Today, many people celebrate and honour their mothers. I am grateful for my own mom and her strength and sense of fun. I am grateful for her faith in me even when I doubt myself. I am grateful for her willingness to help her children in whatever situations we face. I am grateful for her unconditional love.

I realize that I am fortunate to have this relationship. For many others, today is a painful day. For some it highlights loss, trauma, strained relationships, broken relationships, or an inability to have children. There are adults and children alike who find this day difficult.

I think of the students in my own school … the grade five student whose mom died when she was in Kindergarten … the student whose mother is an addict and hasn’t seen her son for years … those students in foster care who have vague memories of their biological mothers but often painful or traumatic ones … and the many students who, simply put, do not have positive relationships with their mothers. Sadly, this reflects the reality in most schools. There are kids around the world in these circumstances.

Is Mother’s Day then something we should avoid so as not to offend? Is Mother’s Day passé? No, I don’t believe so.

In our school, as Mother’s Day (and Father’s Day) approach, we encourage our students to honour someone important in their lives. It doesn’t have to be a mother in the traditional sense of the word. But this day provides an opportunity for discussion about the diversity of family dynamics and also helps to instill an empathy and sensitivity for those whose circumstances are not necessarily positive. Often, it is through these discussions that students learn to appreciate what they do have a little more. Often, it is through these discussions that our school families grow a little closer. Often, it is through these discussions when students inspire me with their words of support to their peers.

Mother’s Day is not passé. It simply needs to be approached with awareness and sensitivity.

Yesterday at our assistant principal meeting, I had the pleasure of listening to three principals speak about their journeys in leadership.

It is immediately clear as they speak that all three are in leadership positions for the right reasons. All three recognize the challenges of the job as opportunities for growth. All three genuinely care about their students and their needs. They recognize their staff members as individuals with unique stories and circumstances and do what is necessary to support them on their own journeys. All three strive for balance but give their heart and soul into their callings.

The common thread between them can be summed up in one word: integrity. Integrity is earned over time and proven through one’s words and actions. It is high praise and I don’t use the word lightly. It is something I believe we should strive for no matter our role.

“It is true that integrity alone won’t make you a leader, but without integrity you will never be one.” Zig Ziglar

Last week was somewhat surreal. I received an email telling me that my book has gone to print and that it is now available for preorders. With this news, a few people have asked when I started this project. Well … let’s just say the journey has been a long one: I started years ago, experienced many rejections, and eventually reworked the project with a new focus.

As difficult as the rejections were, I now realize they were necessary. Each rejection, the feedback I received, and my determination to keep pursuing this passion, all made my book stronger. I’m glad the process was not an easy one: the rejections fuelled me.

I’m not the only one for whom rejection has turned into a positive. Check out this amusing (yet thought-provoking) TedTalk: What I learned from 100 days of rejection!

There is an interesting juxtaposition in my home this week. As I read a proof of my manuscript, making final changes before its imminent publication, my kitchen transforms from the empty canvas it recently became to one completely new. Both are signs of creation and yet the diversity of the creations strike me.

More than once this week I have been reassured that I have chosen the right profession. The construction world is not for me. This reflection on career choice reminds me of Seamus Heaney’s poem, Digging first published in Death of a Naturalist in 1966.

I attended a PD session on Friday put on by Inclusion Alberta. The presenter: Shelley Moore. I was looking forward to the day as I had seen her TedTalk and was familiar with her style and content. I knew she would be interesting and engaging; what I didn’t expect was a day of deep thinking and introspection. She provokes a paradigm shift.

Shelley challenged us to consider the gap between what we say inclusion is and what the practice actually is within our schools.

Contrary to some practice, inclusion is more than physical integration. Physically forcing people into the same school or the same room, does not equal inclusion. Individuals may be integrated into your setting, but do they truly have a role, feel a part of the group and make contributions to the group? If we’re honest, not always.

Sometimes, in my role, I see the budgetary constraints that affect the workings of inclusion. Often, the students with the most challenging needs are put in the hands of people with no experience dealing with these needs – through no fault of their own. If we expect our EAs and our teachers to meaningfully meet the needs of students with significant cognitive or physical disabilities AND meet the needs of all of the other students in the class, we must support our staff with appropriate training.

Then, we proceed with the belief that all students can learn. Our job is not to fix kids; this implies there is something in need of fixing! Our job is to educate kids: providing supports for all students to ensure their educational experiences – both academic and social – are meaningful.

As Shelley emphasizes, you don’t do inclusion, you live it. One step at a time.

View Shelley Moore’s TedTalk here!

I’m willing to admit: I am not a cook. I’m not good at it. I don’t enjoy it. I do it only by necessity. And yet, for some reason, one even I can’t fathom, I watch cooking shows. Not only do I watch them, I enjoy them.

There are a few I tune into now and then; my favourite though is Masterchef Junior. I watch in astonishment as kids as young as 8 use ingredients whose names I cannot pronounce. They blanche, sauté, sear and braise. They create art on a plate.

And the best part with the kids: they cheer each other on. Much more than on the adult version of the show, these kids hug, laugh, cry and support each other. They literally jump for joy. While watching the other day, I said out loud, “Kids are awesome.”

With spring break behind us, I look forward to returning to work tomorrow. I look forward to supervision before the day begins when I can reconnect with my students. I know what will be on my mind: “Kids are awesome.”

My dad has given me many pearls of wisdom. It seems every few days I am reminded of something he taught me. Some are words he said, others are things he modelled. Some are exceptionally practical, others are incredibly profound. Some I appreciated immediately, others have made an impact over time. In no particular order…

1. Family comes first.
2. Save for the future.
3. Always keep the gas tank above half.
4. Accept individuals for who they are.
5. Travel when you can.
6. Give people the benefit of the doubt.
7. Forgive those who need forgiveness.
8. Savour each and every day.
9. Enjoy the drive.
10.  Live with hope.

Thanks, Dad.

I’m sensing some exasperation with the frigid temperatures, accumulating snow and indoor recesses. It’s also report card time. And although Spring Break is around the corner, the lists are long between now and then. The 7 Habits can help us survive until the break…

We can put first things first: focus on the necessary and eliminate the extras. We can think win-win by team-teaching with our colleagues. We can generate some laughter and fun by planning an activity which encourages our students to synergize. We can start thinking about how we will sharpen the saw over the break: renewing our physical, social, emotional or spiritual selves.

We will get there… I promise… ten more days is doable!

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… it’s learning to dance in the rain.” (Or snow!)

I’ve always assumed that all provinces have Teachers’ Convention. But recently, I realized how lucky we are to have these two paid days of learning and networking. Many other provinces do not.

The highlight of this year’s convention was Clara Hughes. She had me simultaneously laughing and in tears, inspired and moved.

Yes, she’s a world class athlete. Yes, she has won Olympic medals in two sports: cycling and speed skating. Yes, she’s the only Canadian to have won medals in both the Summer and Winter Olympics. And yes, she has even been named to the Order of Manitoba and the Order of Canada. Yet what I admire about her goes beyond her many accomplishments in sport.

Clara Hughes battles depression. She has faced a lifetime dealing with mental illness and addiction, her own and that of her immediate family. Living a childhood in fear and uncertainty led Clara down a path of drinking and drugs. Yet she persevered and found both promise and purpose in sport. She has discovered ways to turn anger to forgiveness, despair to joy and disappointment to hope.

Her boundless energy (you have to meet her to know this is not hyperbole) is now channelled into helping others: kids through the Right to Play program and others dealing with mental illness through Bell Let’s Talk, for instance. Clara Hughes shows strength and courage in her daily life. For this, she is a hero.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am a lover of art. Art of many forms: painting, sculpture, photography, literature, film, music and theatre.

Art can be an expression of pleasure. Of pain. Of love. Art can explore serious topics such as illness, racism or equality. Art can bridge divides or prompt conversation. Art can carry us away into fantasy worlds. Even in the midst of heartache or turmoil, art has the ability to suspend reality and provide solace. Picasso said this: “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

When cuts in education are discussed, sometimes the arts find their way onto the chopping block. And yet when I see students engaged in the creation of various forms of art, my heart aches to think this could disappear. I have felt goosebumps when students join their voices together in song. I have seen the creative and comedic energy of students revealed in film. I have been awed at the talent of young visual artists who struggle to find success in other areas of the curriculum.

Some describe art as fluff, as an extra. I believe art is integral to the development of the whole child and a valuable endeavour in whatever form it takes.

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.” George Bernard Shaw