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.