is technically true that much of the furniture was purchased with class funds, I began to wonder what message we were sending: It is OK to raise money through school-sponsored activities in order to purchase furniture that you can destroy. I felt that what each class was learning was that it was OK to treat school property in a disrespectful manner because it was part of tradition.  This last act of disrespect crossed a line in my mind and despite threats that the lounge would be closed, no one addressed it, no one took responsibility, and no one seemed to care–until it was too late.

One of the main lessons we should be teaching our children is how to live in a democracy. We have individual freedoms and rights, but both children and adults seem to lose their way when faced with the acts of cowards. One coward ruins it for everyone else, yet we are reluctant to chastise or punish or disapprove of the actions of that one. But we shout loudly and collectively about how unfair we are being treated because of the actions of that one we are willing to hide and protect. I am not asking for a scapegoat or for the group to turn over any vandals. However, if the group valued its privilege it would have acted responsibly and solved this problem. There was never any reason for the adults to be involved.

If we truly value the rights and privileges that we have earned, then we must learn how to protect those rights and privileges rather than take them for granted. I view this incident as I view all events: as a teachable moment. I am open to discussion if students want to talk about how to preserve and maintain their rights and privileges. I am not going to change my decision, but I think a lot can be learned and we can avoid feelings of unfairness in the future if we learn how to be proactive and if we learn how to live as active and caring citizens in a democracy. But I have no interest in discussions that serve only to advance selfish causes.

I continue to admire and respect the class of 2010. I look forward to finishing the year strong and I hope we can maintain a healthy and respectful relationship. As I have told them many times, I am proud of their leadership, their accomplishments, and their individual glories. They have much to learn about privilege and responsibility and I know that they will learn from this. They are a proud, thoughtful, and intelligent group of seniors. It has been my privilege to work for them.

Cliches exist because they once accurately described a situation but wore out through repeated use. March is the month that comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. The metaphor may have originally meant to describe the weather, but regardless of the changes in temperature over the years, I never recall gliding serenely into the month of March. March comes in like a lion because February is the busiest month of the year. The winter holiday begins in December, drifts into January, and gradually–after all the resolutions and posturings–the year begins. We stop forgetting that it is 10 and not 09 anymore as we fill out forms or write checks (do people still have checkbooks and write checks?). The real business of my world shifts into overdrive during February.

For me, the first week in February is when I got married and little did I know when I married that I was setting a trap for myself. My wife and I were both professors at the University of Hawaii at the time–where we had met–and as we talked about the logistics of deciding where in the states we would marry: she was from Texas, I was from Michigan; she had family in Washington, DC, I had family in Ohio; no decision was made. Instead, one Saturday morning, we made our way down to the courthouse with a couple of friends from the University, quietly said our vows in front of the judge, returned to our apartment and called our families to tell them the news.

We celebrated our first anniversary worrying whether or not we could find day care for our first child, due to come into the world in one month.  One year later we would celebrate our last anniversary together where it was the most important event of the week. Three months later I accepted a job at Punahou School, and from then on our anniversary always took back seat to some other major event. Punahou Carnival, one of the biggest fundraisers and all-consuming events I have ever been a part of, was always the first weekend in February.  No matter how important our anniversary was to us, we suddenly found ourselves caught up in an event that became–as it was for thousands of others–one of the biggest celebrations of the year. It was clearly an event far surpassing our anniversary and as members of this community we embraced it as did everyone connected to the Punahou family.

Suffice to say that even after we left Punahou our anniversary has had to compete with teacher recruitment (starts the first week in February) and the Super Bowl (recently, the first Sunday in February).  But those events are only the beginning for this busiest of months.  Every year at least two major AASCA events seem to be scheduled each February; the Fun Run is in February; and at least one outdoor education trip was in February, and the list goes on.

For me, the metaphor of March Madness, a metaphoric description of the frenetic energy associated with college basketball and the NCAA tournament reminds us that the cliches of March seem to have something in common, and it has little to do with weather or basketball. For me, March is the month of metaphoric violence, so madness has always seemed an apt descriptor to me.  The last violent storms of the year whip up at the end of February almost as if Nature is trying to remind us to be grateful for spring. No matter where spring falls on the calendar, March is its violent predecesor. The thaws begin, the floods, the winds, the rains. The ugly dirty snows of the cities, the white and aesthetically picturesque snows of the country fade from sight. The limbs that have survived sprout buds like adolescent faces sporting pimples. As we are reminded from our own experiences of bringing children in to the world, birth–the central motif of spring–is the most violent albeit miraculous event of the spring.

Fortunately we do not live day to day in the metaphoric world of March. Instead, the days of March and its attending madness will bring us the following: a visit from our new director, Mr. Greg MacGilpin, and his family (March 3-5); a professional development half day (March 3); the soccer championships (AASCA soccer, boys and girls, March 10-14 in Panama);  the MS Choir Festival (March 17-21 at CDS); and the end of the third quarter (March 26). There will also be two college fairs, one for Canadian colleges and one for Catholic colleges; as well as a college night for juniors.

Although I don’t quite know what to do with the lamb metaphor and how all this wraps up and heads into April, I do hope we can all cope with the changes that March brings and that we find in April some solace. Let’s hope it is not, “the cruelest month” as T.S. Eliot has described it. Let’s hope it is the most restful month.

Point of view is one of the most interesting aspects of critical thinking to me. The ability to look at something or some situation through the eyes of someone else is not an easy thing to do. Simply being able to step away from a situation and look at it through a different lens is essential in good decision making, yet how rarely do we take the time to do so, getting wrapped up and fixated on our own beliefs.

Point of view is also interesting when we reflect on our own experiences. I look back on the journey I have taken and realize there are many ways to interpret where I’ve been, the decisions I’ve made, and how I have arrived where I am. For example, I have always thought of myself as someone who makes a lot of metaphorical wrong turns. I am notorious in real life for getting lost. I have come to accept the fact that no matter how hard I try to orient myself to my surroundings I will always make at least one wrong turn. My wife says I’m getting better, but the amount of effort I must put in to such a mundane activity often wears me out. Nevertheless, I have given a lot of thought to this convergence of metaphor and reality and I have tried to reconcile and understand this curious phenomenon about my life.

Here is what I have concluded.  I have been been…metaphorically speaking…lost. Now before you shudder or tsk tsk or shake your head, remember that this is a piece about point of view, and I’m not lost in the sense of despairing and unable to reach my goal. I think of my being lost more this way: the end of the journey is the same for all of us, and each of us arrives at that destination in different ways. I will get there, same as everyone, but it won’t be the easiest, most traditional, or even the best way of arriving, if there is such a thing.

Ok, that’s broad and general enough to make everyone feel good, so let me clarify, refine, and elaborate: the various paths through life are not exactly prescribed, but most people assume that there are tried and true paths, the traditional roads to the end, and most of us are directed, prodded, and pushed along those particular paths.  Some of us have more signposts pointing in the “right” direction than others: parents, teachers, counselors, elders, relatives, etc. Many of them have trudged the path, they know the way, and they encourage that we not stray or deviate down unknown roads.

You probably think I’m now going to tell you “I have taken the road less traveled and that has made all the difference.” Not exactly. I think, instead, that I have taken many roads less traveled by mistake. I don’t regret those turns, and I’m actually pretty sure that what was once accidental in my life has now become a pattern of almost deliberate and intentional “lostness.” I haven’t quite developed an instinct as most do for the right road, but at this point in my life I am pretty sure that I am deliberately choosing the wrong paths, but I’m ok with that. I’m not an adventure seeker or an iconoclast who has to do it his own way. I’m just very suspicious and not convinced that the path others have taken is always the path I want to be on. That may sound iconoclastic and individual, but it comes with a lot of hand-wringing and self doubt–not exactly the traits of a trail-blazer.

This past Saturday my mom’s sister and roommate died. I was closer to my aunt than to my own mother because she was one of those signposts in my life. My parents were not very good at pointing the way in life. They were not even very good role models, but they were the only parents I had. So many of the choices and decisions I made growing up were mostly guesses, based on the logic and reasoning of a fairly solitary adolescent mind, and often they were not the same choices and decisions my friends were making. I had a lot of “bad ” friends growing up in the city of Detroit, so my going my own way kept me out of trouble. But I also didn’t trust the decisions my “good” friends made because they didn’t seem right for me. I would choose a path, realize it was “different,” experience a brief moment of self-loathing and regret, and then gradually embrace the decision and see what the path had to offer.

My aunt wanted desperately for me to be rich and successful. Although not Jewish herself, she married a Jewish man and became a stereotypical Jewish mother to her only son, my cousin, and to me, her quasi-adopted son. My cousin went through normal rebellions but eventually ended up on the right path, whereas I was deliberately seeking out my aunt’s advice and then deliberately choosing a different way. I loved my aunt dearly and she provided everything I felt my own parents were supposed to give but couldn’t. Yet, some strange urge or desire prompted me in different directions. Despite the disappointments, she never stopped loving me and she never hesitated to show me the right path to take.

My point of view tells me I have something of the contrarian deeply embedded in my soul. My mother’s point of view is that I’m stubborn and enjoy being different just to make people mad. My aunt’s point of view was that I had some passion she couldn’t identify or understand and it was her job to try to protect me from it because it would just lead to unhappiness. Well, rest in peace Aunt Elsie and please understand that I am still wandering, still taking the wrong paths, and still enjoying every minute of the journey. It’s different but it’s not bad and it doesn’t lead to unhappiness. It really is ok, but thank you for always pointing the way.

Many seniors have asked me, how do I say thank you to my teachers who have given so much to me, including letters of recommendation that got me into college? A bottle of wine? A box of candy? Some cookies and a handwritten note?

My answer is: none of the above.

I do know what your teachers want, so in that sense I have the perfect thank you gift. Respect. Requires no money, no gift wrapping, no baking, and you don’t even have to write a note. All you have to do is keep one little thing in mind: I am not the only person in the school, in my class, or in this room who matters. I may have been accepted to college and no longer care about getting an A or a B or even a C. Heck, all I want to do is pass and get out of here.  OK, so that’s your situation. But some of your classmates do care, and they still want a good grade, they still want to get into college, and heck, some of them still want to learn. Your indifference leads to distracting behaviors in class, which prevents your classmates from learning and is disrespectful to them. But most importantly, it is disrespectful to the people every year, senior class after senior class, who never give up second semester:  your teachers. Day in and day out they prepare lessons, strive to educate you, write letters on your behalf—and more letters when you don’t quite make the college of your choice. They bend over backward for you and they really care about you.

And all they want in return is your respect so they can teach. They don’t need you to feign interest, to praise them, or even to do all your homework, though that would be nice. They just want an atmosphere of tolerance and respect so they can do what they do best, and so that those who do want to benefit have the opportunity to do so.

In other words, the best way to show your respect is not to let your indifference, your lack of enthusiasm, your boredom show. It is really ok to have those feelings, but your teachers are working really hard under a different set of assumptions. Other unacceptable behaviors are more tolerable: don’t do all the homework, turn in mediocre work; however, don’t ruin the classroom experience for your friends or for your teachers. You have free periods, you have breaks, you have lunch, you have after school, and you have weekends to socialize and ignore school. For a few hours each day we simply ask that you continue to show respect for the ones who have partnered with you, every step of the way, on your road to learning and college. It has the double advantage of being respectful to your classmates who do want to continue learning. So keep it simple: no sleeping, no gossiping, no distracting behaviors. Just sit quietly, do what you are asked to do, and the time will pass.

Believe it or not, you did not invent senioritis or the senior slump. It happens every year to lots of kids. But it doesn’t happen to everyone and it almost never happens to teachers. So, this is not a criticism or an insult to you: we know how you are feeling and we understand that for many of you, the push is over. But common decency and respect simply asks for some cooperation and a polite nod and wink so that we can all finish the year as the friends we have worked hard to become.

This is the best way I can think of to show your gratitude.

I had an enjoyable yet sobering holiday with my family. I think visits with family, more than any other activities or events, are sure to remind us of the circle of life. There is the basic fact of aging and growing old. We all return to our families older (wiser, we hope) and, driven by cliches,we remark on the changes that are an inevitable part of life. Aren’t you getting big? You are so tall now. I won’t go into the less polite or offensive remarks that often slip. You may have uttered one or fallen victim to one. None of us need be reminded. But reuniting with my family always reminds me that I am older.

If we start at the top of the aging cycle, there are the matriarchs and patriarchs of the family: grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, godparents. On my wife’s side of the family, 2009 saw the passing of one more uncle and the head count for that generation now stands at 1: my wife’s mother. At 97, she is the last remaining parent to my wife and her brother; the last aunt to her cousins on her father’s side.

Our holiday began with a big surprise: a cousin my wife had trekked around Europe with as a teenager called and announced she wanted to visit her favorite cousin and her only remaining aunt. So the first day of vacation began in the Houston airport where my wife’s cousin from West Virginia arranged for her flight to arrive around the same time as ours from Costa Rica so we could ride to the family homestead together.

The visit was one of laughter and remembrance from start to finish. The laughter began as I frantically searched the airport for cousin Patti who was nowhere to be found. I had even more fun with the bewildered information assistant at the airport trying to locate her flight. The number I had did not match anything on her itinerary. It is one thing for me to struggle with my communications in Costa Rica, butchering Spanish and trying to understand and be understood, but here we were, with no accurate fly number to go by, trying to figure out if we misheard Dulles for Dallas, if we had some misinformation, but all the time feeling deep down that we had carefully recorded the flights, times, and loacations.

Before I tell you the mistake, let me profile our cousin. She is not a backwoods country girl from West Virginia. She actually grew up in suburban Maryland/DC, grew up in a cultured and sophisticated family, attended a small college where she lettered in three sports, had a career as a high school biology teacher, and at the age of 40 decided to go to medical school. Dr. Patti now practices in a small town in West Virginia. However, unlike her background would predict, she has decided to live in the modern world without a cell phone, without a computer, and without many of the things most of us take for granted. Some may describe her as eccentric, but to us she is cousin Patti–who is nowhere to be found in the Houston airport and impossible to locate because of her eccentricities.

I return from yet another terminal train ride around the airport and discover my wife and cousin Patti chatting happily at the baggage claim, waiting for me to return. It turns out that our eccentric cousin had no idea there were two airports in Houston. Because she doesn’t have a computer to book her own flights, she asked a friend at the public library to make her reservations for her. Her friend booked her into the city airport about 25 miles away. When she discovered her error she took a cab to the correct airport and found us. In some families, that incident alone would be enough to change some old habits, but not in our family. Instead, cousin Patti will muddle along without her cell phone and computer, jogging by day, curing the sick by night (and day).

And what kind of presents did cousin Patti bring on this important visit? A shoebox, a scrapbook of grammatical mistakes, and mementoes from childhood. The two cousins sat together from morning until night giggling over the river rafting trip on the Colorado, and their backpacking through Europe. We became her captive audience as she pulled out old clippings about her dad; shared photos of her mom. She laughed hysterically at the grammatical errors she had collected for the sole purpose of sharing with her “literate, PhD in English cousin.”  Patti and aunt Juanita swapped stories, most coming from the 97 year old matriarch who delighted her niece with stories and recollections of Patti’s mother and father. As the weather back east turned snowy and grim, Patti boarded the plane, determined to return and not miss her shift at the clinic, even though we knew, on the way to the airport, that at least one of the DC airports was closed.  We found out through Facebook and emails from others that cousin Patti indeed got back, and of course did not miss a shift.

It was over so quickly I hardly knew what to think.

Meanwhile, this trip home confirmed yet another change: this last remaining member of the older generation was now legally blind. Numerous visits from a parade of medical folks interviewed her to determine whether she was eligible for any home assistance from medicaire. This army widow who saw her husband through three wars, cannot distinguish between the many pills she must take each day. She obviously cannot drive or leave the house alone. She walks through the house with a walker, having carefully mapped out trails among the furniture and the collected detrius of a lifetime of traveling and living around the world. She and her husband retired 38 years ago, bought a house, paid it off,  and now she is all that remains in the family, the last one standing in the tiny town of Huntsville, Texas. She remembers the first great influenza epidemic, so Swine Flu (or H1N1) is nothing to laugh about as far as she is concerned. In fact, she is the opposite of what you think when you put the words, “remember” and “old person” together. It seems her memory has increased and sharpened as her vision has deteriorated and failed.

At the other end of the cycle is the miracle and joy of birth. Certainly the birth of a child is a happy and exciting moment, but it too has its implications in reminding one about growing old.  Despite the relatively small size of our family, the logistics of getting people together for a holiday is always amusing. My in laws and nephew drove three hours to be with us for Christmas eve; our niece flew in for three days from Los Angeles to make the occasion, but our son and daughter-in-law would not be in until Christmas day. After our Christmas eve celebration we drove three hours back to greet them at the train station and to put my niece on a plane back to LA. They arrived, bearing great tidings of joy: they were pregnant. It was a secret that could no longer be kept as my son had to explain that his wife had spent the entire 28 hour train ride throwing up.  She also had developed strep, so as I spent Boxing day  in the waiting room of the ER, I contemplated how my little boy was now going to be a father in his own right, and his father was now going to be a grandfather. Was I supposed to do something different? I decided I would just do what I always do: be there for them.

Although this seems to be a self-indulgent, rambling piece about getting old, it is really just self-indulgent and rambling. I never really give much thought to aging. I don’t color my hair, I don’t put much stock in “big” or milestone birthdays. I don’t get offended when no one asks for my ID at a bar, and I’m not flattered when they do. When my mother-in-law is questioned about her longevity she always gives the same answer: no, she doesn’t have a secret; she doesn’t know what explains her long, good health. She suspects deep down she has been placed on this earth for a purpose, and she can only figure that God has kept her alive this long to fulfill that purpose, whatever it is. So she keeps as busy as she can, given her limited mobility and eyesight. She calls her “elderly” friends every day (often at least 10 or more years younger than she is) to buoy their spirits, check on their status, and figure out if she is needed in any way. She has someone read her the obituaries every day, and someone has to read her email in case anyone is sick and needs to be added to her prayer list. She follows the stock market and the weather to make sure her money is holding out and in case she needs to pray for help in case there is a storm in Costa Rica or Chicago or Los Angeles…Although she lives alone and cannot leave the house, she is always ready to help. If all she can do is pray, well, there is no one I would count on more to have a direct line to the Almighty than my mother-in-law.

Life is filled with excitement and adventure such as moving to Costa Rica, experiencing a new culture, making new friends. Life has its ups, its downs, its victories and defeats. It also has its routines, its ordinariness, and its mundane obligations. When we talk about making the most of life I think it has something to do with figuring out how to embrace the mundane and routine; to be prepared; to be available; to be aware.

In many ways, my mother-in-law and I could not be more different, and yet I share her philosophy of life. I suspect I am here for some purpose, though I don’t exactly know what it is. Maybe it’s to look for lost cousins in the airport. Maybe it’s to make supper for someone who spends most of her time alone and relishes every minute of company. Or maybe it is to wait in emergency rooms or train stations, just to be there. I try not to hurt other people, and I help as many as I can. I’m not concerned about figuring out why I am here, I just know that I am and as long as I keep busy and let people know I am willing to help, things will be OK.

As I mentioned in my last post, October is an eventful month. One year ago at this time we were playing co-host, along with Lincoln School,  to the regional Tri-Association conference. This year The Carol Morgan School in the Dominican Republic is the host. Most of our students will take the PSATs tomorrow, and the quarter comes to an end this Friday. As I write this, the Costa Rican under 20s are playing Brazil in the semi-finals of the World Cup–an event of such local fervor that President Arias gave public workers an afternoon furlough to cheer on the National team.

Although no such furlough is in the works for our students, nevertheless, next week our boys and girls basketball teams will not only be co-hosts of the AASCA basketball tournament, they are both defending champions. Even without furloughs, we plan to support our teams through attendance at the games and a special event to kick off the tournament. Our student council has planned a pep rally for Wednesday, the day before competition begins, and teachers have agreed to take their classes to cheer on our teams.  On the boys’ side, CDS will play host to Balboa Academy from Panama, Colegio Maya from Guatemala, and Costa Rica’s AIS. MBS will welcome the International School of Panama, Maya of El Salvador, and CDS Guanacaste. The girls’ schedule depends upon who they face in the early rounds of the round robin. All action shifts over to MBS after lunch on Friday, with the finals of both the boys and girls to be held at MBS on Saturday.

If you are a parent of a student-athlete it is important to support them during times of competition, but it is equally important to help them find ways to balance their responsibilities. The life of a student athlete is filled with times of intense emotion and stress. It is easy to put aside school work while training for these events, and then to complain about the expectations that seem to conflict with the big game or games. A good student athlete plans accordingly and works ahead of time with teachers in order to lessen the pressure during these big events.

AASCA tournaments are never a surprise. Schedules are announced well in advance. Maintaining a balanced work schedule sometimes requires  planning, and student athletes must learn to set their priorities carefully in order to manage practice schedules, work demands, and games.

It is not always possible for every teacher to postpone tests, quizzes or projects for the handful of athletes competing in these competitions. The big picture reminds us that we support other student athletes–golfers, equestrians, tennis players, and gymnasts, to name a few who also compete all year in various sports–as well as actors who appear in local theater productions, dancers and musicians who have equally intense and competitive schedules. Rearranging schedules, coordinating make-ups, adjusting assessment times, as well as accommodating individual needs for illnesses and family emergencies challenge the abilities of our teachers and strain the actual number of hours in a day. It is easy to cry foul or unfair when the teacher maintains certain expectations during these events, but if both sides communicate in advance, much of the perceived unfairness can be handled in a way that is mutually satisfactory.

This year our student athletes have a little luck on their side as the tournament actually kicks off at the start of a new quarter. Still, it is important to learn this balancing act now–it is one of the many individual responsibilities that school teaches indirectly and that students must learn mostly on their own–but with some guidance from all of us. We are proud and supportive of all of our kids who strive to achieve and learn at CDS as well as outside the school, and we do our best to show them our support. However, one of the most important, non-graded lessons kids need to learn is how to manage their time and balance the activities of a full and active life.

I found that to be one of the most inspiring videos I have seen in some time. I hope you enjoyed it.

I wanted to share something with you other than news about what is happening in the high school. My belief is that this blog can become a place where we can share ideas about education. I have a lot of ideas about educating kids and I spend a lot of time thinking about what we do as educators. I read lots of books on education, and it is my firm belief that how we educate kids is an endless work in progress. Reflect just for a minute on what the world was like 10, 20, and 30 years ago. I graduated from high school 35 years ago and from college 30 years ago. My experiences were vastly different from the experiences of the children I see every day. When I come to work I am reminded of those differences, and I need to keep them in mind as I talk to kids, solve problems, consult with teachers, and make decisions.

Here is my first insight regarding the use of technology in the classroom. I know there are many people who are not convinced that technology necessarily improves education. I believe it does and I hope to share with you some of the reasons why I think technology plays an important role today in educating kids. My first insight has to do with the Ning Mr. Katz created. Two teachers, Mrs. Smith and Dr. Lynch, created groups for their respective classes in the Ning, and both have created assignments where kids can post their thoughts and responses.

My first reaction to Dr. Lynch’s assignment was: well, this is a journal assignment that is simply being done on a computer rather than with pen and paper. She posted a question and asked students to answer the question. Then I read the responses. As a former English teacher, I have to admit that the quality and depth of the responses surprised me. I don’t recall receiving these kinds of responses in the journals I assigned. But do we attribute the quality to the medium?  What was different about this and why the improved quality of responses?

I thought about this after I posted my own comment on the site and then it hit me. As a teacher, I had always been the only audience for the journal. English teachers always lamented this fact, more specifically the fact that formal writing was essentially audience-less and directed at the teacher. I cannot name an English teacher who didn’t say, at some point in his/her career, “pretend you are writing to an audience.” Also, to legitimize journal writing we often told the students, “I won’t share any of this without your permission. Feel free to express yourself candidly.” Rarely did any kid take advantage of that trust and use the journal to express deeply held convictions or secrets, but more importantly rarely did the writing reflect a voice or tone that suggested awareness of an audience. When the writing was particularly insightful I would have to get permission from the student, make a photocopy of the writing, make sure I had an overhead projector, or kill more trees and make copies for everyone in class, just to create a teachable moment.

As I was reading the student responses to the prompt, I was aware that others were reading those responses as well. In fact, they were referring to each other and responding to points someone else had made, in addition to commenting on the prompt. They were arguing, confirming, and participating in a discussion. The teacher didn’t need to weigh in on each journal response (as I often did with such lame comments as, “Very interesting…” or “thanks for sharing…”) because the students were reacting individually AND responding to each other. That is not just “doing the assignment differently” that is a completely different–and improved–writing activity. Insight: this writing activity acknowledged audience, encouraged voice, and the improvements in the quality of writing were a direct result of the use of technology.

Another fact of pen and paper journal writing for most kids was the essential problem of the journal itself. I hated assigning them because i had to collect 60 notebooks and then I had to either grade them in the classroom or lug 60 notebooks back and forth between home and school. I tried having them keep binders and turn in only the loose leaf pages, but they got lost…More important than my convenience, though, was something profound: the convenience for the kid. Journals were simply not convenient. The kid has a journal assignment–and parents, tell me this hasn’t happened to you with your child–but can’t do it because: a) I left the prompt at school; b) I left my journal at school…just write it on a piece of paper and stick it in your journal…I can’t…I wrote the prompt in my journal and I can’t remember the prompt which is in the journal at school…ETC.

The Ning is on the computer. And where are kids who are home…on the phone or on the computer…just finished on Facebook so I think I’ll go to the Ning and do my homework. The Ning brings the assignment to the student’s world. That is a huge change and a huge advantage, not just a change from pen and paper to computer. Does that improve the quality of writing? Perhaps not dramatically, but it might mean that more writing gets done. The main purpose of journal writing–any English teacher will tell you–is not the quality of the entry, but the mere practice and habit of writing. Kids become better writers by writing. They have to do lots of it. They need lots of low-stakes opportunities to practice writing. If we can take the writing to them, remove the inconveniences of the task, and get kids to do it as part of their own world/routine, then we have significantly improved the task.

Ok, that’s a long post, but it was a profound discovery for me. And I didn’t even mention that Mrs. Smith’s prompt was a video: Watch this and respond…I remember once asking kids to watch 2 minutes of TV one night…in order to respond in their journals: I forgot…my sister was watching some lame show…it wasn’t on…it was? I don’t get that channel…It is a different world and our teachers are engaging our children in ways we never dreamed of.

I recently attended a performance of our high school musical, “Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” As the high school principal, attendance at such events is mandatory, but as I leafed through the program I reflected on the notion that it didn’t feel like an obligation: I genuinely wanted to be there and was excited about the upcoming performance. I was not disappointed. It was a great show, was an excellent representation of weeks of hard work, and everyone went home happy and satisfied (I assume).

In the after glow of good feelings I started thinking about the kinds of comments one generally hears from folks not connected to such an event. It is important to first think about the latter part of that statement: generally these events are attended only by people “obligated” to attend: parents of the actors, friends of the parents of the actors, friends of the actors, administrators, etc. You know what I mean. The assumption by outsiders is that high school musicals, plays, concerts, etc. are not of “professional” quality and therefore not worthy of their patronage. I have to admit that I have probably felt this way as well. I am guilty of making that assumption.

I am not going to pretend or try to promote attendance at high school events. They cannot compete with Hollywood, professional theater, etc., nor are they meant to. They are, like everything we do in education, part of the process of learning and being educated. What I felt struck by after the performance was the same feeling I used to get as a teacher when I came across a well-written essay, a profound point expounded in and exam, an amazing insight scribbled in a student journal…I was in the presence of growth, discovery, and learning. I was watching student learning…it was there on stage being presented to me in real time. I had never realized that before and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I am definitely going to have to give this more thought and get back to you. I have stumbled upon something important in my own understanding about education and am definitely interested in hearing what others think about this.

Enjoyed working with my colleagues in Managua this past week. We accomplished a lot and had some good presentations regarding professional development. A lot of the same issues as in the past were raised; the discussions vary and I always come away from them with excellent information and new perspectives.  I felt very supported when I presented my idea for a video/tech event for next year. I am currently working with Steve, our ed tech guy, on fleshing out the details and then the fun begins: we get to plan the event. We are very excited. Our work will include a lot of research (to keep it in line with similar events throughout the US), developing rubrics, deciding on themes, planning the filming trips, etc.

I introduced the gang to twittering. Many of them already knew about it, obviously, but I gave them tools such as tweet deck and spent some time explaining why they should twitter and the kind of value they could get from it. I don’t expect they will all jump on board, so as I have been finding cool articles I have simply been emailing the URL’s to them instead of simply sending out a tweet.

I wish I had had the chance to explore Nicaragua. Managua itself is not an impressive city. Sad in many ways. But my sense is that Nicaragua has much to offer. I liked visiting the American school and especially enjoyed a visit and dinner at St. Augustine, a relatively new school that is doing quite well. The owners hosted the dinner and gave us the grand tour. Very impressive.

I often forget and then am suddenly reminded that, as principal, I am considered intimidating or scary. I don’t think of myself as anything but friendly, open, approachable…but then suddenly there is some shuffling outside my door followed by a pause and then a timid knock. It is a terrified student (or, more likely a group of students–strength and courage in numbers) acting as if what they are about to ask or say is the riskiest thing they have ever done. They hem and haw and it is clear their fear is genuine. These same kids, not 5 minutes ago, could have been smiling and saying hi to me in the halls, sharing a joke with me, but now they are facing The Principal and it is completely different. I now understand their bewilderment and confusion afterwards. You see, I don’t change character, even when I am The Principal. I try to maintain my same demeanor, tone, and level of interest. I don’t joke or try to make light of the situation, but I also don’t shift into disciplinary mode or stern mode or whatever. I close the door if the situation warrants, but for the most part I try to let them see that I’m the same person I was 5 minutes ago, only now I’m being called upon to make a decision, pass judgement, or whatever. I understand that situations require differing sets of skills, but I reject the assumption that principals must play pre-determined, stereotypical roles for given situations. The confusion kids feel is based on the assumptions they make about adults and probably based upon past experiences.

Spring break is right around the corner…