Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover

"The Drop-Off/Pick-Up Line Starts Here"

These words are posted on the large, official, blue sign at the far end of our school's front sidewalk.  Each morning another staff member and I do what I call the "Novi Woods Shuffle" to get parents to quickly, efficiently, and safely drop-off their children in the front of our building. 

Car duty, as you can imagine, is an important job at many levels.  First, we need kids to be safe.  Next, if we are not quick about drop-off time, students will be late to start their day.  Finally, if our drop-off line gets too long, traffic on the road is backed-up which means our buses can't get to our school on time.

We ask parents to stay in line, pull up as far as possible, and have their children exit on the right side anywhere along the sidewalk.  I've actually made it my little mission to be as efficient (and fun) as possible by wearing funny hats, waving my arms like someone guiding airplanes on the runway, and playing music over our public address system.  We greet kids, unbuckle car seats, and say good morning or wave to everyone.  Despite the occasional glitch, the process works well.  I'd challenge any school to do this any better.  In fact, I was touched last week when a parent commented out her window on a particularly cold and windy morning, "Bless you, Mr. Ascher!"

Everything works like a charm until...

Rain, cold, wind, or any other weather extremity enter the equation.

If the weather is too extreme, parents tend to only want to drop their child at the one, absolute front door spot along the sidewalk even though I am outside with an umbrella, raincoat, galoshes, winter boots, mad-bomber hat, thermal gloves, or any other weather gear you can imagine.

Now, I'm a generally cheery person.  I try not to pass judgment when parents don't pull up as far as possible, but I'm also not opposed to running back to that car and asking the parent to pull up all of the way the next time.  Sometimes parents don't listen.  Most of the time, parents just seem to forget or are only focused on their child and not the super-long line with other children.

This has been an exceptionally frigid winter where I am a principal.  In fact, as I am writing this, our school is closed because of wind-chills of -30 degrees.  No getting around it, it's cold. 

Yesterday was cold as well, but fortunately we were still in school.  We started our normal car routine a little early, and the line was moving well.  I was waving, smiling, helping, and getting the day off to a good start, and then a car stopped at the very front of the building. 

Oh my.  I started running back to that car while I was waving.  (To be honest, I was a little frustrated because it was so cold.)  Just before I got back to the car to ask the parent to pull up farther, out poked a straight leg and two crutches from one of our students.  She had hurt herself over the weekend, and there was no way she was going to be able to get into school without some help over our snowy sidewalk.

Seek first to understand and then to be understood.  Don't judge a book by its cover.  Listen more, and talk less.

I caught myself...again.  How many times do I pass judgment without trying to better understand the other person's point of view or context?

Social Justice is a pillar in our district.  We have partnered with The University of Michigan, our intermediate school district, and other neighboring districts to strategically ensure "everyone has a voice."  We have led capacity building workshops for cohorts of teachers, secretaries, and administrators.  Students and staff across the district have been engaged in learning about how to better applying the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.  We've worked with our community.  Our older students have participated in regional "Youth Dialogues on Race."  I can't even begin to count all that we are doing or have done to make sure we are working together. 

Last week I was privileged to be part of a training with our transportation department--our bus drivers.  Over 35 drivers spent the morning exploring how to better listen and work together, how to more fully understand students, and how to be an even better department.  I've known many of our drivers for a long time, and they are a fun, dedicated group.  I don't know, however, what I was expecting before the training, but I do know I was not expecting what I discovered.  Discussing social justice issues can be a touchy subject.  It's personal, and it can make many people feel uncomfortable.  And yet, I heard over and over from our drivers, "These are our kids."  "How can we help our students?"  "How can I get to know my kids better?"  "What can I do to make sure my kids have a great day and they are ready to go at school?"  Whatever I had expected to hear from our drivers was replaced by a genuine passion and compassion for students--their students--our students.  I should not have been surprised.

Seek first to understand and then to be understood.  Don't judge a book by its cover.  Listen more, and talk less.

As much as I try, I'm fairly confident I will never be perfectly socially aware.  I also know our district won't ever "arrive" at being 100% socially just, but our social justice work has better informed our lenses as we work with each other.  And while, unfortunately, a 4th grade girl in crutches might not be the most socially unjustly treated individual in our school or district, I'm grateful that I work in a district and community that is committed to facing challenging issues.  It's really the only way our world will get any better.


PS...After the crutches appeared, I asked the mother if I could carry her daughter into our school.  She smiled and agreed.  I used a rather large bear hug to get her daughter over the snow, ice, and salt.  Later and at pick-up time, I talked with the mother of how embarrassed I was about not seeking first to understand.  We laughed, and I carried her daughter back to her car.  It sounds like there could be as much as 6 weeks of carrying and lifting to remind me to seek first to understand.  The student is going to be fine, and I'm going to see each day as a learning opportunity.

It's Just Wire and Wood

As part of our music curriculum, our 3rd and 4th grade music students learn how to play the recorder.  It's an exciting time for them to learn "real" songs as they master more and more fingerings for specific notes.  I was fortunate to catch a lesson last week when a 4th grade class was practicing "Ode to Joy"--a timeless classic.  Hearing twenty-five 4th grader students perform Beehthoven on recorders reaffirms what is good and great in this world, and it reminds me of hope.  I'm grateful our music teacher opens this part of the world for our students.

I asked the class, however, "Do you ever get frustrated because your brain knows where your fingers should go, but your fingers just don't go there?"  The entire class smiled and raised their hands.  I shared with them that I was given a guitar for Christmas.  I've always wanted to learn to play a few chords to hum to some simple songs.  I joked with my wife that I would do this once I retire.  She thought I should get started long before I retire, so a guitar showed up under our tree.

Wire and wood.  Basically, that's all a guitar is.  It's wire and wood, but put together in the right hands, wire and wood can make beautiful music.  In my hands, it's not quite so beautiful...yet.  I know where my fingers should go.  I understand the rhythm and basic notes.  I can tune the strings.  I even understand the beginning concepts of strumming.  But right now, all I seem to be able to get out of my fingers and the guitar are a few, almost solid chords, a bunch of missed strings, and an occassional, "You've got to be kidding me!" from my mouth.  Now, I've had these fingers all of my life, and my brain has told my fingers what to do for my entire life.  Why can't I get them to do what I want them to do when I want them to do it?

The kids and their recorders, and my guitar and my fingers reminded me about changes and how we implement change.  Think about how you handle change?  Do you get excited and master everything right away?  Does it seem to you changes are coming faster and faster?  Do your "fingers" frustrate you because the change doesn't go the way you wanted.  If I'm honest with myself, I handle change in all of these ways.  Sometimes I'm excited.  I cope with different changes in different ways, and sometimes I just get frustrated.

• Ancient Greek philospoher Heraclitus wrote, "Nothing endures but change."  He lived over 2ooo years ago.
• Isaac Asimov, noted 20th century author and thinker proclaimed, "The only constant is change, continuing change, inevitable change, that is the dominant factor in society today. No sensible decision can be made any longer without taking into account not only the world as it is, but the world as it will be."

Clearly humans have been coping with and even recognizing change forever.  As I ponder changes in my career, I'm happy I work with young people who always bring a fresh face to changes.  I'm also grateful to work with a staff that understands change is a part of life.  At our school, we support each other through each and every day and through the many changes that keep coming at us. 

Now, if my fingers would just "listen" to my brain more, the changes between my guitar and me would sound much better!

The Jukebox of Life

Records.  Remember them?  For that matter, do you even know what a record is?

Years ago...before downloadable music or even compact discs...people purchased records in order to hear their favorite music.  Rather than a digital player, music was transferred through a needle on a record player from a continuous groove of sound cut in a vinyl disc.  Records came primarily in two speeds.  Long play albums played at 33 1/3 revolutions per minute and had multiple songs on each side.  Singles played at 45 revolutions per minute and had just one song per side.

Everything worked great until the vinyl disc got  a scratch in it or dust on it.  The sound was compromised.  Records used to "skip" if the scratch was deep enough...meaning the continuous groove of sound was broken...which meant the phrase would repeat over and over.  Despite the technological limitations, playing or listening to a record was an experience like nothing else.  The analog playback brought forth a richness that just can't be repeated in a digital format.  The sound was not perfect, but it was true.  It was true to what the musician really played or even heard.  For that matter, even the occasional scratch or pop just made the experience all the more genuine.  Records, I realize, may be technology from the past, but they seem to be making a comeback.  Audiophiles look for albums and some current artists are even releasing songs and albums on vinyl.

My family and I own a jukebox which is a machine that stores and plays 45 rpm records.  I restored our 1954 Seeburg about 15 years ago.  Ironically we don't play it all that often, but I was reminded recently of why I still love records.  Over our holiday break and when my wife and daughters were not at home, I turned on the jukebox, made several selections, and let the sound rattle the windows in our house.  I have eclectic tastes in music, but some songs are just meant to be played loud and in a jukebox...Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash, Shop Around by The Miracles, Splish Spash by Bobby Darin.  I have a jukebox full of records that our daughters tolerate, but they also need to be played and played loud  (That last part is what my wife doesn't like.).

Listening to the jukebox got me thinking about why I still enjoy hearing records if the sound is not perfect.  I have all of the songs on my MP3 player.  They are remastered, digital, clear as a bell, and absolutely...perfect.  Maybe I like records sometimes to remind me that life is not perfect.  Life has scratches and dust.  Life is more analog than digital.  Life is more like a record than an electronic file.

I have had students who have been afraid to demonstrate their knowledge because their parents tell me their child is a perfectionist.  Unfortunately, I can see how this can happen.  In this day of word processors where we can create and publish perfect-looking works of writing, learning how to edit and revise is a challenge.  When our society bombards us with media that shows airbrushed and seemingly perfect images of what our bodies should be or how our houses should look, or what clothes we should wear, I can understand why we would not settle for any imperfections.  In this day of music that can be downloaded, shared, ripped, or even auto-tuned, I can understand why our young people might not understand that life's most important lessons might be learned from its imperfections.  Think about yourself.  What lessons have taught you the most...your perfect decisions or your poor choices?   Finally, if you're only making perfect decisions, I wonder what you really are doing?  As a principal, I encourage my staff to take risks.  I don't want them doing the same thing over and over just because it's safe.  Wisdom, I believe, is learning to know when to try something new at the risk of making a mistake while recognizing what will work.

I'm not suggesting we should throw away our computers or get rid of our MP3 players.  I'm not suggesting we shouldn't strive to always be a little better each day.  I'm definitely not suggesting we shouldn't have high standards for ourselves and our children.  Rather, I wonder what real or implied lessons we are teaching our young people when everything looks perfect or is expected to sound perfect.  Maybe a few mistakes...when it's safe to make a mistake...or even listening to some records could help teach all of us some valuable lessons?