Continuous Improvement Transforms Lives

Before we begin, this is a light-hearted view on getting better.  I apologize, in advance, if anyone is offended.  Thank you for reading.


Do you have chores at home?  In our marriage my wife and I have some designated chores.  My wife makes sure money is where it needs to be, and I pay the bills.  We both vacuum, but my wife dusts.  (She has never trusted me to safely work around special keepsakes.)  I am in charge of....keeping the bathrooms clean.  Most people get "grossed out" by cleaning bathrooms, but I find great satisfaction in keeping the mirrors, sinks, lavatories and tubs clean.  I like clean floors, and I feel like I can actually see the results of my work.  It makes me feel good to have a clean bathroom.

• Is it possible to get a bathroom clean?  Yes.
• Is it possible to get a bathroom cleaner?  Hmmmm.

When I finish cleaning, I don't reflect on how I can get things cleaner.  I try to make sure the job is completed--cleanly--the first time. 

Schools, however, run a little differently.  Our product is not a clean room.  Our students are much more complex than a mirror or a sink.  I/we reflect on how we can get better all of the time.  The paradigm of continuous improvement is so strong that we are constantly trying to do our job better.  We want more students to grow.  We want more students to grow more.  Whatever bar we set for ourselves is never "good enough."  If we hit that bar, we keep raising it.  While moving that bar creates a certain level of institutional stress, we know raising that bar for ourselves is best for our students.  And we would have it no other way.

Our school district will participate in an accreditation engagement review in May.  A team of educators from around the country will visit our district and our schools.  They will review data, observe lessons, talk with stakeholders, and suggest ways we can improve--ways we can "raise the bar" to better help more students.

The accreditation agency, AdvancED, is very clear about their goal:

Our goal isn’t to certify that educational institutions are good enough. Rather, our commitment is to help these institutions continuously improve.

We host these reviews about every five years.  They help us get better, and I am grateful to work in a profession and district that never settles for "good enough." 

True confession--I think I might occasionally settle for "good enough" with my bathroom chores.  Please don't tell my wife.  She might do the same thing with the dusting.

Lessons From Tragedy

Four funerals.

My family and I will be attending our fourth funeral in less than two months.  I don't share this to make you feel sad or sorry, but I have been reminded of a very valuable lesson because of these funerals that I want to share with you.  Also, I learned an even more valuable lesson from a teenager because of one of these funerals.

I am sad, and I am sorry.  One of my best friends died in August after battling cancer for over two years.  I miss Bob.  He was my friend and walking buddy, and he let me glimpse into his life and his death.  That changed me.  Bob taught me to play the guitar.  We had common and eclectic music tastes, and he and his amazing wife have been our neighbors for over 20 years.  His daughter was our babysitter, and his son is not yet 16.

Judy was in our Sunday School class.  Our girls had been friends since preschool.  She was always a bundle of energy and joy.  There was not a pessimistic bone in her body despite the many physical and emotional challenges she faced.  Her faith inspired me.  Her daughter is 16.

Ray was a new acquaintance.  He moved his family across the country in order for his wife to be closer to her family.  His 16 year old daughter was in my mission trip group, and she had never known him without cancer.  I learned at his funeral he used to run Ironman races.

Tom's funeral is this weekend.  He and his wife have four daughters.  His second daughter is friends with our second daughter.  He loved to decorate for holidays, and he had been ill for more than 5 years.

I am sad.  I am sorry.  Each of these people died from cancer, and they left behind families with teenage children.

Reminder #1--  Life is precious.  We spend a lot of time worrying about things that we should probably not worry about.  (The next promotion?  What car our neighbor is driving?)  We also spend a lot of time doing things that really don't matter. (Checking email.  Watching mindless television.)  While I don't shy away from getting better or from being held accountable in my job, I am reminded that time with our families, our health, and our faith are precious.  It sometimes seems way too easy to focus on having the best lawn or the nicest clothes or the latest technological gadget.  Perhaps a little more time with our families--really with our families and friends--is what matters most?

Lesson #1--  Words matter.  I know all of the children impacted by these deaths.  I have known some of them their entire lives.  One of them shared something profound that touched me.  When asked why she hadn't returning to church yet, she responded, "I don't know what to say when people ask, 'How are you doing?'  People don't want to hear, 'I'm doing bad,' or that this is the worst thing that I've ever experienced.  They don't want to hear that I still cry myself to sleep.  They really want to hear, 'I'm doing fine.'  I just wish people would say, 'It's so good to see you,' or "I'm glad you're here.'"

What am I trying to do now?  I'm trying to spend more time saying, "It's so good to see you," and "I'm glad you're here."  Plus, I hug my wife and kids more.  Bob would be happy.