I’m going to risk making the assumption that each of you, at some point, has heard someone say, “if these walls could talk…” It has been my experience that folks say something like that when walking through historic buildings, old or abandoned houses, and in buildings where either tragedy or scandal has occurred. Yet, it occurs to me that the walls of our schools do indeed talk. In fact, I think they have much to say to anyone willing to listen.
Many years ago, I was given one of my most interesting and memorable tasks as a consultant. When I arrived at the school, I was met at the front door by the principal who held a digital camera in her hand. “School hasn’t begun just yet,” she said. “The children are still arriving, so I’d like you to take this (camera) and stroll about the building. Feel free to move in and out of any space, we are all used to visitors here. I’d like you to snap photos of anything that catches your attention, causes you to pause, puzzles or intrigues you, anything—positive or negative. Seriously, snap a photo of anything you value or question or wonder about. Then, around ten o’clock I’d like you to meet with me in my office. I want to download the photos on my computer and go through them with you. I want to hear what our school speaks to you, to know if we project what we proclaim.”
Seriously, this was my task for the first few hours of that day. It remains one of the most fascinating tasks I’ve been assigned as a consultant. No other administrator has ever asked this of me since.
I moved through the hallways thinking that I would walk through the entire building and get a feel for the place before snapping any photos. As I strolled, I was struck again and again by the presence of student art on display. It was presented as if I were in a museum. There were display cases for smaller pieces including three-dimensional works, as well as paintings and sketches on easels. In corners and stairwells, I found pedestals with larger pieces that could be viewed from all sides. Then, I came upon a large section of the wall covered in matte black fabric to create a display space in a hallway. Hanging in the center of the display was a famous print, of generous proportion, from an artist with historic renown. The print was tastefully matted, like something you’d hang in your home. There were smaller pieces done in a style similar to the featured masterwork. These smaller pieces were the works of students and it was clear that they were created by artists ranging from four to twelve years of age. The student works were not clustered by grade or age level and they shared the spotlight equally. Each piece of student work was presented as a serious work of art, matted in a manner similar to the masterwork. Placed carefully among the various student pieces were small placards with statements noting how the student artist had employed a technique learned from a study of the renowned artist being featured. A length of yarn was attached to each student piece and ran to some point in the masterwork drawing the viewer’s eye to the stated connection. In addition, there was a placard (about 10”x14”) listing out the standards these artists were working on as they studied the renowned artist and created these pieces.
All this was so carefully displayed to center children in the creation of art. There was a clear celebration of the genius of childhood, the exuberance of creativity, and the joy of producing the work.
This was in contrast to what I found when exploring the writing of children on display. As I strolled through the halls, pausing outside the classroom after classroom the most typical presentation of writing was a collection of stories neatly written and organized around a shared topic (The Worst Day Ever, The Best Surprise, I Was Never More Frightened). Each piece in a given collection shared a common opening line, a set of transition phrases, the same general organization, and an obvious lack of spelling or grammar “errors.”
What struck me most in this contrast is how differently we view and celebrate children when the product of their effort is something graded for the report card and “valued” by a score on a standardized test. I was soaring with joy when I encountered the child in each piece of art. No two pieces looked the same. There was no obvious effort to have them attempt to replicate the masterwork. Instead, the focus was on the technique of the artist—the use of color and line, and materials to execute an intention. Those attempts were celebrated as they were evidenced in each piece. And the celebration of those attempts was given a place of honor and respect alongside the masterwork.
By contrast it was not the child being celebrated in the writing displayed in the halls. Rather, it was the standard/conventional spellings, the standard/conventional use of punctuation, the adherence to the organizational frame and use of the prescribed transition phrases that were centered in their writing.
There were many other wonderful things those walls whispered, and chanted, and cheered about that morning. There was so much to celebrate in that school, but the best conversation was delving into an exploration of how we could center and celebrate the child in the writing work in a way that would parallel the pride and joy so obvious in the art.
“…if these walls could talk…” Well, friends, they do. Now the question is, “do they project what we proclaim?”
For most of my life, I have been a teacher, a coach, and a mentor supporting educators. Something is different now. There is a sense of urgency for us to rethink the idea of “school” and what it means to be a teacher, a principal, and a learner. Many educators have told me they felt lost. Even before the pandemic, several told me that they felt like they went down the wrong path and were living someone else’s story.
“The two most important days in life are the day you are born, and the day you discover the reason why.” Mark Twain
We have many different experiences throughout our lives that make us who we are today. You may not even realize the forces that affected you in your past and may still affect you today. My journey took me down different paths that made me who I am today. I wrote my book, Define Your WHY, about the process I went through to define my purpose and learned the importance of all of our stories. All of us have a backstory and stories connect us.
Your story is about YOU. Everyone has a story. You are YOU. You are unique. There is no one like you in the whole world. You know you better than anyone else. Even though you know you, you may not know some important things about you.
“The whole story is about you. You are the main character.”
Don Miguel Ruiz
Think of yourself as the main character in a book you may write one day. Even if you don’t want to write a book, you can learn from literary characters to help you define you. Any book you read has magic in it. Reading brings you into someone else’s world. Some books take you to places you never thought you could go. Your imagination takes you on the main character’s journey. There are ways you can connect to a character through their qualities or characteristics.
Look at the four qualities I came up with for the two main characters below:
Alice from Alice in Wonderland: curious, adventurous, brave, and kind.
Harold from Harold and the Purple Crayon: creative, imaginative, excited, and curious.
You may have come up with different qualities than I did for these main characters. That’s okay. When you read a book, it is personal for you. How you feel as you read any book is personal. Think about a book you read where you really connected with the main character. What are the qualities of the main character that stood out for you?
During the pandemic, I’m reading more. I’m reading biographies, non-fiction, educational books, children’s books, memories, and fiction.
Journalling is my way of keeping track of my challenges, my progress, and my characteristics. Family, friends, and colleagues have told me that I am Curious, Creative, Kind, and Silly. My parents used to tell me I was a curious soul and very silly. I love to write and design. I try to be kind. I wasn’t sure if these four are really me so I asked myself questions about them. These six questions stood out for me:
What do I do now to be curious?
Does my curiosity help me become more creative?
How do I keep myself focused on being creative and my writing?
Am I silly more than I am serious?
How can we encourage kindness in schools?
What can I do to spread kindness?
Think about four characteristics about you. Write those down. Ask yourself questions about your characteristics like I did to take them deeper. I mentioned before that some people felt that they were renting someone else’s story. Let’s make sure you share yours as the chief storyteller of YOU.
“You either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.” — Brené Brown
I went for years being afraid to share my story or tell what I believed. I always wanted to write but never thought I had a story to tell or that my story was worthy. At first, I wasn’t sure of my purpose. It took me some time to figure out that my purpose has always been about the stories. You may not want to write but I know you have a story. No matter who you are or what you do, when you get to know more about you, you will find that you are worth caring about and fighting for.
If you don’t want to write, read a book or watch a movie. Then talk about what you found out about the characters or the theme with others. If you are a teacher, encourage your students to share stories through their own story, their family’s story, or about a book they read.
We need our connections and stories now more than ever with people who care about us because we matter. You matter. Your story matters. The power of stories especially during these uncertain times connects us.
“What a year to become Superintendent!” I have heard that often since I took over as the Superintendent of Schools for the North Rockland Central School District. It is usually followed by a look of concern, or even pity on certain days when I look particularly haggard.
When I hear these words from an empathic educator or dedicated parent I want to put their minds at ease. These have been challenging times for us all. The pandemic has been long winded, and now, reflecting, it seems like a lifetime ago when COVID became real. For me, it was the night the NBA postponed their season and we all learned that Tom Hanks had contracted the virus. I’ll always remember where I was and what I was doing when that turn of events unfolded. On the other hand, I find some days it seems like it was just yesterday that life was normal, that I went out to dinner, attended a concert, or walked into a store maskless.
Time has played tricks on so many of us, adding to the surreal nature of the COVID-19 Pandemic. That being said I don’t want pity, this is a job I asked for, and even during a Pandemic I would not want any other job in the world.
In this role I have the opportunity to lead a wonderful, caring community. I have supportive bosses in the form of a Board of Education, who want nothing more than to provide students with the best opportunities available. I work with educators who have remained united and in many instances have carried students and a community through some of our darkest days.
It has been a struggle, I have had sleepless nights, I have lost my cool, I have faced obstacles that I never thought I would see in my career. The job of Superintendent is to lead. I consider it a great honor to lead students, staff, and caregivers through this challenge. I’ve learned when you go the extra mile, there’s never traffic.
Taking on a new role during a Global Pandemic comes with complications, it comes with decisions, it comes with anxieties. More importantly though, becoming a Superintendent in 2020 has afforded me the opportunity to learn, to grow, to lead during a time in history that my grandkids will be talking about, to discover things about myself and the type of leader that I want to be. These are lessons that may have taken years to learn during “normal” times.
I was appointed to lead the North Rockland Central School District in August of 2020. Our District is a diverse one consisting of approximately 8,000 students. Our community sits on the scenic Hudson River just over 35 miles north of Manhattan.
The District was formed 60 years ago when the towns of Stony Point and Haverstraw united to form the North Rockland Central School District. North Rockland has a proud history of success in athletics and academics but is best known for its tight-knit community, one that like most families, will quarrel at times but when the going gets tough we lift each other up. As my former boss and long time District Superintendent used to say “It’s not easy to face tough times but when you do, remember North Rockland is
behind you”
On the day I became the official Superintendent, I was struck with a range of emotions. I was proud, nervous, eager to learn, but above all I vowed to serve my community the best I could. My mission was now to meet the expectations of those who believed in me enough to appoint me to the position, the Board of Education. When August 1st arrived, I did not expect to be so melancholy. It was a summer Sunday, I was tooling around the Home Depot garden section (no pun intended), and I kept grabbing my phone to call my dad, letting him know that today was the day, I am officially a Superintendent! Each time I attempted to make the call, I was reminded that Frank Felicello was no longer around to call. He passed in April, early stages of the Pandemic, a time when you could not properly say goodbye to loved ones. In some ways it was a blessing, missing those final painful days of watching life slowly float from a man you knew was invincible. No arrangements to make, being spared the experience of numbly standing at the receiving line of grief, making awkward conversation, there was no need to create that final scrapbook of pictures that often seems inadequate in capturing a grand life.
Yes, in some ways missing those aching moments were a gift, but as many who have lost loved ones can attest, the lack of closure leaves scars that may not have run as deep had we been afforded the opportunity to properly grieve.
Driving back from Home Depot that day I contemplated these harsh realities. But upon arriving home, any seeds of doubt regarding my new position were erased. Sitting on the kitchen table was an edible arrangement from a co-worker who recognized, during their busy summer Sunday, it was my official first day as a Superintendent. At that moment I realized I was ready for this challenge, there was no place I would rather rise to it than in North Rockland!
Planning to Open
In the early stages of planning we didn’t know what we do now. We were unsure of the “rules” that we would be playing by. Educators across the State anxiously awaited direction from Governor Cuomo and when the COVID guidelines for reopening schools were released, many leaders felt there were too many questions and too few answers. In North Rockland we created a reopening committee that consisted of teachers, administrators, parents, Board of Education members, students, and support staff.
With so many areas to address, It became apparent if we hoped to successfully get students back to school we had our work cut out for us. Each District in New York State was required to create a reopening plan that addressed the following areas:
Instruction
Facilities
Health and Safety
Transportation
Technology
Communication
Social Emotional Supports
In order to accomplish this daunting task, it would be a team effort, we needed to join forces, divide and conquer. Each area was assigned a team complete with a leader and members to develop recommendations for their portion of our reopening undertaking.
In less than a month, together we succeeded in creating a comprehensive District wide reopening plan. The plan is a living document that has been updated and adjusted as we find the best ways to manage schools during the COVID era. A copy of North Rockland’s plan can be found linked here.
This stage of the 2020-21 school year served as my first lesson as Superintendent.
Collaboration is Key
The experience taught me that we really are better together. Honest debates and discussions both lead to better decisions. It’s ok to give up control and embrace the team dynamic. Most of all, sometimes it is more productive to listen rather than to speak, it is better to process before reacting. I don’t have all the answers, and no matter how well you’ve planned, you can’t always control the outcome.
Will We Actually Open?
With our projected first day of school fast approaching, there were numerous vital precautions to be put in place. Our Buildings and Grounds crew were working around the clock, seven days a week to replace air filters, a task that would have been for nought if not for a particularly resourceful mechanic. The State required a MERV (new term, I learned) 13 or higher filter and as expected every MERV filter rated 13 or higher was sold out or on backorder. So, instead our skilled mechanic designed an innovative way for each system here to utilize two MERV 8 filters per unit. Safely, putting us well past the required 13 rating.
This was only the tip of the iceberg of obstacles our team faced. Each seeming to make it even more impossible to open our schools.
None of the essentials we needed were available. We begged and borrowed to obtain N95 masks, touchless water fountains, COVID related signage, a notification system, temperature scanners and more. Bus routes were reconstructed to meet our new distanced reality. Collaborating with Union leadership we created a brand new instructional program. A program that had to work for our staff and students and involved determining how to keep all employees working while adding value to our organization and how to best make sense of a world that made little.
Our entire school community implored an all hands on deck philosophy in a valiant attempt to do what at the time seemed like an impossible task, reopening our District strongly, on time for the 2020-21 school year, during a Pandemic. Many scoffed and I was sent the chart below more than once as a hint that I may be asking our team to take on more than was responsible.
There was fear, even uncertainty, but from this intense time in my first year as Superintendent I gained a second valuable lesson:
Transparency is always best.
We carefully and thoroughly laid out our plan for staff and for parents. My team and I delivered several live presentations with public Q and A built into the sessions. (found here) Our mantra was consistent, whether it was a forum for teachers or parents – to be upfront, in a clear, truthful and timely manner.
That motto has served us well in North Rockland. A good relationship requires two constants, communication and trust. Keeping in sometimes daily communication with our community allowed us to build a connection. Surveying the community for their valuable feedback led to areas of our instructional program being reworked and enhanced. Never were we duplicitous with our staff or community. This approach has been appreciated and I firmly believe it helped us to successfully navigate the Coronavirus situation.
Making it to the Holiday Pause
All North Rockland school buildings were reopened for learners the second week of September 2020. Front loading our professional development days to the beginning of the year allowed us a few extra days to prepare our buildings and provide our teachers the much needed time to ready themselves to teach in this new world.
Parents were able choose the program they wanted, fully remote or a hybrid model which combined in person and remote learning. Our youngest students (K-3) would be in schools every day. District wide every student was provided with a quality device that ensured they had connectivity. As opening day dawned we held our breath hoping to successfully navigate this day and those that would follow. Our air quality was rigorously tested and approved, sealed Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) arrived and was distributed. We were prepared and we were ready.
The night before we opened our doors for students, I was restless with more than normal opening day jitters. This was it. I was proud to have worked with a group of individuals that had to come together to turn what seemed like an impossible task into a reality.
That was until the phone rang at 8:30 PM. I was informed that a teacher who was in a school building for professional development had tested positive. Thus began the process that became a normal weekend ritual. Conversations with my Director of Health Kathy, my Assistant Superintendent Anthony, and the principal of the affected school.
We made it through that first week and it was wonderful, it was a cause for celebration. The sentiment was, even if we had to close again for an extended period of time – we succeeded in meeting our students in person, and we were able to provide them with computers, materials, directions, and love; that cannot be duplicated through a computer screen.
During those early days, everytime my phone rang I held my breath. Would we need to close schools, would we be able to keep everyone safe, were we doing the right thing? Those early days solidified the third key lesson in my crash course in “Superintendent school.”
Never ask those you lead to do something you would not do yourself
Going to the schools that had a positive case immediately upon notification helped not only to manage the situation, but to quell the anxieties of students and staff. I saw it as my responsibility to be where the issues were, to be involved in the contact tracing process, to make those difficult phone calls, to do what I was asking my staff to do.
Practice only makes for improvement. As time went on we improved. Our protocols became tighter, notification process cleaner, precautions smarter. I started to actually think we may be able to keep this going the entire year!
Then Halloween came, the area’s numbers rose, and although our data showed that we were ultimately safe and not spreading the disease in the classrooms, quarantine requirements made it difficult to provide a consistent educational experience to our students.
At that point I decided it was in the best interest of our community to “Pause” and shift to a remote only option for the holiday season.
I was proud of what we accomplished and I felt in my heart it was the right decision. Still, I could not help but to feel a sense of defeat.
When I shared the decision that we would shift to a fully remote model from Thanksgiving through Martin Luther King day with our community I was able to highlight our successes, reinforce that our schools were safe, and explain our logic for the ‘Holiday Pause”
The charts below helped to illustrate for our community our experience with COVID-19 and both the logic and data points behind the Pause.
The fact that we had 9 cases prior to Halloween and 31 after shows how holiday gatherings may contribute to the spread of the virus. I did not want decisions that families made during the holiday season to serve as a wedge that divided our community.
On the Friday before the pause began, I was unexpectedly emotional watching the kids board their buses home for the next two months. During difficult moments a true leader draws on their confidence. I was confident when we came back we would build back better.
Hybrid 2.0
After quickly catching our breath our administrative team began preparing for our anticipated January return or what we referred to as the launch HYBRID 2.0 Instruction.
We searched for ways to reduce the need for quarantining staff members. We reduced the number of contacts each class had with adults. We had classes and teams shift to a remote model rather than closing entire schools.
Covering classes on a day to day basis with quarantines, symptomatic and sick staff members, became a near impossible task for our principals. They quickly adjusted and started having special area teachers stream into classrooms, with support staff supervising students from the hallway to avoid potential direct contacts.
The principals became experts; proficient in making quick decisions. My transportation director was able to reduce quarantines on buses by insisting drivers wear N95 masks. Using GPS technology she was also able to determine the duration of time each student was on the bus. The team was lifting each other up for the benefit of our kids!
Our Rockstar Director of Health was able to manage cases as if she had been doing so for her entire career. Her diligent work coupled with trending data supported the notion that our school was a safe environment. This allowed me to focus on other priority areas.
The skill, talent and creativity of the people I am fortunate enough to work with cemented the fourth valuable lesson I have learned this year.
The Best Leaders know when to Step Aside
I have been known to be somewhat of an octopus, having the innate need to have a hand on every decision and action. This unique time in the world forced me to realize that you cannot do everything alone, that you need to empower others, that it is ok to step aside at times. I have realized that some days less of me is more.
Be less reactive
Take transgressions less personally
Listen more
Talk less
Observe more
Contemplate
Empower
Be Kind
It has been a whirlwind of a year. This year has truly been a crash course in what it means to lead during a crisis. I’m so grateful to have learned so much while navigating this ever changing environment. I have more growing to do, more to master, and more pandemic management skills to refine. To date I think the greatest lesson I have learned in my role is that no matter what obstacle you face, a positive outlook increases your chances for success and always makes you a better leader!
Exceptional writing teachers have taught me valuable lessons about how writers find ideas. Over time, writing has become a space for me to wrestle with my thinking, and I’ve accepted that when I finalize a blog or book, or essay, that piece of writing is only as good as my current understanding of the topic is. It is imperfect, but that’s what makes it worthwhile. It’s an invitation to continue grappling with an idea. It’s in this space that I commune with the philosophy that defines my classroom. I write to discover things about teaching young people. Many times while writing into ideas about engaging readers and writers, I’ve forged new thinking. Generally speaking, I’m always excited to sit down with my notebook and a cup of coffee and just write. Beautiful things lurk at the edges of writing. I’m always amazed at the possibility of discovery.
It was in this spirit that I sat down to craft this blog post. So many experiences from the past year were, in my opinion, noteworthy things to write about. Because of the pandemic, I shifted from physical to digital notebooks. During hybrid and remote teaching, I learned a great deal about engaging readers and writers, even from a distance. I found the intersection of poetry and writing to be a meaningful place to explore ideas. And so did many students. But each time I sat down to craft any one of these ideas, I found my writing leaning elsewhere. Instead of writing about strategy and engagement in literacy, the ideas tilted toward my current teaching context.
You see, this current year has been one of the hardest of my career. Not just because of the pandemic— although it has definitely contributed— but because of the continued, intensive push to standardize. Instead of decreasing, conversations about standardization have actually increased. During lesson planning periods, I’ve been asked repeatedly what standards I’m tying my lesson to and to explain the exact procedural plan for the lesson. Trying to argue that many standards are embedded in authentic reading and writing practices is futile. Explaining that identifying specific procedures for a plan is difficult when planning without students is a challenge, especially when traditional ideals plague any sort of PLC. I’m not against standards or having a specific lesson plan, but across time, I’ve learned that rigid alliances between classroom activities and standards and allegiance to a specific lesson plan suffocate opportunities for creativity. The expectation with lesson planning, it seems, is that every activity and assessment will be planned prior to walking into a room of students. Essential questions have to echo the swollen lexicon of the standards. I much prefer to ask engaging questions, but they have been critiqued by administrators who prefer cold, antiseptic questions instead of ones that genuinely excite inquiry. The language we use in our lessons or in essential questions may be academic, but, if it lacks relevance, it’s useless. And if our procedures don’t allow us to follow our students’ inquiries, what good is the lesson?
The disturbing contradiction I’ve witnessed reveals itself in actions. Lip service is paid to giving students space and time to complete tasks and receive extra practice in a skill area, but allegiances to pacing guides and year-long plans tell another story. Emphasis is placed on completing tasks quickly and moving on to another assignment. Recently, an instructional coach with very little literacy background said, in reference to a skill, Oh, that’s easy to teach. I found an activity online students can use to learn that skill. Here it is. Let me know how it goes. It’s as if a quick online search will meet the needs of every student I teach. Why spend time listening to them talk about their reading and writing lives if an online search will do all of the work?
In early December, while revisiting an anticipation guide after a novel study, several students explained that they realized how complex ideas are. They realized that gray areas exist. I can’t quantify that or give that a grade. I can’t plot their conversation (and just to be clear, they were facilitating the conversation, not me) on a graph and track progress toward a goal. And who would want to? The conversation took a turn while they were discussing, and it veered away from the main topic at hand. Yes, the conversation was different, but it was still relevant. I didn’t herd them back into territory where the standards, essential question, and goals lived. I let their conversation roam freely. Because that’s what conversation does. It’s fluent and alive and it deepens as we move further and further into ideas. I couldn’t have found a template for a conversation like this online. And I wouldn’t want to.
Again and again, though, I’ve watched instructional support staff offer worksheets and activities that were the result of an internet search. I’m more interested in moving with the flow of conversation and helping students make sense of ideas they land on, not prescribing documents I find online. Instead of these worksheets, students could be working on independent passion projects, writing about a book they’ve read and loved, or working with a partner to generate more ideas for their writing notebooks. At the end of class, students could share beautiful lines from their writing or powerful lines from their independent reading on a class Padlet, with a partner, or with the whole class.
Honestly, PLCs have become places where I generate lessons that are difficult to use. The lessons aren’t inherently bad, but I’ve rarely seen a lesson plan proceed as written when it greets a group of students. Instead of trying to create plans independently of students, we could spend our time interrogating our curriculum and ourselves and finding ways to center BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) authors. Instead of centering standards and goals, we could discuss ways to center students and questions of humanity, too. This means decentering the system, and when we decenter it, lesson planning has room to breathe.
And so do we and our students.
Every time I consider lessons or activities, I have to make students the core of my work. I don’t consider their test scores or projected test scores or grades. I consider them— their stories and humanity. I consider what they need, how current events influence them, and how I can sensitively handle issues that bombard them. It takes courage to think this way, though, and honestly, I’m still learning what it means to be courageous in the classroom. But we all need courage to deconstruct those imaginary boundaries that have been placed around our classrooms. These boundaries tell us what is “effective” and “necessary.” But we can do better. I know I can.
Nothing I do is perfect. There are many days that lessons fail, that students are unmotivated, and that I am not at the top of my game. There are days when students refuse to write, can’t find the energy to read their independent reading books, or aren’t interested in something I’ve planned, certain that it will engage them. But there are also many days filled with deep reading and conversations. There are many days where students can’t wait to talk with me about a book they’ve read or want an air high-five (the COVID version of a high five) because they’ve read another book and last year they didn’t even read one! There are other days when students write poems or responses that make me cry or cheer along with them. These are the days I am overwhelmed with joy.
Last August, I started a doctorate in curriculum and instruction at UNC-Wilmington. Coursework has focused on curriculum studies and leadership, and since starting, I’ve learned a ton about what it means to think and to write into current iterations of curriculum. I’ve realized, yet again, that choices we are making in education are conscious choices, and while we know that they do not work, we continue to stand beside them.
I still dwell in hope, though.
I imagine an educational space where students write and read to find themselves, where they learn about their world and engage in the tough questions that have been part of the human experience for decades. I imagine a place where we attend PLCs to confront our biases and to engage in critical thought about what we teach and how we teach it. And we encourage change and refuse to shy away from conversations that are “too controversial.”
This is what I imagine.
As I move further into 2021, I want this flame of possibility to burn brighter. I want my reading life to move me to action and to encourage others to do the same. I know many are out there, and together, we are working for a better educational space. Sometimes I feel incredibly isolated, but I have to remember, as John Lennon said, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”
