But What About Me?

Now that LJ is a teenager, I never know what to expect when it comes to conversation.

Many days, our only interactions consist of him rolling his eyes at me and taking deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Okay, maybe we both do that.

LJ tells me that I nag him too much (hence the eye rolling and deep breathing), so I have begun to tread lightly when it comes to poking and prodding him about the details of his mundane day-to-day activities.

As we navigate "the drama years" of teenage-hood, LJ and I seem to have come to an understanding: if he's awake by noon, wears deodorant, and does most of his homework, I should not ask questions and just stay the heck out of the way.

This arrangement seems to be working quite well for us.

But today, as I picked LJ up from his Javascript programming camp, I was feeling curious. I was feeling brazen.  I was feeling ... well, maybe I was feeling the three cups of coffee I had during my staff meeting.

Whatever the reason for my feelings, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask LJ the always combative and often controversial question ...

"How was your day?"

I braced for impact. And eye rolls. And deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Instead, I got a flurry of excited, non-stop words. Actual words that didn't include, "Go away" or "close the door behind you."

Instead, LJ preceded to gush about how awesome his camp counselors were, and how they were going to personalize the next day's lesson just for him.

When I asked LJ to explain what he meant, he said that much of the camp's curriculum was centered on self-directed web-based learning. LJ knows that passively watching something on a computer screen is not how he learns best -- he learns by doing and prefers to have a "guide on the side" to lead him down the correct path.

LJ told his counselors about his learning preferences and, lo-and-behold, they responded by saying they would tweak their program to make sure he was getting what he needed.

*******

The parent in me was thrilled to hear that LJ is enjoying camp and that his counselors are making sure he has a positive experience.

But the school administrator in me began to consider the greater meaning to LJ's interactions with his counselors.

LJ has been fortunate to attend two schools (Ravenscroft and Academy at the Lakes), that encourage students to advocate for themselves and recognize that each student has a unique learning style.

But what if all schools (and all classrooms) looked like this? What if all students were empowered to say, "That's not how I learn best."

And what if all teachers, classrooms, and schools were equipped to answer, "Then let's do it your way."

What if? 

What could learning look like? Especially for the students -- like LJ -- who know themselves well enough to articulate that they don't learn by staring at a screen or a whiteboard?

What if all students like LJ could do, touch, and feel their way through their educational journeys?

What if?

*******

I realize that this is a meta-existential-uber-level hypothetical question with no real answer.

But as a parent and as a someone with a passion for education, it sure is fun to consider and dream what it could look like for our students.

Just imagine if more students weren't moved to roll their eyes, or take deep, exaggerated, annoyed breaths when we asked them to learn in a way that fits like a square peg in a round hole.

Just imagine if all students never had to ask the question, "But what about me?" 

2 States + 650.2 Miles = 1 Common Passion

Exactly one year ago today, my family was wrapping up a whirlwind trip to Disney.

The fam at Disney (2013)

In our four days in Florida we traversed all four Disney parks; braved every coaster worth riding (including Everest three times); took the obligatory photos with us each donning mouse ears; watched a fake Indiana Jones blow up some fake stuff and outrun a fake boulder; rode (and got stuck on) the onetime state-of-the-art monorail; enjoyed over-priced, over-cooked burgers and under-cooked turkey legs; and reveled in the mystical magic of the creepy, squawking birds of the Tiki Room (yep, it's still my favorite attraction after all these years).

It was an exhilarating, exhausting, and sometimes exasperating vacation. But as we left the sunny, 80 degree temperatures of Orlando to return to the dreary, rainy 30-somethings of Raleigh, I turned to Jack and said, "You know, I could really get used to this."

It was a throw-away statement. And I didn't really give it another thought until today.

But today, precisely one year after that family trip to Orlando, I found myself at a Disney resort again -- this time for professional reasons. 

As I was walked to my car after the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) Annual Conference, those same, sunny, 80 degree skies greeted me.

And again I thought, "You know, I really have gotten used to this."

Beautiful weather not withstanding, this had a much deeper meaning. 

Since last year's family vacation to Orlando, an unexpected chain of events quickly dominoed into me taking a new job in Tampa -- just a one-hour drive from the Magic Kingdom. And thanks to my supportive husband and children, we all have landed on our feet here in the Sunshine State. 

Except for the Newf -- he's landed flat on the floor. He barely gets UP on his feet here. It's just too damn hot.

Newfs hate Florida

These last couple of days at the NAIS Annual Conference, not unlike our Disney vacation, have been exhilarating and exhausting -- but in a very different way. 

It's given me time to reflect on the last year and on how my career path rapidly wound its way a full 650.2 miles between my home state and my new state. 

I'm still not sure I have all the answers as to why this move made sense. And just like our Disney vacation and the NAIS Conference, this journey has been both exhilarating and exhausting.

But this conference did affirm why I have enjoyed, and continue to love, working in schools.

This conference, much like great schools, pushes you to ask tough questions and examine your own work under a microscope. And I was just one of thousands of people at this conference who were focused solely on making education better for our children, now and in the future.

We hear constantly how our educational system is "broken" and how we're getting passed by other countries in the way we prepare our children for tomorrow's challenges.

2014 NAIS Conference

What was happening at this conference, though, was everything that is right with education. Collaboration, creativity, critical thinking, communication, and most importantly, improvement -- on behalf of all our children.

As with any job -- any career -- some days are better than others. There are ups and downs, frustrations and disappointments. But these days and moments are the exception and not the rule when you work in a place that is filled with people who are passionate for their mission. 

I see the rule each and every day at my job -- in the students my school serves -- and in my own children, LJ and Julianna, who have been blessed to attend two outstanding private independent schools and learn from dozens of passionate, exceptional educators.

No doubt, our schools -- both public and private -- are not perfect. Certainly, we're far from it. But a passion for putting children first?

We could all really get used to this.