Tagged: Limitations

Thankful Thursday: My Personal Paleontologists

Interest as readiness

Paleontologists are thoughtful and patience people. They spend loads of time very carefully uncovering tiny bits of stuff that connect them to bigger fragments of stuff and eventually lead them to thinking about whole pieces of stuff that points to enhanced knowledge of stuff that existed a long time ago (or something like that).

It all represents a bunch of time, a throng of patience, a bundle of thinking, a great deal of dot connecting, a big slice of goal focusing, a deluge of excitement on the part of the paleontologists (and eventually on the part of those of us who get excited about looking at and thinking about the stuff paleontologists uncover), and a process parents, educators, and organizational leaders have a lot to learn from.

The patient and painstaking work of this kind of digging typically takes more time than most people in today’s busy world are willing to devote to any one pursuit. It’s really a means to an end. An end that could be profound and impactful if discovered but also one that might never be (discovered, that is). Paleontologists have to find lots of the stuff they’re digging for before they can do the part of their job that produces new knowledge and understanding.

Even so, they love it. As I alluded to above it excites them. It seems that dirt excites them. Maybe that’s because of its potential. It seems that digging in the dirt excites them. Maybe that’s because of the same. No matter how long it takes to meticulously chip away at some semblance of fossilized rock or brush dust off of an ancient bone, they’re thrilled.

I have a few personal paleontologists. On this thankful Thursday, which has very quickly become a Saturday, I’m eternally grateful for them. Through my personal paleontologists (even thought they’re seven, five, and three-years-old respectively) I get to see first hand how the process works. Moreover, I get to directly experience the mindset of patient people who dig because they see & understand the value of digging, because they believe in it’s potential for uncovering some of the more remarkable and miraculous mysteries of the world in which we live, and because they love it.

Because of my personal paleontologists I’m up close to the process, and in being so I get to think reflectively about the magic of patient, thoughtful, and targeted discovery. I get to benefit from the potential it has to positively impact my processes regarding living, learning, and leadership.

It began with my oldest son. He was hooked from his first dinosaur. I’m guessing that lots of kids are. Still, he took it to a place that amazed me. From a very young age he painstakingly studied dinosaurs. He never let his skill level or developmental readiness get in the way. Before he could read he studied the pictures. As he was learning to read he forgave any pronunciation errors, not that he knew he was pronouncing things in creative ways, but he didn’t allow frustration about his reasonable limitations to stifle or frustrate him.

My second born started with dragons. Eventually he recognized the diminished likelihood of discovering dragon bones in the backyard (diminished but still not completely unreasonable). In light of that recognition along with his undying veneration for big brother’s pursuits he has since shifted to dinosaurs. He now joins his brother in the regular declaration that he’s going to be a paleontologist (plumber is a close second at the moment).

Little sister isn’t fully devoted to paleontology (or patience for that matter) but she did find and remove a bone from their practice dig site block the other day. The boys abandoned it for a snack and a break. Not five minutes later we heard a shout of, “I found a bone!” from the other room. She took it upon herself to pick up where they left off. Carefully and quietly (not her standard mode of practice) she dug and brushed out a pteranodon bone. A rib, or part of “the guts” as my oldest called it.

Shame on me for even wondering if the boys would be upset; turns out they ran into the other room with open arms, ready to embrace their little rascal (I mean, sister) in celebration. She instantly became a member in good standing of the Berg family paleontology society. They were thrilled about the discovery, despite not making it themselves. The look of pride and accomplishment on her face was priceless!

As a bit of a side note I feel duty-bound to mention that our youngest (one and a half) has made many efforts to join the club. To date, those efforts have been thwarted in large part because to his predisposition for unintended but enthusiastic demolition. I don’t suppose his older siblings will be able to fend off his curiosity and devotion to the practice of paleontology much longer. We’ll see.

Go, ready or not. For parents, educators, and organizational leaders, if we concern ourselves too much with readiness we may never start. What’s more, we may never encourage those we serve to start. We should be making sure that those we serve (especially the children) feel comfortable digging into any reasonable pursuit whether or not we feel they’re ready. We should let their interest be their readiness, and then we should make sure that our enthusiastic guidance and support serves to enrich their pathways to progress.

Yet (the potential of potential). Our children will have to thank my wife and me later for our commitment to “yet.” They certainly aren’t thanking us now. In fact, sometimes when we use the word they shout, “STOP!” in close proximity to our faces. And loudly. But we’ve emphatically decided not to stop. We use the word in response to the phrases, “I can’t,” and “I don’t know.” We believe that “yet” is a critical caveat to both sentiments if you want to maintain a growth mindset, which we do. It’s an important component of our core values. And what a connection to the great thinking, believing, and discovering our children are modeling through their commitment to paleontology.

Hey, maybe they’ll thank us for a bunch of stuff eventually (but I digress).

Inclusion & celebratory collaboration. The boys were thrilled that their sister discovered a piece of the puzzle that they’d been diligently working on. At home and in our school communities we must follow that lead. I don’t tend to think in absolutes but if you don’t believe that it truly takes a village I believe you should spend more time considering that it might, absolutely.

Let’s listen to the voices of those we serve. Let’s remember Covey’s charge to see though a lens of abundance rather than scarcity. Let’s actively share leadership; secure in the knowledge and understanding that if we don’t we’re bucking human nature. Let’s celebrate the accomplishments of others and take pride in them as if they were our own, if for no other reason than that the achievements of those we serve only serve to enhance our communities and our lives.

Let’s be patient. Let’s listen to one another and to the world around us as if we have nothing but to learn. Let’s breathe deeply and take all the time we need to see the learning unfold over time. Let’s live in each moment and realize its potential as a piece of whatever whole we exist in and a stepping stone meant to support us, individually and collectively, on whatever journey we’re each on.

I could not be more grateful for my personal paleontologist. Their dedication is another shining example of the good in what we have to learn from one another.

Paleontology…I dig it.

Happy Thankful Thursday!

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

Let’s help boy writers celebrate themselves as writers, please (thanks).

Believe It.

There’s so much more to being a writer than simply thinking you’re one. I think. Or maybe not. Who knows? Not me. I’m just a guy who thinks he’s a writer, but that’s beside the point (kind of).

Anyway, in elementary school we find that some students don’t think they’re writers. Specifically, we tend to find this diminished sense of writerly self or otherwise holistic lack of confidence and/or drive in boy writers. But that’s too bad, and it’s also the underpinning of unfortunately inaccurate feelings on their part. In fact, they are writers. We all are. We all have a story and we’re all capable of telling it in some written form. That’s writing, and that’s what writers do.

I love to write. Writing quite literally feeds my soul. It scaffolds my growth. It’s the foundation of my reflective processing. It’s in no small way a big part of my life. I crave it.

When I feel bad, writing helps me feel better. When I’m stuck, writing helps me move. When I need it, it’s there. I can write on a napkin or in the sand. I can writer standing up or siting down. I can think about what I would write even when I don’t have anything to write on or with. I call that mind writing and I think it’s writing too (some people consider it daydreaming; you say tomato…).

I consider myself a writer, and I consider that consideration a gift. It’s a gift given to me by those who have celebrated my self-identification as a writer, and those who have supported me in doing the same, for better or worse…and there’s been a lot of worse with some peppered in better.

I distinctly remember writing and submitting a piece composed in a language that I totally made up. It was entirely nonsensical from start to finish, but it made sense to me. I was compelled to do it even thought I suspected that my teacher would be frustrated and that my parents would most likely be on the receiving end of an angry phone call regarding my lack of solemnity for school. What if that was the moment they found out I was a silly guy? So be it.

But it wasn’t. My teacher took it seriously. She celebrated it. She celebrated me as a writer. She supported me in doing the same, so I did. I loved it. I wanted to write more. I did that too. I still do. I even write in English (a well establish and widely recognized sensical language) much of the time.

I identify as a writer. I made, and continue to make no apologies about using words like “sensicle.” Just look at this post. With regard to writing proficiency it’s stinky at best. And that’s being kind. Heck, I’ve used the words “but,” “with,” and “and” to begin sentences throughout these paragraphs. I honestly have no idea if I’m actually allowed to do that. I’m walking a fine line to say the least. But I love it (oops).

Getting boys to self-identify as writers is a challenge that we in elementary education face with a great many of the boys we serve.  We want boys to self-identify in this way because we believe that self-identification breeds confidence and fosters engagement. It does and always has for me.

I was a boy at one time. Granted, it was long ago and for an appallingly brief period of time, but I was. I promise. Now, I’m the father to three boys. I want them each to feel free to write as they see fit. I want them to know the power and the joy of the written word, or the written whatever. I want them to be able to define what it is to write for themselves and to feel comfortable exploring this cathartic medium with vim (and even vigor if at all possible). I want that for all the boy writers I serve.

Parents and educators, let’s make sure to celebrate as the primary response to boys when they seek out quiet spots with pieces of paper and pencils in hand, when they get lost in scribble and sentences, when they discover the power of expression that writing can uniquely grant them, and let’s get wildly excited when then decide to share their writing with us, even and especially if and when they use silly words or broken punctuation. Let’s be ok with “but,” “and,” and “with,” as sentence starters if we can muster the strength.

We can refine along the way. First let’s help them explore, discover, and understand what being a writer means to each of them individually, and then let’s help each of them get excited about the fact that that’s exactly what they each are! Writers indeed.

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

Write? Write.

I Don’t Know: Understanding via a Lack Thereof

Imagine

I heard the most fascinating story yesterday through an interview of a fifty four year old woman, Kim, who self-discovered her Asperger’s Syndrome and then got a brief glimpse into a world in which it didn’t stifle her ability to read social cues.

Researchers exploring a method called transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) showed Kim a video. In the video a woman answered her door to find a man standing on the other side with a bag filled with DVD cases. The man handed the bag to the woman and said, “Here are the DVDs you lent to Roger,” followed by, “He asked me to return them to you.”

The man suggested that the woman take a look in the bag and examine the state of the DVDs. She did. She opened each one to find that nothing was inside. The bag was filled with empty DVD cases. After a few moments the man asked, “Is everything alright?”

The woman replied, “Oh yes, everything is just fine.”

The man then asked, “Would you be willing to let Roger borrow your DVDs again?”

The woman replied, “Absolutely…without hesitation.”

Kim reported that after watching this interaction she was very impressed and somewhat surprised by the woman’s reaction. She told the interviewer that she thought the woman in the video was uniquely forgiving and generous.

Then came the TMS. The researchers delivered a series of precisely targeted magnetic pulses into Kim’s brain with the aim of stimulating key areas in the hopes that it would enhance her ability to read social cues, a standard reported deficit in people with Asperger’s Syndrome. Kim recounted that it did. She told the interviewer that she was shocked upon watching the same video again after the TMS treatment.

The woman in the video did not seem forgiving or generous this time. In fact, she was clearly upset. Kim described high levels of sarcasm in the woman’s responses that she could not detect previously.

When the woman said, “Oh yes, everything is just fine,” she meant, “No, everything is not alright…can’t you see that Roger has taken all of my DVDs?”

When she said, “Absolutely…without hesitation,” she meant, “Not in a million years!”

Kim was stunned. In that moment she realized that she had been moving through the world with a blindness of sorts. She thought about her inability to maintain positive relationships and her confusion over the same. She expressed relief in finally understanding that her interactions with people have been marked by a distinct inability to recognize “appropriateness” in communication.

She talked specifically about kindness. She expressed a profound shift in thinking about it. She realized that when people are unkind to one another it’s not necessarily because they’re mean people. She thought about the possibility of a primary source of unkindness and that the unkindness itself could be a side effect.

She recalled being bullied as a child and instantly forgave the perpetrators, suggesting that they may have simply been trying to bond with one another, not fully (or even partially) understanding the impact their bonding had on her.

Through TMS Kim had but a momentary glimpse into a world in which she could recognize, understand, and interpret social cues. The effects were not lasting. Furthermore, the researchers cautioned that the treatment remains unreliable for this application. They strongly warned against its clinical use expressing that a tremendous amount of research and exploration lies between these experiments and a practical, safe application…if one should ever come to be at all.

Kim expressed that she’s not disappointed. She told the interviewer that the experience, while brief, was momentous and profound. She said that it left her with a critically important view of a world that has always been acutely confusing.

Kim is a successful physician with a thriving practice. She’s achieved much in her life so far and is only part way along her journey. However, she’s consistently been on the outside of what most of us seem to understand as acceptable social norms.

Well meaning and kind, Kim has struggled significantly to build and maintain relationships. By bravely risking what I can only imagine would be a terrifying paradigm shift, she now knows a bit more about why.

Kim’s experience has me wondering about how I see and function. Is my worldview the same as yours? Is each of ours different? As we try to communicate with one another, how often do we miss the mark? How about the people we serve? What within our daily messaging is well received by students, parents, colleagues, spouses, kids, friends? What is misperceived and subsequently potentially damaging?

I can only conclude that exploratory leaps of faith with open minds, while scary, are very likely boons of positive progress. What if I’m not hearing what I think I’m hearing when I hear it? What if I’m not saying what I think I’m saying when I say it? If perception is reality…what if we each perceive the world in a unique way? Even if slightly, imagine the ripple effect and the impact on relationships.

I believe that the great majority of people are driven by kind hearts and hope for positive pathways. I think that incorporating a mantra of acceptance not fully knowing stuff with the connected act of consistently seeking to enhance my knowledge might help deepen my understanding of the social world in which I live and my productivity within relationships as a result.

My aim is true but I’ve seen that even the softest wind can shift the pathway straightest arrow. I’m amazed by Kim and truly grateful for having had the opportunity to see through her lens, if only for a moment. Let’s listen really carefully to one another’s stories…it can only help advance our collective vision of a peaceful and productive planet. Let’s imagine that the world might be different than we currently perceive it to be, if only slightly, and if only because it truly might be.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

Thanks!

Thankful Thursday: Restoration

A Bit of a Break

I recently wrote about the “Zones of Regulation” in a post outlining a philosophical base and a program structure built on the foundation of restorative practices used for social-emotional learning and growth in the school community I serve and subsequently in my home.

Regarding both my role as a parent and an educational leader I continue to gain increased confidence in restorative practices with each passing day.

I’ve been a restorative kind of guy for as long as I can remember. It’s basic. When things heat up I take a break.

I use the term “heat up” to signify a spectrum of heightened emotions beginning with slight (including mild excitement in the form of frustration, impatience, resentment, etc.), which can happen at varying degrees of intensity relatively frequently in the busy worlds of parenting and educational leadership, and ending with intense (triggered by unusually stressful events or toxic situations), which fortunately happens quite infrequently.

Each “hot” moment is a challenge and a chance. Each one is an opportunity to exercise restoration, and in doing so to increase restorative strength.

Restoration is the act of moving from a state where emotional strain has the better of you to a state where you have the better of it. It’s making your way from emotion-veiled thinking (and the potential for connected action) to clear, core-value driven thinking (and the reasonable assurance of focused, core-value drive action).

As I continue working to enhance my restorative practice and impart a utilitarian understanding of the same to those I serve I find myself particularly grateful for the human capacity to restore.

What are your primary core values? Do you ever find yourself sliding away from them in thought or action? If so, how do you pull yourself back? How do you focus? How do you restore?

Happy Thankful Thursday everyone!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

Thanks!

Mrs. Burp

Kids Can

I was walking in the hallway the other day when a kindergarten student ran up to me with pure excitement painted all over her face. She was practically jumping for joy. This was a child who could hardly contain herself. She was enthusiastically looking to get my attention. She had some very important information to share. I could tell.

As soon as I saw her coming my way I was struck with a jolt of excitement. Turns out the stuff transfers. I couldn’t wait to hear what she had to tell me.

Once she was close enough she shouted, “Mrs. Burp!” At least that’s what I heard. Even though my name is Mr. Berg, Mrs. Burp works almost just as well (when it’s coupled with good intentions, that is).

I didn’t suspect that there was a person named Mrs. Burp walking just behind me. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was shouting at me. I smiled. Levity mixed with transferred and still relatively mysterious excitement. Good Stuff. Now I was really keen on discovering what the hullabaloo was all about!

Truth told, I couldn’t say with great clarity that “Mrs. Burp” is actually what she said. Also, if it was, I couldn’t be sure if it’s what she meant to say (sometimes kids words don’t come out exactly as intended).

Here was a kid extremely eager to get my attention. She might have been thinking “Mr. Berg” and as the thought traveled from her brain to her mouth on a thought-train riddled with anticipation it could have simply come out as “Mr. Burp.” Regardless, we can assume that she meant to say “Mr. Berg.” Again…and after all, her energized message was targeted squarely at me. That much was clear.

Actually, so much more was clear, even before the message was delivered. Therein lies the moral of the story (one of them, that is): Sometimes how you say it matters even more than what you say.

Before I knew what was going on I knew that something wonderful had occurred. I knew that this student was going to recount the wonderful thing.   I knew that we were going to share a moment of celebration. I knew that the next part of our interaction was going to strengthen our partnership in teaching & learning.

With the same zeal that accompanied “Mrs. Burp” she shouted, “You have to see my thinking!”

This six-year-old directed my attention to a bulletin board on which she and her classmates had used sticky notes to respond to a third grade team’s collaboration on “leadership” and “growth mindset.” They took it upon themselves (with some guidance from both teachers albeit) to adorn the third graders’ board with their thoughts post-production, thereby extending and sharing in a foundation of collective thinking on the two important subjects.

She didn’t want me to see her “work” or her “project” or her “sticky note,” she wanted me to see her “thinking.” Therein lies the moral of the story (the other one, that is): Kids, even the youngest among them can get really excited about the process even above the outcomes.

I was thrilled that these incredible teachers and students had been so clearly making collaborative growth the focus of their attention that to the point that it had become the bedrock of their learning paradigm. I was proud that the “Mrs. Burp” kid lived it out with me in that moment. She trusted me to enough to share her thinking. I’m excited that she’s learning in an enthusiastic culture of thinking at our school; more good stuff. She was my teacher in that moment.

So, sometimes how you say it matters even more than what you say and kids, even the youngest among them, can get really excited about the process even above the outcomes.

It’s fun as an educator and a parent to think that there might be no end to the learning and the growing we can each experience over the course of a lifetime, and that there might be no limits to the potential within each of us for the same.  Fun and exciting!

Live, love, listen, learn, lead, and always bring your best!

Every Challenge is also a Chance

Challenge and Chance

As parents and educators our primary concern is keeping our children safe. Along with safety we spend a lot of time thinking about and planning for our children’s success in life. Sometimes the two of those concepts seem at odds. Actually, if you dig in, I would suggest that you might find they’re not.

This morning my three older children (6,4, & 2) were playing a game that involved pieces just small enough and just large enough to be choking hazards for my youngest child (1). So, while his brothers and sister played this game he was bound to a high chair. He was miserable.

We tried to distract him in every way possible. We made silly faces. We made silly noises. We dances silly dances. We offered him a variety of food. He screamed, he cried, he threw the food. Nothing would satiate this poor child. All he wanted was to play with his siblings.

We were confident in our adult-knowledge that he could not play this game. It involved manipulating the little pieces with a small plastic tweezers. We “knew” that he could not do that. We “knew” that he would try to eat the pieces. We “knew” that he could choke on the pieces. Therefore we were doing everything we could to make it so that he couldn’t and wouldn’t play the game. It turns out what we “knew” wasn’t exactly true.

Sometimes it’s important for parents and educators to think out of the box. Instead of always protecting children from life’s challenges it’s important that we provide children with safe opportunities to be in challenging situations. As parents and educators we should consider looking at all challenges as simultaneously being such opportunities.

In my own life, looking bath on my path, I can clearly see that every single challenge I’ve experiences has also been an opportunity for learning and growth. When I’ve reflected on learning and growth and subsequently shifted my thinking and/or developed new skills sets, that learning and growth, born out of challenges, has enhanced my life. Even challenges that have caused me discomfort, triggered fear, or produced hurt have only made me stronger and pushed me toward becoming the best I can be (still becoming by the way).

I believe that children become better at grappling most effectively when they’re given opportunities to grapple and challenges to grapple with. Every challenge is also a chance.

Shortly after doing everything we could to keep our little guy (who’s actually quite big) from playing the game he was pining over his siblings moved on. He didn’t. Eventually he got to it. But guess what, he didn’t choke. In fact, he didn’t even attempt to eat the pieces. Instead, he carefully used the tweezers to move them from place to place. I was amazed that he had the fine motor skills to get the task done. This kid looked at the game as a challenge and was determined to overcome it.

In hindsight I realized and remembered that kids can do amazing things when they’re given the opportunities and support to do them. I realized and remembered that anything is possible, even when it’s outside of what we adults think we know. I realized and remembered that every challenge is also a chance.

The children we serve, both at home and at school, are at various places along developmental timelines. Like us, they are neither perfect nor stagnant in their imperfection. Like each of us, none of them can or should be defined by any one decision or any one moment in time. Each of us is a work in progress.

With the safety and wellbeing of children in mind we must consider pathways to independence. It’s critical that we keep progress in mind along with the idea that pushing through challenges with mistakes as catalysts to successes is going to best equip them with the tools they need to be happy, independent, and successful throughout their journeys…even thought it ain’t easy. Some would argue that nothing worthwhile ever is.

Live, listen, learn, lead, and always bring your best.

Losing Makes You Win Better

Losing to Win

A Story. Three of us were on the couch this afternoon. My 6-year-old and I were watching the Spartan’s take on Penn State. My 4-year-old was playing on my phone. They were both eating some scrambled eggs. I was munching on some left over pizza.

Every few minutes little brother would groan, whine, shutter, pout, and then settle back into the game. It’s a pretty cool game. You’re a square with a face sliding along a friction-less plane. You can jump by tapping the screen. The objective is to avoid obstacles along the plane. The obstacles become increasingly complex as you advance.

Little brother is pretty good, but nobody can keep going indefinitely. At some point you (the square) are bound to hit something. Then its back to the start, or to whatever benchmark you made it past before the tragic but inevitable hit; hence the “groan, whine, shutter, pout, and settle back in” pattern.

Finally I asked, “What’s wrong, Bud?”

He shrieked, “I keep losing!”

Before I had a chance to remove the device from his hands in favor a much-needed break, big brother, without looking away from the game and with a half-mouthful of scrambled eggs nonchalantly commented, “Actually, that’s good.”

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t pushing buttons. He wasn’t being silly. He believed what he was saying like he believes that even a tiny taste of asparagus is a bad idea.

Little bother shrieked even louder, “It isn’t good!”

Big brother, as impartially as before, and still without bothering to distract himself from eating or watching basketball, replied, “Actually it is.”

This second effort, relaxed and indifferent as it was, caught little brother’s attention. He looks up at the big guy. “Why?” he asked through a whimpering tear.

This time big brother looked up. He looked him straight in the eye and informed him with every bit of sincerity that, “Losing makes you win better.”

“Oh,” sighed little brother with an emerging sigh of contentment accompanied by an expanding whole-face smile. Then, not only did he joyfully return to his losing streak, but also he pointed out each loss with celebratory exuberance as it came.

A Statement Dissection. The kid didn’t suggest that losing has the potential to provide information about winning or that experiencing setbacks is likely to instill a combination of motivation and extended knowledge, he stated the losing makes you win better.

Losing. Nowhere in his utterance of the word was a negative connotation so much as implied. It was a good thing. It wasn’t bothersome or frustrating, but rather a piece of the “winning” puzzle. “Losing,” as this very young student of life presented it was highlighted as a stop along the journey. Moreover, it was highlighted as a recurrent stop, not to be frowned upon or dreaded, but to be relished and celebrated for it’s tremendous and innate powers. In fact, it “makes you win better.”

Makes You. The suggestion here was not that you could dig into each loss, analyze and reflect on it, and then pull out some prophetic insights that would have you headed toward achievement. No, this thing “makes you win better.” You don’t have a choice. It makes you! Awesome.

Win better. Paging Dr. Dweck. Can you say growth mindset? Maybe it was the beginning of the new Peanuts movie when Linus called out, “Remember Charlie Brown, it’s the courage to continue that counts!” Maybe it’s that kids aren’t jaded or cynical. Maybe this kid simply gets it (he does seem to have his mom’s smarts). Whatever it is, big brother doesn’t think of winning as something you do, he thinks of it as something you keep doing along a spectrum of “better.” Awesome again.      And as if that isn’t enough, he’s teaching it to his little brother, which takes some pressure off of me. More time to eat left over pizza and watch Sparty stomp. Speaking of which, is it a coincidence that our five losses, as horrific and heartbreaking as they each were, seem to have made Sparty win better? Watching those three-pointers sink is quite a thing for died-in-the-wool Spartan.

It works, my friends. Don’t fight it. Savor and celebrate those losses. Rejoice when they’re yours and support the process when they belong to your children, your students, your friends, and your loved ones. Don’t fret. Don’t feel bad. Feel good. Even through the challenges our occasional (or even frequent) losses bring, keep a positive heart with a foundation of learning and growth.

Truly, losing makes you win better. I know because some of the best advice I get comes from the little people I serve, and the moment I heard it I understood that this bit was spot on!

Live, listen, learn, lead…and always bring your best!

Color Zone Powers Activate: Helping Children Self-Regulate Their Emotions and Responsive Actions

Slide1

A few months ago a strategy was brought to my attention at school. Our social worker was using a model called “The Zones of Regulation” based on the research of Leah Kuypers. Leah is an occupational therapist who has practiced in both school and clinical settings. ‘The Zones of Regulation’ is a framework meant to foster self-regulation and emotional control. More information about Leah and her work can be found at http://zonesofregulation.com. I’m a novice and plan to dig in more myself.

In the meantime a very basic understanding and application of Leah’s concept immediately impacted my school and my home in a positive way.   We began exposing our students to the four “Color Zones:”

– In the “Blue Zone” you’re sad, tired, and distracted.

– In the “Green Zone” you’re happy, calm, and ready to learn.

– In the “Yellow Zone” you’re worried, silly, or scared.

– In the “Red Zone” you’re unhappy, angry, or frustrated.

The two keys for us have been to connect these zones to energy and to self identified solutions. When we process with children by way of these zones we also give them opportunities to identify whether their energy is slow, just right, high, or out of control, and they get to decide on connected actions that have the potential to help them shift from one zone to another.

It’s all right to be in any one of the zones. We each experience a range of emotions and we’re each challenged by that range, even into adulthood. Positive progress, consistent happiness, and achievement rest in part on our ability to self regulate so that we can function in various social and professional settings in spite of life’s emotional challenges. Our children’s independence with regard to the same is critical to their learning, growth, and socialization.

I didn’t intend to latch onto this concept in the way that I did. It simply worked. In fact it’s been working to some extent in every situation in which I’ve used it, with children along a broad spectrum of developmental readiness. It’s helped to forester independence in those who struggle mightily and in those who simply need a break to reset every now and again.

Again, I’ve only been using it for a few months, but in that time I’ve found that it’s been effective for everyone willing to engage. Even better, those who do engage seem to derive joy and from the process. It’s powerful. It demonstrates that each person is actually in control of him or herself. That’s powerful.

I brought it home. Nothing formal, I just kind of mentioned it to my six-year-old. He got excited. We made the following chart:

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It took no time for him to understand and begin using this concept chart. In fact he now adds to it independently (he recently added the “read or read together” icon). He also now acts on his emotions and connected decision making independently or with gentle prompting. He expresses great satisfaction in his ability to do so.

His two-year-sister was playing with her Anna and Elsa dolls the other day when I overheard her say, “Elsa is really not in the green zone…she’s upset!” It’s concrete, connected, and it drives a doable process for kids. They can regulate their emotions and their responsive actions when they are empowered to do so. I’ve only scratched the surface of this concept and I’m extremely excited to dig deeper.

Check out Leah’s web site, play with how it connects to your life at school and at home, let me know what you think and how you adapt the ideas and tools. I’d love to hear about your journey of fostering self-regulation and empowerment for the children you serve. Color Zone powers activate!

Live. Learn. Lead.

Dream Big. Work Hard. Press on.

Two-Phrase Principal Leadership

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I’m now in the third month of my second year as the Principal of an incredible elementary school. Reflecting on my first year I’ve realized that my tail was wagging extremely fast (as tails tend to do at first). Everything was super exciting and I wanted to be involved in all of it. During that first year I thought that “involved” meant sitting at the table and being in the mix.

I’m now learning that “involved” has many different looks. I’m learning that each one of those looks has an important place in development, growth, and positive progress. I’m learning that “involved” leadership and shared ownership are not mutually exclusive concepts, but rather that they’re indelibly connected through trust, support, and collaboration in a genuine partnership-centric organizational paradigm.

So, at the beginning of the school year I announced to our staff that 15/16 would be a year driven by two critical phrases with regard to principal leadership at Meadow Brook: “Sounds awesome!” and, “What can I do to help?”

I work with some of the most skilled, knowledgeable, and capable teachers in the world. Together we serve some of the most intelligent and dynamic students around. Each of us is supported by the astonishing, value-driven dedication of the outstanding families who live in our school community. When I’m not at the table or in the mix I can rest assured that a group of my many adept partners are. Consequently, I know that it’s all good.

The past couple of weeks have been filled with reinforcing examples that support the viability of this two-phrase principal leadership approach here at Meadow Brook. In addition to the many incredible instructional pathways that unfold each day as a result of our teachers’ passions and commitment to student achievement we’ve recently experienced four unique events: a spectacular creative arts award ceremony, a super cool rocket launching, a remarkable Veteran’s Day celebration, and an outstanding Family Literacy Night.

Each of these events was truly awesome. Each was driven by the vision and persevering aspirations of individuals and small groups who took charge and led the way. Each was grounded in teaching and learning. Each was masterfully planned and collaboratively implemented.   Each was a representation of a collective voice and shared ownership.

Stepping back is not always easy, not for me anyway. However, stepping back doesn’t mean stepping out. I’m always thrilled to be invited into any process with calls for support or requests for assistance. I enjoy and appreciate when my input is asked for and when my skills or knowledge are tapped. I celebrate opportunities to contribute in any way I can.

That said I’m learning more and more each day that being involved through sharing enthusiasm, offerings of support, and intentional availability can lead to the unfolding of wonderful progress that I might not have otherwise imagined. This two-phrase principal leadership style is opening my eyes to a world of possibilities.

I couldn’t be more excited about rounding out an incredible week of learning and growth with the knowledge that another is about to begin. I couldn’t be more proud of or confident in the incredible people I serve.

Live. Learn. Lead.

Dream Big. Work Hard. Be Well.

Principal Note To Self: Expect, No Matter What.

 

I recently watched a video recorded in a high school science classroom. The classroom was populated with both students who are blind and students are sighted. The teacher made clear through his actions and words that he not only expected each student achieve and excel but that he didn’t hold those expectation with blindness or eyesight as a factor.

All student were treated the same with regard to learning potential, capacity for meaningful contributions, and collaborative competence. Actually, it was a lack of elucidation on the question of expectations that seemed to drive clarity regarding the same. The absence of distinction between students’ limitations and their potential coupled with a deep consideration for their individual needs propelled a culture in which each seemed to be empowered.

Furthermore, each student appeared enthusiastic and somehow boosted by the realization of the empowerment of the others. The mood was highly collaborative and the focus was learning and growth, not ability; specifically not the ability to see with one’s eyes.

If you believe that it’s essential to identify and address the individual learning needs and developmental readiness of each student that we serve in order to serve each one well then you’ll find no argument from me. I believe it’s a must. The teaching and learning taking place in this amazing classroom gifted me with cause and scaffolding to further consider what that means and how it looks (and could look) in our classrooms.

In this classroom distinctions were made behind the scenes and for planning purposes only, giving the teacher an ability to target students without sight in the most inconspicuous of ways. He used tools and strategies for exploration that didn’t call for those distinctions to be highlighted. In doing so he also exposed his sighted students to learning opportunities that they might not have otherwise had. There was an awesome lack of recognition of individual differences because of an awesome understanding of the same.

Seeing this group of students out of this context could trigger someone to think about them as existing as two separate groups: blind students and sighted students. Without this context one might think of them as having different capacities for learning, growth, and extraordinarity (not previously a word, but one now). In this context it’s decidedly clear that they’re each simply students. In this context it’s decidedly clear that are each capable and that are each exceptional. This context is profoundly awesome. I dig it, and I can only imagine its potential in classrooms where diversity is less overt.

As an elementary school principal I’m keenly aware that each classroom is populated with student who are unique and exceptional. It’s among the most categorical pieces of the educational puzzle that make our classrooms brilliant environments for real-time learning and growth. Our students have veritably limitless opportunities to intermingle with diverse populations of learners, mirroring interactions that they will inevitably continue having for the rest of their lives.

How can parents and educators ensure that each one of our incredible students is burdened by the expectation that his or her efforts and achievements should match and even exceed standards outside and above what conventional wisdom might otherwise suggest? Living within a growth paradigm is tough, and as a consequence it has the potential to produce tough people.

What can we do to help each of our students understand his or her personal responsibility for both cooperation and independence? How do we continue moving ever closer to a universal culture in which our differences bring us together, both in and outside of our schools and our classrooms?

Sometimes our differences are explicit and sometimes they’re subtle. Often times they’re completely indistinguishable. When we work to understand and address human potential for the striking enigma it is we allow ourselves to glance beyond what our eyes can see and into a realm of limitless possibilities.

When we release ourselves from stigma and predetermination we dissolve barriers. When we expect, no matter what, we show the children that we serve how to do the same, and as they discover the delights of odd-defying achievement they crave and build their capacity for more. Awesome.

 Live. Learn. Lead.

Dream Big. Work Hard. Be Well.