18 for 18

No, not eighteen New Year’s resolutions; that would be silly. But, being a goal setter presented with a brand new year, I’ll set out these three things that I’d like to accomplish in 2018.

pencilsEighteen meaningful classroom visits every week. I know that’s a lot, if they’re more than poking my head in the door, and I also know that as a principal I’m at my best when I’m chin deep in the hurly burly of school, not at my desk.

No more than eighteen minutes in a row in my office during the school day. Sure I’ll have meetings that go longer than that, and I’ll take them, but from the start of school until bus duty at the end of the day I’m shooting for less time away from students, teachers, and staff.

Eighteen calls home to celebrate students before the end of the year. As a teacher I was good about this, often meeting my goal of calling home with a positive message to a third of my kids before back to school night. It’s different as a principal, but if I can share positive messages home with more parents and guardians I think it can make a positive difference in the world of my students.

So welcome 2018 and a renewed focus on spending time with the most important part of education: the people who share this grand adventure.

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Sometimes

We believe in things that will give us hope
Why shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t we?
                    -Mary Chapin Carpenter

Much of what I do as a principal is look for hope. I walk the halls, listen to students, ask questions of adults, and seek out those corners of the school where good gathers. When I find it, like a cat, I pounce.

Then I thank.
I share.
And I celebrate the hell out of it.

Because as much as I want to believe Emily Dickinson and cling to the notion of Hope as a thing with feathers that perches in the soul, the more prosaic world has taught me that as often Emily Brontë is right and…

Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne’er returned again!”

That doesn’t mean you give up. As a principal it means you put on your walking shoes and go birding.

Today hope looked like this:

With just a week left in November, rain forecast every day for the next two weeks, and a mandatory fire drill hanging over our heads, my amazing secretary, intrepid AP, and I looked up at a break in the clouds and considered the possibility of evacuating and getting the kids back in the building before rain returned.

We needed to wait until the end of the period for the drill to count (requirements mandate a drill that takes place at least partly at lunch), so with an eye toward the clouds I sent an email to my staff:

RE: Blame it on the rain…
Hello all,
Put simply, it’s not going to get better, so we’re going to take advantage of what is supposed to be 18 minutes of not-rain to do our mandatory fire drill in just a few minutes. It will start at the end of this period and nudge into first lunch. We’ll get them out and back in as quickly as we can.
Margaret will ring the bell very soon.
Let’s do this,
Bjorn
PS: https://youtu.be/BI5IA8assfk

 

Principals always hope humor helps.

It started to rain, not hard, just enough. We looked from the sky to the clock. Another ten minutes before our drill.

Hope.

Five minutes later I put on my coat. I would not bring an umbrella. Not every teacher would have one for this unexpected drill and I’m a gentleman after all.

Clouds moved above me when I stepped outside. Rain fell, but not hard. The alarm rang and students flooded out.

I whistled a little Milli Vanilli. This might not be too bad.

Kids squinted up at the dark clouds blowing across the sky. Someone was barefoot. Someone else didn’t have a coat. A teacher, hood framing her face, looked at me and said “really?”

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all -“

And then the rain stopped.

We all looked up.

A student said “look,” pointing, and my momentary relief at feeling the rain stop disappeared, replaced by the wonder inspired by the most perfect rainbow I have ever seen.

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It could just as easily have begun to pour.

But today it didn’t.

Today it didn’t.

As beautiful as that rainbow was, reaching over our students and reminding all of us of the artistic beauty of nature, tomorrow’s hope will be just as important. That found hope, seen in the kindness of a student, the caring of a teacher, or any of a thousand things there to be seen by someone looking for them, will have the power to inspire. If I can capture it, celebrate it, and remain thankful I will have done right by my school and those around me.

Life has the capacity and the inclination for greatness.

Sometimes it rains, sure, and sometimes there are rainbows.

Willingly Fallible

I’m going to make some mistakes. That freaks me out a little. Knowing the importance of working in education, I want so very much to get things right. I’m a principal, the guy in the tie, who ought to have the answers, and as tough as it is I know I’ll only be able to do my best if I’m able to be humble enough to ask questions.

Along with those questions, so many as I learn the culture of a school new to me and the policies of a new district, is the need to see myself as a learner, own my status as a steward to a great school, and embrace the opportunity to serve others with optimism and hard work.

And if I bring my best self to my work, then those mistakes, natural parts of being human, won’t be what defines me, though having the confidence to take chances that may lead to some of those mistakes certainly will.

FullSizeRenderWhen I have doubts about such things, or worries about not having the answer, I do my best to slow down and remember what poet William Stafford wrote about his craft in An Oregon Message“I must be willingly fallible in order to deserve a place in the realm where miracles happen.”

How true for life as that is for poetry.

Mistakes? I’ll learn from them.

Questions? I’ll ask.

Is the principal fallible? Willingly.

Keeping the Beat

We’ve known each other for almost a decade and his smile, warmth, and easy laugh have always made me feel comfortable and good, happy to be in his company and proud to work with him as a fellow principal in our district. What a sense of celebration then when I found out that Adam Camacho will be the next principal at San Dieguito!

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Some people know Adam as the principal of Earl Warren Middle School, a post he has held for three years, shepherding the staff through major construction and demonstrating an empathy and patience that will serve him well as he moves to SDA. Adam and I talked often when I was the principal of Diegueño Middle School, about how best to help our young charges navigate the tumultuous years of junior high, and I was always struck by the profound care he felt toward each student.

Others may remember Adam as a counselor; he worked with students in their greatest hours of need before becoming an administrator, and those skills of listening, supporting, and helping students find themselves were not lost when he put on a tie, but simply manifested in other ways.

And some folks may know Adam as a rock and roll star. As the drummer for the faculty rock band The Credentialed, and later another group of teachers, counselors, and administrators who made music to raise money for student scholarships called Poncherello, Adam’s drum solos have brought down the house for years. He rocks! Literally.

I’m fortunate to know him as all three of these, and even more as a friend.

So as San Dieguito welcomes Adam as its next principal, I’m thankful to know that the person taking over this office brings common sense, kindness, and the ability to keep a steady beat even as the electric guitars blare and singers belt out rock and roll tunes.

San Dieguito is in good hands with Adam, and Adam is in good hands with San Dieguito.

A Bawcock and a Heart of Gold

I keep a copy of Shakespeare’s Henry V by my desk and have since I became a school administrator. It could seem grandiose, I suppose, the tabby cat imagining himself a lion, but there is wisdom in that iambic pentameter and I’m willing to acknowledge my inner English teacher and take the kidding.

Looking to Shakespeare’s account of England’s favorite monarch for inspiration, however, puts me in mind to be better than I am. I may be domesticated, but hear my roar.

Henry V provides a slew of lessons and lines that resonate with me, and while it doesn’t have anything to do with leadership, I can’t help but whisper to myself every time I walk into a theater: “O for a muse of fire…”

But the trappings of a high school principal are khakis and embroidered polo shirts, not balm and scepter or crown imperial, and as much as I find encouragement in the youthful king, perhaps it would be as wise for me to consider his younger self, Prince Hal, that “nimble footed madcap Prince of Wales” whose adventures and indiscretions offer just as many lessons about leadership, learning, and growing up.

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The two part prequel to Henry V introduces Prince Hal as a reckless youth hellbent on fun and keeping company with a cast of characters equally bawdy and base. This is perfect for great literature, but not the sort you’d want near your own son or daughter.

Pistol, Bardolf, and especially Falstaff are the grown up versions of the scruffy and scandalous influences who give principals gray hair and assistant principals stories to tell each other. That Hal, the soon to be golden king, spends time in such company justifiably unnerves and disappoints his father, the king, who compares his “Harry” to a nobleman’s own well behaved son, Percy.

In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son,
A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune’s minion and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call’d mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.”

What parent, or caring educator, wouldn’t be tempted to think the same?

And…

As a principal it’s important for me to embrace the belief that each of of our young Harrys might transcend youthful indiscretion and become a regal Henry.

Audiences of Henry IV part one and two and Henry V see just that transcendance. After learning what it is to live as a “common man,” and a rascal at that, Hal is able to put aside his childish ways, don the mantle of responsibility, and incorporate an understanding of his subjects into his reign as king.

In Shakespeare is a wisdom that might apply to the principal’s office.

True, administrators don’t wear crowns, teachers don’t shoot crossbows, and working with kids is not conquering France (though it sometimes feels as challenging), but allowing ourselves the patience and optimism that should be inspired by the transformation of Shakespeare’s king has the chance to make us more empathetic educators.

Seeing in our young students, particularly the shaggy ones, whose “unsavoury similes” alarm us  and whose behavior is a mass of “skimble-skamble stuff” the possibility of growth and change can go a long way toward creating a school culture that honors the potential of everyone.

Who our students will be as adults is as hidden from us as the impetuous Hal’s future was from his father. As the young prince caroused and lived irresponsibility, laughing at bawdy songs he listened, learned, and developed a perspective that made him a better king.

I wish for all my students the wisdom that comes from a full life, the strength to know themselves well enough to be true to who they are, not the temptingly Falstaffian pleasures of the crowd, and intrepid spirit that might lead another to describe them as Ancient Pistol did King Henry: “a bawcock and a heart of gold.”

San Dieguito Principals

There are seventeen of us, eighteen if you count Rizzi, who was principal twice. It’s not a crazy number for eighty years, not when you consider that in that time there have been fourteen US presidents, nine United Nations Secretary Generals, and a dozen Dr. Whos.

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As you’d expect, lining us up in black and white photos you see a mix of serious expressions and dark ties. You notice high foreheads and mostly conservative jackets. Some of us are smiling in our official portraits, though just about everyone looks as if he or she could lay down a detention if bad came to worse.

Being a principal brings doses of joy and stress. My own time in this office, the same office principals have occupied since Arthur Main in 1937, has shown me that I have a unique and wonderful seat from which to watch the parade of youth that marches through the breezeways at San Dieguito. And what a cavalcade it has been for the past eighty years.

photo 2 (5)Watching those students learn and teachers teach, shouldering the responsibility that comes with the job, and managing everything from construction to academics, the company I have the privilege to keep is an interesting bunch.

Arthur Main was the first principal at San Dieguito, opening the school in 1936 in rented tents and a borrowed elementary school. He was followed by Donovan Cartwright, the San Dieguito principal who looked most like Errol Flynn, and Tom Preece, who faced a polio epidemic at San Dieguito that delayed the start of school in 1948. These three faced the challenges of opening a school, and a district, and building the foundation on which the post war growth would build.

William Mace and Matthew Korwin were at the helm in the 1950s, joined by San Dieguito fixture David Davidson, the first San Dieguito superintendent who was not also the high school’s principal. As the scare of communism rose, they saw San Dieguito through challenging political times, a preview of what would happen when sometime a decade later all hell broke loose.

photo 1 (4)Don Crickmore, for whom the current baseball diamond is named, was principal to begin 1960, followed by John Clark, who saw San Dieguito leave the 1950s behind and embrace a spirit of freedom that challenged many and enlivened others. The serious expression Mr. Clark wears in his yearbook portrait was earned through stress both local and national. His ability to navigate the challenges of the job was great.

Leonard Morris and William Hershey guided San Dieguito through the 1970s, a time of freedom and creativity. Their smiling faces and substantial sideburns speak of a campus that had left the buttoned down 1950s far behind and was looking forward toward an independence of spirit that has never left the school.

photo 3 (4)The 1980s belonged to Sal Ramirez, whose eleven year tenure is the longest of any San Dieguito principal. Described by some as student centered and fair, Mr. Ramirez was an enigma to some, a hero to others, and a frustration to a few. In a word, he was a principal. So often those of us who put on a tie and do our best to lead a school find ourselves in situations that challenge our best decisions. To serve in one position for more than a decade speaks to a talent increasingly rare.

Penny Cooper Francisco followed Mr. Ramirez in 1993, inheriting a staff in need of some uniting. Indefatigable, a colleague told me “she didn’t expect anyone to work any harder than she did, but boy did she work!”  She listened, guided, and cared, and was remembered by staff as a natural-born leader who led with inspiration and a wonderful sense of humor.

Don Rizzi, who had served as an assistant principal at San Diegutio began his first tour of duty as principal in 1995, presiding over the division of the school into San Diegutio High School Academy and the new high school, La Costa Canyon. It wasn’t to be Mr. Rizzi’s last time in the office, nor his longest run as principal.

photo (1)When San Dieguito opened in the fall of 1996, Fran Fenical began her tenure as principal of the newly christened “academy.” With vision and purpose, Ms. Fenical helped to create and inspire the “funky” and inclusive culture that defines San Dieguito to this day. This school year, the 80th anniversary of San Dieguito and 20th anniversary of SDA, I’ve been able to witness first hand the love and respect the founding staff of San Diegtuito Academy have toward Fran. When she spoke to our current current body, wearing a tie dyed “Keep SDA Funky” shirt, she was a star.

Both the 12th and 14th principal at San Dieguito, Don Rizzi returned to the principal’s chair in 2002, bringing with him a smile and sense of good will. He served as principal until 2005 and in that time saw the school blossom, evolve, and continue to grow.

MG2Four of us fill the final dozen years of San Dieguito’s most recent history. Barbara Gauthier, Mike Grove, Tim Hornig, and I each took a turn in the wood paneled office overlooking the front of the school. Ours are memories still too fresh for history to digest, but each of us brought our best selves to the job and left with a bit of San Dieguito pixie dust still clinging to our suits.

Throughout our school’s eighty years San Dieguito has shown that it is greater than any individual, a strong school spirit constant even as the person in the principal’s chair changes. This sense of school is important, sustaining, and promises that whatever the next eighty years bring and whomever the next eighteen principals will be (Rizzi again?), San Dieguito will continue to be the special place so many call home.

Thank You

You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart…”
-Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road”

To everyone who has inspired me, offered support, kindness, and humor over my eight years in the San Diegutio Union High School District, thank you.

As many of you have heard, this July I’ll be heading north to become the principal of the Arts and Communication Magnet Academy in Beaverton Oregon. It’s a school of just over 700 students, grades 6-12, with a focus on fine and performing arts. On the verge of major construction, filled with creative souls, and located in a state I have always known as home, ACMA is a school that, like San Dieguito, a school I love, speaks to me. As I mentioned to a friend yesterday, this is not a move inspired by leaving, but a move about going to.

In my heart I am an Oregonian, a fellow of moss and foggy afternoons, of flannel shirts, rainstorms, and used bookstores. I grew up beneath fir trees, and while I have loved my time in California, I have never stopped missing green. My path leads through a forest.

I’m excited, a little nervous, and ready to begin a new adventure.

BPwithKidsThat said, the person I am today is in large part a collection of the experiences I have shared with inspiring educators from three SDUHSD schools over the past decade.

I’m so thankful for my time at La Costa Canyon, working with gifted professionals whose Maverick spirit infused every day with a sense of urgency and vital energy. Never had I worked with a group of educators who made such a difference in the lives of so many students. Amid the crash of cymbals and whirl of green and blue I witnessed a thousand acts of quiet kindness. Thank you for both the school spirit and the examples of caring I saw every week.

I’m grateful too for Diegueno Middle School, a place where the whole staff once dressed as pirates, I saw first hand the magic great teachers bring to their work with students, and I learned that part of being a principal is being willing to have water dumped on your head.

photo 2 (1)And to San Dieguito, my kindred spirit of a place, my gratitude is matched only by the love I feel toward the people who make up this great school. I leave San Dieguito more changed by it than it will ever be by me. For that I am thankful.

Our school district is more than just a collection of great schools; SDUHSD is a life changing force for good, filled with nurturing adults, curious students, caring parents, and a sense of hope.

To all of my colleagues, students, and families, thank you.