Category: WAYS

These are some ways that I’ve seen, read about, or otherwise come across that seem to engage students in learning and growth.

End of The Year Message to My School Community: “The Start”

For the past couple of weeks we’ve been thinking and talking about the end of the school year.  Some of us count the days, some of us try to slow the time so that we can “get everything done,” and some of us simply reflect. Each in our own way, we take it one step at a time. It’s a yearly journey that none of us can, or would want to avoid.

For me, it’s bittersweet. Bitter because in a couple of days I will no longer be starting each morning alongside hundred of students and dozens of colleagues whose company I so greatly enjoy. Not for a while, anyway. For a while, things will be different. Slow, steady, and peaceful, but different. Summer breaks come with a shortage of daily challenges. Relaxing, however, the daily challenges of school leadership are also daily opportunities for problem solving, which fuels me. It keep me on my toes, sharp, thinking fast, and it keeps me collaborating with a bunch of people I respect, appreciate and admire. 

There’s a sweetness to slowing down, and we all know that absence makes the heart grow fonder, which is why year after year we also feel the incredible excitement of the beginning of the school year as summer wanes. 

I don’t view this time as an ending, and I would suggest that others might benefit by considering that lens as well. We do have to cross the threshold, and that crossing brings real emotion. I recommend letting yourself feel whatever it is you feel, and as you do, prepare to make the most of what is also the start of something that can be wonderful. 

Try to step into summer break with as much enthusiasm as possible. Spend as much time as you can with family and friends. Get enough sleep. Read books about things that interest you. Work with your hands. Go for long walks. Sail and swim whenever you come across bodies of water. Be present in each moment.

Enjoy the start of summer break. Each of us has earned it. We’ve run a marathon like never before. It’s time to take really good care of ourselves and those we love.  

With my deepest gratitude on behalf of myself and the students we serve…here’s to a joyful and balanced summer break!

In it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

My Wife Is A Wonderful Person


My wife is a wonderful person.

Currently, she’s leading a shoe drive. You can read about it here: https://www.candgnews.com/news/shoe-drive-raises-funds-for-community-action-supports-entrepreneurs-abroad-120531

I’ve never lead a shoe drive. She’s leading one…and it’s helping a lot of people, brining a lot of people together, and strengthening a community by way of their shared interests and core values. 

My wife is a wonderful person. 

Let’s take a step back, though. 

In the mornings, she makes sure that all ten of us have everything we need for a successful and fulfilling day. Herself, our four dogs, our four kids and me (and not in that order). Everyday, we each head to where we’re going, fully equipped to do the things we need to do…because of my wife. 

My wife is a wonderful person.

Often, our kids aren’t sure what they want for lunch. She works with them until they come to some sort of agreement. “Works with them” being a rather loose phrase for how the process goes. Our kids are kind and loving, however, they occasionally ignore my wife in the morning (and midday, and in the afternoon, and in the evening…we’re working on it). So, my wife has to exercise an incredible amount of patience in order to get things going, and she does. 

And get this, they always have balanced lunches…and not just balanced lunches, but balanced with things that each one of them will eat. One of them seems to like grapes along side turkey that’s rolled up with cheese, and some yogurt, and carrot sticks, and another one seems to like turkey on little Hawaiian buns, next to cucumbers (cut in half the long way), with a cheese stick and some watermelon, while yet another one seems to be partial to sun-butter and jelly (or something like that). I think our six-year-old’s preference is left over tikka masala. Who knows. My wife does. 

My wife a wonderful person. 

Getting us out of the house and fed is one thing. In and of itself, I can’t imagine how it’s done. I mean, I can roll turkey and cheese, make a sandwich, and even put tikka masala in a thermos, that’s not where my inability to imagine the ordeal is rooted. It’s that when I think about coordinating it all for myself, five other people and four dogs, and making each one happy, it seems an unlikely, if not an impossible task. When she does it (every day), it doesn’t even look like she’s struggling. Amazing. 

My wife is a wonderful person.

During the day, I sometimes call my wife. I need her to help me problem solve, I need to share my thinking with her, and sometimes I need to vent. How does that help her, you may ask? Actually, it doesn’t. She takes time out of her days to help me. She listens, she supports, she reminds me that I’m capable, and she celebrates my progress. 

I often call her on my way home, too. She get’s to listen to me talk while she’s managing endless after school activities like homework, snacks, playdates, and piano lessons. Lucky? Not exactly. Wonderful? Precisely.

For over a year, she’s been doing everything she always does, personally and professionally, while also making sure that our four kids (ages 6 to 11) have remained engaged in school and progressing, nourished, balanced, physically active, spiritually connected, and extremely comfortable by any standard, let along for a bunch of people in a pandemic, relegated to each other’s space all day…every day. 

My wife is a wonderful person.

My wife is the well regarded and highly respected Executive Director of our synagogue. Alone, what she does in that role is really unbelievable. She pours her heart and her soul into it, she always has our spiritual community in mind, and she’s constantly thinking about ideas and implement programs to enhance the lives of each individual who’s in any way connected…while also extending thoughtfulness, compassion, and grace to people in all spaces of the greater Detroit area, throughout Michigan, across the country and out into the world, with her professional influence, business acumen and leadership prowess. She does all of this in collaboration with the many wonderful partners she listens to, learns from and leads so fluidly. They all seem to really like her, too…and rightfully so. She’s likable and lovely.

My wife is a wonderful person.

From morning to night, my wife takes care of everything and everyone in her path. I don’t know when she takes care of herself, but strangely, she never seems to suffer from compassion fatigue. She wakes up and goes to sleep highly productive, efficient and nurturing. I’m essentially a bump on a log, and yet, she continues to let me hang around. 

My wife is a wonderful person.

When my wife reads this, she will push back. She will insist that we’re partners, that she’s not carrying the weight completely independently, that she’s imperfect and makes mistakes, that she’s got “a lot to learn” and “a long way to go,” and she may even make the absurd suggestion that I, too, have some function in perpetuating the blessed life we’re living. She will downplay her brilliance, her merit and her accomplishments – as wonderful people often do. 

I will ignore her, and that’s ok…she’s used to it.

My wife is wonderful person.

Lorelei, you have my love, respect and gratitude, now and forever. Happy Mother’s day 2021!

The Perfect Time to be Nice

 

We were at the playground, deep into a game in which I was an ogre, our 6-yr-old was my ogre kid, and the big brothers (9-yr-old and 11-year-old) were humans we were chasing. The goal was to catch them so that we could eat them for dinner. 

We were having a blast, running up and down playground structures, jumping, sliding, climbing poles, swinging on ropes, and growling. 

The engagement was high and the excitement was palpable. It was one of those games, where every once in a while a bust of energy shot through you and you burst into high speed. We were at if for two and a half hours before something interesting happened (our 6-yr-old can most often be counted on for something interesting – the others too, for that matter). 

The big brothers were several yards away, on the top of a hill. They were taunting us with some general, “Na, na, na, na, na’s” and their fingers were in the shape of “L’s” on their foreheads. Enough was enough for the kid ogre.

He turned to me and said, “They’re being so mean.”

Even thought they were just playing, he felt it. It was a game, but he felt sad that they were being so mean. Instead of crying, pouting, or quitting, he said, “This is the perfect time to be nice.”

I asked him what he meant by that. He explained. 

Now that we know what it feels like when someone isn’t nice to you, we should be nice to them, so that they don’t have to feel that way. He suggested that, instead of running after them, trying to catch them and eat them for dinner, maybe we should try to get them to be our guests for dinner, and eat vegetables.

The suggestion didn’t sound as fun to the big guys, so we compromised. I would still chase them, trying to catch and eat them, but my ogre kid would try to convince me to befriend the humans and become a vegetarian. Still fun, and we still got to pretend that someone was in danger of being cooked and eaten – a favored play theme among my kids.

We stayed a while longer and continued to have excited fun. 

Later that evening came to me with a big smile (that he was attempting to conceal) and said, “I had a lot of fun playing today.”

I said, “So did I, buddy.”

He said, “Ya, it was a really special time.”

My heart melted. We hugged. I would have liked for that moment to last forever, but as you know, they don’t (one of the reasons I write about them).

Here’s the thing…he’s was so right. When people are not being nice to you, it may actually be the perfect time to be nice to them. It’s healing. Even if they don’t appreciate it in the moment (or ever), it’s healing for you.

Najwa Zebian said, “Today I decided to forgive you, not because you apologized or because you acknowledged the pain you caused me, but because my soul deserves peace.”

Being mean is toxic. Being unkind is uncomfortable and stressful. Being hurtful is frustrating, and it diminishes well-being for both the hurtful and the hurt…both end up hurting.

Being kind is freeing. Being pleasant is elevating. Being friendly uplifts. Being nice is…well, it’s nice. 

We should be nice. In fact, anytime, and all the time, may be the perfect time to be nice. 

Thanks, buddy – you always know just how to deliver the message I need, in the moment I need it. I love you and I love learning from you.

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Just a Random Person in The World

Our 6-year-old was asking me about Dr. King, as he frequently does. He asked me if he could watch the “I have a dream” speech. He watched, and listened intently, and then he turned to me and asked, “Daddy?”

“Yes?” I relied.

He said, “Daddy, Dr. King is special.” 

I agreed. 

He went on, “Daddy…because I’m white, I have…what is it called?”

“Privilege,” I reminded him.

“…and that’s not fair,” he quickly added.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed.

He contemplated that for a moment. He’s a thoughtful kid. He pointed to the statue of Buddha we have under one of the trees in our yard and said, “…and he was special, right?”

“He was,” I agreed.

“Why,” he asked.

“Well,” I told him, “he was a prince who gave up all his money and power to spend time teaching people to love one another, to live with peace and compassion, and to give to those in need.”

With a bit of a head nod, and slightly under his breath, he uttered, “Wow.”

“…and the president with the big hat?” He continued.

“Abraham Lincoln?” I asked.

“Ya.”

“What about him?”

“Was he special?”

“He was,” I said.

He shook his head in what looked like frustration, to me. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I want to help people. I want to use my whiteness to help people,” He said. I believe he meant privilege.

“You can,” I told him.

“But I’m not special,” he informed me, “I’m just a random person in the world.”

What followed was a discussion about passion, drive, intention, faith and vision. I so deeply want to help him understand that he’s capable of whatever he puts his mind to, and that in fact, that’s part of what his privilege affords him. He will have opportunities to pursue his dreams that others won’t, and if he dreams of helping others gain privilege, he can focus his energy in that direction and achieve great things. 

I want him to understand that we are each special, and that we don’t need an audience of millions or the presidential seal to effect change. 

If his wish is to be an agent of kindness, compassion, and progress in this world, he can be just that…one person at time, by treating everyone he comes across in ways that lift and value them. 

He may never receive accolades for his work in this area, but I want him to know that if he does the work, if he does it with and open heart and an open mind, accolades won’t matter, because he will be changing the world for the better with every step he takes.

All of us, even the great ones, are just random people in the world…and all of us, even those whose voices don’t stretch across vast distances, when we think and act in special ways…we are all special. It takes every one of us, in every space, to bring light into darkness, and to fill our world with love.

I’m proud of the kid. At 6-years-old, he’s already thinking about and living his dream (whether he knows it or not), and wow is he special!

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

It’s What Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Taught Me

Yesterday I was sitting in the parking lot of Panera with our three boys, waiting for a mobile order of bagels and cream cheese, when Joe Cocker came on singing the Beatle’s “With A Little Help From My Friends.” I was so excited to share that experience with the boys. It was exhilarating to know they’d be hearing this song, sung in this way, for the first time. What a cool experience! Pure passion. Music capable of jolting you to another place. Awesome.

The screen in my car shows pictures when it plays songs. A picture of Joe Cocker came up. He was sweating and contorted. He was singing his heart out in his signature style. Our 11- year-old looked at the picture and did a double take. 

He said, “I did not expect him to look like that!”

I said, “What do you mean?”

He said, “I didn’t expect someone who sings like that to look like that.”

And from the back of the car, our 6-year-old calmly reminded us, “It’s not important what you look like…it’s only important how you treat people.”

We all stopped in our tracks and looked at him. I turned the volume down a bit. We stared at him for a moment with comforted, proud smiles on our faces. 

He shrugged his shoulders, raised one eyebrow, and said, “What, it’s what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. taught me…you know, it doesn’t matter what people look like, it matters how we treat each other.”

We all smiled. He got a round of high fives and “attaboys.”. I couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could he.

In 1967, when the Beatles were putting out Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was speaking about seeing “the enemy’s point of view” so that “we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.” Dr. King was teaching us how to see beyond appearances, how to listen to one another with open hearts and open minds, and how to seek to understand one another so that we can fully understand and realize our best selves. 

I wonder, at that time, in his infinite wisdom, as he dreamt about a better world, might Dr. King have been envisioning my 6-year-old son, these years later, hearing, holding onto and sharing his prophetic ideas as they continue echoing over and through the decades? I like to think he was. Now, more than ever, I like to think he was. 

It was wonderful to share a profound moment with the boys yesterday…it didn’t turn out to be the moment I was anticipating, but it turned out to be one that I could only have hoped for…and dreamt about.

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks!

Challenging Catastrophes

The other day I was running late. These days have been extremely long, so I get less time to spend with the kids. I decided several weeks ago that if I was going to be working most of the time, my life would be more in balance if I could at least say “good morning” and “good night” to my crew every day. I’ve been doing some morning work from home (and sometimes sleeping in a bit) so that I don’t have to leave before the kids wake up.

On the “running late” day, I had a meeting that was the same amount of time away as I was. If I got into my car just just as the coffee finished dripping I might have made it, but as you might guess, one of the things that tends to happen when I’m running late is increased forgetfulness. 

I was half a mile down the road before I realized my work phone was still on the kitchen counter. I needed it. So, I resigned myself to being late. I made the next turn-around and headed home.

What a bummer. My heart rate went up and I was flooded with frustration. I don’t like being late. It felt like a really big deal…a catastrophe even. But being late isn’t a catastrophe, it’s a challenge…if that. 

Here we are in a global health crisis, with a foundational layer of catastrophes surrounding each of us, and I’m letting my blood pressure go up because I’m running a few minutes late. There are many things we can latch on to as catastrophes throughout each day…things that simply aren’t.

The thing is, when we’re calm and confident we’re better for everyone around us. When we’re patient and thoughtful, those we serve and serve with benefit. Energy transfers. Heightened, negative attitudes and behaviors deteriorate well-being. We all know that, and with some focus and dedication, I contend that we are all capable of brining positive energy to any situation, even if we have to shift from impulsive negative energy. Breathing, and focusing on breathing tends to help me. Listening, too. When I listen instead of talk, I tend to be more thoughtful. 

As I pulled back up to the house I noticed that my wife was at the door, and our 6-year-old was waking across the porch with my work phone in his hand. This was not a catastrophe, this was an opportunity to get another hug from my kid. 

There’s actually a term for creating additional crisis during challenging times. The term is “catastrophizing.” We catastrophize when we assume the worst, and when we do, we bring crisis energy into the cultures in which we live and work. 

So, here’s the deal, when we feel our blood pressure going up, when our hearts start beating faster, let’s take a step back instead of a step forward. Let’s challenge the notion that we’re dealing with catastrophes. Let’s consider that any given catastrophe might actually be an opportunity. Every challenge is a chance. It really is. 

Some of these catastrophes are absolutely real, and it’s also real that when we approach critical situations with calm confidence, we are more likely to achieve positive outcomes. We can influence the culture and climate of the spaces we occupy in positive ways buy challenging catastrophes instead of finding them in places they really don’t belong. When running late is actually an opportunity for another hug, it’s a gift, not a catastrophe…and truly, every challenge is a chance – we should work hard to take them when we can.

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Complaining About Long Walks With Puppies (and other things you might consider trying to avoid)

Like many others, we got a COVID puppy. Leo (the puppy in question) is a 40 lb, 7-month-old beagle, chow, chihuahua, terrier mix (according to the DNA test), and unlike our two 14-year-old long-haired Chihuahuas (6 and 8 lbs), he needs to go for long walks every day. So now, along with the multitude of other stuff I don’t always get to in a given day, there’s that. 

Even as I issue a complaint about “having” to go for long walks each day with a puppy, I understand how ridiculous that is. I suppose there are many people who would love to be “burdened” in this way. In fact, it’s actually one of the great joys I’m fortunate enough to be able to experience. 

Currently, there are 6 people and 4 dogs living in our house. Occasionally, I use that fact as a sympathetic plea, but really, I may be one fo the luckiest people around because of it. All this canine and youthful energy, for all the momentary frustrations it beings, fuels me in very positive ways.

I’m an optimist…a naive one at that. In earnest, I believe there’s a positive path forward in every situation. I see every challenge as a chance. Through my lens, opportunity surrounds us all the time. More visible in moments of clarity, and hard to recognize in moments of struggle and confusion. 

Along with being an optimist, I’m a human being, so I do go down negative paths when tough emotions get the better of me. It’s what human beings do occasionally. Even an optimistic view of overcoming tough emotions leaves us treading negative paths some of the time. No one’s perfect, lease of all me. Forgiveness, determination, and grit come in handy for just that reason. So does intentional positivity. 

Even when I’m not functioning and/or presenting at my best, much of my time is spent in reflection on how to make positive progress as a husband, a father, and educator, and a community leader. 

In this moment, we’re all entrenched in trauma. The impact of this global health crisis has been incredibly powerful. It’s caused us to have to live in ways we wouldn’t have otherwise imagined. A silver-lining view brings to light many positive outcomes with regard to learning, development, and innovation, but that silver-lining view is more accessible to some that others. 

I continue to return to the notion that one of my mentors shared with me some months ago, “We are all in the same storm, but we’re in different boats.”

Even as I suggest intentional positivity and recommend the following exercise, I have to recognize that it will be easier to engage in for some than it will for others. Specifically, people of color and others from marginalized populations are impacted in ways that I can’t even imagine as a middle-aged white man. 

The exercise is called “Opposite Behavior.” I learned about it through my study of Positive Psychology. Here’s how it works:

  • Recognize when you are feeling a tough, or negative emotion
  • In that moment, stop what you’re doing
  • Think about the action you’re about to take (i.e. sadness may cause you to withdraw, anger may cause you to snap at someone, etc.)
  • Consider the opposite behavior of the one the tough emotion is propelling you toward (i.e. engage instead of withdrawing, perpetuate and act of kindness rather than snap, etc.)
  • Reflect on the opposite behavior, write it down or speak it to yourself
  • Do the opposite behavior
  • Reflect on if, and how doing the opposite behavior impacted your emotional state (in theory, you should feel a shift from negative to positive) 

Easier said than done, but with effort, doable…and in my experience – worth a try. 

Living through a pandemic isn’t easy either. However, I truly believe, with the right tools, strategies, and mindset, we can manage it in positive and growth-producing ways for ourselves and our children if we’re intentional about how we respond to challenges as they come our way.

Yesterday, our oldest son took the long puppy walk with me. We turned in places that led us away from home instead of toward it. We stretched that walk out as far as we could, talking, laughing, and bonding as we went. He told me he was glad to have had that time together. I was elated. 

What a treat. 

What a blessing.

What a fortunate person I am to “have” to take long walks with puppies.

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude and extremely optimistic about the way forward. 

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

What Keeps Me Up At Night

I was walking with our 11-year-old at the Zoo yesterday. He said, “Daddy?”

I said, “Yes?”

He said, “What if aliens use the same words as us, but they mean something completely different?”

I didn’t need to ask for clarification…he went on before I could,” I mean, like, what if the word ‘want’ means ‘pickle’ to aliens, or what if the work ‘play’ means ‘book?’

His voice began to shake a bit, his energy level lifted, and his shoulder and arms started oscillating up and down, and back and forth.

He continued, “…and, like when they say that no two snowflakes are the same, that’s impossible. There have been so many snowflakes. It just ins’t possible that none of them are the same.”

He took a sharp breath and kept going, “…and if aliens do use the same words as we do but the means something different, they wouldn’t be able to understand anything we’re talking about. They might think we’re saying something different than what we’re actually saying. It would be so confusing!”

He started to make that face you make when you feel like crying but you’re not quite there. The kind of face you make when you’d like to be there…when a good cry might be just what you need.

He went through a series of equally interesting and unique diatribes on a variety of seemingly unconnected subjects before taking a deep breath, looking up at me, and letting me know, “That’s what keeps me up at night.”

Then, he said something I didn’t expect.  It was just about the most obvious thing he could have said, and I’m not sure why I didn’t expect it, but I didn’t.  He said, “…and I’m really tired of COVID.”

Aha.

Duh.

Surprise, surprise…our 11-year-old is tired of living his first year of middle school without having seen the inside of an actual school.

He’s tired spending time with his the top third of his friends’ heads from six feet away.

He’s tired of living every waking moment trying to start the next phase of his physical, emotional, social, and spiritual life surrounded by his mom, his dad, and his three younger siblings.

He’s tired of wondering if he’ll get sick.

He’s tired of so much being so far out fo his control. 

Or, maybe he’s truly and deeply concerned about the possibility that us and aliens seem to have no hope of ever understanding one another. Yah, that’s probably it.

They may not be telling us exactly what’s on their minds in every moment.

They may not know.

It might not always, or even ever end with, “…and I’m really tired of COVID.” 

It may not matter.

It may only matter that we take whatever time we can to be there. 

We can’t relieve our children of the inevitable hurt they’re going to suffer repeatedly over the course of their lives, but we can be there to listen as they process. We can make clear that we care, that they are not alone, that even challenging is also a chance, and that sharing emotions represents a really healthy kind of strength.

Listen. Make time. Genuinely listen. Value, celebrate, respect, model, guide, and validate. 

Kids of this COVID generation may turn out to be the most resilient human beings in history. They may be the ones to actually be the change we want; the change we need.

Heck, they may learn how to communicate with aliens. 

We can help them with our hearts, our minds, and our ears.

Funny thing, when we do…it helps us, too.

In it together for the kids.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

4M’s: A Focus Strategy for Grace and Understanding Through Trauma

Trauma brain. We don’t necessarily walk around thinking about how we’re several months into a global health crisis with an end that’s hard to see. We know it, and we feel the impact all around us, but we don’t think about it all the time. 

One of the cool things about the human condition is that we’re adaptable. We submerge ourselves in whatever reality we exist within, and to some extent, we make it our normal; our “new normal.”

If you’re like me, you didn’t imagine that these days, weeks and months after COVID 19 emerged, we’d still be so significantly embedded in a world of mitigation. I didn’t specifically think we wouldn’t be, it just didn’t cross my mind. I was taking it one day at a time, and through my foundational lens of optimism, I imagined best case scenarios every step of the way. I still do.

The fact is, optimism and all, like everyone else, I’m experiencing trauma.

Another cool thing about the human condition is that we are resilient. I’m lucky. I haven’t had to endure an unbalanced amount of trauma over the course of my life so far. That, along with the fact that I’ve been privileged, loved, and provided countless supports from the time I was I child, has enabled me to build enough resilience to feel relatively comfortable sorting through this traumatic situation.

Don’t get me wrong, I have ups and downs. I’ve experienced a range of emotions. Sometimes I’m my best self and sometimes I’m disappointed with my words and actions. Sometimes my presence is comforting to those around me and sometimes I catalyze heightened anxiety by pushing too hard for a purely positive tact or falling out of balance. 

That leads me to the 4M’s strategy. It’s about grace and understanding. It’s about remembering that we’re not alone, even in relative isolation. It’s about the indelible, universal truth that when we think of others with gratitude and empathy, when we exercise compassion, when we seek to understand ourselves and those around us, when we give with hearts, and when we stay present, we create enhanced spaces for individual and collective well-being.

Missteps

We all make them. When you do, breath through it. Get your footing. Remember your humanity and the humanity of others. Give yourself the grace of forgiveness and don’t allow judgement to weigh you down. After all, judgment is usually perceived more than real, and even when it’s perceived as real by the sources, it tends to be a phantom perpetuated by fear and frustration…a misstep in and of itself.

Mindfulness

We have the power to stop time. It takes a great deal of practice. Admittedly, I have a long way to go in refining my mindfulness practice. That said, I have felt the calming impact of a truly mindful moment. I’ve experienced the release of unnecessary burdens by way of connected breathing and the letting go temporary distractions. Think of time when a wave of tranquility washed over you. Seek that feeling as frequently as possible. We are suffering in many ways, however, “We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.” – Senca, and, “You drown not by falling into a river but by staying submerged in it.” – Paulo Cohelo. 

Mission

What are you about? Why do you get out of bed in the morning? We’re each living a mission. Educators muster the strength to move through space and time so that we can make a positive impact on the lives of the children we serve. That’s our mission. In times like these, it can help to turn to the mission frequently. It can provide strength and inspire courage.

Moments

Time seems fluid, but really, if you choose to view it this way, it’s a series of moments. The benefit of a “moments” world view is that we can utilize stops and starts to our advantage when it comes to well-being and positive progress. With missteps, mindfulness and mission in mind, we can take things one moment at a time. We can celebrate a series of triumphs and we can face a series of challenges. We can forgive ourselves for stumbles and keep moving forward with the knowledge that we have as many more tries as we need to get things right. 

Remember, practice makes progress. No strategy is perfect, nor will any work for everyone. During this uniquely challenging time my hope is that exploring the 4M’s strategy might help you take steps in whatever direction you’re looking to go in. It’s helping me. 

In it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Ride While Crying: A Focus on Resilience Through Trauma

This is hard.

It’s hard in a strange way.  I don’t always realize how hard it is.

I sometimes find myself engaged in the following reflexive Q and A:

“How are you?”

“Doing good.”

“How are the kids?”

“Great.”

I understand that there are many families challenged in ways that our family can’t even imagine.

I know that we live with privilege , and that experiencing a global health crisis is different for me and my family than it is for many others. I understand that it doesn’t always feel hard for us because we have everything we need, and if we think need something we don’t have, we can either get it or live without it. Joyfully, even.

We’ve spent most of our moments enjoying time together over the past several months, feeing comfortable and secure, and being able to generate strength on the foundation of the “silver linings” lens we’re fortunate to see through and live within. I know that our privilege exists on the foundation of a void of privilege for others. I also know writing that sentiment won’t provide resources, security or health to the others in question, but somehow I felt pulled to write about that recognition of my privilege as a precursor to the following reflection, so I did.

One of my mentors puts our situation like this: same storm, different boats.

To whatever extent, and on whatever level, we are each living through trauma in this moment. We are each wondering when some normalcy will return to our world, for our children and for ourselves, and we are each hoping beyond hope that it will be sooner rather than later.

Our five year old learned to ride a two-wheeler without training wheels this summer.  One of his favorite British television shows refers to training wheels as “stabilizers” – so of course, we do too.

On the first day of riding without stabilizers he managed to slowly but surely plow head first into the giant cement base of a sign post. I watched in wonderment as his face ran in what seemed to be slow motion across the gritty cylinder. Unable to stop himself, he slid all the way to the ground, bracing himself with his head. It was fascinating and troubling simultaneously. Thankfully, thick skulls run in our family.

As he managed his way back up, untangling his legs from the bike frame along the way, hopping and shifting to gain balance, determined to reset, I noticed a gigantic alligator tear sliding down his reddened cheeks. 

I suspected he’d be ready to throw in the towel. I was wrong.

This kid, my strong-willed wife’s son, our adventurous explorer, the determined fourth child, looked up at me in earnest and asked, “Can I ride while crying?”

“You sure can, brother.”

And ride he did.

And guess what…he wasn’t crying for long.

Again, this is hard. Whoever you are, whatever boat you’re in…this is hard.

None of us have stabilizers for a pandemic.

Cry if you need to.  I have.  I’m sure I will some more.

But, ride while crying. 

We’re strong.  We’re courageous.  Individually and collectively we have the will to overcome, to survive, and to thrive.

We aim for joyful and balanced days, and a bright future for ourselves and our children…and our aim is true.

Have your good days and your bad days. 

Fall apart as frequently as you need to, but always put yourself back together – better than before.

Forgive yourself for stumbling.

Be ok with the mess of it all.

Build resilience.

Ride while crying.

In it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.