Directionally Challenged

Courtesy of http://thissignhassharpedges.blogspot.com

At the last school I served, we had a running joke in the main office.  Different people would take turns going out to pick up the lunch order for us, but unless it was very close to school, our receptionist would beg out of the trip, because in her words she was "directionally challenged," which made it tough for her to find her way to a particular location, much less find her way back once she had arrived.

Directionally challenged.

I see lots of us--me included--suffering from this problem at this time of year.

We're reminded by others, and we have a sense ourselves that we should "be thankful" . . . that we should take on a positive attitude and focus on all of the good things that have happened to us in our lives.  It's a time to be happy, a time to spread the love, and a time to recognize how good we really have it.  Here are some samples of messages you may hear this week and over the whole holiday season:

“It is impossible to feel grateful and depressed in the same moment.”
“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.”
"Gratitude is absolutely the way to bring more into your life."
“Be thankful for what you have, you’ll end of having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.”
“It isn’t what you have in your pocket that makes you thankful, but what you have in your heart.”

These sentiments aren't evil . . . but they are directionally challenged.

Let me explain.

Generalized feelings of gratitude, joy, and thankfulness are only the beginnings of doing the right thing.  They are only the beginnings because they lack direction.  They fly off into the clouds like buckshot without a target.  They are the equivalent of putting a thank-you card in the mail with no address on it.

The blessings we receive, the people we love, and the good things that make us smile are meant to point us in the right direction.  

They are meant to point us to the one from whom they all originate, our Creator, Redeemer, and Friend.  As the doxology encourages us, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow."

Don't let your life be like the person driving the wrong way down the row of cars in the parking lot on Black Friday.  Don't be directionally challenged in your thanks.

This year, don't just remember to give thanks.

Remember who it is you're thanking.

The Giants, Jeans, and Organizational Culture

As I watched the end of Game 7 of the World Series, I got excited.  My beloved San Francisco Giants were going to win their third championship in the last 5 years.  It was amazing to witness the clutch hitting of Pedro Sandoval and Hunter Pence and the absolute dominance of 25-year-old pitching phenom, Madison Bumgarner.  

Having just moved to a new state, I didn't have that many people outside of my own family who were cheering along with me, so I decided to have a little fun.

After the Giants racked up two outs on the Royals in the bottom of the 9th inning, I composed an email to every one of my school employees promising two celebratory jeans days and a personal delivery of donuts to each campus in recognition of the Black and Orange taking home the championship.  

After sweating out the Royals' two-out triple, I hit "send" when Panda caught the foul ball to end the Series.  Within minutes, my inbox was full of happy replies filled with the appropriate mix of congratulations and good-natured teasing.

Thursday and Friday were jeans days on all five of our campuses.  I walked around a bit, basking in the glow of victory and delivering donuts to staff lounges (loaded with orange sprinkles, of course).  And I realized something.

I love jeans days.  

Not because I'm used to Silicon Valley where CEO's of the world's most valuable companies deliver earnings news in denim, but because there's something different in the air on jeans days.

People seem more upbeat.

Happier.

More engaged and interactive.

Comfortable.

And just plain enthusiastic.

Now, I'm a big believer in professionalism, and I love setting high expectations for ourselves that are conveyed by our facilities, our words, and yes--even the way we dress.  

But I love the way our team feels on jeans days.

If being a leader is about building a successful organizational culture, then it would probably be a good idea for me to figure out how to bottle the energy and enthusiasm of jeans days and spread it out more and more within our schools.

Sometimes culture-building seems touchy feely, and it's more tempting to focus on data, strategy, and finances (you know, "business stuff").  But a strong team is hugely important for success . . . and its impact is palpable, even if it can't always be quantified or measured.

So I'm going to dedicate myself to having clarifying conversations about our identity and direction.  I'm going to look for opportunities to specifically and authentically praise people for what they are doing as champions of our school.  I'll tell the truth and be vulnerable.  And I'll make sure I spend time telling people what I love about this place--not just what needs to be fixed.

The Giants aren't going to win the World Series every year, and we aren't going to wear jeans every day.  

But that doesn't mean it can't feel like it.

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What "jeans day" experiences have built organizational health in your experience?  When do you relish being part of something special?  

True Power

I have an addiction.

I love attending conferences and other professional development events.  Always have.  Always will.  

For the past 3 days, I traveled with the administrative leadership team from Holland Christian to a symposium in Atlanta put on by CESA, the Council for Educational Standards and Accountability.  This group began with a collection of Christian schools seeking to raise the bar for what it means to be excellent in regard to academics, governance, and community.

One of the keynote speakers we heard was Andy Crouch, editor of Christianity Today, and author of the recent book Playing God: Redeeming the Gift of Power.  During his talk, Crouch painted a fresh, beautiful picture of what true leadership can and should be.  

We all know the famous quote by Lord Acton, “Power tends to corrupt, but absolute power corrupts absolutely.”  That idea often colors our perceptions of people with power—be they politicians, CEO’s, or in my case school administrators.

But Crouch put forth a view of leadership from a totally different perspective.  He noted that in reality, more authority is actually a call to deeper sacrifice . . . and that true power is really about creating, not controlling.  It longs for abundance, not limitations.

True power wants teeming and flourishing.  And even when the results of this creative energy are unpredictable, they will be beautiful.  Crouch used the example of a murmuration of starlings to illustrate the kind of teeming and flourishing he was talking about.  Check out this video to see what he meant.

I think about how fulfilling it is as a leader to see the people you guide flourishing in their roles.  It strengthens organizational culture, boosts morale, and inspires excellence.  I want to do everything I can to have the halls of our campuses teeming with people—teachers and students—who can’t wait to fulfill their creative calling.

Each evening at the symposium, the principals and I stayed up late, talking through our ideas and sharing visions for the future.  That’s such an energizing time for the team and one of the best parts of being away together.  We have a great group of leaders at the helm of Holland Christian—from administration to our Board of Trustees—and I’m excited to step into the future with these people.

I love me some conferences.

But even more, I love coming back, rolling up our sleeves and getting to the work of greatness.  

Bring on tomorrow!

A Thing of Beauty

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever." - John Keats

Today I spent some time walking around our high school campus, popping in on different classes and teachers to see how things were going.  As I made my way back to my office, I heard yelling from one particular room, and it got louder and louder as I neared the door.  Curiosity got the best of me, and I just had to know what this was all about.

As I stepped in, I was greeted by the booming voice of Mr. Koeman and the wide-eyed stares of his seniors.  The class is studying C. S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, and Mr. Koeman was explaining the message behind letter number 21 -- a particularly poignant one for teenagers.

It was a thing of beauty.

Have you ever watched someone in action--maybe an athlete, or a mother, or a counselor--and thought, This person is doing exactly what they were created to do?  That's how I felt today watching Kevin.

And as the goosebumps rose up on my arms and my eyes started to water, I realized it was because something dawned on me.  This is the kind of teaching, the kind of mentoring, that my own kids are receiving every day, and it's what they have to look forward to for many years ahead.

What a gift.

Here is a teacher so clearly opening up the minds and hearts of his students and climbing inside to shape their view of the world, their choices, and their self worth.  It's exactly the kind of thing my wife and I pray for our own kids, and I wish the parents of every one of the students in that senior English class could have been there.

Your children are precious.
Your children are loved.
Your children matter to us.

Teaching is insanely difficult.  It demands passion and self-discipline and sacrifice and continuous improvement and love like an ocean.  But when it's done well, it's so special that it makes you want to cry . . . like it did me today.

I can't believe that I get to work at a school like this and watch amazing transformations happen in the lives of our young people, and I hope this small snapshot encourages and inspires the parents who entrust their children to us.

Parents and educators: your sacrifices are worth it.

Today, I saw a thing of beauty.  How about you?

What if . . .

This quote greets people in the "Main Street" area of Holland Christian High School.  It's one of several inscriptions on the walls of this gathering area . . . words meant to inspire, to challenge, and to push people to think.

As a superintendent, it's my job to think about the future of our school.

A lot.

I need to ask the right questions--much more than I need to have the right answers--and one of my favorite questions is, "What if?"  That question is an invitation to throw off the shackles of that's-how-we've-always-done-it and instead dream about what could be.  It's a call to step out on limbs.  To shape the future.

The right questions apply to many organizations, but they also need to be realistic for the context of the resources and values of your particular school.  Lately, a few iterations of the what if question have been running through my head:

What if we commit to assemble a faculty roster of the very best teachers?

What if we reject the notion that teaching needs to be a financial sacrifice and instead compensate our faculty in a way that reflects the professionalism we will expect from them?

What if every one of our employees, regardless of role in the organization improved her or his skills and added to her or his toolbox every year?

What if our teachers regularly observed their peers, both to learn and also offer helpful advice?

What if our school was more welcoming and accessible for new families?

What if, as leaders, we commit to having the tough conversations that are needed so our faculty and staff don't wonder whether or not they are making the grade?

What if we use praise and storytelling to propel our notions of model teachers, model students, and even model parents who embody the mission and vision of our school?

The first 14 years of the 21st century have taught us that innovation is not only welcome, but required if education is going to be effective for our students.  It's necessary for us to challenge the status quo and imagine a whole new playing field for our game.

What if . . .

Words that spur us to change.

What if . . .

Words that release the dreamer in us.

What are your what if's?

Starting the Year with a Bang . . . Literally

During my previous years as an administrator, spent in California, we always knew how to prepare for earthquakes.  We drilled regularly and had action plans that would kick in if a quake occurred.

But I never thought about what to do if one of your school buildings gets struck by lightning.

Until yesterday, that is.

During a torrential downpour on day two of the school year, a flash of lightning struck the roof of our middle school building, setting the frame a' smolderin' as only 1.21 gigawatts can do and prompting an evacuation of the 7th and 8th graders to the high school campus.  Everyone was unharmed, and within about 45 minutes, the fire department declared that it was safe for us to re-enter the building and hold classes there today.

You could say, we started our year with a bang . . . literally.  

I'm happy that our middle school principal and faculty acted quickly and decisively in this event.  I'm happy that we were able to get the students out of the building in less than two minutes.  And I'm happy that no people or property were hurt.

But there were far bigger bangs to start the year for our students and their families.

On the first full day of high school classes, freshmen were greeted by encouraging post-it notes on their lockers, placed there by caring seniors . . . for no other reason than because they wanted welcome and encourage them.  BANG!

One of our Kindergarten teachers declared powerfully on parent night, "There will be no surprises for you at conferences this year.  I care about your child too much not be in regular communication with you."  BANG!

Minutes after the lightning strike, we had unprompted phone calls from school-supporting roofing and construction companies wanting to know if we needed anything or if they should send people over.  BANG!

Teachers assigned playground partners for new kids, so that no one would be left out during recess.  As a result, one new student ran into her parents' arms after school and proclaimed, "I had the best day!  I want to go to this school forever!"  BANG!

None of those items will make the local news tonight or be talked about on the radio tomorrow morning.  But they are exactly the kinds of experiences that define Holland Christian Schools.  It's a true privilege to work with people who care so deeply about our children, and I have no doubt that the year ahead holds many more explosions of joy for our community.

. . . But, please, no more lightning.