I am fortunate to have been blessed with four children – three sons and a daughter, and not necessarily in that order. While they are all currently adults in their twenties, I will never stop thinking of them as my children. Like any parent, I remember the day they were born, their first Christmas, their first swim, their first lost tooth (some of which I still have). And, like any parent, I am more proud of them and the wonderful people they have become than of anything I have personally accomplished. For the first eighteen or so years of their lives, I feel that it was their father and I that taught them… how to read, how to swim, how to drive, how to be honest, to face up to your mistakes, and most importantly, how to be good people. But as parents I don’t think we ever realized how much we were going to learn from them.
This page is about them -who they are, their accomplishments, and most importantly, the lessons they’ve taught me – as a mom, a wife, a teacher and a vice-principal. Who knows, maybe they’ll teach you something too.
My oldest son, Wil is 28 years old. Wil is a river restoration biologist with the Nottawasaga Conservation Authority. He spent five years working in Atlantic Canada restoring salmon stream habitats with the Sackville River Restoration Society, and with Clean Nova Scotia, a non-profit organization that works with ministries, municipalities and schools in the areas of ecosystem conservation. He is an outside guy. He rebels against being tied to a desk, loves to camp (with others or by himself), and is very happy canoeing just about anywhere. He loved living on the east coast, mostly I think because of the slow pace and the down-home, simpler way of life. When Wil was in high school, he hated math. In fact, he’s hated math pretty much since grade six, and quite possibly earlier than that. When Wil was in grade twelve, I actually said to him “you need to pass math, because if you don’t graduate and leave home, I’m going to kill you”. Math didn’t matter to him – or so he thought. And yet, while participating in Enchpro – the Environmental Challenge program at Huntsville High School, he did tons of math… he just didn’t see it that way. And that’s because he was doing something he loved, where he loved to do it – outside, in Algonquin Park, constructing buildings, planning canoe trips and calculating the health of habitats. When Wil was in high school, I was constantly on him about his marks, because I had forgotten the most important lesson I hoped he would learn as he grew into a young man. And that lesson was that marks aren’t everything, and when you get out in the real world, they mean next to nothing.
Among other things, Wil taught me three lessons, the first of which is that not all kids fit in the box of a school building. Some students learn best at their desk, but there are at least an equal number of students who don’t. I believe that this is the same for the staff that you lead. Some people hear the word ‘jump’ and they say – ‘I can do that, how high do you want me to go’, while others say ‘no, thanks, I’m fine where I am… no need to jump for me’. And then there are those that say ‘I’ll jump, but I need some help’. As leaders, it’s up to us to determine which type of individuals we have in front of us, to meet them where they’re at and provide them the scaffolding they need to meet their goals – whether those goals are ones they’ve set, or ones we’ve set for them as part of a school team. There are times as leaders that we need to find the right box for our people to fit into. Sometimes, we can help them to grow and develop to fit the box they’re already in. And there are times when we just have to say ‘this box is not for you’. One occasion is not any easier than another, but as leaders, we have to be able to recognize which person needs which box, when they need it, and how to help them get in it.
The second thing I learned from Wil is this: a person will do all kinds of things (academic or otherwise), and do it well, if it’s meaningful to them. Learning the mathematical equation for slope may not have been important when he was sitting in math class with a text book in front of him, but when he needed to know how to solve that problem in the field to calculate rates of growth or decline, not only did he learn how to use the formula, he applied it as part of a battery of assessments that he created and collated to determine the health of a wetland. Using a diagnostic assessment with your class might not be important to a teacher until they can see how it applies to them and to their students. Knowledge is a powerful thing, but putting something in practice often helps us draw conclusions that others might have been trying to hammer into our head with little success. A good leader knows the people they’re leading, and knows which way they work – some people just need to be asked and they’ll do it, and some people need to see the proof. We need to know who those people are so that we can provide the proper supports to help them in their learning journey.
Lastly, at his graduation, Wil also taught me a very important lesson about people. It’s funny how some things just kick you in the gut. With his marks, I wasn’t expecting Wil to win any awards, not that this was an expectation, but it’s always nice to be recognized for ones’ achievements. But, to my wonder and amazement…he did. Wil was awarded the ‘Luke Mavity Memorial Award’, voted by staff and students as the student who best showed care, compassion and concern towards others. I cried throughout the whole rest of the graduation ceremony, reproaching myself for being such a fool. His winning this award put a lot of things in perspective. Life is not about marks. And it’s not about fitting into someone else’s idea of what success is. That award showed us that Wil was more successful than I could have ever hoped he’d be. I always knew he was a great person – he has his father’s and his grandparent’s genes after all, and he was, I thought, raised to be a kind and decent person. To have his peers and the adults around him recognize this in him was an honour and a testament to who he really is. Wil has and continues to teach me that whether you are a student, a teacher or an administrator, you can have the best marks, the loveliest looking day plan, and you can implement picture-perfect school improvement goals, but if you don’t have relationships with people, and show care, compassion and concern every day for the people you are leading, you’re not much of a leader.
I like to think Wil got some of those qualities from me – I not only hope, but believe that my staff and the people I work with all know through my actions and my words that I care about them not only as educators but as people with families and hopes and dreams. These relationships build trust. You can’t ask anyone to take risks if they don’t trust that you’re there to support them. And you can’t empower people if they don’t have faith that you have their best interests at heart. I believe that building relationships is at the core of what it means to be successful, and is an essential skill for any leader, but especially school leaders. We cannot ask teachers to join us on a learning journey, to grow their thinking and their teaching practice, or to embrace new ideas or ways of thinking if we have not established a mutual respect and trust with and in each other.
This doesn’t mean that you don’t push people when they need to be pushed. We must always have high expectations for everyone in our school building, including ourselves. Sometimes those expectations make people feel anxious and vulnerable. As a leader, when you have historically demonstrated that you have the same expectations for yourself as you do for others, when you demonstrate that ‘care, compassion and concern’ for the people you are leading on both a personal and professional level, your integrity and veracity stand you in good stead. That’s how people trust you to lead them to places that are scary and unfamiliar and take them outside of their comfort zone.
So, thank you, Wil, for being such a great son, a great brother and a great role model for your friends, your siblings and for your parents. You encourage us look at how we interact with people and with nature, you remind us of what’s true and honest about us and the world we live in, and you prompt us to reflect about our intentions and about the ways we help to meet the needs of those around us. I hope I can live up to the standard you have set.
teribrunner 