The Classmate Twin Idea and the Chaos Thereafter

It was a very odd summer for many school administrators. There were changing guidelines, shifting expectations, and just a whole lot of uncertainty about what school would look like in the fall. At our middle school, while nothing was official until further along in the summer, it was increasingly clear that our school would start in some format of distance learning. Upon this belief, I searched for ideas that might make the loss of in-person school a little less painful for our students and their families.

One idea I latched onto very early was the idea of a learning pod for our students. One of my early emails to our families used this terminology as something we would explore to best support all students. However, just as quickly as I began to figure out what this process would look like for our school, a huge backlash regarding learning pods surfaced within education. Questions of equality, equity, and whether or not a school should become involved in the process.

These conversations helped me refine my thinking on what I was truly looking for to best support our students. What I wanted was the opportunity for a student to select a friend to be in their classes. Thus, when they were on their Zooms together, they'd see a friendly face... when they were working on their assignments, they had someone to connect with who they already felt comfortable talking to... what I was searching for was for our students to have a classmate twin.

And so, that's what we offered our students: name a student who you'd like to share your four core academic classes with and, if they also name you, you'll be partnered together. Sounds simple, right?

It wasn't.

Behind the scenes, we were building a master schedule that we had never created before. We were on a time crunch to build student schedules quickly, as a promise I made to myself was to provide students their schedules as early as possible this year. The final schedule format was approved rather late in the summer, sending us scrambling to shove a 6 weeks process down to 6 days. Everything we were doing was to best support our students.

Nevertheless, we added the wrinkle of the classmate twin. I thought it would be really easy. Students just had to click on a link and fill out a 4 question form. That's it. Nothing more. We even developed a FAQ that answered every student/parent question that we could think of. Regardless, and perhaps this shouldn't have been a surprise, there was a flood of questions and special requests about the classmate twin process.

Can we be triplets? (no... just twins...)

Do I have to select my sibling? (check with mom and dad first... i'm fine with whomever you select)

Can I be a classmate twin with someone from a different grade? (exactly how would it work for a 7th grade to be a classmate twin with a 6th grader? what am I missing here?)

My student is new to UMS; we don't know anyone; how are we supposed to select a classmate twin? (you're right; it's hard to select a classmate twin when you don't know anyone - but that's ok... you aren't missing out; after all, most years this isn't even an option)

Can you extend the deadline until after school starts? (this doesn't even make any sense... that's not how a master schedule works)

The student my child wants to partner with doesn't want to partner with them. Can you make the classmate twins anyway? (yeah, no, not going to happen)

And so on.... 

I also received a lot of angry emails from parents. They were upset that I had only given them a week to find a classmate twin and only a half dozen notification reminders. They were upset that their child's two best friends had chosen each other and left their student without a classmate twin. They were upset that their student's best friend refused to fill out the form and reciprocate in the process. They were just upset. 

Meanwhile, amidst all of these emails, we had our admin team working around the clock to make the necessary changes to all of the students' schedules who selected a classmate twin. We spent almost the entire weekend working on the classmate twin schedule requests. I personally paid two separate babysitters to watch my own kids on a Saturday afternoon so I had extra time to work on the schedule requests. And this wasn't us leaving the work to the last minute; the opportunity to select a classmate twin was jammed into our get-ready-for-school timeline and we just had to find the time. 

In my mind, I thought the classroom twin process would be just a few clicks per student. I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. After the dozens and dozens of hours we spent checking the spreadsheet, comparing classmate twin schedules, adding classes, dropping classes, checking back to make sure all students had a full schedule... All I could think about was a question a colleague asked: knowing what you know now, would you have introduced the classmate twin idea for this school year?

Every single time I was asked or reflected on this question, I was able to provide an immediate answer: Absolutely not. Never again. It was a huge mistake and not worth the angry emails or time away from our families. It was just too much to do in such a short amount of time. Nothing could dissuade me from how certain I was that I'd never go through the classmate twin process again. I truly cannot express how labor intensive the process was behind the scenes for our admin team. We just couldn't ever subject ourselves to that kind of commitment with everything else that's going on at the start of the school year.

And then I got the following unsolicited email in early September, reprinted below with permission and slightly edited to hide the identity of the parent and their family.

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Dear Mr. Feinberg,

My name is (Parent), I have a (child) in 6th grade and we have been part of the Union School District since (they) started Kindergarten at (elementary school X).


Going from K-5 to MIDDLE SCHOOL was a milestone (my child) was looking forward to with much enthusiasm. But as we closed out 5th grade, we knew everything was now "subject to change" and we'd have to wait to see how the beginning of 6th grade was going to happen.


Right as summer break started, our family made a conscious decision to pair up with another student (and their family) from (elementary school Y) that we knew through soccer. Expanding our "bubble" with this other family gave both (students) some semblance of "fun" and excitement during summer break, and a chance to escape from being sequestered alone with their parents 24/7.


When your email came out announcing the opportunity to request a Class Twin for the academic year, it was like you had read our minds, heard our anxiety around the start of the school year, and offered a solution that felt like it was custom made for us. (Our daughter) and (their friend) were assigned to be Class Twins and have been navigating through the world of Union Middle School together. It not only has been fun for them to share the experience together, it's given the parents a chance to share oversight responsibilities too. The (students) alternate houses during the school week, which gives each set of parents (all 4 working from home) a day or two of fewer distractions and more opportunity to focus on work.


I'll take a page from your playbook -


TL/DR:
THANK YOU for the class twin program and for accommodating (our daughter's) and (their friend's) request. They are going through 6th grade right now together as they alternate between houses during the school week. It's gone a long way to helping all of us get through these unusual times together.


I hope you have a great holiday weekend.
Sincerely,
(Parent)

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And that email made me think... sometimes, it's a challenge to have the best of intentions and not see the good that comes out of the work we do as educators. A former colleague always said "no good deed goes unpunished" and truthfully, that's how it feels to be an administrator a lot of the time. It's how I felt about the classmate twin process right up until I received this email from the parent. 

And if you ask me now if I'd offer a classmate twin again if we ever began another year with distance learning, I wouldn't say no. 

I think I'm a solid maybe, subject to change.

Daily Decisions as an Admin

When I'm asked the most challenging part of my daily job duties, I always have the same response: always having to make decisions on the spot.

Sometimes, these decisions are easy to make. 

For example, at a recent school dance, we were in a bit of a predicament. The DJ showed up an hour late to our two hour dance. For sixty of the longest minutes any adult will ever experience, we had four hundred students in our cafeteria, expecting music and instead getting nothing of the sort. Surprisingly, our students were incredibly well behaved. They started their own dance party (sans music) and just enjoyed the company of their classmates. I had assumed we would experience something closer to what happened in the Lord of the Flies, but no, they just waited for the DJ to arrive.

So it's now 7 pm and the DJ is about to start. Our students had expected a full two hour dance and were only going to get a short 60 minutes. I checked in with our Activities Director and then the DJ himself. Both were willing to extend the dance for an extra 30 minutes. On the spur of the moment a decision was made to extend our dance until 8:30 pm. We announced the decision to the students. They responded with prolonged cheers. Almost on cue, the DJ started playing a Justin Timberlake song and everything was back to as normal as a middle school dance can be.

The decision to extend the dance may seem like an easy one. However, I realized that there could be complications with the decision. After all, our parent and staff volunteers had expected to participate from 6 pm to 8 pm. Extending the dance an extra 30 minutes was taking advantage of their generosity. I also considered the text I'd have to send my wife, sharing that I'd be home a half hour later than expected. There were also parents who showed up at 8 pm and had to wait for an extra 30 minutes before their students was ready to depart for the evening. 

Fortunately, our chaperones were extremely kind in their understanding, my wife completely understood, and the parents who arrived early got a in-person demo on how to sign up for the Remind app to receive my text messages and updates. 

Sometimes, these decisions are extremely difficult to make. 

Rewind a week and we're having our annual UMS Home and School Club Blast. The Blast is something akin to a carnival where our current (and future) students spend an evening on our campus with fun games, bouncy houses, and tons of food. It's a huge fundraiser and a fun experience for everyone.

Earlier in the week, our community had been rocked by both national and local events. There was a Las Vegas shooting that ended up becoming one of the nation's worst mass shootings. Locally, there were reports that a local high schooler had almost been kidnapped en route to/from school. Our students were somewhat on edge; young teenagers who have confronted a flood of social media post on such adult topics. 

At some point, during the event, something shifted. I noticed our students acting a bit different. I moved toward what seemed like the epicenter of the kid chaos and was shocked at what I was hearing: "there is a kidnapper and a rapist and a scary man dressed in black and they have a gun."

For a split second, I froze. My mind wandered and became scared for our school community, for our students. I quickly shook off the fear and listened to our students. What information did they have? What did they know? What exactly did they see?

As I spoke to more and more students, it became increasingly clear that this was a situation that was rooted in rumor. Nevertheless, I had to make a tough decision: How do I ensure the safety of our students while not overreacting to potentially false student rumors. 

My answer was clear and yet difficult to make: you have to treat the rumor as fact.

Carefully, the assistant principal and I, based on all of the information gleaned by the student responses, walked the side streets where the individual may have been located. We had already communicated with both staff and our parent volunteers on the rumors. Everyone was on alert. 

Our local police department had been called and were now on site. We followed up with them, sharing our facts of the situation and asking for advice. They reassured us that, based on their own conversations with students and witnesses, that there was no individual with a weapon and that our students and community were safe. We then relayed this message to our parents, staff, and students. 

Now that we had effectively researched the threat and determined, with the support of our local police department, that our students' concerns were based on false rumors, our job was now to spread the word and diffuse the spread of the rumors that had already taken a life of their own.

That evening, I prepared a recap of the events for our parent community and sent the message out first thing Saturday morning. I wanted to give our parent community the chance to speak with our students prior to the chaotic gossip on instagram took hold later that day. 

Upon our return to campus that Monday, I began a two day investigation into what actually happened. By the end of the day on Tuesday, I had finally pieced together what had actually happened the previous Friday night. 

A few students saw an adult in a black sweatshirt walking down the street by our school. They began to point at this person and may have pointed back. Our students, concerned that this person pointed at them, began to chase this individual who then took off running. 

Another student, upon hearing this story, said that if this person came after them, they'd chase him off with a baseball bat.

Another student, as if this were a game of telephone, heard a modified story of the baseball bat response. They were told that a student who lived across the street had just chased a man out of their house with a baseball bat. 

Another student, present for the story, believed they saw someone in a nearby bush and decided to throw rocks in their direction. As the rocks hit the bush, this student then told another student that they thought they heard the 'click-click" of a gun. 

The other student then shared this story with five more students who then each shared it with five more. 

So on Friday, we had a random man in a black sweatshirt pointing at our students, escaping from a nearby house after being chased by a middle school student with a baseball bat, hiding in a bush, getting rocks thrown at them and then loading their weapon to retaliate, and ultimately being named as a possible kidnapper/rapist/vigilante on our school campus...

While the truth was anything but.

But the decision to err on the side of caution had to be made in a split second and without pause. 

My fear as an administrator is that I make a wrong decision. 

Perhaps I didn't ask the right question of a student with a concern. 

Maybe I didn't give enough caution to a situation and things turned horrible for our students, staff, and community.

It's even possible that a decision made with the best intentions ended up damaging our school policies and practices. 

Sometimes the decisions are frustrating... and I'm cancelling music for Friday due to the air conditions, even though I truly believe that it would have been okay to have our leadership students bring out the speakers for some fun on a Friday. 

Sometimes the decisions are based on my time limitations... and I'm having to send an email at 4:10 pm instead of picking up the phone to connect with a family about a conversation I had with their student.

Sometimes the decisions allow me to provide a bit of mercy... and I give a student a second chance at making a better choice, even though I know they should have made the right one the first time around.

And sometimes the decisions may just be simple, choosing to extend the dance a half hour to the cheers of four hundred kids.

Or the decision may be drenched in fears that some rumored harm could come to one of our students if I don't act as swiftly as possible. 

This daily life of an administrator is stuffed with constant decisions that tilt the course of our school community. It's the most challenging part of being a middle school principal: always worried that the decision we made may not have been the best one for our students, our school, and our community. 

But we still have to make the decision. It's the hardest part of our job.

No Words

(Note: I wrote this blog entry a few weeks ago... but just didn't bring myself to share our experience from that week just yet. I think it's ok now. Thanks for reading.)

I don't have the words to describe last week.

It started with a random news alert that a plane had crashed in Riverside, California. It was a Monday. My wife and I had been discussing our challenging days at each of our middle schools. I quickly skimmed the news report of the place crash and slightly paused as I read that they were traveling back to San Jose. Weird, I thought, that's pretty close to where I work.

I then read a bit more about the story. The individuals on the plane had been at a cheerleading competition over the weekend. This was another odd coincidence; our two middle schools had just performed at a cheerleading competition. 

The news shared that the competition had been at Disneyland. Again, a weird coincidence. Our cheerleaders had just performed at Disneyland and had actually finished first out of seven teams. Perhaps there were other divisions or other teams who participated in the competition that I didn't know about. 

Then I received a text from our cheerleading coach. 

A bit of backstory on our cheerleading coach.

First, she's awesome. She "gets" kids. She's also our Mental Health Counselor at Union Middle. We're very lucky to have her on our site. As far as irreplaceable staff members go, she's definitely on that list.

She shared her beliefs on what had happened. That the crash may involve families from our school. That while she didn't have any facts, she was just as worried as I was. I asked her to repeat to me more than just a few times: None of our students were on the plane. All of our students came home on the bus. All of our students were safe.

Despite a flurry of false information from our new organizations, the picture started to become a bit clearer. Names of the victims were eventually confirmed. Based on what we heard, it became very clear, very quickly that two UMS families were going to need a lot of support from us and our community.

The following day at school was a challenge. Our district sent extra administrators and mental health services to our site for as long as we needed them to stay for the week. Our superintendent graciously sent breakfast and lunch for our staff. It was an "all hands on deck" type of day for our staff. We were all on the lookout for that student or students who may need support.

And it wasn't just students we were worried about. It was our staff too. The teacher who had all of the siblings in her class over the past few years. The other staff member who spent countless hours with the family, discussing how to best support their student. Or perhaps our mental health therapist herself, now having to serve as a mental health support for the students in need but also needing time to grieve herself.

For the most part, it was our cheerleading team who were struggling throughout the day, the week, the month... and rightfully so. Our cheerleading team is comprised of a very tight group of friends first, students second. They practice everyday. They hang out together. Most of their free time is spent with each other. These emotional events were not something we'd want any middle school student should have to endure. It was only with the support of our staff and each other that we were able to progress through the week.

More news about the tragic loss within our community spread on Wednesday. Our cheerleading coach and I reached out to the families throughout the week. Both affected families have former UMS students, all of which I spent lots of time working with during their UMS tenure. All of the kids involved are just flat out amazing. None of this seemed fair. It just doesn't seem fair.

We have a community who wants to help. Gofundme (included below) and meal support accounts were set up to support the families. Neighbors and friends have taken over car rides to school, homework help, and just a listening ear as students transition through these difficult times.

A week later, things still feel unsettled. The funerals for the family members are upcoming. I try to check in with the students myself every single day. When our eyes connect, I can see a level of sadness that no 11 year old should ever have to endure. I wish there is more I could do. I wish I had the words to help them.

But I don't.

I don't have the words to help.

Instead, I listen.

I offer my time, my heart, and everything else they need to help them get through the day.

If you want to join in and help as well, there are links below.

Take care of yourself and each other.

-Todd

https://www.gofundme.com/stacey-pierce-family-relief-fund
https://www.gofundme.com/farelas-family-fund

Being Replaced and then Forgotten

(just reposting. Not new, but had been pulled down for a bit. It's not about me. I'm happy. It's just what I was thinking about at the time.)


One of the hardest truths of an educator is how quickly we are replaced and how easily we are forgotten. 

My first teaching position in the classroom setting was in an opportunity classroom, mid-year, hired the school day before, and given very little "this is how you do it" support to begin. With three grade levels in my classroom and each student varied in their ability from 2nd grade to 11th grade, it was often a challenge to effectively teach all four core subjects. Given that my students arrived with significantly more challenges than the average student, each day could easily be derailed by a student's explosive evening the night before or just their "living in chemistry" not working out for them that day.

I was actually the fourth official teacher of the classroom that year when I joined in early January. The previous three had thrown up their arms and quit. Sometimes, I didn't blame them for escaping; some days were physically challenging (such as the day one student took a swing at me, body checked me into the whiteboards, and then pulled the fire alarm en route to the office) and other days were emotionally draining (as one student cried and cried after walking 2 miles to school after a morning fight with his mother). I quickly learned how important relationships with our students were for their success and often our sanity as well.

I finished five years in the classroom as I then departed for an administrative role at a nearby out-of-district middle school. The transition happened at the end of the school year and I left my school, where I had actually attended middle school myself, as silently as possible. I worried about how my students would do the following year without me. I struggled with the change, as I had built a classroom where kids who had been discarded from their mainstream classrooms could find success and hopefully venture back to join their grade level peers. I wasn't sure how I'd be replaced.

The school was able to find an educator to take my former spot rather easily, in fact. The person they hired had close to two decades of classroom experience and was looking exactly for a program as the one I had just left. They joined and upon a visit a few months into the school year to reconnect with the students, I realized that the switch was the best thing for my former students: they needed someone new... someone who had fresh eyes on how to improve a few things in the classroom for them... someone who would show them that there were other people who cared for them, just like I did.

I had been replaced and shortly thereafter, with the new crop of 6th and 7th graders joining the classroom, forgotten after my five years in the opportunity classrooms.

My next position was at a rival middle school where I served as the Dean of Students for the next two years. I worked with an amazing principal and assistant principal during my first two years. During the summer after my second year, the principal had retired and the assistant principal had left for a principalship closer to their home. As I moved up to assistant principal, our school community and I adjusted to a new Dean of Students and Principal. They were both very talented and so... the year continued. 

As the sole remaining administrator, I found that a lot of the tradition and job responsibilities fell on me, the sole administrative survivor. I felt like I was doing the job of many. The master schedule. Discipline. Curriculum. Everything. It was a busy but quite the fulfilling year. 

When an opportunity to join my alma mater as an administrator came that following Summer, I felt very challenged about leaving my principal (as the Dean of Student wasn't returning to the school) with a whole new administrative team. I didn't know how they'd be able to figure out all of the little bits of daily action items I had worked through the previous three years. 

Nevertheless, I packed up my office in relative silence that Summer. It was eerily quiet. Everyone had left for the vacation and there were no goodbye hugs or high fives. I felt like I had done so much for the school and that there was no way the school would survive the following year without me. I felt I had done the job of a dozen admins and they were up the creek, no paddle, next year. 

Weird thing happened: they were fine. Sure, maybe some things didn't run smoothly, but in the end, everything was fine. I had done what I felt was a pretty solid job but I was replaceable. Aside from a few teachers who I am "Facebook friends" with and a dozen students who I have on "lockdown friend mode" on Facebook, I've been completely forgotten. 

Twice, I had poured my heart and soul into the school and I was just easily forgotten the following Fall.

These experiences made me realize just how we educators overestimate the chaos that would happen to our organizations if we were to vanish. A principal of 25 years left their school a few years ago. She was greatly missed but school opened that fall and everything just continued along. A dozen teachers (give or take six or so) left an elementary school one year. They're fine. A superintendent retired. She was great and had led our district from the levels of average to one of the top in the county. A new superintendent stepped in and has been just as amazing, if not magically better, as we continue to grow from good to great as a district.

Point being: it's a job where we get to have fun, be around awesome people, deal with silly stuff that's never the same, and have the opportunity to positively affect the lives of our neighborhood's and society's future. None of us are bigger than the entity of all of us (teachers and community) together. And even if we are, school communities have amazingly short memories.

And if we remember how tenuous our time may be at any given school site, the interactions with our students have the opportunity to be significantly more positive, causing the work we do will be have a stronger impact. Essentially... Be kind. Be happy. Have fun. Recognize how lucky we all are... because this doesn't last forever and one day, after we've moved on, we'll be a distant memory as the new group of students enter our halls the following year. 

Fixing Everything is Impossible

It's the Friday night on the cusp of 9 days of Thanksgiving vacation.

As my wife and I start a new show on Netflix (she nixed Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Luke Cage -- we compromised on the Blacklist), I begin to fiddle through my daily emails that I haven't had a chance yet to answer.

As a site principal, I am constantly communicating with various teachers via email, Google chat, and text threads throughout the day. I think my staff knows that they can contact me and receive a high level of responsiveness, no matter the time of day or holiday break. It's something I actually enjoy: checking in with our teaching staff and seeing what I can do to help. Their insight has actually provided some of the more reflective moments of my educational practice.

Tonight, in one of my dialogues with a staff member, my blog was brought up in the conversation. We were kidding around, discussing various topics for future blog entries. They had just emailed some kind words my way and I responded with: "thanks for the nice words. I just wish I could fix everything."

In their response, they suggested the following shift of perspective in my journey as a middle school principal: "Fixing everything is impossible, my journey to find balance in middle school."

Wow. I was floored.

With just a few words, I had my inspiration for tonight's blog topic: Fixing everything is impossible.

And just for the record, this teacher, as usual, is absolutely correct.

We administrators cannot fix everything.

As I shared with this staff member, I actually don't want to fix everything. After all, I can't change how unhappy some students, teachers, or parents are with the hard work we all put into making Union Middle the amazing place it has become. That's not on my to-do list. Some people are just unhappy people.  

However, even if i can't fix everything, I do want to fix the important things. Specifically, I want our students to have the best school experience possible. I want for our students what I want for my own children: to have a safe, learning environment with the constant, relentless support of a teaching staff who work tirelessly to best support our kids each and every day.

I shared these thoughts with this staff member.

A bit brief, they responded: what are the important things you think need fixing?

Wow. Another good question.

Here's the thing about Union Middle School: we have fantastic kids who are in classrooms with top notch educators and supported by an amazing parent community. It is an amazing place to spend our days. Easily the best place I've ever worked.

So what are the important things that I, as the site principal, think need fixing?

In typical Friday night fashion, I responded with a rather lengthy reply.

Here are some of my main points from the email correspondence:

-I would like to fix how members of our school community interact with one another.

-I expect our adults to always lead with kindness and understanding in all scenarios, even if it is difficult.

-I hope to inspire our staff members to give our students extra opportunities to demonstrate their learning.

-I'd like to expect our students to be a bit more inclusive (even though I am constantly impressed with how kind and considerate they are -- there is always room for improvement here).

-I'd like to have clear agreements on how we, as a school staff, agree to work together with our administrative team to support kids, each other, parents, and the school community in general. I don't mind if students, teachers, parents, or whomever are upset with a decision we administrators have made. I don't expect that everyone agrees with the millions of decisions we administrators have to make each and every day. However, some acknowledgement that our administrative team is extremely (and intentionally) fair and thoughtful when it comes to supporting our students, staff, and communities would be appreciated at times. I'm ok if you want to disagree with the decision; just don't disagree with the love and thoughtful care we put into making it.

When we do make a decision, the focal point is quite simple: It's all about what's best for kids.

Always.

Without question.

Some may disagree with the decision we've made on a random topic but when you're putting kids first, I don't hesitate to defend my position. We administrators may make mistakes, but we always put kids and our school first. Every single day.

We work hard to build a school where students are encouraged to develop their learning, teachers want to come to work, and where parents are proud to send their kids.

So no... I can't fix everything... but I think it is my job as a site principal (and the job of every member of our school community) to help fix the most important things: how can we do our best for the kids.

In working together to best support our students and each other, I believe that we can find a certain level of balance in middle school.

Part 1: Principal of 1030 students

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for kids who don't fit the mold of your typical middle school student expectation.

My first teaching assignment was a self-contained classroom with students of varying diagnoses. A few students were school-phobic. Other students exhibited oppositional defiance disorder tendencies. I distinctly remember students who were emotionally disturbed, dyslexic, borderline intellectually impaired, or simply uninterested in doing school. My classroom was where expelled students would land.

That said, I think it was the best four and a half years of my professional life. I felt like we were working hard as a team to make middle school for our shared students the best experience possible. Looking back, there are more than a few students from our classroom who continued on to high school and higher education with much success. We truly tried to give our students everything we could to make them feel cared for and to know that we would all be there to support them.

Fast forward to today. Parts 1 and 2.

This morning, I focused on a variety of school issues. My inbox was full with questions, concerns, and action items. As I sifted through, I saw an email with a calendar item to contact a parent this morning via a phone call. This parent had some concerns about the progress of their student thus far this school year.

In the phone conversation with the parent, I spent the majority of the time listening to their concerns. I found myself agreeing with many of their points. Their student is someone I've worked with over the past two years and seen such incredible growth from. I enjoy interacting with this student. I feel like we have a secret, non-verbal language sometimes, one where we can communicate in silly glances and random facial expressions. I see a lot of myself in this student. I want him to be successful. I care.

At the end of the phone call, I informed the parent that I had an idea on how to address some of their concerns. I'm not going to pretend that I had an answer for every action item. I didn't. What I could do is spend my morning focusing on how to best support this student.

So I spoke with our assistant principal about a few of my ideas. She helped refine my out-of-the-box thoughts to something that could actually work for the student. I then reached out to our new mental health therapist; he was completely on board. I sensed that he too shared an instant connection with the student and would be able to greatly assist moving forward. I looped in the 8th grade resource teacher, our school counselor, and eventually the student as well. Everyone was on board with the plan. A short email later to the team (and yes, the team includes the parent) and we had a solid rebooting for the rest of the week to best support the student.

We know it might not be perfect. Everyone on the team agrees that we're going to try a lot of things... and if something doesn't work, we'll adjust and try something different.

The highlight of my morning is two-fold.

The first memorable moment was from the new mental health therapist. He commented (and I'm paraphrasing here): "I haven't seen a principal take the lead before on a student's support plan." My response was very simple: we are a team; everyone needs to support our students, including the principal. Secretly, I appreciated his comments. The work of a principal often goes unrecognized. We often get the emails when something is wrong, but rarely do we get feedback from our school community that recognizes the care we give to each and every student, teacher, and parent.

The second memorable moment was my conversation with the student. It actually wasn't much of a conversation. As stated earlier, we have a non-verbal understanding and high level of trust with one another. The sly smile the student provided when he recognized my efforts to help his school day be a bit better -- that's what I received from him after sharing our plan.

I'm excited to see how the plan works for the student. It may need some refining but we are committed as a team to work with the student, his teachers, and all of the supportive adults involved to keep trying. We don't give up on kids.

And a perfect day would stop there. Unfortunately, part 2 had not yet happened.

Roller Coaster World of Education

Unless you've been in education, I'm not sure one can fully understand what it is like for educators during the 180+ school days. My best analogy would be akin to a roller coaster on repeat.

You sit down and prepare for the ride. Everything is calm. There is a bit of excitement in the air for the upcoming school year. You know what the year will bring. You've seen it before. The safety ride workers come by to make sure you're securely fastened. They spend less than two seconds on this very important part of the trip. Just a quick look, perhaps they pull on the harness a bit, and then they move on to the next person.

You're sitting next to a friend but it just as well could be someone you've never met. You give a "here goes nothing" glance to your seatmate. They smile back. Perhaps they're a veteran for this ride. It could be their first time trying it out. Somewhere amidst the seats, there's a rather talkative individual, sharing their excitement and how they always love the roller coaster experience. Their examples of this "excitement" are beginning to make you question whether or not you want to take this ride after all. Before you can make up your ride, you start to move. The first day of school has begun and the kids are piling into your classroom. It is too late now. Hold on.

It's a slow climb to the top of the tracks. Everyone is pretty excited. The clicking and clanging of the climb is helping build the excitement. Everyone is still getting along. There's a sense of energy in the air. The first time rider is a bit clueless for what's about to begin. The veteran teacher is hinting about the upcoming fall. You're not questioning yourself just yet. This is one of the nicer parts of the ride.

And then it happens. Since you're sitting a bit towards the middle, you see the the riders in the front disappear. You're not sure where they went. You can only hear their screams. Maybe it's the first test they gave with the follow up flood of parent emails about why their student received a B- on the assessment. Maybe it's the departure of a beloved assistant principal who has announced they're leaving the district for a promotion elsewhere. Maybe their three month old twin boys aren't sleeping through the night and they're running on less than empty. Whatever their reason, you're quickly approaching the drop and know you're going to experience the same shortly.

You do. The roller coaster crosses the apex and falls fast toward oblivion. You have your hands clutching the side rails, just hoping for a bit of life-saving security. Your seatmate has their hands in the air and is screaming loudly, perhaps with excitement, maybe with a bit of fear. Who is this guy? You look past ahead of the bouncing heads in front of you and realize that the drop is about to end. You breathe a bit and think you'll be able to catch your breather. You're wrong.

Next thing you know, you're at a forty five degree angle as the roller coaster speeds through a turn. You look to your left and realize your head is about four feet from a murky swamp. Truthfully, you consider your options at this point. How bad would it be to slither out of your harness and drop quietly into the brownish-green waters? You could always say it was an accident and no one would think twice.

Before you can make your decision, the roller coaster is picking up speed and is entering the corkscrew portion of the ride. Your head jostles back and forth. Your eyes react as if they've been struck by a taser. Your mouth and chin tense, giving the impression that you're trying out to play the role of the Joker in the next Batman flick. In the education world, we call this the month of March.

There's a short lull during the ride as you begin to climb once more toward the final descent. The other riders are in various states of euphoria and chaos. The veteran to your right begins talking about how they're never going to ride a roller coaster again. The first time rider a few seats ahead of you is looking around, wondering if their feelings of helplessness and hopelessness are normal. You just continue to hold on, brave through the requests for last minute extra credit, and progress toward the finish line.

Finally. It's here. The roller coaster pulls into its final destination, a place that looks oddly familiar to where you began your ride. True educators, however, don't always get to get off this roller coaster. They've got an upcoming conference next weekend to learn about the new math curriculum. There's an administrative retreat to help you start your planning for the upcoming year. Next year's master schedule needs to be finalized and have all 1,050 students imported into their classes for the next roller coaster ride.

This year, however, it's a bit different for me. I'm getting off the roller coaster for the next few weeks. I'm logging off, powering down, and spending a few extra moments with my family and also just by myself. This year's roller coaster ride was a long one with lots of twists and turns. As a principal who tries to provide 24-7 support through late night email responses, texting replies, NextDoor support, constant community communication, and just everything else I can during the school year, I'm going to take what I think is a much needed and well deserved break from it all. I'm posting my "away for the summer" vacation response for my work email and doing my best to limit my work-related activities over the few weeks. I hope every other educator out there gets their well-deserved rest from the roller coaster world of education we live in. You've earned it.

How I know it's the end of the May...

I can tell when there are three weeks left in the school year. I don't even need to look at a calendar. Based on the behaviors of our students, the communication from our parent community, and the exhausted looks from our staff, I can pinpoint the last week of May with 100% accuracy.

Summer is a very perplexing event for many of our fragile students. They know they should look forward to having three months to play, to be silly, to explore their interests. However, for many of our students, they're scared and have no idea how to voice their concerns. School is their true stability. They know we're here for them. They know the start time, the end time, and everything that happens in between. Once summer hits, their schedule shifts and it scares them. 

And when the stress of summer approaches, students behave in a variety of ways. Some will shut down completely. Why finish the school year strong if they're leaving? Others will emotionally collapse. What do you mean I'm going to be somewhere else for the next three months? For our departing for high school students, it's often worse. These students don't know how to handle the goodbye that comes with their promotion to 9th grade. Instead of celebrating their successes and honoring the relationships they've built, they actively seek to destroy their progress. They know they're leaving for high school. They know we're not following them to 9th grade. To make their departure a bit easier, they'll look to doom everything they've built. This practice is heartbreaking for the staff. Close to three years of notable successes are darkly colored by the failures of the final three weeks. It's hard for us. Crushing.

For our parents, the last three weeks of school are a stressful time. If their student is headed off to high school, they face a constant battle to remind their kid to run through the academic finish line. There's an increase in missing work, significantly more poor decisions made, and an unlimited number of "we were just messing around" comments shared in the assistant principal's office. This is increasingly frustrating for our parents and rightfully so. 

Here lies an opportunity for our parents. Do they (A) schedule a meeting with our teachers, counselor, assistant principal, or principal to look for a loophole to protect their student's grades and/or consequences (B) hold their student accountable for their bad choices and focus on how their student can make better choices in the future? Truthfully, for Union Middle, most of our parent community opts for the right choice: B. 

Logical consequences could be the best thing for a student who has made a bad choice. Some parents choose to excuse their student's behavior and instead battle our staff on an assignment, a bad choice, or the final grade. Perhaps they're nervous about private school. Maybe they are worried about their child losing an end-of-the-school-year activity. Some have even indicated that there is a school-wide conspiracy against their student. Whatever the concern, these are true learning moments where a parent can show their student that the bad decision they've made doesn't have an easy way out; that there are lasting consequences which don't necessarily evaporate as easily as they'd like. I wish our parents knew that their child is watching extremely closely during their office visits. If a student sees their parents excuse their school behaviors away, the wrong lesson will be memorized. Difficult days will resurface down the road. While it's hard to allow your student to accept consequences for the mistakes they've made, it can be the best lesson you'll ever be able to provide your student to learn.

For our staff, I try my best to not count down the remaining school days. I want everyone to continue the learning opportunities within their classrooms up until the last day of the school year. However, with students becoming increasingly challenging and the emails from various members of the parent community nitpicking their student's grades, any staff member can't help but count down to the final day of the school year. At all of my previous schools, I've counseled many staff members on these student and parent concerns, often surrounding a random assignment from mid April that wasn't turned in or addressing any requests for extra credit when the student hasn't turn in half of the daily homework throughout the quarter. Our staff truly loves and supports our students. There is a strong desire to work with our parent community as well. But now, during the last few weeks of school, it becomes increasingly challenging to make everything work and still find the strength to push through to June 9th.

It's the last three weeks of the school year. I just know it. The students struggling to keep it together. The parents who are hoping for a last second hail mary A-. The teachers looking like they're auditioning for a role as an extra for the Walking Dead. Everyone is exhausted. It's the last few weeks of the school year. 

And in 70 short days, we'll do this all over again. 

March: The Worst Month of the Year

Many educators believe that the month of March is tied with the month of May as the worst time of the school year. Truthfully, I don't think it's even up for debate; March wins hands down.

May is just filled with fun. Cinco de Mayo placed delicately during the first week of May. We have the excitement of meeting the current 5th graders for the first time during our annual 5th grade walking field trip. Summer, a yearly opportunity to reboot, is that much closer. Tax season has long passed. We can see the finish line for our ready-for-high-school 8th graders.

None of this is true for the month of March.

March is just a challenging month. Every year, I suspect our students, parents, teachers, and administrators dread these four long weeks, slowly drudging toward the highly anticipated spring break in April.

Last year, I shared a theory with our staff at one of our Wednesday meetings. Our parent community seemed a bit stressed. Many of them had communicated as much to me via email, in person, or over NextDoor. When our parent community becomes stressed, their children often absorb similar emotions and behaviors. These students would then bring these concerns into the classroom, often creating challenging experiences for their classroom teachers. Next step: Our staff becomes stressed.

Stressed from the inquiries from over analysis of missing assignments... Stressed from the modified schedules that forces changed lesson plans and classroom procedures... Stressed from students who seem to believe it's already Summer...  And thus, our teaching staff becomes a bit unnerved by these behaviors and I don't blame them. The month of March is a house of cards that's held together by a bit of luck and an absence of wind.

This past week was increasingly unique. Each day brought a different challenge.

On Monday, we had our monthly optional Instructional Leadership Team Meeting. This meeting gave me the opportunity to share the recent staff feedback on our site administrative team and address any staff concerns. One of the present staff members requested to have more all staff conversations during our staff collaboration time. I shared that we don't use our staff collaboration time for all staff conversations. We share positive thoughts, get a quick ASB update, review the weekly pre-delivered Memo, include any all staff announcements, and then a raffle for a $5 Starbucks card. I then explained that my past experience with all staff conversations often leads to hurt feelings, infighting within the staff, and no significant outcomes. Furthermore, I explained how decisions are best made in small informal settings, through face to face conversations, and throughout the school year. The previous principal instituted this strategy and it's one that I wholeheartedly agree with.

No matter my explanation, this staff member did not seem to agree with the reasons behind this decision. It's ok that we disagree; I don't expect to agree on every topic. Still, even after a check-in after the meeting was over where I thanked them for their input, they responded with a comment that made it clear that they weren't feeling heard. It wasn't a great ending to a challenging Monday.

Tuesday began with a parent meeting regarding the behavior choices by one of our students. The conflict this student was having in the classroom was exacerbated by a verbal exchange with one of their teachers. Even though the student and the teacher often have a great relationship, the student spiraled into the office, initially refusing to take any responsibility for his behaviors. The parents were very supportive of the teacher in the situation, but I could tell that they're struggling on how to best support their student... similar to what I'm feeling as the site principal. This was a hard week for all of our students.

The afternoon was my annual budget meeting with the district office. I found out that despite an increase in students for the upcoming school year, our school budget would be taking a substantial hit. I'm not sure if we're going to lose any programs or people due to the lower provided funds, but it's an issue that I'll have to review as we build our budget for the next school year.

Wednesday was actually one of the best days of the year, but it's also one of the longest. It was Open House for our district's middle schools. A flood of current students bring their parents onto our campus to show their learning for the school year. This year, we had a significant number of parents not yet part of the Union Middle community visit with their 5th grade students. It's a bit of teacher-shopping and school-assessment on a random March evening. I also had to prepare and deliver my annual Open House speech to our parent community. Even to this day, I still get significantly nervous in the days leading up to any public speaking opportunity. Lately, I've been attempting to present without any sort of notes to engage a bit more with the audience. This means I spend a good bit more time memorizing my speech and working on the related slides to make sure I'm well prepared.

Knowing it was going to be a long day, I got up extra early to place and pick up a bagel order for our staff. We are blessed to have a supportive Home and School Club to help fund these morning breakfasts. Even with the over-ordering of bagels, they were completely gone by the end of the school day. That's a lot of hungry staff members.

Thursday came too soon. The school day that follows our Back to School and Open House nights are always a challenge. In conversations with my fellow educators, it became very obvious that we were in survival mode for our last day with students until Spring break. Today also included a breakfast pick up for the staff. Possibly the best part of my day was seeing the smiles and hearing the thank you's from our staff for providing today's breakfast. Truly, I'm blessed with a great staff.

The rest of the day was a challenge. One of our feeder schools had scheduled a conflicting event with our annual 5th grade walking field trip. We were left scrambling to change our event to accommodate their conflict. Luckily, in coordination with our other elementary feeder schools, we were able to locate an alternate date that worked for everyone. It did mean that we'll need to move a few events around at the last minute, but we're going to make it work.

The day ended with another parent meeting, this time again with concerns regarding their student at the local high school. It was a class credit question wrapped in a larger concern about their customer service experience in trying to get the issue addressed.

But Friday was just all sorts of awesome.

Today was our staff development day, led by our CTO Andrew Schwab. He brought to our school district around a dozen edu-famous CUE Rock Star Presenters to lead our educators in a day of technology and pedagogy learning. Just a quick follow of the event's hashtag #USDlearns on Twitter shows the amazing sessions we had the benefit of attending. The day ended with two of the three awards going to #teamUMS staff members for their daily efforts. It left me a proud principal and reinvigorated to start again on Monday as we run through the finish line of June 9th.

And that ended the month of March. Stressed parents. Silly kids. Everyone ready for spring break. I'm glad we get an 11 month reprieve until we have to experience the month of March again.

A Lasting Impression by my Second Principal

I'm often asked by my staff and parent community about my path in becoming a school administrator. They ask if there was one individual who inspired me to leave the classroom and join the dark side of administration. During these conversations, I think back to my time in the classroom and my site principals during those classroom days.

During my first five years in the classroom, I served under three very different principals. Each of these individuals had their own unique leadership style.

I had very limited interaction with my first principal. I'm not sure we ever spoke outside of my initial interview. Within the first few weeks of my time on the campus, she retired. Hopefully, my arrival on the campus wasn't the cause of her departure.

All I can remember from my third principal was his comment about my work attire (cargo shorts and Adidas flip flops were frowned upon for the teaching staff) and his love of Bruce Springsteen's album The Rising. My future (and current) wife worked in the main office as a counselor so I learned a lot of what it felt like to be part of a front office through her experience.

It was my second principal who made a more lasting impression. Despite only serving on an interim status for a short few months, it was his support during my first semester as a classroom teacher that helped shape my perspective on what a teacher-principal relationship could look like.

He always provided critical and timely FEEDBACK.

As a teacher new to the classroom, I was woefully unprepared. After my interview and mid-year hiring, I was given the keys to my classroom and wished the best of luck. Even with the additional adults in the classroom for student support, it was my first classroom and the early goings were quite rocky. During my prep periods, I'd often venture to the office to check in. Even early on in my educational career, I liked the quasi chaos of the main office.

During these visits, the principal would take me aside and ask me pointed questions about my teaching practice. He'd ask what I felt at the time to be very challenging questions about my lesson planning, how I was addressing the social and emotional needs of my students, and how I was working on integrating myself into the staff as a new teacher at the school. Truthfully, I did a lot more listening during these conversations, as I didn't have any of the answers I felt he was looking for.

During these conversations, he would give significant feedback on my responses and what he noticed from his formal and informal visits to my classroom as well as any observations he made from my interactions with other staff members, students, and my students' parents. This feedback was often very pointed. He did not mince his words, although never in a mean way. He shared a sense of compassion toward my classroom and school site efforts while, at the same time, strongly encouraging me to reflect and figure out how I could improve my practice. The feedback he provided made me think about school topics and classroom issues in a manner I had not expected. Always supportive, not all of his feedback was positive. A significant part of his words were actually quite critical. However, his overall message was something I needed to hear if I were to be the best educator possible for my students. He offered resources and opportunity for growth. He had the talent to pull from my strengths while allowing consistent reflection on my many areas for improvement.

He modeled what diplomacy and consistency should look like for a site principal.

One of my biggest challenges as an administrator was perhaps my second principal's best talent: he truly got along with so many different types of people. Whereas I may get a bit frustrated and impatient in my conversations and observations with various members of my staff, he always maintained his composure and remained oddly consistent in his leadership. He avoided making huge waves amongst the staff. One of my main takeaways was how he trusted the teachers, as professionals, to be curriculum and classroom decisions to best support their students. Outside our school walls, he was perhaps one of the leading conversationalists on neuroscience in education and had knowledge regarding the science of the teaching profession that was unparalleled in our district.

He encouraged me to network, both on and off our school site. He was one of my strongest advocates, always trusting in my abilities while offering resources and opportunities to improve. He shared his secrets on how to remain engaged in the activity of the middle school without allowing it to overwhelm you. He was a shield of the new-to-the-teaching-profession individuals on our staff, always providing a level of consistent support.

He led with a good sense of balance. Just because a parent or a teacher had what they felt to be a significant concern, he didn't allow their issues to become his issues. He maintained a sense of self and compassion, always willing to listen but not becoming overly emotionally involved in the latest drama that occurs way too regularly on a middle school campus. It is perhaps the hardest challenge of a caring principal to not get negatively involved in the poor behaviors of the adults we interact with on a daily basis. Somehow, he threaded the balance of continued diplomacy while still showing the compassion necessary for our kids, parents, and staff.

He encouraged me to look past my current position and toward my educational FUTURE. 

As a new teacher to the classroom on an emergency credential, I was not thinking ahead to my professional career; instead, I was simply enjoying my first few days in the classroom and wondering what it would take to somehow acquire a teaching credential. As previously shared, my arrival into the classroom was based on the puzzle pieces of a chance encounter that just seemed to all fit together. I gave no consideration toward any career past the classroom.

My principal had other ideas.

He would stop me on my visits to the office to talk about my experience in the classroom that day. What had I learned. How would I apply these findings toward tomorrow. He would regularly pull back the curtain to what it was like to be an administrator. He regularly encouraged me to consider a future in administration. Without any prompting, he offered to write the eventual necessary letter of recommendation I'd need down the line for any educational career advancement. When the time came four years later where I'd need his recommendation, he had it signed and ready to go almost instantaneously. After my first few interviews, he sat with me and provided the necessary reflection to improve. When I got my first administrative position, he was one of the first people to congratulate me. When I later returned to my first district, he was one of the first people to greet me. After I once again left for an outside district, he supported me every step of the way. He seemed to have a better vision of my future than I may have had. He was always there to provide those bits of encouragement along the way.

It is from this individual that I grew many of the tenets of my administrative philosophy. While I may not always manage to reach these lofty standards, it doesn't stop me from trying to best support my fellow educators at Union Middle. Hopefully, when we have a chance to look back, a few current Union Middle staff members will reflect upon the time we spent together in a similar fashion as they move forward in their educational careers.

An Opportunity To Bully

Two weeks ago, we, as a school staff, had one of our most challenging weeks of the year. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the culmination of a few activities proved the breaking point for a few.

-Our students and parents were gearing up for the annual school play.
-Disneyland for our band and choir squads was upcoming.
-Mid Quarter Reports came due.
-It was the third week of block scheduling and SBAC testing.
-And many many more events that just added to the collective stress.

Our parent community, based on the increased number of emails I received, seemed to have their own concerns. I suspect their frustrations were passed along to their kids and thus back into the classroom each and every day for our teachers to progress through. And while our staff is well versed in maintaining the calm, it is inevitable, as human beings, that some of the frustration is passed back to the students and thus our parents. In speaking with our staff, we discussed the opportunity we have to "break the chain" and not allow the stress to fester. They did a great job and this past week was much improved.

Until Friday.

Friday was actually a really neat day. Our students were able to use their cell phones during brunch and lunch, a school first. Our parent community was very supportive of the idea, especially and even if they didn't necessarily agree with the concept. I'm excited to see where the conversation leads and how we can get ahead of the inevitable flood of technology our students will have and use regularly.

The bad news came in the form of an anonymous post from the previous Saturday on the website "greatschools" and it was just mean. Here it is in its entirety. Be warned, it's not nice:

Teachers here are very uninspiring. They aren't there to teach, they're there to supervise. Students are handed an assignment and they figure out how to complete it on their own. As for learned curriculum, students read a printed-out powerpoint or a textbook all by themselves. If they have a question that the teacher can't answer, the teacher shrugs it off and leaves the student to their own resources. Also, I'm going to specifically target the ELA Department. In 6th grade, the way students are taught to write is very rigid, structured, and it doesn't offer any room for creativity and flow. 7th grade - well, they don't teach anything remotely RELATED to English! They observe rotting french fries, party like Victorians, and create videos. But never, ever are they taught to write. And yet they are TESTED on writing skills at the end of each quarter! Overall, I'm shocked at what Union Middle School considers education. It doesn't prepare students for their future, and really, everything students do at school they could do at home, by themselves. I would be very careful if you plan on attending this school. 

Ouch. 

Here's the truth. Our teachers are amazing. They are, as a collective group, one of the best staffs I'll ever be a part of. They're the opposite of uninspiring. When I'm in a down mood, I specifically visit a few UMS classrooms because I know I'll see top-notch teaching, kids loving to learn, and just inspiring learning leadership. Rare is the class session where kids are just reading a powerpoint or a textbook all by themselves. We have kids creating peer-lessons, leading their own learning, and becoming experts on tons of topics. I'm not saying that we have the "perfect" staff but I think we have a collection of adults who truly care about kids and are working toward enriching their learning experiences during their days in middle school

One of my former superintendents once said to me:

"Don't pay any mind to those who shoot out the back window as they drive away." 

From the sound of the post, it reads like a family who may not be returning for 8th grade and is unhappy with how their child's year has gone. As a site principal, I want to hear their concerns and address them as a staff. I would invite them into my office and give them as much time as they needed during their quasi-exit interview. However, this parent decided to broadcast their feelings to the world. The beauty of the Internet.

And they have a right to be upset and to leave a bad review. I wish they would rather want to discuss their concerns and see if we can make things better for their student and future students. I also want to acknowledge that we may just have to disagree about the Union Middle teaching staff. Where this parent crossed the line is their attack of our 7th grade ELA department and their curriculum.

Currently, in 7th grade, we have three fantastic teachers leading the charge. One of these teachers was the recent Emerging Educator for CUE. Another one of these teachers was a recent district-wide Teacher of the Year. The third teacher, just starting out in their teaching career, has also done a fantastic job with her students, using the same curriculum as her 7th grade ELA peers. As I've said publicly to anyone who will listen, I'll put our 7th and 8th grade ELA department up against any other 7th and 8th grade department in the entire state of California; I can guarantee that we've got the most innovative, most common core, most engaging curriculum and teacher-led instruction through student-led learning.

That's what makes their post so perplexing. They talked about the rotting french fries, a lesson that stems out of Chew on This and is perfectly overlapping with the Science 7 curriculum. They mentioned the Victorian party, an opportunity for students to dress in Victorian outfits and progress through various stations of self-directed learning. Video creation stems through the iMovies our students made through their Fierce Wonderings, a series of projects and lessons that is lauded by the edu-community as ground breaking and 21st century. Essentially, this parent pointed out amazing Common Core projects that our 7th grade ELA teachers have spent countless hours, evenings, and summer days perfecting. I'm very proud of the work they've done. And for those of you who care about test scores, our 7th grade ELA CST results had over 90% of our students in the proficient and advanced range. Simply put, these are some of the best teachers I'll ever meet.

I should also point out that I give many opportunities for feedback from our parent community. I send surveys, texts, emails, phone calls, and even entertain the occasional conversation during parking lot duty. I don't think any parent feels "unheard" at our school. And while there are times we may have to agree to disagree, I always value a community member's input on how to improve the work we do with our students.

That said, in the end, all you need is a dial-up connection and an ax to grind in today's digital age to post venomous comments about the hard work of today's educators. I appreciate what such websites like "greatschools" can bring to a school community, but giving individuals an opportunity to "type angry" and bully teachers seems unfair and unproductive. It's a shame how this parent chose to bully our staff with their anonymous, yet public comments. There are tons of opportunities in our daily practices to bully others; I just hope that frustrated community members can find a different way to share their concerns and comments. We wouldn't approve of our students acting this way; why does this website not only turn a blind eye to (but even encourage) adults and their bullying behaviors?

My One Word for 2015

Across the Twitterverse, there is a challenge to choose one word that will inspire you in our classroom or school in 2015...

To be fair, I've struggled with my selection of my word for 2015. I've thought about the idea of choosing the word "sprint" because of how fast it feels we're moving as a middle school. Conversely, I've thought about choosing the word "slow" as we often need to shift down during our days and appreciate the blessings of being able to work with kids (and people who work with the kids!). Ultimately, I've chosen the word "perfect".

But not "perfect" as a noun... instead, "perfect" as a verb, specifically: "make something complete, free from faults or defects, or as close to such a condition as possible."

At Union Middle School, I feel we are in the "sweet spot" of education. We have possibly the most innovative CTO in the entire county in Mr. Andrew Schwab... We have an incredibly supportive district office and parent community... And perhaps most importantly, we have one of the best school staffs in the state of California. 

Union Middle School already offers so many incredible opportunities for our students. We have Project Lead The Way, Design Thinking, Minecraft, and more. There is a flourishing music program with an incredibly supportive band boosters behind it. 97% of our kids have reported that they have not been bullied due to an academic or social disability. And perhaps most telling, over half of our staff has been hired at Union Middle within the last five years, including yours truly.

So my one word  for the upcoming year is the verb form of "perfect".

My goal is that we begin to improve and perfect everything we're already doing. 

I don't want to add more electives to our staff. I don't think we need to switch how we experience our days with our students. We already have so many opportunities for our students, staff, and parent community to become involved at our school. What we can best improve upon is perfecting everything we're already doing... or as close to such a condition as possible.

How do we do this?

1) Time - Provide as much time as possible for our staff. Time to prepare for the Next Generation Science Standards. Time for our Tech 2 staff members to assist their peers in improving their classroom experience. Time for our leadership team to meet with students, with parents, and with teachers to hear feedback and augment what we're already best providing.

2) Experience - The best gift in the teaching profession is experience and it's only something that we can receive through walking through our daily lives in and out of the classroom, learning from our own mistakes. We are on our third year of Project Lead The Way, our second year of Champions, and our first year of Design Thinking and Minecraft. The gift of experience provides confidence and a reassurance that we're providing the best curriculum and school experience possible for our students.

3) Reflection - I'm not going to assume that everything we're doing is the best way to accomplish our goals. As you've possibly heard before, the phrase "because we've always done it this way" has become our enemy mantra. We need to evaluate our administrative choices and determine how we can best serve our students and best propel (or perfect) our school educators to achieve greatness. We will reflect on our current practices to best improve future performance. 

So the one word I'm going to focus on is perfect as in how to take the amazing work we're already doing to the next level and how to support our staff therein. Here's to an exciting 2015.

Too Much, Too Soon... Or: How to Create Teacher Stress on Your School Campus

OH MY... WHAT A YEAR

It's hard to believe that we are just 25% through the school year. It's been such an odd year. It's my third year as a site principal, fifth year at the school. As a third year principal, this is the year the magic should happen. I've followed the traditional administrative path of 1st year listen, 2nd year discuss, 3rd year implement.

And so we've implemented.

New classes. New Common Core Math Pathways. New (amazing) staff. New opportunities for Professional Development. Increased enrollment. Bond passed.

That's a short list and it doesn't include the biggest change of all: Increased Access to Technology.

So let's back up a bit and take a wider lens at the conversation.

If you ask almost any teacher today what they'd like more of, technology in the classroom will surely be in the top five comments they'll share.

Our district, knowing a strong deficit in this regard, created a new position of Chief Technology Office and hired what I often call the best hire by USD over the last decade: Andrew Schwab.

Andrew was exactly what our teachers and administrators (especially me) wanted: someone to centralize and support all of our technological needs. He started slow, met with teachers and administrators, and did everything a new staff member should do. Yet, teachers and administrators clamored for more. They asked for 1:1. They asked for updated computers. They wanted improved wifi.

And Andrew delivered everything and more.

-Our school has received a minimum of tenfold in access points for individual and improved wifi connection.

-A new MacBook Air for every staff member

-A shift to GAFE tools for education

-1:1 in every 6th grade classroom

-A dozen additional ChromeBook carts for check out

-Ten staff members labeled Tech 1's or Tech 2's, able to provide support and professional development

It was everything our staff (including myself) had been clamoring for over the past five years. And yet, the collective teacher stress increased exponentially.

Here's why:

Technology cannot just be given to a teacher without professional development and more importantly time.

The professional development gives them a chance to explore how to best implement the technology into the classroom. If a student takes notes with pen and paper or if a student takes notes on a Google Doc, there's no difference. The added benefit is how the technology allows collaboration and other sharing opportunities through its implementation.

Time is perhaps the most important ingredient. The tech-ready teachers won't need the time. They'll figure out how to best implement the gift of 1:1 Chromebooks immediately. For the rest, however, there needs to be an understanding that they'll have time to implement the technology into their classrooms.

Sadly, this time isn't something that can just happen during a staff development day, a trip to #fallCUE, or on a random prep period. Our teachers need the time to play and explore. They need days, not prep periods, to figure out how to best implement the new technology into their classroom. They need release days to observe other classrooms. They need the opportunity to get comfortable with the technology.

And I'll be honest... despite our best efforts, this didn't happen.

Our teachers weren't given enough time to work with and work through the added technology in their classrooms.

Fortunately, our staff has been amazingly supportive in how they've dealt with the situation. We have had teachers open up their classroom prior to the school day for other teachers to get technology help. Our assistant principal has arranged for classroom subs to allow for random observation days for teachers looking to see how the technology is being implemented in other classrooms. I've given time for staff development during our weekly Wednesday meetings.

Still, it's not enough.

And it's because we went too much, too soon.

To me, it wasn't that fast. To many staff members, it wasn't that fast either. But they aren't the average staff member.

To those teachers who didn't want to exchange their hard drive MacBooks for a new MacBook Air... for those staff members who don't fully understand the benefits of labels in gmail... To the teachers who were frustrated with the initial limitations of Google Classroom... It was just a rough start.

And it led to increased stress levels among the staff.

A disclaimer about the UMS staff - They want to be cutting edge. They will work hard to provide a better student experience. They are always willing to go above and beyond.

But for whatever reason, it was just too much. Perhaps it was the insecurities of not wanting to disappoint our students, their principal, the new CTO... Perhaps it was just influx of Chromebooks and self-imposed expectations on how to incorporate the tech into their classrooms.

Whatever the reason, the message that our staff was a bit overwhelmed was received.

And so we slowed down. I communicated that the tech infusion was not a sprint nor a marathon; it was an opportunity to break down walls and encourage student interaction in their classrooms.

The expectation wasn't that they'd implement everything yesterday but instead slowly feel comfortable on incorporating pieces into their daily lessons as they saw fit.

And yes, I have offered professional development through #fallCUE, weekly staff meetings, or upcoming staff development days. That's not the message though.

The point of including an influx of technology into the classroom is to have a very slow expectation of how the tech will be implemented. However, even if you let your staff know that the pace will be slow and supportive of all, there will be an increase in stress among your staff.

The reason is simple: teachers don't want to disappoint. They know they have just received a Chromebook cart worth close to $20,000. They want to show their appreciation through results that truly aren't possible just yet. They need time to review, reflect, and implement. They need support. They need professional development. They need time.

And so I've tried to temper expectations and tried to share that this isn't a race we're trying to win. We were already winning. All we've done is provide something to enhance the amazing delivery of content and connection our teachers are already providing.

It's a very timely example of just too much, too soon... and how it leads to teacher stress. Perhaps unavoidable, but a worthy tale of how to best support one's staff during these implementation times.