Tag: education

Merchant of Joy, Part I: Lessons from Elementary School Teachers

Posted on by MichaelPortas

“Contrary to what we usually believe … the best moments in our lives are not the passive, receptive, relaxing times [….] the best moments usually occur when a person’s body or mind is stretched to the limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile.” -Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Premise: The secret to life is joy, which allows us to reach the ultimate goal of fulfillment. Both require work. Without persistent open-minded perseverance, neither can be achieved.

After teaching high school English for fifteen years, I thought all teachers were pretty much the same. The six years that followed as an elementary school principal very quickly taught me  that I was wrong.  In short, elementary school teachers are different. A quick summary:

  1. They work incredibly hard at things like planning for six subjects, updating bulletin boards, rationalizing with the irrational, and more that I hadn’t really considered.
  2. They communicate with the 20+ families on their rolls more in a month than I ever did with the 100+ on my rosters in a year, and it isn’t even close.
  3. A team of them could figure out world peace if you gave them a few hours of dedicated work time, a 42-minute prep and several pots of coffee. You’d have to construct the team like a boy band (The Super Organized One, The Elitely Calm One, The Frenetic Tornado of Productive Energy One, and The Sharply Intuitive Who Never Hits Reply All), but they’d get it done.
  4. They have empathy beyond description.

That last point presents itself generally in positive ways, but occasionally manifests itself in their feeling deeply hurt. With my underwhelming emotional capacity, I felt limited in my ability to offer true support beyond listening. I’m typically a fixer but couldn’t fix that so usually I didn’t say much, but did make it a point to check in frequently.

Since they gently tolerated my overt nerdiness, I did, however, occasionally dip into my English teacher toolbox and talk about how the Greeks nailed the human condition in their tragedies. The often misunderstood concept of the fatal flaw was particularly relevant as it’s essentially the quality that makes us great, but when taken to an excess, can bring about our demise. The applicable traits are legion: stubbornness, pride, passion, compassion and lots more.

The tricky part of compassion and empathy is that they require us to treat our emotional front more like a screen door than a sliding glass door or the sturdier and more impenetrable option, a reinforced dungeon door. Beauty, joy, fun and more pass freely in and out though the screen door, but there’s an inevitable vulnerability that comes along with it. And I say it’s worth it.

What I often observed in elementary school classrooms was joy shared between unhindered children who know that the educators in the room care deeply for them. That’s the trick with high school kids, too: if they know you have their back, they’ll work for you and take healthy intellectual risks. But the intensity of nurturing the same group of kids for the entire day has to drain even the strongest soul, and yet I can attest to the power of kindergarten therapy (hang out in a classroom for 5 minutes and your day gets significantly better). 

So where do they find the energy to keep up? Joy. They start with the mindset that their calling is to shape learning experiences for kids. What’s next is letting the screen door approach work its magic. hey feel the elation of their students’ successes by listening to their stories, celebrating their moments and sharing in the breathless excitement of curiosity and discovery.

We’re looking at a new year in the education world (it’s mid-August as I write) and that provides a rich opportunity to resolve to be something even better than what we’ve been before. While no one really gets a completely clean slate (no tabula rasa, sorry), we do all get a fresh start each school year and we each have the opportunity to define how we want to assert ourselves in the days and months ahead.

Here’s my challenge to you: be a merchant of joy. Start the new year with a perspective that allows you to both feel and spread joy. Yes, by May we’ll likely start giving each other the stink eye when we notice who chews too loudly in the faculty room or always parks over the line next to your spot, but we can start from the best place. Easy? No. Vulnerable? Yup. Rewarding? Definitely. It starts with your mindset, demands commitment, and hopefully pays off both in the joy you receive and the fulfillment you feel.

Be a merchant of joy. Have fun and Happy New Year! 

Sand Castles & Struggle: A Leadership & Parenting Observation

Posted on by MichaelPortas

This entry, my first in a while, was inspired by a casual conversation with my wife while walking on the beach in the Outer Banks. It really did unfold as described and then just stuck in my head as I felt there was something much larger than sand castles going on. I ended up writing a lot of this in my head on the drive home a few days later, and am really excited to finally deploy the word shambolic. Enjoy!

My wife and I enjoy morning strolls on the beach, which sounds like a cheesy line but is true. We talk about a lot and, really, nothing much at all while we dodge beached jellies, scan the horizon for dolphins and observe people enjoying the sun and surf. In our conversations, my success rate in expressing opinions with which she disagrees is close to 70% and a recent warm Wednesday morning added to that. The topic? Sand castles.

I noted that we were seeing more sand castles that morning (agreed). I then added that it seemed like the builders were more parents than kids (quiet disagreement). I waited a few steps and then summoned the courage to say, “That’s really not a good thing,” which elicited outright disagreement.

She’s a teacher so she’s well versed in the “I-do, we-do, you-do” continuum and countered that the parents were just being nice and helping their kids.

But in taking over the work, are they truly helping their kids? In the long run, I don’t think so.

I contend that our children’s construction skills, no matter how shambolic they might be today, should be reflected in what they produce. Their labor might not inspire passersby to gasp in amazement and take pictures, and might even dissuade you from snapping a few shots to post on social media, but at least the sand castle will reflect their work authentically.

For perspective, I’ve long advocated for the 10-and-10 Rule by which no school project can require more than $10 spent at Michael’s or 10 minutes of parent labor. When our kids were little, I also made it a point to compliment my wife on how much her work improved on dioramas she crafted for third son. I got away with the irony, but still believe that life has taught us that we learn by doing. More importantly, we learn by experience, which tends to consist of the mistakes we learn from.

On the beach, I took a gentle swipe about how our aspiring sand castle builders are being denied opportunity by well-intentioned parents and wanted to craft an argument based on a syllogism, which is that if A=B and B=C, then A=C.

My A=B logic is that struggle builds strength. The B=C is that we want our kids to become strong. Where the equation and explanation get a little messy and drift into applying negation, is that if we don’t want our kids to struggle, then we don’t want them to build strength. That’s problematic. Not intentional, but problematic.

Instead of framing that argument, I elected instead to read the room/beach and my audience, and opted to pivot: “So the Red Sox game was really exciting last night.” The experience of 26 years of marriage has taught me to cut bait.

Truthfully, I don’t care about sand castles, but am looking at a bigger picture of mindset and agency. I submit to you that we do well by allowing our children or the people we lead to endure the messy early stages of developing their skills. Be there as the safety net and provide a helping hand, but let them grow by doing the work to their own ability and vision. As they endure, we can guide them to become more durable and confident, and, ideally, celebrate in the brilliant sand castles they can eventually create.

Leadership: Presence

Posted on by MichaelPortas

This 4th entry in the Leadership thread, Presence, addresses a social concern (phone distraction) that has made its way into the workplace. As with any apparent negative, the temptation of the distraction (tuning out real life) can be spun into a positive (assert your focus by locking into the moment). As an author’s note, this entry underwent a significant revision after I read an article that asserted that flowers are more beautiful because their bloom does not last. Enjoy!

“Wherever you are, be there.” – Attributed to many

We live in the age of distraction. While life has always been full of distractions, we now have them condensed into a handheld device that grants access to just about everything you can imagine. It’s easy to be seduced to scroll, search or send, and essentially escape the moment.

And therein lies a problem. No moment lasts forever. Every experience is fleeting and has potential, and that potential doesn’t wait.

Most of our experiences are destined to be ordinary. Realistically, everything we do can’t be memorable, but all those fleeting moments could lead to something, whether a new awareness, something strikingly beautiful, or just pretty cool. So why lose that to checking your phone (unless you’re reading one of my posts, then it’s a good idea).

It is not uncommon to have your phone out in a meeting, and social graces have evolved to the point at which that is frequently considered acceptable. Leaders, and I suspect all of us, feel like they’re on call perpetually, so the concession to having phones out makes sense. 

The challenge, however, in a meeting, over a meal or during a conversation is to resist the temptation to check out the likes on your social media post, or the injury updates for your fantasy football team, or to send a humorous meme to someone who probably has also checked out. The pull of all those distractions is strong, but in this context, true leaders define themselves as being present in the moment.

In full disclosure, I cannot multitask and don’t bother trying to do so. There are loads of arguments on the topic of multitasking, but all research seems to agree on one point: we can only truly concentrate on one thing at a time. 

Yes, we can manage several things simultaneously, some to a better extent than others (school secretaries are generally the most apt, while this author could conceivably be the most inept), but that level of focus becomes compromised as more things pull from our attention. When on a call or in a meeting, or any situation in which there is an expectation to be responsive, leaders should determine whether they are simply there or truly present. 

It’s not hard to detect those who have checked out as they will need things repeated or clarified, miss conversational cues, fail to follow up on topics addressed in the meeting or on the call, or smirk while looking at their own crotch (never a good look). Considering that educational leaders are constantly modeling what we want from our staff and students, none of those outcomes should be viewed in a positive light.

We have experienced some variation of this scenario: you’re meeting with a staff member in your office, the phone rings, you both stop for a moment and look at each other. What do you do? There’s not a hard-and-fast correct answer, but in that moment, you can define your level of presence by telling the staff member that the call can wait. 

Of course if someone from the office staff tells you it’s urgent (we apply the “bleeding or burning rule” – if someone is bleeding or something is burning, interrupt), that changes things. Otherwise, you gain a lot of currency by reinforcing to that other person that they are the most important person in your professional world, at least for that moment.

Overall, the image we convey with our presence will determine how our leadership is received. Much of that demands that we lead with empathy and embrace contradictions (appearing strong yet vulnerable, juggling the competing needs to be firm and flexible). But to engender real followership, we need to demonstrate that we are genuine and that wherever we are, we are truly there with the people who count on us to be exceptional.
Vision Statement: Be present.

Leadership: How Leading Is Like Driving (Safely)

Posted on by MichaelPortas

The third entry in the Leadership thread of my Vision Statements series, How Leading Is Like Driving (Safely), develops an analogy that connects two of life’s great challenges: leading and driving. The structure of this post applies audience input (some of my readers really like short, quick points) and reflects the fun of developing an a-ha recognition. Enjoy!

Leadership, like life, is similar to driving: you need to check the rear view mirror to be mindful of what is behind you, but need to focus primarily on what lies ahead through the windshield.

I first thought of that little kernel of wisdom while I was out running, and was so proud of my spasm of brilliance that I left a breathless voice memo on my phone. Before I could anoint myself as the smartest person ever, however, a quick Google search revealed that others had apparently made the same analogy. 

Sigh.

Still, I was inspired by how the image captured the mindset of being in the moment while also considering the twin needs of looking ahead to the future and staying aware, though not fixated, on the past. I set to work generating the structure of this entry and was particularly jazzed to employ this driving extended metaphor as a relatable speaking point. And then I sat down to write the first draft. 

It wasn’t good. 

I couldn’t get the ideas flowing beyond what I felt was a strong opening paragraph. So I thought about it more, looking through the proverbial windshield at what else could connect driving to education leadership. Here’s what I realized:

  • When in unfamiliar areas, drivers need some type of navigation to guide them. In this sense, even the person in control needs support.
  • Building on the navigation point, drivers need to appreciate that there are myriad routes to most destinations. Leaders need to be flexible to consider that multiple possibilities can get you to the place you need to be.
  • This might be a byproduct of living and driving in North Jersey, but most danger is incurred by the carelessness of others. Educational leaders need to be prepared to clean up the messes created by others, and to treat each near miss or actual collision as an opportunity for growth and learning for themselves and the staff members involved. The problem in both driving and leading is that we don’t always know where the driver of torment is coming from; with experience, we become better equipped to anticipate likely incidents, but will still get blindsided at times.
  • If you engage in road rage, there is really only one logical outcome that can ensue, and it’s a bad one. The message here is to keep your cool and look to what outcome you hope to achieve. Screaming and carrying on have been proven to be remarkably ineffective in the long run; however, the leaders who remain calm and maintain perspective when somebody cuts them off or otherwise encroaches in their lane are less likely to engage in the workplace equivalent of a high stakes tit-for-tat that jeopardizes the safety of everyone.
  • Since I mentioned it, the phrase of staying in your lane doesn’t completely work in educational leadership. Sometimes we have to depart our lane to pitch in as needed, but it is also important to know your role and fulfill it without stepping on other people’s toes.
  • American writer Anne Lamott made a great point about how writing is a lot like driving at night in that you can only see as far as your headlights can project but still have an idea of your ultimate destination. Leading in an educational environment is similar. Rare is the day that goes according to plan, or the week that leaves you saying “Boy, that sure was predictable” on Friday. Know where you want to take your team, and stay the course even if you can’t see exactly how you’re going to get there.
  • Take breaks. Truck drivers have to keep logs and are limited in the hours that they can drive for good reason. We’re much more accident prone when we’re drained, and the greatest mistakes can often be attributed to tired minds and bodies. Give yourself permission to step out of the car sometimes and stretch your legs. It is noble to have great stamina and drive, but that doesn’t typically endure for the long run.
  • Be safe. Driving too fast is dangerous. Likewise, driving too slow can be equally hazardous. Adapt according to the conditions and assess how much risk can be sustained. There is risk inherent to every type of movement, and there is healthy risk that can lead to reward. So maybe this point would be better made as “be safe and be smart.”

Thanks for reading. Drive carefully and lead fearlessly! And have fun.

Vision Statement: Be the driver who moves things forward, but do so responsibly and intelligently. And sometimes bulleted statements do the trick.