Friday, July 8, 2016

#RelationshipsMatter

#RelationshipsMatter
To #HEAL those hurting, it begins with us.

June 7, 2016 - I fell asleep, phone in hand, news app open before the 5th Dallas Police Department officer was declared deceased.  I woke up before 5 a.m. feeling numb and motionless as I read the updates that had transpired in a few short hours.  I’ve driven into Dallas for the last seven months of my life to receive medical care.  Today, many of those streets are closed.  Our state and country are grieving social injustices and being left with aching holes in our hearts when we seek truth to this question: Why?

Social media and news coverage are the cornerstones of my professional duties, but on days like today my personal sadness and disbelief override my educational duties, or do they? For so long, educators were (and often still are) encouraged to separate their professional and personal lives.  Today is a prime example of such, as we see all of the social media hashtags that have emerged in the wake of the heinous Dallas tragedy.  However, I’ve unconsciously done something throughout the day that didn’t resonate with me until now:  I’ve been viewing the national and local events of this week through the lens of an educator (both as a professional and a parent).  And this question continues to roll around in my head: What relationships failed you?

When our students don’t make the academic progress that we desire, we are supposed to evaluate ourselves, as practicing educators, find and design solutions, experiences and environments that help students achieve success.   Evidence of this exists throughout the myriad of program and publication companies, as they design curriculum resources to better meet our current state standards.  Ask any campus-level principal or central office curriculum administrator, someone is constantly soliciting us with the next “big thing.”  Whether it’s curriculum standards or assessment tools, the market and media are flooded with opportunities for change.  What does all of this have to do with #RelationshipsMatter?  New curriculum resources may contribute to improved academic results but I would argue that it’s the relationships between students and teachers that have a greater impact on academic AND life success.  Where is the push, the call for improved relationships, in our school systems?   When our students, current and former, show up in the media for poor life-choices, why aren’t we evaluating our practices and asking not if there is room for improvement but how many ways can we improve our relationships with students? Don’t misinterpret my message--academic success is unquestionably valuable but life success trumps that any day of the week.  Students need as much guidance (if not more) for the life market than the jobs-of-the-future market.  If they can’t successfully live and cope with one another, peacefully embrace differences, and positively approach conflict resolution, our job markets are then apt to fill with adults ill-prepared to live much less meet and exceed company expectations.  Our students need life preparation before skill preparation has a fighting chance to impact their lives.  Acceptance, love, and hope aren’t post-graduation givens--they should be equally (if not more) prevalent in our graduation requirements, just as core content courses. The quadratic equation, though valuable in a number of professions, has yet to advance me as a compassionate citizen.   However, the relationships that influenced me as an impressionable student still impact me and those lives that I touch daily.  We need the influence of strong adults in our students’ lives to prepare them to be the positive pillars of society.  It can’t happen by hope or chance.  Our impact must be intentional.

I spend an abundance of my professional and personal life building a foundation of genuine and positive relationships.  As an educator, I continuously evaluate my relationships with students, families, colleagues and community--each one matters. I speak to audiences, write about it, and live it.  It’s who I am.  The unspeakable events of this week made me think back to the thousands of students that I’ve taught and supervised in my 18 years as an educator...each a name and face of our future, not a notable statistic on a campus data sheet.  What I gave or didn’t give to each one rests on my shoulders.  Before most of our young students encounter service officers, they encounter their families and the most impressionable service profession on this planet: teaching.  We spend more hours on a weekly basis with students than families typically do, yet I’ve seen time and time again our focus on standards, not students--rigor not relationships.  Our influence ripples over the course of time, most of which we will never truly know, as our students touch lives and those lives touch others.  Knowing that the impact of our relationships exponentially influences the adults that our students become, beyond testing results, graduation rates and career choices), why aren’t we all--policy makers, administrators, and teachers, evaluating our far reaching practices and placing relationships at the forefront of everything that we do?

When senseless acts of violence occur, it makes me wonder about the relationships that were present or void in a person’s life.  It makes me ask myself, what can I do differently to impact the world, starting with my own students and community?  We have an infinite amount of opportunity to establish and build positive relationships with students while they are in our care and even beyond.  We will not change the trajectory of our path with humanity unless we take action in our respective professions.  It goes beyond an anti-bullying campaign.  It’s not just a 15 minute block of character education in classrooms each week.  It begins with a culture, before students ever step foot on our campuses, that kindness counts, everyone matters, and that human life is precious.  It’s not merely a set of “soft skills” or a program and it may/may not result in better state assessment scores, but this culture requires the commitment of every single educator that serves our students. Whether they are on your class or campus roster is irrelevant.  The students that mature into the adults that commit violent crimes against freedoms and life belong to all of us.  Every #RelationshipMatters--especially the students and adults that appear hard to love.  They need us the most, for they are filled with unfathomable sadness, hatred, loneliness, and despair.

I chose one word to live by this year, just after my stage III ovarian cancer diagnosis was handed to me:  #HEAL.  It’s been at the core of my recovery, present in my social media posts, on campaign shirts, hanging on my home and office walls, spelled out on my desk, on my car window, and in the countless cards, trinkets, flowers, and gifts that I’ve received in the last seven months.  I never imagined that two weeks ago I would enter “survivorship” after multiple surgeries and four months of chemotherapy.  However, #HEAL has a whole new meaning to me tonight, as so many families are hurting across this nation.  We need to #HEAL from within, not as a reaction to tragedy but as a starting point for the investment that we make in one another. When we #HEAL physically and emotionally, including helping our students and struggling families do the same, we minimize the hate that surrounds us.  I will continue to live my word long after this year passes and pray that others will do the same.

As I end my words, please accept this as an invitation, a call to action to do more than what you already do in the coming school year.  Place relationships at the forefront of all of your planning decisions.  I’m convinced that empathetic students experience higher levels of success (life and academic) than their counterparts.  With a culture that values intentionally teaching and modeling empathy, compassion, and how to rise in the face of adversity, students have the potential to leave us better prepared for life.  Education isn’t solely about academics.  It’s about people.  It’s about relationships.  Please, for the sake of the communities and nation of students that we serve, make a change in your practices.  If we continue to do what we’ve always done, we will continue to get the same results.  We all have room for improvement.   None of us want to see our loved ones and communities turned into a terrifying and trending global hashtag.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

"That" Teacher

“That” Teacher


As an educator, I’m often to asked to reflect on my childhood experiences as a student and identify “that” teacher--the one who made a profound impact in my life, “that” teacher who made me want to come to school, “that” teacher who made learning unforgettable, “that” teacher who noticed me, “that” teacher who inspired me, “that” teacher I’ll always remember.  For many of us, we don’t realize who “that” teacher is until we’ve passed through their doors for the final time.  If you happen to be “that” teacher for a student, the notification rarely arises while that student is still in your care.


What happens when the moment hits you and you realize that you ARE “that” teacher for a student?  I’ve thought about this post for over a year and could never bring myself to sit down and express all of the weight and joy that this realization carries, until now.  


It began in my living room floor, summer 2014, two months before I moved to a small Caribbean island.  After 17 years of combined teaching and administrative experience, I accepted an offer to teach first grade in a small private school.  Before packing the last of my moving boxes, I made pirate cards and wrote individual messages to each of my soon-to-be first graders.  I placed my school picture in each card before sealing the envelopes and sending them 2,000 miles away.  Many of you reading this have done similar practices with your incoming students.  It’s not uncommon for such to occur, especially at the elementary level.  However, I had the unique privilege to see something, seven months later, that I’ll never forget.


After being with my “Firsties” (aka Pirates) for the better part of a school year, I was invited to join one family for dinner.  That evening I was my student’s guest of honor, his chosen incentive for participating in a local competition, something that his parents and I collectively encouraged and challenged him to do, despite his fears.  Little did I know, before arriving at his home, that a series of instances would happen that night that made me realize, walking through the moments--I was “that” teacher.  Even more incredible--I was “that” teacher for a 6-year old who had his entire education ahead of him.  


I walked in to find him preparing my dinner.  Yes, he had prepared two types of pizza for me.  I was taken on a tour of the house.  When we reached his bedroom, his mother pointed out something to me that still brings tears to my eyes:  the pirate card, the one that I had written and sent to him in June, was hanging on the wall by his bed with my picture displayed.  It nearly took my breath away.  I wasn’t just his first grade teacher… I was “that” teacher.  A while later we were back downstairs and I noticed three small handwritten notes taped to the kitchen island.  They were numbered and read: #1 I heart (love) you Ms. Stephanie!  #2  You’re the best teacher in history! (Maybe even person!)  #3 You’re the best person in all the other galaxies, including this one!  I was “that” teacher. Needless to say, my seat at dinner was chosen for me--right next to him.  As the dinner plates were being cleared, I was offered an assortment of ice cream flavors to choose from (he knew that I loved and missed ice cream from Texas).  Again, I was “that” teacher.  That night, unquestionably, was a top moment of my career.  It didn’t happen at school or even during school hours. There were no standards taught or assessed.  Instead, I took in every moment and was in awe as I reflected on our year together and every cumulative choice that I had made to connect with him, share my passions, know his happiness and insecurities, challenge his skills, and love him unconditionally.


Fast forward, less than two months later, I was invited back to dinner.  It was my last day as his teacher, two days before I moved back to Texas, and the mood was much more somber.  That card and picture still hung on the wall above his bed, as it had since June.  However, this was the last night that I would see him until our paths crossed again and neither of us knew when that would be.  He celebrated his 7th and 8th birthdays, many holidays came and went, and we Facetimed several times over the course of a year.  With each Facetime, I captured a picture of us on the screen and sent it to his mom.  Those pictures stay in my camera roll just like that card and picture hanging above his bed.  It was an emotional year because I knew what I meant to him, his mother too, and he watched me go through a challenging medical diagnosis and treatment.  Though his conversations through the year were often cautious (he was hiding the worry in his heart), he never stopped being one of my greatest champions.  The pictures that I received of him wearing my cancer shirt made me smile.  Every green (my favorite color and now his too) letter that he wrote and decorated with hearts made my heart happy.  He will never truly understand how he helped me heal.  He’s such a joyous, inquisitive, and thoughtful soul.


I truly believe that it’s no coincidence that his grandmother lives about an hour from my home.  Of all of my former Firsties, his stateside family is practically in my backyard.  Of all of the places on this planet that he could possibly visit this summer, his travels brought him here.  Although his mother and I made arrangements for us to spend a day together, we didn’t reveal that I was going to be at baggage claim when they arrived in Texas.  June 6, 2016, Dallas/Ft. Worth International Airport, Delta Flight 0029 from Atlanta: Delayed nearly four hours.  Originally scheduled to land at 8:40 pm, my anticipation and excitement were pushed to 12:40 am, June 7, 2016.  I anxiously stood on the exit side of E15. His mom walked through the doors first and simply smiled.  She moved slightly to her right and just behind her was “that” sleepy-eyed student.  When our eyes met, neither of us spoke a word. The smile on his face said it all.  Thank you, Andrea, for allowing me to live that moment and capturing a simple picture that says it all.  Thank you, Dax, for teaching me what an honor it is to be “that” teacher.  Because of you, I get to experience the remarkable reward of sharing my passions with the world.  

Never underestimate the power of each and every choice that you make with students.  Something as simple as a handwritten note and a picture forever changed my perspective on placing relationships first, everything else second.