A pile of gratitude

I work with a magical three year old named “Amari”. On beautiful days we take walks and I teach her how to say all the captivating things she sees. Fire hydrant! Sticks! Flagpole!

While I tend to power along the sidewalk, Amari prefers to pause here and there to take in something special like a dog’s water dish or a forgotten bicycle.

The other day she spotted a huge pile of raked leaves waiting by the side of a quiet neighborhood street. With glee she looked at the pile then at me and raised her arms up high in hopes I would pick her up and throw her in. I tossed her in at the count of three then joined her crashing into a crunchy soft bed of orange and brown.

Shortly after our landing, I was eager to get up and get going but she had other plans. Following her gaze, I looked up above the street and houses to the almost bare Sycamore tree standing regally above our heads. The strong branches held lightly the last leaves of autumn made even more stunning by the blue sky.

I started driving down this street fourteen years ago and this was the very first time I looked up. Amari did not need any words to introduce me to the beauty of the white and gray dappled tree bark against the radiant sky. All she had to do was teach by example; jump in fully, take your time and look up.

Life is better together

One of my first years as a special education teacher, my principal scolded me for being too inclusive. I am so proud of that accusation. I truly believe we all belong together. Maybe that is why I keep going to yoga classes at the YMCA.

Although there are a few elite yogis with six packs and perfect form, there are also grandparents and moms with lots of different bodies and abilities from different parts of the world and one big middle aged woman with special needs who comes with her helper. ‘Paula’ sits on a folding chair and occasionally joins in by moving her arms up and to the side. She thanks everyone profusely for their help and gives me a wink paired with a thumbs up when I smile in her direction during class.

Then there is ‘Maria’. This young adult with autism starts the day by taking blankets and blocks from the supply area to set up a comfortable yoga habitat. Her helper lends her arm for balance during the standing postures and gently guides Maria back to the mat when she seeks out more supplies during the class. There is something about the dim lights and meditation ending in a group chant of OM that is particularly powerful for Maria, at least that is how I interpret her squeals as the lights dim.

One day after class, I was rolling up my mat when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maria approach our yoga instructor in the front and sit cross legged in front of her. Without a word, Maria put her hands on our teacher, Lisa’s head. Either Lisa had done this before or just had an intuitive sense. She began to repeat the OM again and encouraged Maria to feel the vibration in her skull. Then Lisa prompted Maria to put her hands on her own head and give it a try, Maria’s body wiggled with glee as she attempted to produce the resonant sounds.

I unrolled my mat and sat down again, tears streaming down my cheeks as Maria’s OM entered the room. Life is better together.

Life on the same team

We went to a beautiful family wedding last night. My wife’s grandparents were asked to give advice garnered from their 66 years of marriage. Their response? “Don’t fight.”
I am sure they have had plenty of disagreements over the years, but hanging out with the couple for over a decade now, I can tell you that they seem to be working on the same team. 

 As we walk through our lives as parents, educators, spouses, professionals, and citizens, let us work through conflict remembering that in the biggest picture, we are all on the same team.

The good we leave behind

I have been biking down a veritable death trap during my daily commute. Today the creators, cracks and swells were hidden under a blanket of fresh pavement. On my way up that buttery smooth hill, I thanked the workers with a kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for Super Bowl victories or something of the sort. I shared my glee, because like this road crew, most of us leave behind the good work we have done, rarely knowing the impact. From sending students off to a new class or adding coins to an anonymous parking meter, we live our lives hoping to create good whether or not we see the fruit of our labors.

While those construction workers may never drive down that steep back street again, hopefully they will remember the good they left behind.

Failure and success

In his famous 2006 Ted Talk, Sir Ken Robinson said, “if you are not prepared to be wrong, you will never come up with anything original”. So often I work with students who are paralyzed by their fear of failure. They do not attempt a task of there is risk of being wrong. Our society focuses on success and innovation and hides in the shadows, the pain and perseverance from which it is born. Watching my one year olds learn to walk is a prime example that we must fall down countless times before we learn to walk, let alone run.
How can we take the stigma away from failure? How can we help young and old to take heart in the ups and downs of learning and risk taking?

Their own best teachers

Their is a lot of debate out there about whether or not elementary students should use electronic devices as learning tools. While I believe there is no mode of learning that works for everyone, this is what I do know: tonight, two fifth graders emailed me links to videos they found that explain math in a way that they “get”. Another student emailed me the way he can find the least common multiple and greatest common factor in his head and asked about the connection to exponential form. These kids are not empty vessels waiting to be filled by the “almighty teacher”. They are students becoming their own best teachers.

Try, fail, learn, repeat

Today, as part of the #icsdplc, I had the pleasure of hearing Jim Warford @jimwarford, former Florida Chancellor of Education. His words of wisdom struck a chord in me: “Try, fail, learn, repeat.” So often we live under the false pretense that we as teachers, students, spouses, friends, organizations… must be successful at whatever we do the first time we do it. On the contrary, there is a necessity for failure in the process of learning. When we fail, and learn from our failures, we become our own best teachers.

When has failure brought you to a place of learning ?

That new thing

Today our son, Dowan, found a tiny, slightly bouncy ball that captivated his heart and soul. He played catch with anyone who would throw it to him, on land, in water, kid, adult, it didn’t matter. When he figured out how to bounce the ball against the pool wall and back to himself, all the better. I was highly amused by the sheer delight that permeated his ten-month-old self. It reminded me of the hyper focus of someone in a new relationship or the excitement I see in students who have just found their favorite book series or a new app that was seemingly developed just for them.

When was the last time you found that new thing?

Education is what you make of it at Lehman Alternative Community School

I decided to go to my reunion at the last minute. Lehman Alternative Community School was the place that I spent quite a few of my formative years. Some say that hippie dippy school wasn’t academic enough. Looking back, I realize the school was beyond academic, it was life altering. While I have long forgotten the names of the great minds I studied in college, writing and performing a play with a student with Down syndrome led me to my vocation in special education; biking to New Jersey started my commute by bike habit; hiking in the Costa Rican rainforest kindled my love of Spanish and its daily use in our household; leading all school meetings gave me the confidence to enjoy any speaking engagement that comes my way. It seems to me that education is what you make of it. I am thankful I spent a chunk of mine at Lehman Alternative Community School.

Measuring up

We have dreams of converting our 70’s era basement to more functional living space. In order for that to happen we need to have a plan, which means I had to measure the current space. On the surface, this seems like no big deal; however the idea of doing something with numbers and precision gave me a visceral reaction. All the old voices that said I was incapable of anything math related (even this basic,) came trickling back. I caught myself ready to drop the tape measure and run. Thankfully I recognized that I was having the same reaction as many of my students when asked to do something in which they lack confidence. I realized I could commit to measuring one section at a time until I finally finished. Today, I was my own teacher. I proved I could measure up…and across.

When was the last time you taught yourself to ignore the negative voices of your past?