1,677 Miles Away

Coming up on almost a year since my last post. Yikes. That explains what an insane year it has been - from starting back in person full time after 18 months of distance learning and hybrid learning, talking parents off the ledge around masking and support their student's mental health, testing and contact tracing through the winter months, talking teachers off the ledge and hopefully supporting kids in learning something along the way. 

Nope. None of those things really stopped me in my tracks and caused to pause and reflect. 

No thanks, no time. 

But this one. This one event hit me hard. This one had a big impact on my educator soul. 

I won't even get into the specifics or try and recap the tragedy that occurred at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, TX on Tuesday, May 24th. Much has been said around gun rights, school safety and the role education should take in protecting our kids from semi-automatic weapons entering our campuses. 

This is not that. 

This is a personal account and insight on how school massacres play into the lives of our students. Even students who live 1,677 miles away from Uvalde. 

On Wednesday morning, 5/25, I still did not have the words to email my staff about how to take care of our students coming to school, possibly upset about what happened the day prior. I'm not sure how many of my 5-12 year olds watch the news or how many families may have shared what happened in Uvalde. I sent whatever email I thought a principal should send the morning after such a tragedy - safe space for kids, stay positive, seek mental health support, reach out to our counselor, wordswordswords, blahblahblah. 

Still in shock myself, I really struggled to come up with the right thing to say. Goes without saying that every educator in every classroom or school in America has considered, "what would I do if someone came on campus and...? Where would I hide my kids? Or would we run?" Every.single.one.of.us. 

So, yeah, after this tragedy, I really had no words because the truth is, as the principal in charge of the safety of my staff and students, yes. There is a safety plan in place. Do I feel fully qualified to pull it off? Um. It's a scary feeling. 

This past Wednesday morning, after I sent out my robot-generated-who-has-taken-over-our-principals-brain email, I pasted a smile on my face and headed out to greet students at our before school Morning Walk. Smile, hug, fist bump - act like you can protect them from anything. Within 5 minutes, I had a 2nd grader come up to me and asked me if I heard what happened on the news. 

"No. What?"

"A bad guy brought a gun to school and killed a bunch of people."

"Oh, yes. I did hear about that. What do you think about that? How do you feel?"

"I'm scared and I don't want to be at school. My mom said when the shooter comes to my school, I have to know what to do." 

WHEN?! I'm sorry...WHEN!? 

I tried everything to calm this guy. Seriously. I threw everything I could at him about how I'm there to keep us all safe, this happened far away, this doesn't happen at every school...wordswordswords, blahblahblah. Big hug, connected with his teacher, off to class. 

Say it with me - DID (clap) NOT (clap) HELP (clap). 

A few minutes into class, I got a call from the same boy's teacher that he was still scared and now talking about what happened in Uvalde to other students in his class. Knowing I am many things, but not a crisis counselor, I called on my school psych for support. 

Together, we met with this 8 year old kid, processed his thinking and then provided concrete examples on how we prepare for all kinds of emergencies, like fires and dangerous people on campus. But just because we practice doesn't mean bad things will actually happen. 

He was still stuck on "WHEN it happens." Oof. 

With this concept, we really could not ease his mind. Since he had been talking to his peers, my pysch and I decided to do a quick circle with the class to process as much as we could in a group of 7 and 8 year olds, some who knew what happened and others who were just annoyed we interrupted them making their States of Matter cootie catchers (not even sure about the spelling on that one. Meh.)

Our 2nd grade Meeting

You guys. Together in total, we spent an hour and a half comforting a group of 18 seven and eight year olds on something that happened 1,677 miles away. 

My kids should be having fun with their friends on these last few days of school - making all the memories that come with finished curriculum, sweaty recesses and a perfect mix of anxiety and excitement going into the summer. These times should not be spent processing a tragedy that happened so far away, yet could be at our door at any moment. 

Something isn't right. 

Know that the impacts of such tragedies in Texas are felt in classrooms across our country. 

Know that the kids are paying attention. 

The kids know way more than we try to protect them from.

And I'm lying to them.
I'm saying I can keep them safe and protect them from any harm.

Running Through the Gauntlet

Let's be real. This year has taken such a toll on all of us. Teachers, students, parents, you name them, it's been a rough deal all around. And we are all healing. Trying to understand and reflecting on whateverthislast15monthshasbeen is so critical to our healing. 

Principals. School Leaders. Let's be real. We have been through some stuff. Like - not telling others what we're going through and wearing that smile and telling everyone it's all going to be OK - kind of stuff. 

This post isn't meant to have anyone feel sorry for principals. Nor is it meant to be a complain session. This is about what was going on behind the (my) scenes this year. When I was smiling and telling everyone it was going to be OK, these were the real deal things going on in my head (and heart). 

SLAs

Side Letters of Agreement between my district and its bargaining partners. The first one came in July. And it was 15 pages and focused on distance learning. Ok. Manageable. Until we get to the part about instructional minutes. State guidance told us how many minutes of instruction our kids should get based on grade level. Was this Zoom minutes? Asynchronous minutes? What about my teachers with combo classes? Did they have to double their work day? 

And then they kept coming. FAQ documents about the SLAs. 

And then there were SLAs for our SpEd teachers. Then for our certificated staff. Secretaries serving as tech support, Rec Aides doing home visits, Teamsters cleaning school sites...whoa. 

But wait...there's MORE! SLAs about compensation and planning time. SLAs to plan for opening for Hybrid instruction. And don't forget about all the FAQs that followed! SLAs about welcoming back our English Language Learners. Then an SLA about the last day of school! All the SLAs!

SLAs on top of SLAs on top of SLAs. Maybe even an SLA with its own SLA. Who even knows? 

Literally, EVERY SLA from this year.

I haven't annotated so much text since my master's program. And it's been a minute since then. On top of all the annotating and interpreting, there were so many questions that came up in principal meetings, with my staff and with my families. And truly, I don't think anyone really knew the answer since we were all trying to build the plane as we were flying it. 

But as principals, we smiled. We said we read the SLAs and were ready to implement and support all the changes outlined in each one.

Tracking COVID numbers
Last summer, a friend of mine introduced me to a tool that I equally love and hate. This fab tool tracks all things Sacramento County COVID: cases, deaths, percentage of positive cases, maps of the area and levels of infection, hospitalization rates, ICU rates...you name it, the data was there. And updated daily. And I checked it. Daily. In the morning and for some reason again in the afternoon and at night, as if the data would mysteriously erase the horror of life in COVID.

And for awhile, we looked good. Numbers were trending down and it looked like we might be able to welcome kids back on campus at the end of November. SLAs were annotated, schedules were planned, communication to parents was being planned, furniture was moved around in our classrooms, PPE was distributed and ready to go. Until. No. Nope. 

Numbers took a steep incline and we weren't able to open as planned. My teachers love kids. And I mean LOOOOOOOOVVVVVE kids. Bringing kids back in November was going to be a thing that brought the soul of teaching back to my teachers. They would be happy. They could have a sense of normalcy. 

These numbers did not allow my teachers that relief and sense of joy and normalcy. Not being able to welcome kids back dealt a pretty big blow to my staff and our morale. We weren't able to welcome kids back until March, so for 4 months, we were in a holding pattern of holding out hope for human kids in person and getting through the day to day chore of Zoom and grading assignments in Google Classroom.

Watching COVID numbers didn't do much for me in the way of staying positive. It created anxiety and a pit in my stomach every time I clicked on the link. But I still did it in the hopes of positive trends, which were so very slow to appear.

Knowing the trends looked dismal, I still told my teachers it would all be OK. I said this with a pit in my stomach every time. 

Attendance and the Legend of Black Zoom Screens
Serving at a Title 1 school comes with its own challenges. During even a normal year. Adding distance learning to an already impacted community proved to be so very challenging. Getting Chromebooks into kids' hands, getting hot spots to their house AND then helping them log in with their credentials. Seriously, their log ins are insanely long (name1234@student.sanjuan.edu, password: Ab123456) Don't forget to spell it all correctly AND use a capital letter! 

Great. We had them logged in. Now to walk them through logging into Zoom. And then the process changed about a month in when we had to authenticate Zoom meetings. And then helping them navigate to their Google Classroom and find their assignments. It was absolutely insane.

Walking our English Language Learners through this proved so very challenging. Between the work schedules of our families combined with the confusion of logging in and spotty internet (on a good day), our English Learners and Homeless students were up against so much. 

This whole process took such a strain on our system. I will forever be grateful to my Secretary, Clerk and Campus Monitor for all their patience and commitment to helping our families. Troubleshooting these things over the phone with so many barriers (language, spotty internet, crying babies in the background, rushing to work) was just as challenging as you can imagine. Hearing them walk families through the log in process over and over, hearing the powerlessness and frustration in their voices still brings me to tears. They were in it 100%. Our families were, too. 

When kids were able to log in successfully, our fingers would be crossed that their internet wouldn't drop. And on the best of days, our kids would have their cameras on, their microphones muted and had their materials ready to go. In all of my conversations with all my teachers, there was not ONE day when all kids were on, cameras on, mics off, with all their materials ready. And that is soul crushing over time. 

We had monthly materials pick up days and so many teachers poured so much time into creating great materials for their kids - cute notes and little gifts for kids from teachers to send some love home and packets to use during Zoom science experiments. Some teachers even spend the day in the MP Room to greet their students for some personal interaction on these days. There were times kids and families wouldn't even show up to get their materials. These materials would sit in the office for weeks on end. At times, kids would have 3 different months of materials sitting out together. 

This piece was, hands down, the hardest part of this year. Seeing the disappointment on my teacher and staff's faces was soul-crushing. Hearing their frustrations around lack of engagement from their kids, while feeling absolutely powerless to help, still gives me a sinking feeling when I think about these conversations.

The words I wanted to say never came out. They couldn't. I wanted to cry for my staff. I wanted to cry with them. Instead, I told them everything was going to be OK and had a sinking feeling in my gut every time I said it.

Staff Morale
And so here's the real deal. I'm scared. Totally scared, you guys. Safe to say that as humans, we have all changed at our core in the past 15 months. How could we not? 

Prior to the pandemic, my teachers were amazing! Their passion for kids, teaching and learning poured out of them. They were vibrant, positive and dynamic. My biggest fear is that these things have been diminished at some level. This next year will certainly be a year of healing. Of reflection. Of coming out of shock. 

And my fear is that I didn't support them in the way they needed. I've never led a group through a pandemic. Dealing with my own anxiety and fears, while being the brave leader I felt I needed to be proved impossible. I wasn't there in the way my staff needed. Or maybe I was. Or maybe no one really knew what they needed. 

My biggest hope is that we can come back together, look back on this last year with a huge WTF and then look forward and rebuild. Because, OMG. This year was...

Unprecedented (NEVER want to hear this AGAIN)
Impossible
Nerve-Wracking
Demoralizing
Gut-Wrenching

Lower the bar. Nope. Lower.

    

High achievers, goal setters, perfectionists - you name it, my whole staff is full of them. And they are amazing. They believe in kids and don't allow kids to bring excuses to the table. Every day, they not only plan engaging lessons for our kids, but reject subpar work and insist on kids redoing their assignments until they have reached their potential. 

If my staff were a game.

And it's great. Until a pandemic.

I am absolutely positive there are at least a few all (?) of my staff who are so tired of hearing: "Stop. Lower the bar. Now think about where your bar is at. And lower it more."

PEOPLE! WE ARE LIVINGTEACHING THROUGH A PANDEMIC!

There is no rule book for this. There are no standards for this. This is Crisis City on fire right after a tornado. 

I often hear parents ask if their student will be retained or if they will fall below grade level. I say no to the retention and Idon'tevenknowanymore to the latter. What is grade level any more? With so many inequities for kids around technology, internet connectivity, support at home and demands placed on our families (I'll save that rant for later), it seems like it will take YEARS before we even know what should be expected of our kids. 

We are just trying to get by. And that's OK.

Teachers, please lower your bar of expectations from a 10 to an 8. Are your kids meeting you at an 8 through distance learning? No, you say? Great! Lower it to a 6. Then a 4. 2. Once your kids meet that bar at a 2, consider bumping it up to a 3, then 4. Are they showing up to Zoom with actual clothes on without wearing a blanket? Score. You're on your way!

We know you care. If you didn't care, it wouldn't drive you insane when a student submitted a blank Google doc. Again. Or if they refused to turn on their cameras. I get it. 

We really don't know what's going on behind the black Zoom screen (and maybe it's best if we don't in some cases). Let's applaud the kid for logging into Zoom. That would be an achievement for a 2! Next? Let's aim for turning on their mic to answer a question! 3!? Score! 

Celebrate the small wins. 

Letting go of high expectations for our kids right now does not speak to your commitment as an educator or professional. It does not mean you don't care and that you are just phoning it in for your kids. 

It's recognizing the reality we are in. It's understanding that ALL of us are just trying to get by one day at a time. And that's OK. Understanding the need to take care of our collective mental health as priority sends the message that you care deeply for our kids, families, and YOURSELF!

We are going to get through this and it will end. Once we have our kids back full time, we can control the parameters of their learning environment much more than we can now (welcome back, Type As!)

Will some of our kids struggle with reading? Yep. Will some be missing foundational skills they need to move forward? Absolutely. But, we got this. Educators are amazing. We are strong and love a good challenge. Tell us we can't do something and then sit back and watch. 

And knowing that my team is filled with high achievers, goal setters and perfectionists, I am confident that the kids will be alright. 

                                         

If I don't laugh, I'll certainly cry.

Whoa.

Was.not.ready.

I know this echoes the sentiments of many. Watching COVID-19 going down in China and then Italy seemed distant enough to be considered "their" problems, not mine. But then the emails from my district starting coming in. Then conference calls.

Texts. Emails. Phone calls. Texts. Emails. Phone calls. Repeat.

Fast forward one month and here I am:
Mother of 3 at home with my boys. Not sure when (IF!) my school will be back in session before August. Not allowed to leave my house unless it's "essential." Essential??

Like, walking around Target looking at everything essential? Or my leg has been severed and I need it reattached essential?

Hm. I don't like it.

I thrive on busy. I thrive on problem solving. Schedules. Routines. Complaining about problem solving, having schedules, routines and BEING TOO BUSY!

Not having these things throws me into so much anxiety.

"Enjoy this time with your family." 

Can't.

"Take the time to accomplish goals you create."

Nope.

"This is only temporary."

Is it though? Because right now, my world is rocked. I keep checking my phone: Facebook, CNN, KCRA, San Juan Unified, Facebook, CNN, KCRA, San Juan Unified...potentially being holed up and home schooling for 4 months...or MORE?! What the what???

I'm in a spiral - a cycle. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to go to bed and sleep until it's all over.

Just as I'm about to rip my hair and eyeballs out, I have to be so very intentional about distraction.

Things that make me laugh because they are stupid. And as my public service, I will share some of these go-to distractions with you.*

I present to you...(links included! You're welcome.)

*Advisory: to appreciate any of these, you must understand and share in my sense of humor: sometimes dark, sometimes/mostly sarcastic, and very likely immature (but not like JackAss immature).

"Quasi-Definitive List of Resources
 to distract you from COVID-19 Anxiety"

John Mulaney
(may I highly recommend "Sack Lunch Bunch" on Netflix?)

Sebastian Maniscalco

Ali Saddiq

Ali Wong

Gabriel "Fluffy" Iglesias (and Mr. Iglesias on Netflix)

Impractical Jokers
(Confession: I want to quit my job so badly and be the 5th Joker)

Ellen's Game of Games
(on NBC. Do yourself a favor and watch this - even if it's only once.)

Crosswalk Musicals
(James Corden on YouTube) (This is the dumbest thing ever. It's amazing.)

Box of Lies (Tonight Show on YouTube)

Mean Tweets
(Jimmy Kimmel on YouTube)

Flight of the Conchords

And You're Gonna Need a Crew as Nuts as You Are: Wisdom of Reuben Tishkoff

Ocean's 11. One of my all time faves. For those of you who have not yet seen it, we need to talk. Like, Intervention-style talk. To be fair, I have not even seen Top Gun, which my husband has a real problem with. Now that I have gone my whole life without it, I refuse to watch Top Gun based on principle.

I digress...

Ocean's 11. *Spoiler Alert 18 years later* Starts with a man with an idea. Hello, Daniel Ocean. A passion to steal obscene amounts of money from only a few Las Vegas casinos. Convinces a crew of 10 others (see where the 11 comes in? Clever.) to join him in this heist. Something so out of reach, so unimaginable, yet, Ocean is able to identify strengths within others in which he convinces them to use these strengths to actually put a plan into place and *Aged Spoiler Alert* actually pull it off.

Perhaps, one of the very best lines of the whole movie (and by best, I mean inspires me as a leader) comes from Reuben Tishkoff when Ocean pitches this idea to him. Tishkoff: "Yea. Ya gotta be nuts, too. And you're gonna need a crew as nuts as you are. (pause). So, who've you got in mind?"

YES, man the remaindered furniture (see film), YES! As leaders, we come up with these crazy ideas...how we can make our schools, organizations, companies better - innovative! More than half of the ideas are terrible ideas. But, every once in awhile, we get an idea and are able to rally a crew as nuts as we are to pull off something unimaginable.

Last winter, I was Danny Ocean. Not the thief who had been paroled from prison, but more like having an insane desire to do something huge and truly awesome for my kids and community.

Houses. A House System at my site. It started with an article about Houses at Lake Canyon Elementary in Galt. See article HERE. I knew, based on survey data from my 5th and 6th graders, that we had some work to do as a school in building meaningful relationships and including student voice in decisions made on campus. With that rolling around in my head, when I came across this article, I knew I'd have to pitch this random idea to a few people to make sure it wasn't another one of my crazy ideas that wasn't feasible. Fortunately, I've got a great crew at my site who will keep me in check when I have these crazy ideas that are not feasible! And thankfully they still stick around.

My first litmus test...send an email out. "What do you think? Thoughts? Ideas? Feedback? Any interested in talking about this more?" OMG! I had an email back within 15 minutes. And then a few more. None of them shot it down. Ok. We had some traction in thinking about it. Natural next step?

Road Trip!

With a crew of 5, we headed down to Lake Canyon to meet with their incredible principal, Judi Hayes and her crew of teachers leading this work. We talked to kids and spend hours learning about their House System and how they pulled it off. We were inspired. Ok. We had a small crew, but as anyone leading a school, company or organization knows, 6 out of 45 people does not count as "buy in."

My Crew.

After presenting the ideas to our staff, our crew grew to 10 people wanting to be on the planning team! There was so much excitement around Houses with 95% of our staff on board, with one - ONE - as a maybe! Holy! YES!!! We were in.

I mean, giving-up-time-over-the-week-off-in-February-to-meet-at-someone's-house-all-day-IN! We built a 45 Hour Learning Team to plan out the names of Houses, how we would roll it out, share it with staff, what it would look like week to week. All the things! This took 6 months of meeting once or twice a month to pull it off.

Fast forward to today where we have 400 kids and 45 staff members in 6 Houses, Houses are meeting weekly to learn and practice soft skills, earning House points, celebrating House successes and going on Trimester field trips to celebrate. We've had teachers step up to facilitate House Student Leadership meetings twice monthly on their own time! We have parents coming on campus more, sporting their kids' House colors!

Arguably the best House at Northridge.

I don't yet have any hard data from a survey to show that our kids feel more connected or that we have included their voice more, but the feeling is there. I can share that our attendance rate (so far) is a bit above average AND that suspensions are already significantly down by 81% this year (woot!)

As a House Planning Team, we are always seeking input on what we could do better, how we can improve to meet our staff and students' needs. A Crew within a Crew. How do we fold PBIS into Houses? How can we tie Attendance incentives to Houses? How can we still have School Spirit without only cheering for our House? How can we encourage sportsmanship so others don't get discouraged? Pssh...I have no idea right now.

We are truly building this plane as we fly it.

As the leader at my school site, it can be the most terrifying feeling not knowing how things will turn out or if they will even work at all. There are, though, no words to describe how thankful I am to be surrounded by a crew as nuts I am. We are in this together and making what seems like a huge undertaking - an actual experience for our kids, staff and community.

Northridge Houses

Bacon Western Cheeseburger.

Yesterday in the cafeteria during lunch, one of my staff members approached me with a giddy smile on his face and could not wait to tell me what had just happened.

He explained to me that as he was leaving campus to pick up lunch, one of our older kids asked him where he was going. When he told the boy he was going to Carl's Jr. (not a sponsor of this post, sadly), the boy responded, "Can you get me a Bacon Western Cheeseburger?" And knowing my staff member can be a bit of a sass, he responded, "Yea, right. In your dreams."

My staff member continues, telling me that as he was ordering at Carl's Jr., he thought, why not? and ordered a Bacon Western Cheeseburger for this kid, delivering it back to him in the lunchroom without much of an explanation.

As he's telling me the story, the smile on his face is getting bigger and bigger. I then also see this kid walk through the cafeteria with a HUGE smile on his face, trailed by 5 of his friends, loudly asking questions and laughing.

The thing about this story is this. This burger-receiving kid is not the easiest of kids we work with. But as most times we find, this kid also comes from quite a bit of trauma at home. He has had a front row seat to things like death and illnesses (both physical and mental) in his family over the course of the last few years.

We know that kids who experience trauma come to us with a myriad of issues that hinder them from being ready to learn. Sometimes, these issues present as kids being disrespectful, defiant and sometimes just being a pain.

As educators, we develop behavior charts, behavior contracts, incentive charts; we set goals, monitor and adjust goals, collect data, celebrate when kids earn their rewards and encourage them along the way. We celebrate wins and feel frustrations when the wins come so very slowly.

But then there are times when we just do things for kids. We buy them a cheeseburger because we care. We want to bring a highlight to the day with no strings attached. No incentive. No earned reward. Just a Bacon Western Cheeseburger.

These people (like this staff member) are my heroes. They inspire me to let go of control, contracts, reward systems, etc. and just do great things for kids. Just because.


It serves as a reminder to me that we serve kids. Even the kids with the biggest behavior challenges are just that. Kids. Little adults we are shaping and making impressions on.

And they sometimes deserve Bacon Western Cheeseburger. Just because.

Mr. Timberlake.

Full disclosure. This whole blog post is about Justin Timberlake. Either you.are.welcome OR feel free to close out this tab now.

Have I been a fan of Justin since he was part of *NSYNC? Yep.
Did I cry when I saw him in concert in 2000? Errmmm...uh-huh.
Did my husband surprise me with a trip to see him in Seattle during his 20/20 tour? Yup.
Am I insanely nerdy excited to see him at Golden 1 tonight? Totes.
Does he also inspire me as a school leader? Indeed. And how.

Whether watching his Oprah's Masterclass episode or watching him accept his Innovator Award, Justin has the mindset to try new things, accept failure and pick up and move on.

During Oprah's Master Class interview of Mr. Timberlake, he talks about being a beginner and what it takes to become a master at something. In this interview, he says, "To be a master at something, it takes a long time at a high level. And to do that is to always be a beginner. If I'm not learning from something that I'm doing, that means I've already done it before. Do something different. Even if it's within the same medium, to try new things...that makes more sense to me than doing the same thing over and over and over and over again. I like being a beginner. I like the moment where I can look at everyone and say, 'I have no idea how to do this. Let's figure it out.'...That inspires me. That motivates me."

Yes! This! Always learning. In a leadership position at my site, I feel like I am constantly learning. Whether it is a new issue with a parent or student I haven't heard/seen before, or maybe an initiative handed to me from my district. I am always a beginner. And there are times, I'll admit people, that internally, I am saying to myself, "I have no idea how to do this. Let's figure it out." And I thank my lucky stars that I am surrounded by staff who I can sometimes share this with - and they jump in with a spirit of YES! LET'S FIGURE IT OUT! I love how JTim says, "If I'm not learning from something I'm doing, that means I've already done it before." Amen.

That thirst to learn and grow. I share this with my man, Justin.

Ok, aside from crying when I saw him back in the day, I actually felt tingles and some tears well up when I watched Mr. Timberlake's speech at the 2015 iHeartRadio Awards as he accepted his Innovator Award. He talks about being called weird and different. How his mom taught him that being called weird was a good thing. During this speech, he also references President Theodore Roosevelt's "The Man in the Arena."

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

Oh Justin, Justin, Justin...these words. All these words. I remember being a kid (and even through high school and college, and ok...even sometimes these days) being called weird and different. I was the kid who came back to school with a completed project that looked NOTHING like everyone else in class. Yowch. Thank you, Mr. Timberlake (and your precious mother), for reminding me that it is OK to be weird and different. Reminding me that sometimes that's what it takes to innovate.

And his reciting of "The Man in the Arena." Ok. Truth. It's printed out and framed in my office. As a school leader, I have come to realize and accept that having critics is part of the gig. It sucks and sometimes things can really sting. If I step back, though, and take a second to realize how vulnerable school leaders must be in this capacity, it reminds me that I am not alone and that it takes courage to step into a leadership role. This also helps me stop to think about other leaders within my district and how what they are experiencing should not be criticized by me who is not (yet) brave enough to step into the arena of district leadership.

So, yeah. I get that JTim is not the first pick of who might inspire a school leader, but he does inspire this one. Thank you for all the inspiration, Mr. Justin Timberlake. I will see you tonight. I will be the middle-aged mother of 3 with bags under my eyes (because...11 month old teething) tearing up when I see you.