So we’re in the season of wanting– Spring is the hiring season for schools.
Last year around this time, I found myself wanting to hire a certain teacher candidate after I saw his resume. He was dual-certified in two subjects that we needed, and he coached track, which we also needed. He spoke French, Spanish. A glorious combo in a school for English Language Learners. I did notice his resume was long, and wordy, but . . .
I called him for a short phone interview, which we do to vet people before an in-person interview. I talked about the school, and I kept speaking and speaking, and — this is usually a warning sign that I feel the need to please someone. But, I thought, maybe I was just out of practice interviewing . . .
A few minutes into our conversation, he said, “OK, now I can talk. I’m in my driveway.” What? He had been driving this whole time? Why had he agreed to take an interview while driving? Maybe I had scheduled it too early and should have made sure. . .
The other day, I found two boys hanging out in a small alcove in front of our school health clinic. I can always relate when I see kids hanging out and not wanting to be bothered– as a teenager, this was all I wanted. But now is now, and I have a job to do. “Hi gentlemen, nice to see you both. I’ll need you to go back to your classes now.”
“We have passes,” they said politely. Each handed me an official pass to the health clinic, waiting for me to profusely apologize to them and allow them to keep hanging out.
“Great, thanks,” I said. “The health clinic doesn’t open for 10 minutes. You can come wait in my office while I work so you’re not in the hallway.”
There was an awkward silence. “Oh, OK. Thanks.” I had taken away their privacy.
Years ago when I started this blog, a colleague asked me why I was writing it. She didn’t understand and for some reason, I felt embarrassed explaining. She kept asking, “But why?” and I kept giving reasons that were like bland, mushy oatmeal: “I like writing”, “It’s just a thing I want to try.” It never occurred to me to say, “Why not write a blog?”
I now have answers to both questions.
Why do I write this blog?
I am in awe of my job as a principal, and I want a record of it.
I write myself out of my worst disappointments.
I am happiest when I am creating something.
It brings my students to life.
I want more truth to be available about myself than untruth.
It has been a surprisingly rich week for me to work in a public high school. I saw my staff’s dedication in a new light, and I saw what school means to kids with the very real possibility of schools being closed.
Let me say upfront that this is not a piece for or against closing schools. My school is in learning and preparation mode: we’re preparing for schools being open with low attendance, or schools being closed—and in both cases, the need for supporting students and families at home.
A week ago, as coronavirus awareness started to spread, a few students asked giddily, “Is school going to be closed?” Continue reading →
When I was a first-year teacher, I thought my second year of teaching would be unimaginably easy. By year two, I reckoned, I’d have it all figured out: a year’s worth of lesson plans and perfect systems for grading and classroom management. As a result, I’d have all kinds of free time on the weekend.
Of course, that wasn’t the case. Sure, a few things were easier, but every year brings new kids, new ideas to try out, and new “asks” of educators. And then there’s simply the pursuit of excellence: as a teacher, Sundays were about reading over student work and planning. I learned to be more efficient, but I spent the same amount of time planning because I was always learning how to teach better.
I love 9th graders; this week, I experienced again why.
Periodically, I visit every classroom to deliver a quick “check in” or important message. My visits can be to remind students of an expectation (“Let’s keep our cafeteria clean”), say “Thank you” for an exemplary behavior, or reinforce a value we’re teaching, like persevering through a challenge.
Our building had recently had a rash of false fire alarms being pulled by students from other schools, causing building-wide evacuations. To be proactive, I visited classes with my assistant principals to remind students of expectations when we evacuate, and to explain the consequences of pulling an alarm. Continue reading →
This past August, we celebrated our school’s highest graduation rate ever: 83%. For us, this was a triumph; the highest percentage before this point had been 74%. Other things looked good at the end of the year, too: our 9th graders had done well on their exams, attendance increased, and suspensions went down.
This school year, other things have looked promising as well: we started a “hallway countdown” that’s leading to kids getting to class faster, our school is cleaner, and the overall atmosphere seems brighter, more positive.
Yet, as I was bragging about my successes to my leadership consultants Ariel and Shya Kane, they said, “We’re hearing alarm bells when you say, ‘My 9th grade is in great shape.’ Continue reading →
Student artwork at the High School of Language and Innovation.
The path to graduation is different for every student, and so is our approach. For some kids, we race to keep up with them: they excel in every course, so we look for new opportunities and train teachers to lead advanced courses. For other kids, it’s a matter of holding their hand: we offer extra tutoring and pair them up with classmates who can support them. We encourage them. Sometimes, these students need a lot of support in 9th and 10th grade, and then turn into great students by 12th grade. Finally, there are a few kids we drag towards graduation. Often, these are students who are academically ready to enter college, but find ways of failing courses at the last minute. It might be the fear of change and leaving high school forever, or maybe just needing some attention. For example, a student who has passed all required exams and courses might do everything they can to fail their last semester of gym.