To my Novi students

Dear Novi students,

It's 9:00 AM on Wednesday morning. And it is snowing!

If you are willing, there is a life lesson to be learned today:

You can't count the snowflakes until they begin to fall.

I know that you are excited right now. You are hoping, praying, believing that tomorrow will be a snow day. A wonderful, glorious, exciting snow day!

But we don't know that yet. We won't know that for several hours. There is a chance that it will keep snowing. There is also a chance that it will stop.

We can't get to tomorrow until we know what is happening today.

Life is full of twists and turns. You will have many in your life. I have had many in my life. I would encourage you to look to the future but remember to be present for today.

You can plan, you can prepare, you can anticipate all you want. But you have to live today to get to tomorrow.

Many of my high school senior students can't wait to be done with high school. You already have next year planned out. You know where you will go to college. You know who your roommates will be. You know what your college major will be. You see the plan!

But plans can change. Unless you are present for today and tomorrow and the day after that you may miss great things in your final four months of high school. Heck, you might even get so caught up in tomorrow you forget to study and then you don't get that grade you needed and then you don't get into that college that you wanted to get into and then you don't get to room with your best friend and then . . . . 

I hope you get my point!

Today is a metaphor for the rest of your life. You can always look toward the future but you have to live for today!

You can't count the snowflakes until they begin to fall.

But for today  . . .

Here's hoping for snowy weather!

Dr. Matthews

Custodial care is a shaky justification for schools

When I think about why children should come to school, I need a good answer. John Merrow, a talented, passionate education journalist, recently pointed out the dilemma that haunts, frustrates, and seemingly bedevils those of us who care about public education. 

"Parents used to send kids to school because that's where the knowledge was.

They were also interested in socialization and custodial care.

That's all changed.

And it's not clear schools have responded as briskly as they should have.

Today knowledge is everywhere with the internet.

We have apps for socialization.

And custodial care is a shaky justification for schools. 

Educators need to find their way in this new world."

If it was ever true, schools can no longer can say that we have access to knowledge that students do not have.

If was ever true, schools can no longer say that the only place to socialize with other children is at school.

So why then should parents willingly send their children to our public schools? Why should children willingly and eagerly attend our public schools?

These are questions that those of us who believe in and care for public schools must answer - and answer well.

Here's are two answers.

We send children to our public schools because we believe what James Comer, the Maurice Falk Professor of Child Psychiatry at Yale University, said:

No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.

Public schools, the schools in our community with the students from our neighborhoods, create bonds that allow learning to take place. The time spent in classrooms allows students and teachers to build a community of trust and acceptance. Working side-by-side for days and weeks allows students to build friendships, learn to ask questions, take time to share wrong answers, fail, try again, and discover right answers.

Shawn Achor, a gifted writer on happiness, argues that our brains are designed to understand and connect to others. The real measure of students' knowledge is not what they know as individuals but what they can build with others in a classroom. The deeper our social connections the more our brains will function at a higher capacity.

So why should we believe in public schools? Because the power of the community that is built within the walls of the school can and will improve the ability of students to learn. The relationships that we build with and between students and teachers allows students to think more clearly, understand more deeply, and apply learning more concretely. 

School is also a place where I found adults - other than my family - who cared deeply for me. I knew my mother and father, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles cared deeply for me. But, outside of my family, did I matter?

I found that answer in school. Through the care and comfort and courage and challenge of Miss Harriger in 2nd grade, Miss Hixenbaugh in 4th grade, Mr. Robbins in 6th grade, Ms. Zellner in 7th grade, Coach Braig in high school, Ms. Ely in 10th grade, and many others, I found myself. A child who was not at home in school, who felt left out because of physical handicaps, who was painfully shy, found adults in school who not only taught me the curriculum but made me feel like it was important that I learn. In school I found adults who championed me. 

These adults did not forget me or humiliate me. These adults cared for who I was and helped me see whom I could become. 

So why should we believe in public schools? Because kind, generous, positive adults enable all children - the shy, forgotten, lonely children and the engaging, outgoing, confident children and all those children in between - to begin to believe that a bright future is possible. 

Mr. Merrow is right - custodial care is a shaky justification for schools.

My justification for schools is that the power of the school community of learners improves and deepens learning.

My justification for schools is that adults help students learn not only about the curriculum but about themselves and their potential.

Tempting fate!

The students in Novi are restless. This picture says it all.

That's the view out of my office. It's February. It's winter. It's Michigan. And there is no snow!

Every classroom that I visit, every student that I see asks me when we will have a snow day. They seem to think I have magical power!

I don't.

But my students NEED a snow day!

I tend to believe that they just WANT a snow day but maybe I a not seeing things from their perspective.

I am.

Snow days are magical because they are unexpected. Snow days interrupt the normal flow of life and present us with a wonderful surprise.

Who doesn't like surprises?

So in an effort to show my students that I care I am writing about the lack of snow. Surely this will cause those who control the weather to look down upon Novi and say, "Those students NEED a snow day!"

But it probably won't. As I said, I don't have magical powers!

You have to believe it to see it

It's the middle of winter. Skies are grey. Snow comes and goes. Walking outside is always an adventure. It's easy to get caught up and find one's self slogging through each day. The goal - get home, curl up, and wait for the next day to come.

I read a book recently that changed my perspective. Circus Mirandus is not a book on greatness or vision. It's definitely not a self-help book. It's not a book on leadership or motivation.

Technically, Circus Mirandus is a book written for students in grades 4-6. It's a book about Micah Tuttle and his grandfather Ephraim and a magical but real circus - Circus Mirandus.

The only way to see Circus Mirandus is to believe in it. The only way to find this wonderfully entertaining and magical place is to believe. Those that don't believe - well, it just isn't there.

As I read this book it made me think about what I believe in and, correspondingly, what I see. It also made me think of how I let what I see influence what I believe.

With one set of eyes I can see the world as difficult, challenging, hard. I can see that people will disappoint and annoy and bother me. When I let myself see with those eyes I begin to believe that the world is always like that and there is nothing that I can do to make it better.

But Circus Mirandus helped me remember that "you have to believe it to see it." When I start with what I believe then that is what I begin to see.

I believe that people are good. I believe that there is joy and happiness in the world. I believe that people can figure out solutions to problems. I believe that we can find ways to work together. I believe that people can and will improve. I believe that there is always a reason to smile.

When I remember what I believe, then I begin to see it.

That's not to say that I don't believe that there will be problems and challenges and heartache. I know that is part of the world that I live in.

But I believe that there are answers to questions and solutions to problems and ways to overcome our challenges. I believe heartache can be healed - it may take time and it may be hard but it can be done.

And because I believe that I can see it.

I would encourage you to find a copy of Circus Mirandus and read it.

Remember - you have to believe it to see it!

Slow Down, Trust Others

One month ago I had my hip replaced. I was thrilled!

It was, once again, an interesting experience. I've done it before - three other times in fact. 

I've heard it said that sometimes we go through the same experience until we learn the lesson that we need to learn. This is the 4th time I've had my hip replaced. Hopefully I've finally learned my lesson.

What's the lesson: 

Slow down, trust others. 

My professional life revolves around meeting expectations, managing chaos, ensuring success. Students. Parents. Staff. The Board of Education. Our community.  

Everyday there is something to worry about. 

Some profound:

• Will our students be engaged at school?
• Are we communicating effectively with parents?
• Are we preparing students with the skills they need to be successful?
• Are we helping staff find professional success?

Some more mundane but still important:

• Will the buses be on time?
• Do we serve food that students want to eat?
• Are classrooms clean?

Everyday there is something to worry about.

Until you can't or at least you shouldn't.

After my hip was replaced I could continue to worry about all that I typically worry about or I could worry about other important things. Like lifting my leg. Like figuring out how to walk with a walker. Like making sure I didn't bend over or cross my legs.

I couldn't put on my own socks. I couldn't tie my shoes. 

Instead of being the one who did things I had to adjust to letting others do for me. I could try and manage from a distance or I could rely on my team. I could worry and fret or I could have confidence in others. 

Slow down, trust others.

Some learn more slowly than others. I clearly fit into that category. My recovery has taught me that I am not responsible for the world, even my small world. I have a part to play. I need to play it well. But in the end I need to understand that to go fast I need to go slow. My recovery has taught me to slow down, trust others.

Why do we do this to students?

Recently, via twitter @stevenstrogatz, I stumbled across this tweet.

Intrigued, I went to the link and found a math dissertation. I typically don't read math dissertations - for obvious reasons. But I started reading the prologue. The first paragraph starts thusly:

Respected research math is dominated by men of a certain attitude. Even allowing for individual variation, there is still a tendency towards an oppressive atmosphere . . .

The second paragraph starts with this sentence:

I’m unwilling to pretend that all manner of ways of thinking are equally encouraged, or that there aren’t very real issues of lack of diversity.

Clearly this is a bright student. She is, after all, submitting her dissertation at Princeton University in the Department of Mathematics. Yet, in her prologue to her dissertation she voices emotions that those of us in education should find unacceptable. 

Schools, places where we send our children and where we welcome the children of our friends and neighbors, should not be "oppressive" or places where thinking differently is not encouraged.

As I read the prologue I began to wonder what the students in my school district would say about the classrooms in my district. Are my students welcomed? Are my students encouraged to think differently? Do we embrace diversity in people, in thought, in action?

Today I was in an elementary building and I visited five first grade classrooms. In each classroom a math lesson was in progress. In each classroom I saw teachers who encouraged students to explain their thinking, to discuss various approaches to solving problems, and to listen and learn from each other. 

I saw classrooms that made a positive difference.

Those of us who work in schools, who lead schools, who want they best for our children and every child, should take responsibility and ensure that we build the schools that we know our children need.

Recognizing excellence

Today was a big day at Novi Woods Elementary School. Today Novi Woods publicly celebrated their National Blue Ribbon Award. There are over 98,800 public schools in the United States. This year just over 300 were recognized as National Blue Ribbon Schools.

The National Blue Ribbon process is rigorous. The Michigan Department of Education nominated deserving schools. The schools then had to complete a lengthy application, highlighting a variety of criteria including information on class size and demographics and staff development and school improvement plans.

After months of keeping things quiet, today was the day to celebrate. Choirs sang. Classrooms were highlighted. Novi's Mayor brought his congratulatory message. Retired staff returned to join in the festivities. It was a fun morning!

But the best part of the day, for me, happened in Mr. Kenrick's second grade class during read-to-self time. There were people all over the building. People were coming and going, in and out of every classroom. Yet teachers - like Mr. Kenrick - continued to steal any moment they could to teach.

What makes a school a Blue Ribbon School?

It's the people. People make the school. The teachers, the cooks, the secretaries, the parapros, the principal, the students, the parents.

A National Blue Ribbon School is made up of people who are committed to ensuring that students learn and that students know they are cared for.

And that happens every day! It happens at Novi Woods. But it also happens in every other Novi school.

This picture symbolizes for me what goes on in Novi Woods and across our district every day. Students learn. Teachers teach. Students connect in powerful ways to caring and committed adults.

Novi Woods staff and students would agree - it is nice to be recognized. But what is even better is that students in Novi will be taught and cared for tomorrow and the next day and the day after that in equally powerful ways.

It happens at Novi Woods. But it also happens in every other Novi school as well. I have seen it. I have experienced it. It happens because we have great people in every building in our district. 

That's true excellence! That's being a Blue Ribbon School!