Easy as Pie

The e-mail was simple enough: 

"Pardon the subject line, Brian. Our PTOs and PTAs from all the elementaries are doing a carnival next Friday, starting at 5:30. They are wondering if you would take a 20-minute shift and get pied in the face. Jane and I are doing the other 40 minutes. I can scare up another victim if you can't. Let us know when you can. Happy First Day. Kate (Retzel)" 

I stared at that e-mail because I wasn't sure how to respond. Truth be told, no one has ever asked me that question before. I sat with that e-mail for a while. 

As I thought about it more, I realized I wanted to do it. I double checked the Ricca Family Calendar, and it was clear. My response was concise: 

"Thank you for your patience - I'm in!" And as soon as I sent it, I thought, "What have I gotten myself into?" I've never had a pie in the face. Truth be told, I've never had anything thrown in my face. I'm usually pretty put-together, so this was going to push my boundaries. 

Friday arrives, and after school, I begin to wonder what this will look like. How messy is it going to get? Who will really want to pie the new guy? Will anyone even show up for this? 

The first few minutes were pretty slow, but then one kiddo got it going. No big deal. Then a couple more. Finally, there was some traction. At one point, three kiddos pied me at once! It was in my hair, in my ears, and in my nose...

With the help of Will Smith, when it was all said and done, I got cleaned up and headed home. I took a very long shower and reflected on my first pie-in-the-face experience. Pretty quickly, I realized, I would do it again. 

However, it didn't mean anything more to me until I sat down at lunch the following Monday with some of the elementary students. A handful came up to me, delighted that they had put a pie in my face. I showed their friends the pictures. Lots of smiles and tales of what they did to the new superintendent. 

Since I'm still new to SBRSD, I am here to learn and grow with our students, faculty, staff, families, and community. This is a very special place, I can already tell that. There's still so much I don't know that I'm curious about. I want to listen. I want to discover more. I want to be a part of the Southern Berkshire Regional School District. 

Even if it means taking a pie (or two) to the face. 

I Blew It!

Things were going great for my first drill week as an Interim Superintendent. No major snafus, no serious gaffes, no minor miscues. Then came the lockdown drill last Thursday. 

It started off strong. I learned how to dial the phone on my desk to make an "all-school" announcement. I had locked the doors to my office (more on that later) and was settling in as I presumed this would be an extended drill. 

A staff member was in the District Office when I made the announcement, and they ended up in my office space due to the drill. We were sitting quietly, listening to the activity of our law enforcement partners in the hallway as they jiggled multiple door handles. To my utter surprise, a few moments later, I saw one of our local police officers stick their head into my office - one of my own doors was unlocked! For the record, it was this door: 

I've never used that door - either coming in or out of my office. I presumed, incorrectly, that it was locked. OK, that was my first mistake of the drill... But wait, there's more!

After working their way through the building, our law enforcement team returned to my office and shared a script with me about what to say to end the drill. I took it, started to dial the all-call number, and stopped. What I was reading was confusing to me, so I expected it to be potentially confusing to others as well. I quickly reviewed it and edited it on the fly with our Safety Team. I made the announcement. But even when I hung up the phone, I knew I had goofed. 

My instructions were contrary to what we had reviewed with our Faculty and Staff during their safety training. Due to the scope of our drill, we had law enforcement partners from several jurisdictions in South County, and one of them does their lockdown drill slightly differently than we do in SBRSD. Fortunately, we held a debriefing session immediately afterward, inviting staff to share their experiences and insights. We will be asking all faculty and staff to reflect on these drills during meetings this week. That feedback will be shared with our District Safety Team and local first responders at our meeting this Wednesday. 

Yup, I blew it. But that's what it means to be human. Even superintendents make mistakes. 

When visiting classrooms, I often ask students what they think a superintendent does. Typically, I get some version of "You're the boss of the principals," or "You're in charge of all the schools," and my favorite is "You give us snow days!" I usually shrug off the first two and embrace the third!

For me, a superintendent's job is to ensure students feel safe, welcomed, and included when they come to school, so they can learn to the best of their ability. Learning involves mistakes, pretty much every time. I've yet to encounter a life lesson, let alone an academic one, that I get right every time. Certainly, the harder the lesson, the greater the chances of a mistake. However, this also increases the likelihood of a meaningful outcome. 

One thing I'm proud of is that I rarely make the same mistake twice. I'll make different mistakes. So the next time we have a lockdown drill, I'll be sure all my doors are locked and we will have carefully reviewed the ending. 

And I'm sure somewhere else this year, I'll trip up again. 

Image Courtesy of www.quotefancy.com

The Seven People You Meet in Sheffield

On Friday, August 29, I left my office to observe New Marlborough Central School's fire drill. As I started my drive, a light came on in my car, showing that my left rear tire needed air. It wasn't dire, and I knew there was a gas station I could go to on my way back. I didn't think anything of it. 

After the fire drill, I walked back to my car and saw I had a problem. The tire was nearly flat. I drove (slowly) back to the gas station and called a colleague who brought me back to the office so I could grab my computer and bag. I called AAA, and then my colleague kindly returned me to the gas station to wait for the tow truck. I settled into a park bench on Main Street in Sheffield, connected my computer's WiFi to my phone, and began to respond to the e-mail messages that had accumulated in my inbox since this situation arose. 

A little while later, I noticed a couple of young men whom I recognized as students. One was on a bike, the other was on a scooter. They passed by me a couple of times, then ultimately circled back and stopped by my bench. They recognized me and wanted to check in to see if everything was OK. I showed them my flat tire and explained that I was waiting for AAA to arrive. They checked in on me two more times before I left in the tow truck. 

Shortly after that, a woman was walking her dog. She noticed my lanyard and asked me if I was OK. We started chatting, and at one point, she tilted her head to the side and said, "You're the new superintendent, right? I saw your picture in the paper." It was starting to drizzle, so I left the bench and went to stand under an awning. This woman circled back to me in her car and shared that the library was open until seven, in case it started to rain harder. 

While standing there, three more staff members (one with her child) crossed my path. All offered help. They all checked in to see if I was okay. All asked if there was anything they could do to help. I felt so cared for by people whom I had just met. Literally a stranger, and six other people who had known me for less than five days. 

So, no, it's not as moving a story as The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom. And if you haven't read that book, I highly recommend that you do. But it is a story about what I believe makes all the difference: relationships. The work in education is about relationships. That's it. That's the list. Everything grows from there. 

I was humbled by the kindness of everyone who checked in on me. The offers of help. Suggestions of places to stay dry. And mostly, students stop to spend a part of their free time on a Friday afternoon with a guy they saw eating with them in the cafeteria. 

All because of a flat tire. 

The First Last

On Sunday, July 13, after a hard-fought win, our oldest son, Patrick Ricca, finished his last-ever AAU basketball game. It took place in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, at Spooky Nook. There was no fanfare, flowers, or pictures of parents at center court before the game started. He finished the weekend tournament averaging more than 13 points, 4.6 assists, just over 3 rebounds, and more than 3 forced turnovers per game. We walked out of the gym and returned to the hotel, where Patrick showered, while I packed. We loaded the car and headed back home. 

It was somewhere on the Jersey Turnpike that it hit me: this is the first last. Patrick is a rising senior. This is a year that will be filled with "lasts." The last high school fill-in-the-blank. We had our first of those already this summer: his last AAU basketball game. 

I'm unsure how we are in a place in our parenting where there's a last anything prior to college. You see, regardless of his age, this is often how I see Patrick in my heart and in my mind's eye: 

For the record, this is how he actually looks today: 

He's on the verge of realizing a dream he articulated more than five years ago: to play college basketball. The next several months will see us navigating the beginning of his senior year while attempting to finalize his college plans. It will undoubtedly be stressful, challenging, and nerve-wracking. 

It will also be full of lasts. And I don't want to miss one. The first one snuck up on me. I don't want any others to slip past the goalie. 

One of the greatest joys in my life is being this guy's Dad. And his brother's. Watching what comes next will be bittersweet, and I want to savor every moment in this coming year. 

Full of lasts, before his next transition. 

#ProudDad

Leadership Means Standing in the Storm

Over the past year, I’ve found myself in a deeply reflective moment—one that many educational leaders may quietly recognize, but few speak about openly. As a superintendent, I’ve learned that leadership often means standing in the storm—even when the skies are clear and the forecast suggests smooth sailing ahead.

In public education, we serve four key constituencies: first and foremost, our students. Then, the educators and staff who bring our schools to life. After that, the families and communities we serve. Finally, our official employers—school committees and municipal officials.

Balancing the needs of all four groups is no small feat. A student-centered decision may frustrate staff. A teacher-focused approach can leave families feeling unheard. Addressing the diverse needs of families is as complex as it sounds. And of course, elected officials bring their own goals and pressures to the table. This dynamic isn’t a flaw in the system—it’s the system itself. And it requires leadership rooted in clarity, humility, and resolve.

My time in East Greenwich was marked by real accomplishments. We improved educator compensation, prioritized long-term facilities planning, and consistently made decisions that kept students at the center of our work. I’m proud of these achievements. But leadership isn’t just about the decisions we make—it’s about how those decisions are experienced. Sometimes, the discomfort that comes with change isn’t a sign of failure—it’s a sign that something meaningful is happening.

Many of the tensions I encountered weren’t due to missteps, but rather the natural friction of transformation. Positive change creates discomfort by its very nature. It’s not a reason to retreat, but a signal to lean in and stay engaged.

Some of the most powerful moments of leadership don’t come from certainty, but from growth—especially when that growth happens in full view of the community. For me, leadership means embracing transparency—telling the truth, owning your part, and being open to feedback. It’s an approach I’ve carried with me throughout my career and one I continue to commit to.

As I reflect on this chapter, several key lessons stand out:

• Communication is ongoing—it must be consistent, reciprocal, and responsive to how it’s being received by all constituencies.
• Change is most successful when co-created, not just handed down from the top.
• Listening is a leader’s most underappreciated skill.

If you’ve ever led through complexity, this message is for you. Not every storm is of our own making. But leadership is ultimately defined by how we show up when the clouds gather. I remain deeply committed to public education, to building trust, and to a leadership grounded in honesty, integrity, and hope.

This isn’t the end of my journey—it’s a pivotal chapter. A chapter I’m learning and growing through, carrying with me into the next phase of my work.

I’m proud of what we accomplished together in East Greenwich, including:

• Voter approval of a $150 million school construction bond, the largest in district history, which will fund a new Frenchtown Elementary School, renovations at Hanaford Elementary, and major upgrades to East Greenwich High School.

• My role as co-chair of the School Building Committee, ensuring the bond process was transparent, fiscally responsible, and aligned with long-term educational goals.

• Celebrating East Greenwich High School’s five-star accountability rating and launching a district-wide facilities assessment to guide future investments.

These accomplishments reflect what’s possible when school leadership, educators, and the community collaborate with a shared vision. It’s the kind of work I hope to continue—in service to students and in partnership with those who believe in the transformative power of public education.

There will be more storms ahead. But you’ll find me standing strong, committed to working alongside all of my constituents to ensure that we all come out of the storm better than we went in.

Photo courtesy of Adobe Stock

 

There Will Be Tempered Air

On Thursday, February 20, the School Construction Committee met to make a recommendation about the Heating, Ventilation, and Air Conditioning (HVAC) systems for the new builds at Frenchtown and Hanaford. It was a very thoughtful and engaging conversation. Ultimately, the SCC recommended a hybrid approach, which will allow for the possibility of all-electric buildings someday, with gas-fired burners in place when the buildings open. 

Also, a big part of the conversation that night was an in-depth discussion of the tempered air that WILL be in place in the new buildings. The new buildings will have a condensing fan and a cooling coil to dehumidify the hot air. This means the temperature of the air leaving the HVAC system will be lower than the temperature of the air entering the system. This is a helpful diagram to better understand tempered air: 

This diagram shares the amount of spaces that will be fully air-conditioned (purple) and the areas that will have tempered air (green): 

The green spaces will feel cooler on those very hot days in late May and June, as well as August and September. They won't feel air-conditioned, but there will be a difference between the temperature of the air circulating in those green spaces. It will make those rooms more comfortable and manageable for teaching and learning. 

Thank you to our construction partners for helping us to bring this HVAC system recommendation to the School Construction Committee. This decision is an important step in our process. The work of the Master Plan will continue over the next several months, with the hope that we break ground on these projects in January of 2026. 

We Are Better Together

The Rhode Island League of Cities and Towns has sponsored events to discuss education funding this year. Municipal Leaders, Elected Officials (both Town and School), and School Leadership have been invited to attend. East Greenwich has been well represented at both. Patricia Sunderland, the Director of Finance, presented at the first one on November 15, 2024. Dr. Eugene Quinn, Vice Chair of our School Committee and the Chair of the Finance Subcommittee, was at both events as well, and while not presenting, engaged the speakers thoughtfully at both events. 

The early numbers from the Governor's Draft budget have been reviewed, and it looks daunting for us in East Greenwich. See below: 

This is a slide from the most recent education funding formula event on Friday, February 7. The funding circumstances in East Greenwich were featured in the presentation. We stand to lose more than $842,000 in state aid for next year, and while that feels like a lot of money (which it is), we are being propped up this year by a one-time poverty stabilization payment. In the state funding formula, if an education community's state share declines by more than 2% (which ours did - more on why below), and the calculated aid is less than the previous year (which it is), there is a safety valve. Please note: our poverty stabilization safety valve this year is more than $1 million. In essence, in the current funding formula, without the poverty stabilization, we would have been reduced more than we could have been allocated by the Town at the full 4%. 

Why is this happening in East Greenwich? I worked with Dr. Quinn to come up with a simple way to explain this situation. In short, the median income in EG rose 16.1%. The result: we have the highest ratio to the state median income (191.61%) of any community by far. As a point of comparison, Little Compton is the second highest at 166.86%. 

At the event on Friday, while searching for something appropriate to say, I was buoyed by the comments of Ralph Mollis, Town Manager of North Kingstown and former Secretary of State. Mr. Mollis pointed out that communities like East Greenwich are being hurt by the funding formula to help support other cities and towns in the state. While he agrees that much should be done to help struggling communities, it should not be at the expense of others. In his words, "This is a red flag." 

$842,240 is a substantial amount of money. We will not be able to recoup this by freezing our supply lines. We will not be able to recoup this by failing to fully fund our Facilities Budget, which we have done for the past two years, to my chagrin. We will not be able to recoup this in any simple way. It will take all of us. 

As the official liaisons from their respective public bodies, Caryn Corenthal and Dr. Quinn sat down with Town Manager Andrew Nota and me this week to begin this complicated conversation in advance of our Joint Meeting. With the reality that the Town allocated the full 4% last year and is publicly discussing ways to increase our overall Master Plan amount to meet the needs of our schools, they are demonstrating through their actions their partnership with the School Committee. The four of us have committed to meeting once a month throughout the budget process. 

There will be no finger-pointing. No accusations about what happened in budgets past. We will be better together. 

I invite you to participate actively in our budget process this year. We are working to preserve the conditions that produce the educational outcomes this community expects. We will need your help. 

The truth is, we are better together.