Too many exclamation points.

The last two blog titles (OK, like Mike Smith of The Principal's Page Blog, I misuse the term. A blog is the whole thing; this is a "post," or an "entry." I don't care. I'm calling this a blog). My last two blog titles end with exclamation points. I don't like to think of myself as that excitable of a guy.

Positive, OK. But, I always cringe when I see extraneous exclamation points in others' writing. Exclamation points belong at the end of sentences like, "Ouch!"

Multiple exclamation points don't belong anywhere!!! (I don't think I ever did that before. Alright, it was kind of fun. Fun!!! Huh?!? Holy punctuation, Batman!!!!)

So in the future I will try to control myself, and limit exclamation points to true exclamations.

I have found, that as we adjust to our lives in Morocco, each member of our family is more apt to "exclaim" than we were before. It is simply the nature of things here.

Maybe that explains it.

(!)

Too busy to blog!

What an excellent school I have found. What a vibrant city. What engaging colleagues. What polite students. Life is good.

Busy, but good. Challenging, but good. Noisy, but good. Frustrating, sometimes, but good.

The thing is, with scrambling to put our family's life together here in Morocco, navigating a vertical learning curve on both a personal and professional front (not around broad philosophical questions, or around my understanding of "how to be an effective instructional leader," but around things like, "where do I get a three-hole punch--oh, we don't use three holes, we use four with A4 paper...so then, how do I make a photocopy...I can't until the photocopier technician gets back from vacation?"...etc.), and with working hard to get teachers and students off to a good start this school year, I notice I have not posted to my blog in over a month.

I'm sure all my readers are sorely disappointed.

Just as my (analog) real-time, real-stuff, real life is in disarray, so is my digital life. I have a daily electronic newsletter for my teachers (which I am tentatively titling "Patrick's Ponderings" for lack of a better idea), an Ed-line page, a long-neglected personal website, a Facebook page, this blogspot, at least three active e-mail accounts beside the one at school, and still-active accounts associated with my Reedsport principalship.

And probably some other things I can't remember right now.

Please be patient as I unpack my boxes. My real cardboard boxes, of books, clothes, toys, and bizarre things that I have no idea why we packed, and, my virtual boxes of digital life, all over cyberspace.

Please remind ME to be patient as I unpack my boxes.

I'm sure it will all be sorted out soon.

Or, maybe not.

So I will really need to learn French and Arabic!

At this writing I have completed my first week in Morocco. I had heard Casablanca described as a city of contrasts, and indeed I have found that to be true. I have experienced a week of contrasts, a week of ups and downs. I have had a week of exhilarations and depressions in rapid succession. I have had a week of challenges, and a week of challenges met.

One moment, I found myself stranded without a working cell phone, alone, and apparently unable to communicate simple ideas. Three successive taxicab drivers shook their heads sadly and motored away, unable to understand or unwilling to take me to my desired destination. I was frustrated, hot, and breathing acrid diesel fumes. That was a down.

Another moment on the same day, I found myself sitting and enjoying a cold beverage, delicious food and intelligent, stimulating conversation with new colleagues at a comfortable outdoor table in a funky, interesting club. That was an up.

It has been like that.

On the whole, I can see that I've landed in a great spot. Wonderful people, a fascinating city and culture, a top-notch school and the promise of rewarding professional challenge converge to elicit excitement and positive anticipation of the upcoming months and years.

Caveat: the challenges of living abroad, in what is in many ways a developing nation, are certainly present. And, you know, that adds to the excitement and anticipation as well.

It is what we were looking for.

Morocco: I'm lovin' it.  I hope.

Development section

I taught International Baccalaureate Music (theory and history) during my time at International School Manila; one of the topics we spent time on was sonata-allegro form. In a nutshell, classical composers adhered to a general roadmap for the first movement of a symphony: an exposition, where musical elements and ideas are introduced, a development section, where the ideas are explored, modulated and exploited, and a recapitulation, where the original ideas return transformed--in a new key.

A thought occurred to me the other day while driving a long stretch up Highway 101, listening to a public radio station playing classical music. That feeling of unrest, that lack of a "home key," that feeling of many ideas and elements interweaving kaleidoscopically, moving toward but not yet achieving stability--our family has moved into the development section of our symphony.

Which means, if we extend that analogy, all we have to do is hang on, enjoy the nuances of the music, and in time stability will return.

We can do that. And we will look forward to the next movement.

If a tree falls in the forest?

I still keep a journal. I don't write in it all that often, but the way I approach it is that I just sit down and begin typing (or, writing in longhand, because I keep a leather-bound volume, and also a Word file in an expression of perpetual analog/digital indecision). I use a free-write / quick-write / "Artist's Way" / stream-of-consciousness technique. That is, I just keep my fingers moving, or the pen, in the analog case, and whatever comes out is what comes out.

What comes out is not great writing, but it is often cathartic, or stress-relieving. It helps me process. It is not intended for an audience; the process is the product.

I approach this blog a little differently. I spend slightly more time composing my thoughts, and I pause occasionally to gather them. I try to write cogently and with some semblance of organization and purpose. It is intended for an audience.

That would be you.

Here's the thing: I don't think anyone is reading my blog. (Of course, if you (audience) ARE reading this, I am wrong about that). (And, if you are my English-teacher wife, I am in trouble for...nesting parentheses (I love you, dear)).

Which brings me to my topic: If a blogger blogs in cyberspace, and there is no one there to perceive it, does it make a sound? That is, is it valid, as a communication? As an expression?

Because, did I mention, I don't think anyone is reading my blog.

I have an answer to that: it's OK with me if you don't read my blog. It is serving a purpose in my life of expressing written thought to an IMAGINED audience, and that is good enough.

Now, if a man speaks in the forest, and his wife is not there to hear him, is he still wrong?

Call me coach!

Though I insist on "Patrick" from adults, a lot of folks call me "Mr. Gross," anyway. Certainly we are in the habit as professionals of referring to each other with those formal titles in the third person, and also in the second person when in front of students.

And, it made me uncomfortable at first, but a lot of folks (adults) at school call me "Boss," affectionately. I guess I'm used to that now, and it's OK, because, well, I am the boss.

I was about 24 when I first started teaching high school , and I looked young. Some of the students looked older than me, in fact. Even after I grew the beard.

It was a Catholic school with a long, strong, and proud tradition of excellence in athletics. I was the band director. In fact, I founded the marching band at the school. I know I earned the respect of my band students quickly, but I know a few of the seniors had a hard time calling me "Mr. Gross." First, I guess it just sounded wrong to them. (We don't get to choose our surnames. While Gross means "large," or "great" in German, in English it doesn't sound quite as complimentary). Second, as I said, I didn't seem much older than them. I remember the day my bass player raised his hand to get my attention. He didn't want to call me "Mr. Gross." He knew I would not accept my first name as an address from students (though, that was kind of hip in those days).

"Uh, hey, uh...(he found his word)...Coach?"

Like I said, it was a sports-oriented school.

That worked. It fit. It stuck. I was "coach" from then on. I was the band coach. I was happy to answer to "Coach," which I found respectful, descriptive, and complimentary. When I left that school to move on with my career, the kids gave me a wool stadium blanket that said "De La Salle Spartans" on one corner and "Coach" on the other. And I've proudly answered to the moniker ever since.

I'm not a coach of musicians anymore, at least not as my day job. Now, I'm a coach of teachers. A boss of teachers, a teacher of teachers, and a coach of teachers.

"Coach," to me, is even better than "teacher" not because of the athletic connotation but because it implies a personalized, encouraging approach. Good coaching is good teaching, and good teaching is often coaching.

"Boss," just means, "the person in charge." So, my job description says I'm a boss of teachers, and a coach of teachers. I'm OK with that. But I know which is more important.

Stop calling me "boss." Call me "coach!"

Packing

My new plan is to simply sneak away in the middle of the night.

In April, we shipped 25 boxes full of what we at that time thought we would need and want in Morocco, in August.  

Now, it's time for the rest of the stuff.  We have four family members so that will make 8 checked bags total.  (We need to buy some suitcases.  Big ones.)  I'm not really thinking about that yet.

No, it's the rest of it.  There are two categories for the non-suitcase bound items:

1)  Stuff that we will sell in a garage sale.

2)  Stuff that we will put into storage.

Those are the two categories, and we have assigned a room to each.  Fine, in theory.  Now, then, there is the basement.

Item:  two-inch thick file of receipts from 2004.  Maybe a few were tax deductions, I don't know.  Store it?  Trash it?  What about personal/financial information...better shred it.  That is a lot of shredding.  And, along with so many similar files, a lot of space in a storage unit.  I don't want to deal with it, I'll put it in this growing pile for "later."

Item:  My tassel from college graduation.  I'm too old to put it on my rear-view mirror.  Besides, it's pink.  That's what happens when your undergraduate major is music.  Save it.  Sentimental value.  Yeah, but it has mold on in from storing it in a box in the basement.  What if the mold spreads to other stuff?  Just throw it away.  Well, I'll think about it.  I'll put it in this growing pile for "later."

Item:  1000 piece puzzle, still in shrink wrap, a memorial skyline photo of the 1997 "handover" change of government in Hong Kong.  We were there for that.  (I used to have a tee shirt, too).  The puzzle is a limited edition of 10,000.  Smells a little musty.  Save it?  Finally take it out of the box and put it together?  Sell it on E-bay?  Who knows, maybe it is worth something.  Then again, I doubt it.

I think you get the idea.  There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of "items."  Each requires more thought than I want to give it.

After we are through, it will feel good.  A few nostalgic visits to times gone by, and a profound liberation (remember--it's...ONLY...stuff...); less stuff = good!

Still, maybe I'll just sneak away from it all in the middle of the night.

It's all good.

I am a "short-timer."  I am working very hard to leave well, and to be in two halves of the world at once.  I am working to prepare for a successful start to the school year in two places.  I think I am doing a pretty good job at it, really.

But, I can't help but notice--it is seeming more and more like I am not here.  Last week, my office  staff scheduled a meeting without consulting me.  I say things, and it seems just a little bit like folks aren't really paying attention, at least not as much as I'm used to. 

"Oh, that's just Patrick talking...yadayadayada.  He won't be here next year."

So no one has come right out and said that.  But, I can hear them thinking it.

And fair enough.  As we are making schedule and staffing and budget decisions--difficult decisions--I am fully present, and making them well (I hope).  I care, deeply, about this place and its future; about these people and their future.  But, at the same time I have this surreal sensation:  it is all academic.  It is all theoretical.  (For me.)  Notice I said, "their" future and not "our" future.  This is difficult for me, and it is an adjustment.  

My family's future is on another continent.  My modal conversation with people I see less then daily, goes something like, "So, are you getting all packed?...You must be excited.  What an adventure!...Of course, you guys have lived overseas before"...  (My predictable responses replace the ellipses.)

It is exciting.  We are getting all packed.  We are happy about where we are going, and what we believe (based on past experience) awaits us.  And, we are sad.  This is a good school, a good community, and a good home.  There is a grieving process, and our family is moving through the various stages of detachment/loss:  denial, anger (well, angst), bargaining, depression, acceptance. At the same time we are going through an anticipation, excitement, and preparation (elements of the "expat adjustment cycle" referenced by some HR professionals).  If you like to codify and classify things into predictable patterns and cycles.   See, I'm sure we are headed to a good school, a good community, and a good home.   

So in the end, "it's all good."  That doesn't mean it's easy.

Spot on

Every now and then I come across something in my reading, or for that matter my viewing of media, or for that matter my actual live, in-person interaction with other human beings, that is "spot on." Right on the money. Something that makes me think, "I wish I had said that."

I subscribe to a professional e-newsletter called "Crucial Skills;" and read a column by Kerry Patterson, one of the co-authors of a book that has been making the circuit in leadership circles, Crucial Conversations. It's very good. The book, that is.

But it is the column, Hidden Dangers, that resonated so well for me. Paterson spends the first half recounting dumb and dangerous things he did in his childhood. I could relate to a lot of them, but that part was not the point. He eventually works around to identifying a real, hidden danger that is deadly to our collective, societal health, which he labels, "assuming our own omniscience." (Perhaps he had been watching Rush Limbaugh, or Al Franken, or both). He goes on:

"Here’s how this ugly assumption works. People routinely talk about something as complicated as revamping the country’s massive healthcare system as if their view is remarkably simple, completely obvious, and held by all smart people. Of course, their opponents’ view is just plain stupid. So stupid in fact, that you can’t talk about it without rolling your eyes. This, of course, comes from people at both ends of the continuum."

It is this sometimes overt, and more often unspoken, but perceptible message, from political candidates, commentators, lobbyists, and anyone with an agenda at all, that devalues our collective wisdom. The truth is always complex, and there are always many sides to an issue. And, ultimately, "truth," and "right," and "fairness," and "prudence," require effort--sustained, collective effort--to attain.

Anyone who can't get that through their head just makes me want to roll my eyes.

(Thank you, Mr. Paterson, for giving eloquent voice to a feeling I have had since moving back to the U.S. seven years ago. Spot on.)

Alleluia!

Easter Sunday.

alleluia
exclamation
variant spelling of hallelujah .
ORIGIN Old English , via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek allēlouia (in the Septuagint), fromHebrew hallĕlūyāh ‘praise ye the Lord.’
hallelujah (also alleluia)
exclamation
God be praised (uttered in worship or as an expression of rejoicing) : He is risen! Alleluia!
noun
an utterance of the word “hallelujah” as an expression of worship or rejoicing.
• (usu. alleluia) a piece of music or church liturgy containing this : the Gospel comes after the Alleluia verse.
ORIGIN Old English , via ecclesiastical Latin alleluia from Greek allēlouia (in the Septuagint), or (from the 16th century) directly from Hebrew hallĕlūyāh ‘praise ye the Lord.’

Today is a good day for rejoicing!   My family is Catholic, and we find our faith a useful lens to view, and a clear channel to interface with, the mysteries that comprise the Greatness that surpasses us and our understanding.  

We are "big C" Catholic by fate, coincidence of birth, and choice.  More importantly, we are "small C" catholic by experience and choice.  Let me explain with a definition.

catholic 
adjective
1 (esp. of a person's tastes) including a wide variety of things; all-embracing. See note at universal .
2 ( Catholic) of the Roman Catholic faith.
• of or including all Christians.
• of or relating to the historic doctrine and practice of the Western Church.
noun ( Catholic)
a member of the Roman Catholic Church.

ORIGIN late Middle English (sense 2): from Old French catholique or late Latin catholicus, from Greek katholikos ‘universal,’ from kata ‘with respect to’ + holos ‘whole.’

I'm not one to proselytize, at all.  I ascribe to the veracity of the Hindu notion that there are many roads to the top of the mountain.  Meaning (2) of the definition above gives me some comfort, and paves much of my path.  But, meaning (1) is the greater comfort.  Universal.

What a universe!  What beauty.

In the Catholic tradition, today is Easter Sunday.  We spent the last forty days, the forty days of Lent, without uttering the word, "Alleluia."  But on Easter morning, the Alleluias ring and rise.  It is kind of like closing your eyes for a time, to prepare to open them and be dazzled by a beautiful sunrise.

I am allowing myself to be dazzled this morning by the breathtaking beauty of all Creation.  Whatever your tradition, whatever your lens--atheist, agnostic, or practitioner of any faith new or ancient, I hope you are doing the same.  Whatever your tradition, I hope you worship today.  That is, I hope you worship in the "catholic" (all-embracing) sense of acknowledging, in whatever way is meaningful to you, the beauty and greatness of...of that which is greater than you...of, all this...of, the universe...of, life, and love, and joy.

Alleluia, indeed.

The stuff of life

I was right.  With school in session, blogs are likely to happen only on weekends, if then.  Plus, I discovered a blog on principalspage.com that is spot on, dealing with topics I think about and am likely to blog about, and the guy is funnier than me.  And it goes back several years.  Not enough years, though:  where was this guy when I was a new principal?  I had to figure out stuff for myself.  His name is Michael Smith and he is a small town superintendent in Illinois.  His answer to the question, "Why blog?" was, it's 2009.  I concur.  Blog he will and blog I will.  I will, even if I am not prolific.  Even if I am not profound.  And even if I am not funny.

It's public knowledge on two continents that I am leaving a small, circa 600 student K-12 public school district in a small town on the south coast of Oregon, where I serve as the secondary school principal, for a similar position at a similar-sized K-12 private international school in a very large town on the north coast of Morocco, Africa.  All right, it is public knowledge in a very small part of each of those two continents.  It is big news in my family, if not elsewhere.

This week has been about transition.  About having one foot firmly in Reedsport, not dropping the ball, not letting loose of the reins, earning my keep...but at the same time preparing for my departure and preparing for a successful transition.  About having another foot testing the waters in Casablanca, getting the lay of the land, assessing the situation, forging connections...preparing for my arrival and preparing for a successful transition.

And about physical transition, for our stuff, if not for our selves.

FedEx is now entrusted with 25 boxes, each packed solid with the material objects that will be reunited with us in August in a yet unknown venue.  It is an interesting inventory of clothing, books, toys, games, and miscellanea that we classified as:  1) not furniture, or cutlery, or dining ware, or appliances--for all that will be provided in our furnished housing, 2) not so important to our daily lives that we need it between now and August, 3) not so absolutely important or precious that we can't risk losing or damaging it, 4) not so unimportant that we are going to get rid of it with this move, and, the kicker, 5) not anything that failed to fit in a maximum 18x18x24 inch box with a weight limit of around 50 lbs.

If anyone takes a close look at the inventory, they will wonder about us.  Book titles, equally divided between esoteric educational philosophy, practical leadership theory, theater history and pragmatics, young adult fiction and Dr. Seuss.  A lot of family games.  Random clothing, and an inordinate number of stuffed animals, many of whom have been put to work on the journey padding and holding other items firmly in place--like foam peanuts with personality.

For the rest of it, if it doesn't fit in our two suitcases each, in August...it is staying behind.  I guess we'll have to buy replacements.  That will include the gamut of electric and electronic items that will need to run on 220V instead of 110V.

As for what is left here, the things we love, including a lot of our furniture, and souvenirs from our last overseas adventure, will go into storage.  And, there is going to be one heck of a garage sale.

Folks are asking:  "Is it stressful?"  I guess it would be more so, if we hadn't done this before.  It does require thought, planning, effort, and a "one bite of the elephant at a time" kind of attitude.  But we know it will all work out fine.

In the end, the "stuff" part of a big move helps you remember what is important.  

It isn't stuff.

Huddle

Tomorrow morning at 7:20am I'll be huddled up with my faculty in the staff room at RHS.  We have evolved the tradition of starting each week with what we have decided for lack of a better analogy to call our "Monday Huddle."  While we take care of a lot of business with e-mail, there is something to be said for getting together and touching base once a week, if only to stay connected, person-to-person.

At 7:20 Monday mornings, blank stares are not uncommon.  That is to say, our afternoon faculty meetings are more lively.  Irrespective of that, I am looking forward to seeing my staff.  That means that this has been a perfect break:  I am rested, recharged, and ready to go back to work.

One of the things I have done while resting is explore what the last issue of Educational Leadership termed Web 2.0.  In fact, I have been on about it in this blog.  I have, this week, discovered Facebook in a new way, discovered Google Docs, discovered Blogger, (obviously), re-vamped my personal website, and, in short, have paddled a life raft at least halfway across the "digital divide."

I figure, next thing to do is start a blog for my faculty, for professional development.  We'll see how far I get with such things when I'm not on break.  Watch this space for updates, as they say.

In the meantime, I think we'll keep the huddle.

The Road to Morocco

Here are the original posts, as I am going to delete them from grolsons.com:

March 23:

The Umpqua Post ran the March 4 headline, “Gross off on the road to Morocco.” Jack Carrerow did a nice story and my picture was “above the fold.” I don’t imagine I will be front page news in Casablanca. Compare a population of around 4,000 with one of over 3,000,000.

Certainly, while we have enjoyed all that small-town coastal living has to offer, we are looking forward to getting back overseas and adventure--professional and personal. And, while I will be leaving a fine group of colleagues, and while I know I will miss them, I am very encouraged and excited looking at the credentials of my colleagues-to-be at CAS.

I’m taking a self-indulgent break in packing (18x18x24, 50 lb. maximum) boxes for an April shipment, doing taxes, and catching up on professional reading by plunging headlong into Web 2.0. While I was somewhat of a pioneer, using a website in my teaching as early as 1995, the whole digital world moved ahead of me while I wasn’t looking. But with this, my first “blog” entry, I’m making a comeback.

When we first moved overseas as newlyweds, Arlee “published” a series of letters, “Pat and Arlee go to Hong Kong,” to a group of friends. My idea here is to echo that, but electronically. I plan to share my personal and professional musings (they tend to overlap--a sign that I’m in the right profession), and our family’s experiences as we make this next trip overseas.

So this concludes my first entry, mostly an experiment to see how well this technology works (uploading from iWeb to my own domain). If it’s easy, there will be regular updates. Maybe one day, something either entertaining or profound will appear. Then again, maybe not.

March 24:  Web 2.0

I brought Ed-line to our district, and have been leading a “gentle” push toward full implementation. I am also the representative from our district who has attended each COSA law conference since 2005. Balancing the real need for students to participate in a collaborative media process--wisely, responsibly, and appropriately, while protecting the district from various sorts of liability associated with the digital, connected world, is and will remain a real challenge.

With a very competent staff, many of whom honed their skills in a pre-digital world, functioning nicely in an analog reality, with a financially strapped district working to update old technology, and with a student population largely without internet access at home, I have been floating in a little bit of digital backwater. Honestly, that is not all bad. A good tag-board poster presentation is a more valid educational experience than a bad powerpoint, any day.

But, we do live in the information age. It’s a fact. As educators, our charge is to teach, to teach what is relevant. Responsible use of cell phones. Prudent internet research, with the practiced ability to evaluate and “consider the source.” Literacy, and oracy, and the ability to exploit a variety of media to communicate.

All that is going to change, for Reedsport and for me. For different reasons. For Reedsport, the district is about to explode into the digital age. The foundation is laid. The bandwidth and the infrastructure are ready. The mandate, via a community study process led this fall by the superintendent, is established. And, via a charter school process, the means is within reach. Reedsport is going 2.0.

I’ll be sorry to miss it. On the other hand, I’m headed to an overseas international school, and my colleagues-to-be are already active in the digital world, published in print and virtually, blogging about implementing connected, digital classrooms. So, I am updating my own website. I have started a blog. I created a Facebook page, loaded up Skype onto my laptop, and am exploring the networking capacity of my Airport Extreme. I’m converting all by bills to online pay. Of course, it’s spring break. We’ll see how much time I have next week when I’m back at 14 hour days. Now, where is the off switch on this thing?

March 25:  More on digital literacy

Out loud, that sound like “moron digital literacy.” Fitting, as I try to make sense of my website, posting this iWeb creation to your-site, my web host for over a decade, via Fetch (a shareware FTP utility). Here’s the problem: managing the links, and deleting old files, and dealing with the much larger files (and automatically created support files, and folders), with very rusty skills and not a lot of spare time.

I’ll give myself a little credit. Turns out I was a Web 2.0 pioneer, long before anyone coined that term. I was creating dynamic content with a real audience in mind, writing html code, and even a little cgi, with a little knowledge and a lot of enthusiasm. I learned what worked by trial and error. I used Adobe Page Mill on Mac OS (well must have been 6, or 7). It was a lot of work. It was a hobby, like restoring old cars, or fly fishing. The process was the purpose.

What I should do is remove all that old content and start fresh. It’s old news. Travel pictures (uploaded from a Sony miniDV via a video capture card, with digital stills captured, scaled to a reasonable size/resolution compromise and rather inane captions placed in the created table cell below. Now we have Facebook and Flickr. I don’t suppose anyone looks at my family’s 2001 trip to Jordan, and if they do I don’t suppose they are too impressed. The “excuse” for all that work was “keeping our extended family abreast of our travels, between visits home.” Our families have seen all the pictures.

So, why am I so reluctant to just delete everything? Maybe I’ll work up to it. In the meantime, broken links and digital blind alleys multiply every time I upload an update.

Migration

I recently started a blog on my website, www.grolsons.com, and uploaded the result via Fetch; one of the four entries bragged about how I figured out I had been a Web 2.0 pioneer, in the 1990's without knowing what Web 2.0 was.  Now it turns out I am way behind, doing things in an old, outdated way.  Not as old as paper and pen, but certainly not "up to speed" in the new digital world.

So, now I have discovered blogger, and that seems to be a hipper, slicker, modder mode of blogging.  The interface seems very user-friendly and attractive.  

I'll try uploading this, and, if all goes well I will discontinue doing things the older, slower, more local way.  

Then, maybe I'll write a blog that actually says something.