

I found the incredible disconnect between the school I want,
the schools I read about on twitter and blogs, and the school I’m in each day
to be…overwhelming.
I didn’t get to go to school to talk about flipped
classrooms or purchasing Ipads or any of the other cool, important, or
interesting topics we’re discussing on twitter. Last year, I went to school
everyday to fight. Too often, I found myself physically between students breaking up altercations, but mostly I fought for the hearts and minds of our
teachers, parents, and students.
My teachers want to believe that our school could be a great
school, but none have ever had the opportunity to work in a school that actually
works for students or adults, so could our school really be one that works? I
fought to maintain and hold the hope my teachers have that our school could be
better.
Too many of our students’ parents had incredibly negative
experiences in their own schooling and the result is they view school as a
necessary evil. I fought to frame education as a means to a stable job in this
changing economy, and I fought to make our school a place where parents could
trust that we have their children’s best interests at heart.
I fought for our students also. So many of our students view
school and horrific boredom as synonyms. Some want a diploma and some don’t
know want they want. Most of our students come from difficult and
dangerous neighborhoods and worry far more about getting to and from school
safely than getting any homework done.
I fought physically, emotionally, and mentally. I fought in
every way a person can fight, and in the end, most, but not all, of my efforts failed.
I failed in large part, because it was “I” and not “We” and because telling
people we can be different and leading and modeling our efforts to be different
are not one and the same.
The new school year starts tomorrow and I’m committed to
learning how to be the principal my teachers, parents and students deserve and need.
This summer I stepped back from the chaos and thought about the school we can
build. I reflected upon what I’ve learned in this amazing blogosphere and tried
to frame it in the context of my own experiences in city schools.
Here’s what I know for sure: A good school is based on a
foundation of care.

Instructionally, we’ll focus on the start, the end, and the
transition points in the lesson. While we ultimately want to offer a curriculum
where we empower students as learners, we still have to start framing
instructional practices at the beginning to get to our destination.
Truth be told, every aspect of Design Lab Early College High
School needs to be improved. But it isn’t going to happen all at once. I’m
putting aside the posts about BYOD, and flipped classrooms, and Ipads. My
sixteen month old is somewhere between minutes and weeks away from walking, and
I don’t expect him to run before he walks. I need to practice the same patience
with my school. So we’re starting at the beginning, with care and the
foundations of good instructional practices.
I hope I have the courage this year to share our progress
along the way. When Design Lab is a school we would all send our children to, I
think it’s important to have documented the long journey to get there. If you
have any resources for framing discussions and learning around care in schools,
please send them my way. In the meantime, I think I’m ready to try out my jump
rope skills. See you at the double dutch game.
CC Images:
Writing samples: Parker 75 by churl on September 22, 2006
Double Dutch by photobunny on May 17, 2008
Concrete for foundation poured, and roof choice for LEED house in Houston by quotlman on March 17, 2011