This week’s been a bit more tilted than many others but it’s growing to be the norm.  I woke up this morning early and for the first time in my professional career I reported to work in sweats.  Now granted it was 5:30 am and I was privileged to assist our employees as they received COVID vaccines, but the moment wasn’t lost on my coworkers.  I sported a swim and dive hoodie, sweat pants, and athletic shoes no less.  Didn’t even fix my hair 🙂 but did brush my teeth before heading out.  I’m writing this entry 600 miles away now from where I started my day and huddled up with my oldest.  We start his training early tomorrow in the cold and wet.

One of my buddies is the director of research for Gallup’s Education Practice and school folks will identify with his deep contributions on Clifton StrengthFinder.  He’s a farm boy for sure growing up in Nebraska and receiving all of his degrees from Nebraska U – Gallup is headquartered in Omaha.  He’s also a really funny guy and our exchanges have always been tinged with razor tongues.  He has always dished back to me as good as anyone.

The Harvard Business Review posted today an article entitled ‘How to Be Funny at Work’ which made for a great short read.  Here is the link to the article.  The co-authors are Stanford Business wonks who have top tier credentials and should command your attention.  They cite one statistic early on that “leaders with any sense of humor are seen as 27% more motivating and admired than those who don’t joke around.”  My Gallup buddy whose company is referenced also chimes in with ‘one of the greatest drivers of employee performance is having a close friend — presumably one you laugh with — at work.’

The authors detail out four styles of humor that I will verbatim list below:

• Stand-Up: bold, irreverent, and unafraid to ruffle a few feathers for a laugh. (Example: Wanda Sykes)
• Sweetheart: earnest, understated, and use humor that lightens the mood (Example: James Corden)
• Sniper: edgy, sarcastic, nuanced — masters of the unexpected dig (Example: Michelle Wolf)
• Magnet: expressive, charismatic, and easy to make laugh (Example: (Jimmy Fallon)  

There’s even a test linked in the article where you can determine which style you most likely align with.

Also towards the end the authors bring it home for me and I suspect many of you.

Now let’s acknowledge the elephant in the room: We’re writing this in February 2021, a year into a pandemic that has killed millions and put many out of work. Is this really a time for laughter? Yes. We believe that the leaders weaving humor into this weird new world are the ones truly helping their employees to get through it.

I spent this morning asking fellow employees, some I’ve known for over a decade, to tell me their date of birth, gender, race, and ethnicity.  Multiple times I said “are you sure?”  This is Pandemic 2021 but during this lifetime experience humor indeed brings levity to the situation.  And if you’re unsure about your ability to be funny, just get a dog!

I wasn’t sure if I was going to get this entry published in time to continue my monthly streak (and goal) of posting!  Writing for me in general comes easy but for this venue I’m drafting in response to some emotion.  When I set out about this task I didn’t have a quota per se so I made a personal agreement I would not publish click bait just for participation credit.  I’m mostly silent on social media and so I feel what I do produce needs to be polished and personal.   

This posting discusses 2 movies, a blockbuster hit from the tail end of the 80’s and a just released survivor story released this month that details the A-Z on supporting loved ones stricken with cancer. Our boys watched the first one with us; too much homework apparently prevented them from watching the second?!

Dead Poets Society is a 1989 American teen drama film written by Tom Schulman, directed by Peter Weir, and starring Robin Williams. Set in 1959 at the fictional elite conservative Vermont boarding school Welton Academy, it tells the story of an English teacher who inspires his students through his teaching of poetry.  I lifted that intro from Wikipedia and I can attest to its accuracy based on what I know.  My youngest has writing ambitions so it was neat to see him mostly plug into a mom and dad show.  My oldest thinks he’s ready for adult school and while DPS follows a youth boarding school there were for sure many similarities.  As a family we watched Dead Poets Society last night and one quote that resonated with me was “words and ideas change the world.”  Robin Williams offered this affirmative as he was just being him in the movie – a teacher.  I’ve got to believe teachers across this globe echo/mimic/shout similar messages.

Tonight we watched Our Friend, a sort of documentary which follows a family of four where the mother gets cancer and a college friend becomes the live-in lifeline. This one is more of a tear jerker but you should read the story that led to the movie. I’m serious about reading the article – it will force you to audit your life view. The connection for me was it takes place in the town we have called summer the past few years. It’s the place we as a family hold many emotions, from new experiences and exchanges to familiar comforts and conveniences. I’ve written about Fairhope before and that we lost our Lucy several months back; we now have Hope (from Fairhope).

We also randomly lucked our way into a tennis coach for our oldest.  It’s not the most practical arrangement but we’re trying to make it work – we’ll be traveling again this weekend for a workout.  For those of you that are my age, it’s like landing John McEnroe’s best friend as your coach without all the temper tantrums.  Regardless, words and ideas matter and friends generally prove to be the multiplier.   

Of all the personally identifiable numbers I have it’s only fitting this one is the last one issued to me in 2020.  At 8 am this morning I was one of many school folks reporting to the Public Safety Building where our local firefighters administered the first round of COVID vaccines to those who were quick to sign up and selected in the staggered roll out.  I’m not going to share too much on details here other than to encourage folks to do their homework and decide accordingly; the shot itself was no different than any other with basically no discomfort although tomorrow I’m told I’ll feel some aches similar to having a tetanus shot.

As we approach the end of this unbelievable year, I’ve had a few reflections over this holiday break.  It wasn’t that long ago when I was leading more than one school system in setting their long range plans and the buzz at the time without fail was some cutesy reference to 20-20 vision.  All of us back then thought it was so clever to build strategic plans that forecast how grand the year 2020 would be.  Maybe we should have paid more attention to this guy back in 2010.

So on this break, despite all the differences it has presented, I’ve found lots of familiar comforts as well.  As a family we started our holiday in cold country where basically everything was shut down so we learned to stare at each other a bit longer.  We actually had some break though smiles in all the togetherness including a final mishap on my part that almost garnered us some international attention.  On Christmas day, my youngest learned a valuable lesson in the agony of defeat.  A tradition of sorts from my mother is to give lottery tickets as stocking stuffers (and yes she has stockings for us all) and while our time together this year was the shortest ever, it was long enough for my son to learn about instant fortunes.  He scratched off his ticket, studied it for a bit, then cautiously sent it my way thinking he had just won $300.  I took the time myself to review and came to the same conclusion.  Then, like every family Christmas story, my big brother took a look and pointed out what we had both failed to see – a partial scratch off reveals an “O” but when you finish clearing the card you’re left with a “Q” which sends you back to the counter to buy another hopeful winner.  My son’s $300 “BROTH” needed to be “BRQTH” for a winner!

And that seemed to sum up this year in spades for me.  I took my car in for an oil change before my older son and I traveled for his tennis instruction, and I came out needing new tires.  We then drove 1,300 miles on our semi-routine roundtrip journey across four states and back.  While there I got food to-go from a local joint and I struck up a conversation with the college-aged kid who took my order.  She went to the flagship state school but had spent her intro freshman semester at home with her mom because the school moved to fully online instruction.  She was mad but what really broke my heart was her strong sense of guilt; she shared with me how hard her mom had worked to make sure she could attend her first choice college only to experience it from her childhood bedroom.  Her stranger testimony seemed neighborly at the same time.  And as my son and I made our comeback drive we spent the last 150 miles fighting rain and wrecks.  The last one involved a fishtail directly in front of us that bounced off a guard rail and turned back into oncoming traffic – cringe worthy stuff but appeared to end without catastrophe.

So on this final day of 2020, it befittingly has rained nonstop.  It’s cold and dreary with a 100% chance of continued precipitation as I write this last entry.  We decided to pamper a bit and order takeout; predictably the order was wrong.  By the time I got home (because I never check at the restaurant like I’m supposed to says someone in my household) my oldest was already asleep so we had plenty to eat!

2020 was a gut check year – it doesn’t take a resolution to know we have much to be thankful for and as a broader school community we are uniquely positioned to make sure we’re more than a January gym membership.  

And Happy Thanksgiving.  More on the title in a bit.  What a weird and strange time this is and hopefully one for the history books only to be retold.  I read this article a few months back and while I was a bit disappointed in the findings, I’m not necessarily positioned to disagree.  I’m also not one to spend time reading Applied Research in Quality of Life but when “The Happiest Part of Your Vacation is Before You Arrive” came across in one of my listservs, I immediately fell for the clickbait.  While the title is somewhat misleading, the general findings relate to the parts and preparations you CAN control; that is, planning for a vacation is most fun because there is no anxiety in executing your plan!  Once you get there, all bets are off…

And with the Nation Even More Unsure Than Usual Whether To Hug Cousin or not, 2020 has been a lifetime year for us (hopefully).  I honestly cannot imagine another game changer of this magnitude while I’m here.

At some point today I hope to drive by my parents’ house, honk the horn, and wave goodbye. My mother-in-law who lives close by may even do her own drive-by our house. We’re PPE’d out and unfortunately that’s ballooning our pandemic problem. My kids wear face masks 7 hours a day and then alternately swap on and off during (before/after school) swim and tennis practices. My wife dons her designer wear generally closer to 9 to 10 hours a day since she has to be covered up even when kids aren’t in the building. And me, I have to wear mine just long enough to travel from my car to my office and I’m just now realizing how much it has limited my interactions.

In the midst of this, I planned a getaway to a place you could go to get away.  Spanning nearly 2,000 square miles and carved by the Colorado River, the Grand Canyon is hard to describe.  There’s a reason it is considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world.

My wife and I both agreed we were glad we never took the trip while the kids were young.  There is a simple reality that a 2 foot rock wall separates you and 6,000 feet below, and to be honest it made me nervous watching the thrill seekers in their pursuits of best selfies.  I found myself lecturing my own troop who were very pedestrian in their photo taking.  And today, my first born turns 17.

As I quietly give thanks, I’m mindful that our children are our natural wonders.  For many of us, we signed up to be parents not knowing what we were getting ourselves into.  For many others, parenthood came a calling.  And for some, being a parent to those in need became a mission.  Regardless, it’s a journey like no other.  As telling as a mirror might be, your reflection in a child never needs dusting.  And as this is an education blog, I’m surely preaching to the proverbial choir.  I’m also confessing the insecurities of parents across the globe on every day which indeed should be of giving – Happy Birthday G.        

I rented a boat yesterday on a lake close by – I was pretty proud of myself and my surprise!  It wasn’t a yacht or catamaran and according to my wife she questioned the “premiumness” of my pontoon rental.

It started a couple of weekends ago when we had a Murphy’s Law couple of days and in my short-sighted brilliance I decided to take the family to the lake and go fishing.  Now mind you none of us fish but we all swim so that’s close enough, right?  We all woke up on another COVID shut-in Sunday and I said “surprise we’re going to the lake.”  By 10 am I’m out the door sulking and running errands because I had no takers on the offer.  My teacher wife rattled off all the planning and preps that had to be completed before Monday, and my two boys retreated quickly from the offer.  I was mad and planned to go it alone and then wised up briefly enough to call and reschedule.  The beauty of rescheduling something like this is the surcharge you agree to pay – I was no longer winning on this deal.  It keeps getting better…

So we get to the next Saturday which is when I had rescheduled and we’re well on our way, just short of donning the sunblock.  My phone rings and it’s the boat rental place; winds are too strong so they need to cancel.  The rental place reassures me I’m not paying another reschedule fee so I should be happy right?!

The original date I booked was a record hot one for October – high was just shy of 90.  In the end my wife and I went out yesterday, and still experienced a fair amount of sun.  In the fiasco of it all, I negotiated down on rental time and up on rental quality – I secured the Premium Pontoon!  After the intro course and general questions over boat operations (a five minute exercise), I was given the green light with no idea of what I was doing.  I qualified twice that up on the gear shift was forward and down was reverse.  After that, we were cruising, premium-style. 

It turned out to be a great day by my estimates at least.  The boat wasn’t brag worthy but it felt like you were driving your dad’s big, old, fancy Cadillac (from 1990).  My negotiated rental had us on the lake for 3 hours and we spent a fair amount of that time talking about teacher/parent conferences that are coming up.  So even though plenty may judge the brain break my wife and I took mid-week, educators know exactly what our conversations covered. 

We had some fun on Lake NearUs and I can now remember the last time I drove a boat.  It unfortunately was an escape from it all; not life or living or topics that deep.  Maybe just a nice simple boat detour from the daily grind.  Even when we’re on vacation my wife always notices it takes me few days to get with the program and fully check-out so I can check-in.  A premium pontoon isn’t for everyone but it’s a great conversation starter.  If you live near us and rent one this weekend, be sure to take a jacket and a poncho!

I heard a song the other day that gave me pause and as I reflected it reminded me of things I tend to overlook.  I grew up in about as stable a home as there was I suppose; parents married young, had a family, got jobs, and stayed with them.  I lived in the same house for 17 years, went to 1 elementary school, 1 middle school, and 1 high school.  Subsequently I went on to 1 four-year bachelor’s school, 1 master’s school, and 1 post-graduate degree program.  I think all the stability growing up gave me confidence to pursue far and away interests.  And subsequently my wife and family have called a few places home.

Elvie Shane is a new country music artist to me but apparently was competing on the biggest stage as early as 2016 on American Idol.  He may have several hits but on the analog wheels I still have in my car his simple titled track “My Boy” just made sense.  It’s a beautiful tribute to blended families which tends to be equally the norm.

He ain’t got my smile, that don’t bother me a bit
He’s got somebody else’s eyes I’m seeing myself in
I’m holding on to every moment, God knows I’ve missed a few
The day we met I knew I had some catching up to do
He ain’t my blood, ain’t got my name
But if he did, I’d feel the same
I wasn’t there for his first steps
But I ain’t missed a ball game yet
And that ain’t ever gonna change
I could never walk away
Yeah, he’s my son and that’s my choice
He ain’t my blood but he’s my, he’s my boy

What a heartfelt raw expression of love in about as nonthreatening a manner as I can imagine.  It made me specifically think of teachers.  When I was a kid my mom and I attended a nontraditional Sunday service by a Methodist minister who had grown old and ambitious.  He had long led the local church and decided in his later years to do something remarkably hipster for the time.  He was also a pioneer in the live stream concept to provide outreach to those who could not attend.  He wrote a book about the topic of power, in the context of love and holiness, and it opens with the following:

“We are people who live in a time almost dedicated to the concept of power.  We love power.  If we are to believe the television commercials, we even want our detergents to have ‘bulldozer power.’  We want automobiles with 400-horsepower engines, capable of cruising at 120 miles an hour, when we know we have to drive in zones from 35 to 65 miles an hour.” 

Those are excerpts from the book Dr. Dykes penned some 30 years ago.  What Dr. Dykes was trying to teach me in my infrequent church attendance back then was not so much about power as it was about the collective embrace. A more notable figure to the K12 audience is Michael Fullan who has written extensively on educational leadership including a series on “What’s Worth Fighting For?”  He is also often associated with his teachings on moral imperatives:

As this pandemic persists, we’re witnessing educators embrace kids like never before.  I want nothing more than to be that ember for my own kids, and I want them to channel their fire in a way that improves circumstance to scale.  If nothing else, I hope they come to understand this isn’t about us because “us” has a pretty good advantage; our smarts should be focused on all.  And if our moral compass has room to lead a few more, as teachers keep modeling for us, what a difference that might make.   

It amazes me how insecure my kids can make me feel on one day or in one given moment and then somehow make me feel Lebron James worthy the next.  Or Chester Bennington worthy if I was touching base with my youngest.  The obvious answer is your kids, like mine, call it like it is.  They haven’t learned that skill of biting their tongue because they haven’t had to – I hope my boys never have to.  And their insights tend to be unclouded or influenced which makes the feedback that much more seismic.

I had an educator call it like it was last week when I was doing some reflecting.  That individual said “if I have to prove every minute of my day to this district with accountability in place, why doesn’t everyone else?”  I’m the Chief Accountability Officer by title so I tend to agree.

I’ve never been a subscriber of brutal honesty because I’ve never seen it as a way to engage the cooperation of others.  My boys hopefully better understand this as well and as I’ve told many, the art of any negotiation is ensuring both parties feel like winners.  If there are losers, then somebody most likely feels hustled.  I wrote a similar message to some of our district employees recently and it sparked a reaction.  It proved to be a lesson I didn’t know was coming.  I’m not old per se but arguably quite experienced in this work and I still managed to make some miscalculations. 

I know it’s overused but it still resonates with me – “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”  Text me if you need to know the author but I am waking up more mornings asking similar questions.  I watched Just Mercy 2 times tonight and I can’t really relate, although I feel like I can.   I’m white and have benefited because of it but I continue to question how I can do more.  My conversation with a teacher reminded me that we often struggle as administrators in protecting the right work.  If teachers are worried more about our watchful eye than the learning of their kids we’ve missed the bullseye – as confession, I think all our teachers think of their kids first and deal with non-related questions eventually.

I’m watching my 2 little dudes grow each day and make me proud.  I’m a pretty good influence but their mother is the best influence on us all.  Don’t get me wrong she’s judgmental like the worst of us but she’s completely different. The last time I checked compassion was a good thing and for the Sanderson boys we have a stable reminder. 

Ultimately, I hope my boys cross some lines in the sand.  And I hope those lines ultimately mean something, too.  I’m going to try and keep doing the same and time will ultimately tell.  There’s value in the legacy you leave even if there’s a price to pay, depending on the price and whose check.  As a white man my footprint may be the same size 10 as others, but it’s a modest gesture in reverence to those who have sacrificed.  As a result, I’m always mindful of the legacy one leaves.  At its core, how do you top someone who taught you how to learn?  How do you best a true educator?

We’re in week 4 of CovidU and still working through many bumps both anticipated and never dreamed up.  We’ve had some big time high five worthy successes along with some cringe worthy sideline slipups.  We’re learning as we go and hopefully learning to grow.

We’re finding out as kids return how much of an impact this whole pandemic has really done – it’s dented the toughest armor.  Social isolation indeed subjects some to more adversity than others – this past Saturday my oldest dressed in his Sunday’s best and attended his first goodbye gathering for a peer.  His niche group now sports armbands in remembrance.  Questions of how could we have been better and more supportive go unanswered as we revisit prevention.  Don’t ever wager on a second guess.

In addition to the kids, we have staff we concern ourselves with.  In some instances, the worry isn’t even the first line of contact – I would assume this is commonplace in other industry but I can only vouch for K-12.  I have 2 staff members as I write this post high up on my “send safe thoughts” list.  Let’s try to remember who we need to succeed – I’m generally not warm fuzzy but I’m smart enough to know if the folks we rely on are “elsewhere” then we need to better support their needs.  When it comes to school, my family mirrors many of my close colleagues – my wife and I work for this school district and my kids both benefit from its teachers.  The stakes are pretty high for school success in my household.

As I penned this entry, it reminded me of a story I followed over the summer.  The short version follows a journalist with a Ph.D in psychology who engages a legendary poker pro to teach her the game.  At the time the card newbie was experiencing the full game of life which probably contributed to her “all in” approach.  By her own assessment, “poker depends on the nuanced reading of human intention, interactions, and deceptions.”  You can click the screen grab below for an excerpt write-up which also links to the book which details the entire experience.

So when do you wager?  When do you play the odds and focus on some and not others?  Never – you never make kid learning a bet, or a gamble.  You never entertain the notion that premiums can be placed on learning.  I know there’s plenty of recycled rhetoric to fill the second-guessing.  My challenge to all that read this post is you never gamble on a child’s future.  And to borrow from Erik Seidel, the famous poker player profiled in The Biggest Bluff, “Less certainty.  More inquiry.”

For those unfamiliar with the movie Tin Cup it was not quite the Cinderella story about a wannabe professional golfer. The main character had the shots but struggled under the limelight. We’re going back to 1996 on this one and lead folks were Kevin Costner and Rene Russo. For what it’s worth Dennis Burley was the best of the best as he cameoed and put TCU on the map (TCU is my alma mater – Go Frogs).

I used to play golf with regularity but that’s been a while ago; when I did play I was pretty good.  I was known as the gambler on my local muni golf course but I never gambled – the locals just made their wagers.  One of the most influential figures on this gambling scene was an old black guy named Bush – he was the dude.  I remember visiting Bush in the VA hospital in his final days.  In Shreveport (LA), where I grew up, you were either black or white, with rare exception.  My best friend was black (I’m white) so that made for even more of an exchange.  His name was Calvin. 

We played everywhere together, or at least those places he was allowed to play (not kidding). My friend was #1 on the high school team my freshman year and then I carried on his legacy for the next three. I miss my walks with Calvin. I don’t remember too much about that time other than the bond we had – I’m sure our conversations were mostly of the silly/stupid variety but they were certainly genuine. Calvin was a ketchup guy and I was taught catsup – that’s a wrinkle difference but it tends to expand.

In all of this, I think I’ve created too many whatevers for my own kids. I want them to experience success tempered with some shield of fallout should anything go sideways. I want them to realize they live a privileged life afforded in many ways. And I want them to take advantage of that opportunity and do something with it. My friend Calvin from the day had a different circumstance and I have a better understanding of it now I think. I’ve lost contact with him but I wonder if he’s having the same conversations with his own kids? It wasn’t cool back then to be best friends with someone different but kids didn’t know different. As it would be, Calvin’s folks were stricter than mine but we still managed the sleepovers.

I have to confess with my work schedule and kids’ sport schedules, I don’t see my kids every evening.  I see them in the mornings without fail and when I do see them afterwards, I generally ask how their day went.  We’re easing back into that routine and my younger son has me wondering how much we’ve gotten right on this new remote school I’ll call CovidU.

My Alex has always been a person of few spoken words.  Most questions pointed his way receive one to two response elaborations.  So when I’ve asked about school historically, I get “good” or “fine” as standard responses.  I’m getting less “goods” and more “okays” and “alrights” these days.  It made me think of the song by Candlebox long before I had boys appropriately titled as such, “It’s Alright.”

And it’s alright, what you confide in me

And I can see things so clearly through tear-stained eyes

The side effects of time in all our good-byes, and it’s alright

There’s more to the song but for a late 90’s hit it served up the staple affirmation of together we’re better. I tried to sell that same message to our principals this morning and I hope my message was heard. They’re battling endless pulls and pullovers from their communities about what school folks should and should not be doing right now.

We heard that feedback first hand this week during our monthly school board meeting.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what I heard that night was frustration.  Although I didn’t necessarily agree with the speakers that night, I empathized as best I could with their circumstance.

We know numbers will rise as we reopen schools – colleges are proving this theory with alarming precision (Tracking College COVID).  I made a pitch to principals this morning that was less “please don’t quit” and more “this is your moment.”  I believe this to be true and I led my address with the following quote:

“The opportunity of a lifetime must be seized within the lifetime of the opportunity.”  I reiterated the quote for emphasis but I’m not sure it took.  I saw a room full of education experts exhausted and beyond tired.  And I tend to be one who fixes problems and I’m not sure how to make right what I witnessed.  My staffers made light of some great messages involving folding cheese and not smacking friends, and it was poignant (and funny).  But I’m not sure it was enough and I worry about asking my littlest “how was school.”