I often start and end the school day with a hug. There are also many in between. In how many professions can you say that?

Our job is not known to be especially rewarding financially but payment comes in many forms. I leave my job at the end of the day rewarded by those I have encountered: students who are truly excited to see you, parents who just needed someone to listen, staff who take the extra time with a student in need of support, teachers whose passion permeates everything they do.

As with every job, there are aspects that are necessary but not desirable: a call to children’s services, a fight for special needs funding, dealing with discipline… just to name a few.

“In activity we must find our joy as well as glory; and labor, like everything else that is good, is its own reward.” Edwin P. Whipple

The hugs help too.

 

“Stop.”

A four letter word. A persuasive word. A word prompting action or more precisely an end to action. A word sometimes absent when it should be present. A word effective in the face of bullying.

Recently, I watched What Would You Do? – the ABC hidden camera show with John Quinones. One of the situations took place in an icecream shop where a customer – an actor – stuttered and therefore took a considerable length of time to place her order. Other actors who were in line behind her, began harassing her, making rude comments and questioning her intelligence. The cameras caught the reactions of those unaware that this situation was staged. There were some who heard, were visibly upset but did not intervene. There were others who confronted the bullies.

Whether we are children or adults, it is easy to stand by silently during a situation we know is unjust. It is more difficult to get involved and stand up for the victim. Yet I have witnessed the power of the seemingly simply utterance “stop” in the midst of intimidation or victimization. This word typically yields results.

Just as words have immense power to hurt, words also have immense power to help. The choice is yours.

 

Last weekend I found a fascinating full page spread in the National Post outlining world religions. There are proportional circles representing various religions throughout the world: some familiar, some completely unfamiliar. (The link if you’re interested: http://life.nationalpost.com/2012/03/23/graphic-a-demographic-breakdown-of-the-world-of-religion/)

What struck me is the commonality of a belief in a higher power. Now I realize that there are 146 million people who ascribe to atheism. But the other 6 billion 3 hundred million believe in ‘something’.  What does that tell us? As humans we seek, search for and perhaps even desire a higher power. We seek explanation. We seek order. We seek comfort in something larger than ourselves.

I don’t always believe in or support everything the church does or says. I also know that our varying beliefs have been the cause of much conflict throughout history. I know that to reconcile the evolution theory versus the creation theory is a daunting task. Yet, regardless of all of this, my faith continues to be a source of comfort. Though I cannot explain my faith, it is ever present within me. Though I cannot answer questions explaining ‘why it is so’ or even ‘how it is so’, I continue to believe.

Who am I to purport that my beliefs are the correct ones? After all, I was born into my faith. It was not a choice I made. And yet, my faith provides me with much comfort. When I face uncertainty, sadness or confusion in my life, I am comforted by my belief in something bigger than myself. I have faith that there is a reason for the suffering or pain in our world though I don’t claim to like it or understand it. Watching our parents lose the ability to walk, talk and eat… hearing about the sufferings of our young students… witnessing tragic loss or abusive behaviour… the inability to have children… dealing with addiction or poverty… these are situations most of us would certainly rather avoid.

Yet, it is through my faith that I am able to provide comfort and support to those around me. It is through my faith that I find strength. Ultimately, it is through my faith that I have come to realize that these situations, tragic as they are, shape us into who we are today, making us more humble, kindhearted and compassionate.

Though it remains a mystery, my faith endures.

 

 

Report cards are finished, IPPs completed and signed, and the Demonstration of Learning has come and gone. I love my job but this week I was tired. Anybody else?

Actually, I think the kids are tired too. They seem ready for a mental break. Spring Break is more than a time to jet-set somewhere warm. For those of us in a school, Spring Break is a time to rejuvenate and rest to gear up for the remaining three months of the school year.

Individuals outside of education often ‘joke’ about the hours of teachers. Somehow they truly seem to believe that we only work 6 hours a day and 10 months of the year. If that were the case I could go home at 1 pm each day and not do any work at home… imagine!

It can be difficult to articulate the emotional, physical and psychological demands of this job to someone who has never experienced it. At the end of each day, it can be difficult to leave behind thoughts of the troubled student, the to-do list and the mounds of paper waiting on our desks.

Never fear: spring break is in sight. Enjoy your well-deserved break!

I can recall many moments of silence in my life. It is in those moments when I have found clarity, made some of the biggest decisions of my life and have even been the most creative. Do kids these days ever have moments of true silence or even boredom? As I was driving at 6:45 the other morning I noticed a van beside me playing a movie for the kids in the backseat. Now, I’m not judging. Just thinking. Are there moments when kids don’t have a television, tablet or telephone in their clutches? Are there moments when they do not have external stimulation? Are there moments when they are ‘forced’ to be creative and just play?

Speaking of stimulation, I’ve noticed that I myself rarely do one thing at a time any more. While watching television, I’m often on the computer. During commercials, I’m flipping to watch another channel. While waiting in line, I’m checking email. While washing dishes, I’m talking on the telephone. Multitasking does not often afford the luxury of deep, reflective thinking.

At one point in my life, I remember finding silence and even experiencing boredom. That concept now sometimes seems unattainable with all of the stimulation around us. We must be deliberate in turning off all devices and choosing silence. How long could you go without your television, tablet or telephone? Does the very idea frighten you? In that silence and lack of stimulation, we might just discover our true thoughts, our true selves.

In moments of ‘boredom’ as a child, my brothers and I would soon be creating worlds out of lego… we would find ourselves outside in a pick-up game of shinny with the neighbourhood kids… the warm playdough mom just made would soon be animals, real and imagined… pencil, paper and crayons came together to create story. In moments of silence, dreams of my future bubbled in my brain. I would hate to rob today’s children of those experiences.

“Nothing is more useful than silence.” (Menander 342 – 292 BC) 

Indeed. Silence can nourish us in unexpected ways. Try it sometime…

 

Last Wednesday, one of my students asked, “What do you do at teachers’ convention?” I explained that convention is our turn to learn, giving a few specific examples. He looked at me intently and said, “Don’t you know those things already?”

On Friday morning, Roberta Bondar answered his question perfectly… we must always allow room to relearn, reassess, reevaluate, shift or change our viewpoint. Our understanding of the world is limited to today’s understanding. We do not know who we will be or what we might discover tomorrow.

So, what did I learn at convention this year? I learned to appreciate much in my life: freedom of speech, access to food any time I please, the view of the sky, the compassion of those around me. I learned to appreciate the predictability of my days and the enormity of my freedom. I learned the power of an individual with a heart open to forgiveness. I learned that though the problems in our world are daunting, education is often the answer.

From whom did I learn this? Amanda Lindhout spoke about the 460 days she was held captive in Somalia. She, and others during convention, reinforced the power of education. It is only in its absence, that we come to realize its power. Lindhout’s Somali captors were boys really, most of them orphaned, all of them with violent, famished pasts: education no more than a dream. As she came to know her young captors over many months, she realized that these boys were much the same as boys their age in Canada… yet without opportunity.

Had these children been educated, perhaps they would not have sought belonging in the violent endeavours of this group. Had these children been educated, perhaps they would have seen how they could have a positive impact in the world. Had these children been educated, perhaps they would seek ways to improve the living conditions of their country. Had these children been educated, perhaps they would live in hope rather than day to day desperation.

Is there value in convention then? Did I shift or reevaluate my perspective? Will I return to school a better educator, a better leader?

I will return with a renewed sense of purpose and a newfound gratitude for this place we call school.

There is always value in learning.

 

As many of you know, I read a daily reflection by Robin Sharma. A few weeks ago, the entry was this: “Saying that you don’t have time to improve your thoughts and your life is like saying you don’t have time to stop for gas because you are too busy driving. Eventually it will catch up with you.”

The same could be said for teaching. Teaching has certainly changed over the last few decades. Our students come to us with much different experience and background knowledge than in the past. The pendulum has swung towards constructivism. Technology has changed the way we approach both teaching and learning. Will Richardson has been quoted as saying, “If you’re comfortable with education today you’re not paying attention.”

If we continue to move forward thinking we can teach as we did previously, we’re missing the point. We must always take the time to improve our thoughts and our practice. My favourite ways are to learn from others: I read, dialogue and visit other classrooms. In the words of Stephen Covey, I sharpen the saw.

What do you do to improve your thoughts and your practice? How do you sharpen your saw each day?

…don’t forget to stop for gas…

 

I love my job. There is never a dull moment in an elementary school. Whether it be the need for yet another ice pack, the mystery of a missing shoe, separation anxiety, a bloody nose or a stuck zipper… the days are certainly never dull.

Last week, a little one told me she was going to take something to “the lost and fountain.” Another skipped her way back to her desk with an imagined rope and a wide grin, no audience intended. And still another caught me ‘running’ in the hall and asked, “what’s the hurry?” Good question. As I was reading with a group of grade three students the other day, one of them said, “Let’s make a deal.” She proceeded to say that if the group made ‘no mistakes’ – and it didn’t count as a mistake if they helped each other – they could use the white boards and I would challenge them with difficult words. “Deal.” A teacher’s dream, actually.

When I consider what I learned in university, nothing could have prepared me for those unanticipated moments. And to be honest, it is those moments that give flavour to my day.

Yes, I do love my job.

Many years ago I went to the Body Worlds exhibit. You know the one: human bodies on display preserved through a process called plastination. The overwhelming feeling I had visiting this exhibit was one of awe.

How is it that we function each and every day? Our bodies are a miraculous mass of cells working together seemingly inexplicably. It struck me as nothing short of extraordinary that we function everyday as we do given the complexity of our bodies and brains.

I recently read the book My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. Dr. Taylor, a brain scientist, experienced a massive stroke in 1996. In the book she chronicles her experience including the stroke itself and her eight-year recovery. She was forced to relearn all of the things she had once learned as a toddler and young child.

Again I was struck with a sense of awe.

The human body’s capability to learn, relearn, adapt to our environment, process external stimuli, understand our spacial world, generate meaning from a string of symbols… all seem incredible feats. These capabilities exist in most of us, most of the time, without our even thinking about them.

I marvel at the learning that goes on each day with our students. Given the complexity of the human brain it is no surprise that we have students who find learning difficult. It can be a puzzle to determine precisely what the difficulty might be. We may never fully understand the science behind their learning difficulties, but we can certainly uncover strategies to help all students learn.

I cannot even begin to imagine all that is at work right now in my brain as I type these words!

This week, along with many of you, I heard David Wells speak. He made me laugh and he made me cry. His physical comedy, timing and poignancy struck a chord.

“Don’t miss the point.”

What is it in your life that you don’t want to miss?

Your children or grandchildren as they discover and explore their world? An unfulfilled dream? The stories told and retold by your parents or grandparents? The honesty of our students? Relationships with siblings, fondly considered friends? The creative energy of colleagues? The friendships of those who inspire, encourage or make you laugh? The thrilling possibilities of a new work day? The quiet moments with the one you love most?

Whatever it is, don’t miss the point.

Live today.