I woke up Tuesday with stark clarity. As an Assistant Principal my job is to be there for all the kids, for all the adults that are there for the kids, and to act appropriately when any adult does something that is not for the kids. This may seem simple, but I have had some rough days in my opening tenure as a middle school administrator and Monday was a low point. Being at a new job in a new place with new people will cause some disorientation, but I felt completely lost at sea (and if you’ve ever seen me swim you know I am not a water person). So, I took Monday evening to meditate, and it gave me space to find my North Star.
First, I remembered my why. Every student deserves to have as good or better an experience than I did as a student in Tacoma Public Schools. The school system was built for me: a white, cis-gendered, heterosexual, able-bodied, sports-playing male. But it should be built for all, and we need to focus on those that have been marginalized the most to get there. I need to thank Dr. Kurt Hatch, my field supervisor and professor for that constant reminder. Whenever I go astray, his lessons are there to re-center me.
Second, my focus. During a brief conversation last year with Superintendent Garcia, he told me I would get pulled in different directions by different people for different reasons. A lot. But to stay focused on what will help the students be most successful. This was in response to my school wide plan to reduce tardiness. To be fair, he wasn’t telling me not to move forward on it, necessarily. But his advice was definitely a response to it.
Finally, my identity. As a young youth soccer coach, I tried to emulate the more successful coaches I had as a player and those that were around me. They all were very hard on their kids, yelled and screamed and cursed and made jokes at players’ expense. So, I thought that’s what I had to do to be successful. It wasn’t until the President of the club (Jeff Woodworth, a man I knew very well from coaching his children and admired quite a bit) saw me at a regional tournament and called me afterwards. He told me what I was doing was different. Other coaches yelled and screamed, but it was a part of who they were. They cared about the kids but showed it in different ways. That’s not what he saw in me. My coaching didn’t seem authentic, and it came off, well, mean. It might seem harsh now, but I didn’t take it that way then. I was relieved to hear it. It felt liberating. And it sent me on a path that has defined my work ever since.
Essentially, all three examples are of people in power criticizing (in round about ways sometimes) and advising someone with less power to be better. I find myself in a similar place now. I am responsible for around 20 different evaluations for staff members at our school. As I stated earlier, my purpose is clear. And yet, as I write this, I find myself still a bit lost. What was it about my experiences that had such a lasting impact on me? What is it that I can take from them and use when I have similar conversations?
Maybe it was the personal relationships I had with each person? Dr. Hatch and I got to know each other well on a professional level. Jeff Woodworth knew me very well from a personal standpoint. But Superintendent Garcia doesn’t really know me. And I don’t really know him either. So just saying the person is someone I know very well isn’t it.
Maybe it was me? The state I was in. I was seeking guidance. That could be it. Certainly, from my professor and from my boss that makes sense. But from the President of my soccer club that never coached or played a day in his life I am not so sure. At the time, I was certain I knew what I was doing. But his perceptions resonated. And still do.
The answer, for me, is care. Dr. Hatch cares deeply about what he is doing and the education profession. Jeff Woodworth cared immensely about the soccer club and its purpose. And Superintendent Garcia cares about the kids above all else. I have to care. About them. The teachers. No matter what. Because they hold the lives of students in their hands every day. Whether or not they are taking actions for the kids, I need to care about them. Care enough to criticize, advise, and guide. And, it has to come from my heart and through the clarity of my mind to even have a hope of reaching the staff members I am entrusted to lead.
I know there is more to it. Which I am sure I will learn along the way. But for now, I have my clarity of purpose. And I care. I deeply, deeply care.
*Some shoutouts for advice I have received lately that has also helped:
Amy Latimer told me not to hang on, but dig in. I think about that a lot.
Nate Bowling told me to think about framing teacher evaluations through the lens of a married man. My wife and I may criticize each other, but we have to live with each other too. And be happy. We can’t make each other’s lives miserable. The same can be said in a lot of ways for how to handle evaluations for teachers. I have to give criticism and advice, but we can’t make life miserable for each other. I am still chewing on this one. But there’s a lot I like about the perspective.
And finally, Jen Zamira. Who, when I told her I was writing about criticism and how I still structure my thoughts similar to a 5-paragraph essay said, “Well, I have some criticisms of that…” lol