Last week a teacher shared a story about a little one who is struggling to identify letters and their sounds. As his classmates make gains and show daily improvement, his progress is inconsistent and slow. When he was able to spell a word phonetically – a giant step forward – the teacher told him she was going to call on him to share it with the class. Though he was reluctant, the teacher scaffolded each letter of his response and eagerly encouraged him to answer. The students waited with quiet anticipation and when he answered correctly they all cheered “great job!”

This moment, though seemingly small, will have significant impact on this child. The teacher’s words, support and positive attitude all contributed to the creation of this moment. She could have simply acknowledged the word on his page and moved on with the lesson. Or, she may have even overlooked the significance of what he was able to do. Instead, she turned that simple word into a celebration.

Will he remember this specific moment? Perhaps not. But he will remember how he felt in his grade one classroom.

Think back to the teachers you admired most when you were young. Chances are they were the ones that recognized success, however small. Chances are, they were the ones that respected the dignity of the students, all students.

Did your favourite teacher call a student’s name across the class to discipline him? Probably not. More likely, she went up to that student and privately spoke to him about the concern. Did your favourite teacher interrupt the students as they shared their ideas? Likely not. He probably attempted to hear all points of view and still find a way to respect the time. Did your favourite teacher talk negatively about her students to others? Unlikely. She saw potential in every student in her class.

Our little grade one student experienced a few moments of pride that will propel him forward with confidence in the days to come – all because of the choices of his teacher.

 

Have you ever walked a dog who loves the snow? One who bounds happily through the undisturbed blanket, ears flopping, tail wagging? The trail he takes is winding, much longer than necessary, meandering from this tree to that. To the dog, the walk is certainly about the journey and not the destination.

Kids, too. Go for a walk with a five year old… go at her pace… follow her path. The trail will be winding and unpredictable and there will certainly be treasures found along the way. She cares little about where she is going.

As adults, our days are typically tightly scheduled, predetermined, so full of things that must be done. Do we take the time to let our noses, our eyes or our emotions lead us? Whether it be a few minutes in the staffroom, a walk in that fresh fallen snow, or an unexpected visit with an elderly parent, we might be surprised to discover the treasures we find along the way.

And yes, it’s good to begin with the end in mind. But sometimes, it’s also nice to enjoy the journey. Ears flopping and tail wagging.

The anticipation built as Oct. 24th – WE Day – approached. At 4 a.m., the bus rolled up in front of the school. Despite the time, the energy was evident as we boarded the bus.

The speakers lived up to expectation: Molly Burke, Larry King, Liz Murray, Martin Sheen, Ashley Calllingbull, Spencer West and of course, Marc and Craig Kielburger themselves. I have been asked countless times for a highlight moment. It is difficult to choose. Larry King, king of interviews said, “I never learned anything while I was talking.” Liz Murray, in talking about her addict parents and not resenting them for her childhood of turmoil, said, “People can’t give you what they don’t have.” Simple, yet incredibly profound.

Were these my highlight moments? After some thought, I realized that for me, the highlights were the looks on the kids’ faces during the speeches and performances. As expected, different kids responded to different things. I saw eyes light up, tears well and ideas begin to formulate. I heard conversation about global issues that these students may not have even considered previously. I saw moments of empowerment.

Consider this: Do we allow the voices of our children to be heard? Do we believe our children have valuable insights to contribute? Do we believe they can make a difference in our world, not 20 years from now, but today? Do we believe our children can move from me to we? These questions were answered for me by 20 000 students in the Saddledome. Wish you were there to experience it!

I leave you with this thought: “Perhaps the most powerful people are those who empower others – with no strings attached.” (Author unknown.) Isn’t that what leadership is all about?

 

She lived in a house where drugs were the norm. The environment was unstable, volatile, dangerous even. She was taken from her mother, placed in multiple foster families and eventually, returned to her mother. All before she reached the age of ten.

This is one story. How many other students in our midst have stories laced with similar tragedy? You know them. You work with them every day. Is it surprising that these students have difficulty focusing in class, forming relationships with their peers or feeling good about themselves?

Adversity comes in many forms: strained relationships, abuse, illness, poverty, the death of a loved one, job loss, divorce, rejection. Some of our students face significant adversity at such a tender age. Statistics tell us that some will fare well; others will turn to addiction and continue the only cycle they know. Though we have resilient kids in our midst, they rely on the hope and stability we provide.

When we are living through pain, loss and devastation, it can be difficult to find hope. And yet, adversity often provides the perspective we need to appreciate the life we have been given. “Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.” Anais Nin

Be thankful today for those who surround you, for the blessings in your life and even for the adversity that has shaped the person that you are. And if you are not currently low on this roller coaster we call life, reach out to someone who is…

 

I’m envious of my mom this week: she’s in New York and I know her plans include the Met, the MOMA and the Guggenheim. Art galleries both calm and inspire me. The wall to wall Monet’s that take my breath away… the texture and vibrancy of the Van Gogh’s… the incredible detail of Bouguereau… the whimsey of Matisse.

Envision a piece of artwork to represent your life. Is it an abstract, a portrait, a landscape, a photograph? What colours, shapes and lines are prominent? What is the overall mood created by this piece of art? Is there an inherent sense of balance?

I venture to guess that Van Gogh was deliberate in his colour choice, the direction of the brush stroke, the placement on the canvas and ultimately how each of these would contribute to the finished piece. In Stephen Covey’s words, “Begin with the end in mind.” This proves to be true in artwork and in life.

When we interact with our family, our coworkers and our students are we proud of the exchanges? Do they contribute positively to our life masterpiece? When we make decisions about what needs to be done, do those decisions lead us closer to the end result? Do our choices lead to a balanced picture, honouring both family and work?

This week, I will simply have to imagine rounding the corner at the Museum of Modern Art, my eyes drawn immediately to Starry Night… the swirl of the sky above the steeple… the glow of the moon… the brilliance of the stars…

 

Most kids who walk into our classrooms, will listen, behave respectfully and complete their work when we ask. There are a few though who will be more challenging. Even though they can tell us the difference between right and wrong and they can articulate what they know we want to hear, they still have difficulty complying or making appropriate choices. These kids usually face greater challenges than those immediately evident as they sit before us in the classroom. Often, they lack hope.

Last Thursday, our principal laced his Terry Fox runners, our students gathered in the field, and we set out to honour the memory of a Canadian hero. Two weeks before that, on a hectic Monday morning, we watched a short video of Terry Fox during assembly. I had been feeling frustrated, overwhelmed and perhaps a little self-pity. And then, as I watched the familiar hop-step, hop-step, hop-step, and remembered the journey and struggle of this young man, my problems suddenly seemed unimportant. My mood was transformed.

How can we convey this sense of hope to our students? How do we show our students – all of them – that we care? Those who most need hope in their lives are not those who are quickest to comply or easiest to like. Those who most need hope are those who challenge our patience, test our persistence and force us to use every trick up our sleeve.

Without hope, Terry Fox, couldn’t have set out on his arduous journey. Without hope, he couldn’t have inspired a nation. Without hope, some of our students may flounder.

Though not tangible, though not easily articulated, hope is an essential ingredient in our relationships with our students.

What is it that makes this a favourite time of year? Is it the crunch of leaves beneath my feet? The crisp, cool morning air? The vivid fall colours of the tree-lined streets? As appealing as these are, for me, even more exciting is the celebration of books and literacy during Read-in Week!

Read-in Week celebrates a skill, an escape, an accomplishment, an indulgence. Last week, I stumbled into a classroom during story time. As their teacher read aloud, I watched the reactions of the students: the raised eyebrows, the grins that erupted into giggles and the exclamations of delight.

In our literate dependent world, the inability to read is debilitating. By contrast, the ability to read – especially for new readers – is empowering and exhilarating.

During Read-In week, engage in the power of story… lose yourself in a good book… be thankful that you have the ability to read these words.

No matter how old we are, story touches the soul.

This summer the issue of gender was thrown at me from several directions: I read a book entitled Secret Daughter… I heard a program about gender selection making its way to Canada… women are now allowed to become members at the Augusta National Golf Club… and for the first time all countries entered in the Olympics had women compete, albeit forcibly.

This combination of events led to a four generation discussion about gender. My 90 year old grandmother remembers both churches and bars segregated: men on one side, women on the other. In my mother’s high school days there were separate entrances for boys and girls. When she finished high school, women were not encouraged or expected to go to university.

In some ways then, we’ve made progress. I can sit where I’d like to in church, my stepdaughter is planning for university without a second thought, and a Saudi Arabian woman has sparked conversation and change in her country by competing in the Olympics. And yet, as far as we have come, I was reminded that we still have far to go when I was sent this video: Miss Representation. It’s 8 minutes long but worth a watch.

Consider the young girls within our schools. What images are they bombarded with each and every day? How do they determine their self-worth? How do we counter the messages they receive through the media? How do we value each of our students, regardless of their gender, for who they are?

When I think of Peter Lougheed, I think of my father.

Nestled in the trees of Peter Lougheed Provincial Park, there is a haven: William Watson Lodge. It is a modest group of cabins but there is magic within. The magic is quite simple really, but life-changing for some. These cabins were designed for people with disabilities: wide doorways that easily fit the width of a wheelchair, accessible decks off each cabin, wheelchair accessible showers, kilometre after kilometre of paved paths right down to the water. This lodge was established to be an affordable experience for those with disabilities and their families.

Peter Lougheed and his wife, Jeanne, are credited for the idea of William Watson Lodge.

When I was growing up, our family spent countless days camping. I have vivid memories of my father chopping wood or tending to the steaks on the hibachi, of my brothers, my parents and I standing at river’s edge skipping rocks, of all of us sitting around many a campfire. When my father became quadriplegic, one of the many losses we faced as a family was the loss of the outdoor experiences we once so enjoyed.

And then William Watson Lodge changed all that. Suddenly we had a place where we didn’t have to raise the bed to fit the Hoyer lift underneath. Suddenly we had a place where we didn’t have to struggle to push the wheelchair over the gravelly ground. Suddenly we had a place where disabilities were common and those around us understood the daily challenges we faced. Suddenly we could be a family enjoying the natural world once again, for a few precious days forgetting the sadness and loss.

Because of Peter Lougheed, I now have memories of my stepdaughter hanging off her grandpa’s chair on a mountain trail, I now have memories of our entourage – homecare workers included – sitting around a campfire, I now have memories of my father, though rendered immobile, once again at water’s edge relishing the fresh mountain air.

I never met Peter Lougheed, but he certainly changed my life. Rest in peace, dear sir. I imagine my father was waiting to greet you.

I recently listened to a Ted Talk by Sir Ken Robinson. He spoke about people who enjoy their work and those who simply endure their jobs, waiting for the weekend to arrive. I can honestly say, I have never been bored at work.Time passes quickly when we are doing something we love. Each day is an adventure and a challenge. I love what I do.

It is wonderful to be surrounded by our students once again. One student on the first day of school, enveloped me in a hug and said, “I missed you every single day this summer.”  Another on Wednesday morning rushed to me and exclaimed, “Guess what? I woke up today!” And yet another, new to the school, announced unprompted, “I can tie my own shoes!”

How can our days be anything but enjoyable surrounded by such innocence and delight?

“If you don’t think every day is a good day, just try missing one.” Cavett Robert