I❤️cORvallis!

The last couple of posts were about roundabouts.  Traffic circles.  Like the one at the intersection of West Hills and 53rd.  The only roundabout in Corvallis.  There was one at 10th and Grant, but it was demolished—years before our family arrived here.  I like roundabouts, having spent years of my life (a third of it in fact, I just did the math) overseas where roundabouts abound.  They are faster, safer, and more efficient, if you use them correctly.

But, I don’t really want to talk about physical roundabouts; I want to talk about the extended metaphor in my prior posts.  We’ve exited.  Perhaps we’ve even parked the car.  We are here in Corvallis, Oregon, and life is good.  Exceptionally good.

I’ve become a Realtor®️.  I’m at the best brokerage in town.  In the valley, if you ask me.  I love what I’m doing: leveraging my knowledge from personal transactions (and for over a year, now, from daily study and analysis), helping people buy and sell real estate as painlessly and profitably as possible.  I’m still an educator, and I love what I’m doing.  (I’m also directing a couple of music ensembles, and still supervising student teachers, on a part-time basis, for a university).  Arlee is writing, and involving herself in community theater.  Life is good.  Did I mention?

We did our research, and chose Corvallis intentionally.  We thought we would like it here, but, it just keeps getting better and better, as we dig in.  And I’m happier and healthier than I’ve been in years.  Turns out (Twain’s boiling frog) I was stressed out, and not even fully aware.  Now I’m choosing my own hours, and my own associations.  I’m in a business that focuses in large part on building and nurturing relationships (fun and rewarding).

So, thank God for the (metaphorical) roundabouts, and for the road finally taken (it made all the difference!)

Leaning In

I'm revisiting a draft post, that I never finished, from last March.  The whole summer passed since I wrote (but did not publish) this:

"Last May I posted a metaphor--our family was in a traffic circle, circling round and round, as we explored divergent paths.  Here we are, coming close to a year later, and still circling.  And, how many roads there seem to be, beckoning with divergent possibilities!  It's unsettling, and stressful, and exciting, and hopeless, and hopeful, and still dizzying."

So, in July, something finally happened:  we shot out of the traffic circle.  Into another traffic circle.  In Europe, roads are indeed set up that way sometimes.  So, still sort of circling again, but now in a different circle.

In July, we sold our Medford home, and moved to Corvallis.  We are in a wonderful neighborhood, and a wonderful house, the idea is it's our retirement house, our "forever" house (though, perhaps there is no such thing, with us...)  We love it.  We chose the community very intentionally:  we fell in love with Corvallis through regular visits to our son in college at Oregon State University.  We find that the ethos, the vibe, the norms, the "feel," and so forth, here...fit.  We are with our tribe.  As I'm found of saying, everyplace has its charms and its challenges, and everything is a trade-off.  So far the shine has not worn off, and the charms are, well, charming.  We like it here.

I still don't know what the future holds for me professionally.  I'm open to options.  I'm working on putting together a video blog, on the theme "Parents are Partners." I'm consulting with a communications agency.  I'm preparing articles for publication.  I'm still open to, and interviewing for, a variety of K-12 leadership posts, internationally (that would mean leaving our wonderful new home--at least me leaving it, perhaps the family staying back for awhile).  I'm looking at (and being looked at) for post-secondary teaching positions--both online and traditional.  I'm intrigued by looking at opportunities outside of education as well:  investing, and real estate (investing and sales).  I'm looking at teaching music, part-time,  and busking and gigging a bit, for fun (and nourishment of the soul).  So, yeah, in that sense, more roundabout.  And I guess that means the challenges are, well, challenging.

But, there's still plenty of gas in the car, and we're leaning into the curve.  So, for now, it's fun!

Waiting for my TARDIS

So I'm a Dr. Who fan.  Also Star Trek, all of the series from the original to the latest, and excited about the new one in production.  I think what appeals to me in both fictional and futuristic universes is the hope, and the celebration of humanity as a beautiful, wonderful, meaningful force for good.

I successfully defended my dissertation, and have completed all requirements for the Ed.D. in Interdisciplinary Leadership at Creighton University--with conferral scheduled at the end of this term, in August.  So, while it is not exactly what my dear mother had in mind when she said she wanted me to be a doctor (she expected an M.D.) for the whole of my childhood, well, I guess I'm a "doctor," at last.

I taught my wife to be my straight man for the schtick:

ME:  Yeah, so now I'm just waiting for them to send my TARDIS.
SHE:  Honey, I don't think you are THAT kind of a doctor.
ME:  Wait, what? (expression of shock and dismay)

Unfortunately most of our friends do not share our affinity for Dr. Who, and are merely puzzled by what I think is patently amusing.  It loses impact with explanation, "See, the doctor, he is just called the doctor, but is a time lord, and travels through time and space in a phone box that is bigger on the inside, and I'm acting like I thought all this time if I were a doctor that I too would get a TARDIS--that's what they call the device--and be able to travel through time and space, and go around making a difference..."

Well, as I think about it, I am traveling through time and space (though on a humbler trajectory), and I do aim to make a difference--and use my doctoral studies in the process.  And, I do maintain optimism and hope for humanity, and a belief in its intrinsic good.

I'm still waiting for them to send my TARDIS, though.

Moving Towards Normalcy

It's over a year since Richard, my father-in-law, died.  It was his terminal diagnosis last spring that seemed to start the roller coaster ride:  Arlee moving in with them to help care for him and her mother; me resigning from my principal job at Sacred Heart; my own mother's hospice and death; my mother-in-law's rapid decline deeper and deeper into dementia, and through three moves in care facility and many hospitalizations, then her hospice, and passing; handling the logistics of those estates, that is, bringing three lives to legal and logistical closure, with so many threads dangling; dealing with the gamut--those "seven stages of grief," they churn around--of emotions that Arlee, and my sons, and I experienced and are experiencing; our continuing to manage our lives and household and futures throughout, as life indeed goes on; my continued attempt to finish my doctoral dissertation, to look for a good fit job for next school year; and just for the heck of it teaching a couple of music classes to help out at St. Mary's the local independent Catholic high school.  That was a long, rambling, breathless sentence like it was a long, rambling, breathless year.

Now, things are settling down, shaking out.  I am realistically going to finish my dissertation and have it ready for defense this summer.  I have faith that whatever is right--whether that is a position that takes our family to a school elsewhere in the Pacific Northwest, overseas, or something that keeps us here locally--will work out, professionally, for the ensuing year.  We are coming to terms with our losses, and also, as Arlee has put it, our new roles and station (we were the children who "came home," and now the patriarch/matriarch "home" that is "come home" to...) in the circle of life.  We are looking for the "forever house" that will help us fill that role:  even if it ends up we move away for a bit, as has been our nomadic want, it we be there (temporarily rented out, perhaps) for us to return to and eventually retire to.  We are looking in Ashland, and suburbs of Portland and Seattle, for the right space and the right neighborhood and the right "tribe."

Life is far from settled, but that's OK.  I've described it as reaching not exactly a crossroads, or fork in the road, but as if we've entered a roundabout, or traffic circle, and are just circling in a holding pattern, considering the multiple paths.  Soon, but not quite yet, it will be time to take a turn.

We are back to doing "normal" things (as opposed to doing "whatever is next," limping along in "normal" life while doing "the next thing," in care of our parents).  In the last couple of weeks, we've been living our more "normal" lives.  We went to see a fantastic play, a production of Henry IV in a modern setting (kudos, OSF).  We have been to a couple of Ashland art walks, and an author talk, and a Disrupting Hate in Public Spaces workshop at the Medford Library.  I've done some re-engineering on our backyard deck, saving an oak tree from strangulation.  We've seen Eli march in a parade, playing his clarinet with the middle school band.  We've hiked in Prescott Park, and Lithia Park.  We've gone out to dinner and lunch and brunch a number of times.  I got a new used iPhone5 (the battery on my trusty 4 gave out after seven years).  We've watched some nice movies together on Netflix.  We sold our Reedsport home, a vestige of our time there, that had been rented once but had been sitting vacant for some time, and thus costing money and stress in upkeep, taxes and so forth; we sold it to a family that I believe will love it (it's a wonderful house) as we did.  OK, that's not such a "normal" event--it's not every day you buy or sell a home--but, a move towards "normalcy."  One less distraction, one less thing to worry about.  Never mind the capital loss (seems like "buy high, sell low," is not necessarily the wisest strategy).  We're getting there, yes?

Things are bound to return to "normal."  Whatever that is.  Because, I'm getting dizzy in this roundabout.

Onward.

Alzheimer's hurts!

This is a tough, tough year for our family.  Thank God we had the foresight to come back stateside a couple of years ago, to be with our aging parents and ease their transitions.  Thank God we had the resources and will for me to be able to take off work, to support, physically, emotionally, logistically, our parents in a time of need, this year.

Arlee's dad passed away in May, after a bout with cancer and a few weeks on hospice.  My own mom went on hospice, with a whole soup of health issues, on the same day.  She passed away last October, thankfully peacefully after her own set of struggles.

With Arlee and I both as only children, we have carried all aspects of those care transitions:  advising and managing hospice care, making final arrangements, and working to learn about and sort out the legal and financial details that accompany departing from this planet.  It turns out, if you have never done that, that these things can be quiet complex, and very time consuming, at the same time as being very emotional.

But the biggest, hardest piece of all this turned out to be caring for Arlee's mom, diagnosed with Alzheimer's and vascular dementia.  Arlee's father, before he got sick, had done an outstanding job, misguided though his approach was, at hiding the progression of his wife's disease from her, from us, from friends, neighbors and doctors.  We knew mom was a bit forgetful, but only when dad took to his sickbed did we learn she was forgetful of things like, what happened five minutes ago; did I eat breakfast this morning; which way is my bedroom again?

Arlee moved in with them in their home, some fifty miles from our own home, during her dad's illness, and for some time thereafter, but we concluded that an assisted living setup was going to be necessary for her mom.  Arlee had her own family to care for.  Staying there in her parent's home was not tenable, nor was the thought of moving her mom in with us at our house--the stairs were an obstacle, as was her literally constant demand for attention and reassurance.

We ended up moving her to a very nice, upscale assisted living facility about twenty minutes from our home.  It was really nice; upon touring it, my question was--when can I move in (the director said I would be old enough in about five years--I'm not quite sure how I feel about that).  Sadly, she did not take to the place.  We visited almost daily, but she would not remember our visits.  She called us scores of times (literally) each day, sometimes pleasant, more often fearful or angry or agitated.  Sometimes she wanted to be picked up from "this hotel."  Sometimes someone had stolen her money (it was in the locked drawer we would remind her).  Sometimes her husband had left her for another woman.  Sometimes we had stolen her driver's license (we were holding it for her, at her request), or her car (she had not driven in years).  Or someone had taken her ironing board (the facility did her laundry for her).  Or all her clothes (she had closets full of them).  We ached for her, and it smarted when she said cruel and hurtful things to and about us, as well, as paranoia is part of the disease.  We learned about the Thirty-Six Hour Day.  We tried to make happy interactions and activities, taking joy in a passing smile, a foot tapping to music, a piece placed in a jigsaw puzzle on the card table.  She had happy moments, but sad, anxious, angry, and frightened hours, and days, despite our and the staff's best efforts.  The worst was the hundreds of times she had to experience the grief anew, realizing her beloved husband of sixty-two years, was dead.  Had been dead for months, and she had forgotten that again.  "How could I forget that?" she would lament.

It became apparent by November that the staff at that facility, geared toward a different clientele, were not able to meet her needs; she moved at their impetus to an associated memory care facility.  The good news was it was only five minutes from our home, and the staff there were geared especially towards her specific kind of needs.  The bad news was she never took to the place, isolating herself in her room, grieving, eating less and less, and becoming weaker physically as well as cognitively.  She was in and out of the hospital, and towards the end did seem happier and more at peace in many ways, but was progressively less present with us--she recognized us less, forgot our names more, began to call Arlee by her long-deceased aunt's name (Lorraine saw herself as the little sister, being cared for by her big sis).  She entered hospice in late January, and left us for good on Groundhog Day.  That is, she died on Groundhog Day.  She had actually left us much earlier.

Bless the caregivers at these places, and the hospice workers--they were wonderful to her, and to us.  It did not make any of it easy at all, for any of us.

Now, we are sorting through our own grief and loss, some guilt, some self-pity, financial and legal affairs, estates, probate, and so forth.  It is complex and time consuming, and seems to involve interminable waiting on hold, endless recitation of social security numbers and birth dates, a few "catch-22s" and a lot of just plodding forward one step at a time.

We keep telling each other it will be over soon.  But, it won't.  In a way, the process, especially working through all the artifacts that make up a life, is a way of saying goodbye.  It is a reminder about what is really important in the end:  it's our relationships and the difference we make for and to one another.

Now, our Faith tells us our loved ones are in a better place, a better state.  Their suffering is over.  But nonetheless, it hurts.  Loss hurts.  Alzheimer's hurts.

But, we'll take the lessons, and we will take the fond memories that are mixed in, and the blessing it has been to be able to be present, to help Arlee's parents, and my mom, transition from this life.  One day, we'll need that kind of help, too.

Onward.

The damage is done

I have been studiously apolitical on my Facebook page and in my blog.  As a school leader, I have intentionally avoided using social media as a soapbox to proclaim or forward my personal biases or agendas.

I'm about to express a political opinion.  See, two things have changed.  First, I am not currently employed or affiliated with any organization.  I do understand that I will be again in the future, and that the internet is permanent (if only everyone understood that reality!).  I'm OK with that.  Second, we as a nation, in the United States, have forwarded entrepreneur and reality star Donald Trump as a major party candidate (Republican, as it were, even though Trump's historic stances do not align with that party's platform).

Opinions, in support of or in opposition to, that particular candidate dominate the Internet right now, and I'm reluctant to add to the volume and enter that (often nonsensical) fray.  Nonetheless, I am compelled to go on record, if you can call this humble blog a record, with a thought about "making America great again."

I cannot believe Trump can win the general election in November.  I believe that in America, ultimately rational critical thinking prevails over vague assertions, hope prevails over despair, and love prevails over fear and hate.  I could be wrong about that, sadly, but let's say I'm right.

Here's the thing.  It doesn't matter.  Trump doesn't matter--he could be any hate and fear mongering demagogue*.  The damage is done, by his supporters, by those that seem to stand by and for racism, sexism, ignorance, bluster, denial and sound bite solutions to complex problems.  The world sees it, our children see it, and as a nation it defines us.

But, we are better than that.  While many are frustrated, while many are disenfranchised, while many are fed up, while many succumb to the appeal of anger, to the appeal of "outsider," enough-is-enough rhetoric, to the appeal of polarized, us vs. them thinking, we are better.  The values we stand for, as a nation are better.

We do, after this campaign, regardless of who we end up electing as president, need to make America great again.  Because the things that have been said, and supported, and celebrated have marred that greatness.

What's next, America?

*it's a bandwagon word these days, and I want to be clear here about exactly what I mean.  I mean demagogue in the modern sense, as defined here, and I want to highlight these methods as aligned with what I've seen of his campaign.

My life back...who knew?

I have really enjoyed being a building principal (at all levels, ultimately, high school, middle school, and elementary school) these past eleven years.  I've made a difference in students' lives, made a difference in teachers' professional practice, and formed many positive relationships along the way.  It was rewarding on many levels.  I look forward to more of that, perhaps at a higher leadership level, in the future.

Right now, though, I'm just getting started on my year's hiatus.  I'm just getting started at letting go of the background tension of always being on call, always being where the buck stops, always being, weekends and holidays included, the principal.  I'm starting to notice what I put on hold eleven years ago, "just for now, until things calm down."  Pleasure reading (not that I didn't enjoy reading professional journals and books and so forth--but I didn't have time for a whole lot more).  Quality family time that was not snatched in precious snippets.  Really fully being present, when together with my wife.  Taking care of house and home projects.  Exercising enough.   Mowing my own lawn.  Playing the guitar and singing folk songs, with friends and family, or just alone, just for fun.  Trying my hand at home-brewing a batch of beer.  I hadn't noticed, but I had been systematically back-burnering everything that was non-work-related, for years.

This year, whether I end up with a part-time position, or no position at all, my first focus is going to be on family.  A mentor superintendent once told me my success in the business (of educational leadership) would be defined by my ability to disengage from the work.  While I know that I will always be inclined to give my all, where I work, I'm learning, after eleven years, that I have needed and will need as I move ahead to do a better job at sometimes letting go.

I'm reminded of a story that went around the Internet (I'm not sure about, and haven't been able to find an original attribution; it references a lecture on stress management from a Harvard professor.  I found a version of it here, on Eric Crawford's blog, Eacology).  It's not if the glass is half full or half empty; it's not really how much the glass weighs.  It's how long you hold it.  For a bit, I'll just be setting down my glass.

Though it is self-funded, and not long-term, I'm calling it a sabbatical.

It's family time

After two years at back in the States, for a mix of family and professional reasons, I am ending my tenure at Sacred Heart School.  The move back to the Rogue Valley was the right one, and well timed with extended family (they needed us).  And I have been honored to lead the school, and we have made positive progress on a number of fronts at a challenging time for the organization.  However, it is time to make another change.  I am looking forward to taking a quiet year, professionally, a long promised and anticipated sabbatical, albeit a self financed one.

Since early in my career, I have been saying, I'm not going to wait for my eventual retirement, but take a year here and there to focus on family and leisure and hobbies and growth and learning and fun and my relationship with God and travel and adventure and all those things we wait for until "someday."  My last attempt was in 2003, while I was completing my masters.  I lasted five months before I had fallen back into full time employment.  This time, I am completing my doctorate.  So some of that learning time will be diving deep into my dissertation, and really being able to focus on it.  I may sub a bit, or teach music lessons, or even find a part-time teaching or admin post, but I am going to resist falling into a full time gig, until the next academic year, when I will be on the market for school directorship or superintendent position.

In the meantime, I am going to try to get to know my wife and sons again--to give them each the kind of sustained and focused attention they deserve.  At the same time, I will attend to my mother, currently in nursing facility on hospice, with sustained and quality time, and to my mother in law, who is suffering from a pretty severe dementia, adjusting (poorly at present) to the loss of her husband and her recent move to an assisted living facility.  It's a wonderful, truly sumptuous setting, with a caring staff, but she keeps calling and wanting to be picked up from "this hotel."  As a family, we are reeling from the illness and loss of my wife's father, and the weight of responsibility managing the trust and the estate, and the care and best interest of my mother in law, and on a separate caption, my mother.  Add our own financial lives, and that starts to sound like a full time, though unpaid, accounting job on its own.  I am looking forward to having the time and attention for these things, and more importantly for these people:  my own family.

I'm worried about reentering the job market after a year of, well, I can call it what I like but it is unemployment.  I'm worried about making ends meet as we dip into our savings to meet living expenses for the next year.  I'm worried about health care.  I'm worried about the impact this will have on my eventual retirement, notwithstanding the early career promise I made myself.

Despite that worry, I know in my heart that this is the right move for my family.  We came back to the states to care for our parents, and it is time to get serious about that.  I have had my nose to the grindstone working 60 hour weeks for the last eleven years, and shouldering the responsibility of being "the principal," that does not go away on weekends or vacations.  I'll be honest, I've enjoyed it, and I've accomplished much good for the institutions I have served.  But, for at least a little while, I'm ready for a break!  This year is going to be a coarse-grained way of achieving work-life balance.  I've approached my career as service to others.  This year, I'm going to serve my own family, and yes, my own heart, soul, and self as well.  It's time for that.

Wish me luck!

A New Year

My last post, months ago, acknowledged technological complexity. Like so many others (I read about it on my Facebook, Flipbook, SmartNews feed, Yahoo News and so forth), one of my New Year's Resolutions is to simplify and declutter.  I actually cleaned out my desk drawers yesterday, for example, even though I don't have time for that sort of thing right now.  It feels good to have clean drawers.  Hmm.  Didn't the Rain Man say something to that effect once?

I'm drawn to the tiny house movement, at least in spirit and concept.  I'm all too aware of the Pareto 80/20 principle, and would love to pare down to the 20%.  Materially, and digitally.  Socially.  Spiritually, even.  The catch is, even if you need something only occasionally--you still need it on those occasions.  And in the meantime, you must store it, carry it, and feel its weight and presence in your life.

I'm also looking to keep a positive focus, and to be and stay energized.  I have some strategies:  prayer, journaling, exercise, and simple force of will.  I do love new beginnings.

To all: a blessed and prosperous and successful and peaceful and productive new year.  Let's make it so.

Complexity.

I'm not even sure I understand what is going on anymore.  I have multiple Google Accounts, multiple identities in Chrome,  email accounts with gmail, yahoo, and at work (which runs through exchange), iPads, an iPhone (it's a 4; it's in mint condition, it has limited functionality in today's online environment, and I'm told it's worth $16 as a trade in).

I've blogged in a separate space, a year ago now, for a technology class, where I indicated we had better "ride the wave," or crash against the rocks, with mobile computing.  I stand by that.  I'm excited to be leading a school that is eager to move ahead, and implementing a 1:1 mobile computing initiative, a new student information system and community communication solution that is cloud-based, and a spirit of "let's move ahead and learn together."

A far cry from the "locked down" environment of my previous position.  A little scary, though, and a little confusing.  Today, I am waxing nostalgic for my paper Day-Timer.  At least I knew which "me" I was.

Nonetheless:  onward.

It's good to be home!

Question:  what's more important money or happiness?  Over the summer, I traded about $25,000 a year of income (and gave up a benefits package worth more than that) for a "better fit" job.  It's still a high responsibility, high-stress, long-hours job, but one aligned better with my biases, beliefs, and strengths.  We are certainly making some lifestyle adjustments to compensate.  (My timing is not that great on this--a son starting college, and me still in the middle of a doctoral program--with big tuition bills every few months).

Well, I remain above the threshold described by Kahneman and Deaton (2010), at which positive impact on emotional well-being ceases to accrue with income increase.  While more money might increase my subjective self-rating of life satisfaction, according to that study at least, it won't make me any happier.

I'll tell you what:  having autonomy in leadership (e.g., the license--indeed the expectation--to employ my own good judgment in decisions that impact my organization), enjoying the expressed appreciation of my publics--my bosses, my staff, parents and students in my school, feeling a part of a worthy and worthwhile mission, and feeling genuinely and positively impactful is worth trading some net pay for, in my book.

So is being closer to extended family.  As only children, my wife and I are enjoying being 5300 miles closer to our parents these days.  As parents ourselves, we are enjoying being in the same country, and same state, as our college freshman.  That was part of them if trade as well.

There were some, in my prior work organization, many, in fact, who stayed on, for the wrong reasons.  They called the sum compensation package the "golden handcuffs."  I do understand what they meant.  While I wish all my former colleagues (those who feel shackled and those who are loving every minute, and all those in between) the very best in their endeavors, I am glad to have taken the leap of faith I did, and escaped wearing those handcuffs.  I am glad I was there, when I was, and I am glad I left when it was time for me to leave.

In my work, in my faith life, and in my physical location, I have come home.  And it is good to be home.

Yeah, and here is an APA citation of the study I referenced, a symptom of dissertation-related compulsion.  I know.  You don't have to do that in a blog.

Khaneman, D., & Deaton, A.  (2010).  High income improves evaluation of life but not emotional well being.  Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America (107)38, 16489-16493.

I told you so

I hope the title doesn't sound too smug, or self satisfied, or sanctimonious.  But, in my previous post, I described a leap of faith. I said, "It will work out, I know it will."  Well, it has worked out.  I am so pleased and excited about the way in which it has indeed worked out.  Here are my two recent Facebook announcements on the subject:

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10202870558059280&substory_index=0&id=1061889405

Having just handed my son his diploma (how many dads get to do that!); having maintained a 100% graduation rate, and positive achievement trends; having ushered in some exciting 21st century teaching and learning innovations during my four-year tenure; having bid a fond farewell to students and teachers for the summer; having announced my erstwhile assistant principal as returning to take over leadership; and having just received my travel orders; it is time for me to say goodbye to Bitburg High School.  Though, as we are fond of saying, "I'll always be a Baron."

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10202870558059280&substory_index=1&id=1061889405

Goodbyes are bittersweet, but the bright side is that they do make way for exciting new "hellos!"  Or, "hello agains."  With our parents aging, with Jeshua starting college at Oregon State, and (having lived, worked, travelled and played on four continents) with our wanderlust well sated, we are so happy to be returning home to The Rogue Valley in Oregon.

I am pleased, proud, and excited to begin service as principal at Sacred Heart Catholic School in Medford, officially on August 1, but already working towards a smooth and successful in-transition.  I am impressed by the school's high quality staff, strong commitment to excellence, and embodiment of Catholic values--it feels like such a good fit! 

My conversations with the parish and the school, as well as conversations with my mother, and conversations with my in-laws, and comments and "likes" and support of friends and colleagues...in fact just about every metric, and every indicator, reinforces the "rightness" of this decision, and this move, for me, and for our immediate as well as extended family, at this time.  

The Voice that began as a whisper ("make a change") grew louder and louder--I am so glad I listened.

And now, onward.

Another leap of faith

I quit my job.  While successful, while well-respected by my supervisor and my organization, while very well compensated, while privileged to operate in a very well-resourced environment, and to live in a hub for travel and exploration in the middle of Europe for the last several years, I have nonetheless turned in my resignation effective at the end of this school year.  While in the middle of a targeted job search, I don't as of now have another job lined up.  In other words, for now, unless something changes, I am effectively unemployed in these tumultuous times and in this challenging economy, come August.

My colleagues have described my action and choice as "gutsy," "bold," "brave," and "crazy."  Sometimes that last was preceded with an unprintable adjective.

I think of it as a leap of faith.  We (my family and I) made it after much reflection, discussion and prayer.  Here's the thing:  discerning and doing what is "right" after analyzing the sum total of input data, seems to always work out for the best.  For this choice, this year, the pull home to Oregon, this spring, just ended up out-balancing all the other pieces of the puzzle.  My wife and I are both only children, and our parents in Oregon deserve and increasingly need our proximity, attention, and care.  My son has chosen Oregon Statue University for his next step, as he graduates from our DoDDS high school this June, and being closer to him, as well as qualifying for resident tuition, has its appeal.  I am at the dissertation stage of my doctorate, and easier access to US schools for research will be helpful.  Emotionally, with thirteen years of our married life spent abroad, my wife and I are again ready for some time "at home."  Professionally, I am ready to make a change to a higher level of leadership, ideally to my constitution in a somewhat smaller educational institution than is DoDEA, and while the international schools hold appeal, the Pacific Northwest calls as a best case scenario.

Leaving a "perfectly good" home/school/employment situation without clear "next step" prospects is par for the course in the international school realm where Arlee and I spent our early careers.  When "moving on" feels right, announcing that, and only then beginning a search for the future (e.g., signing up for an international schools job fair) is the norm.  That is not the norm elsewhere, and it is not the norm here.  Thing is, our background has taught us to trust that leap of faith.  When it's time, it's time.  Things work out as they are meant to.  All will be well.  "Sometimes you have to close one door to open another..."  We have lived it numerous times.  (Hong Kong, to Manila, to Saudi Arabia, to Oregon--each move, in our wonderful global journey, a leap of faith).

Call me gutsy, or call me crazy.  I will grant that the time of uncertainty ("Where will we live, in August?") is difficult.  But, we hold to the certainty, in faith, that "all will be well."  Either, the "right fit" job will come to fruition (for me, and/or for my wife), or, perhaps I will take a year or so to focus on my doctoral studies and dissertation in-depth, maybe do some consulting and ad-hoc work, and re-enter the market later with my Ed.D in hand.

It will work out.  I know it will.

Character

I want to be cautious about moving from the process, here, of creating content, to that of simply highlighting it (sharing and re-posting seems like more of a Facebook kind of thing, not that I do much of it there, anyway.

If I link, or embed, articles or videos or other content here, I hope to at least synthesize, analyze, or evaluate, adding value to and not just bandwidth, to the virtual world.  Just like I strive to do more than take up space, in the physical world.

I don't have much to add, right now, to this piece, and I am posting it here mostly so I can find it back easily next time I want to show it to students or teachers.  The idea that character is vital, is important, is central, to our meaningful existence as humans, well, that resonates with me.  I like the idea that there is a periodic table of character strengths, and will be digging deeper into that idea--possibly even for some tie-in to my dissertation (the topic of which remains disconcertingly fluid right now).

I will say this by way of analysis:  this piece by Tiffany Schlain and the Moxie Institute is worth the eight minutes it takes to watch.  Mobile devices without Flash, click the link here.

Equal time

Most of my recent ramblings have been over in the Technoleadership blog I created for my latest class.

 I have waxed enthusiastic there, granted with a balancing note of caution, about advances in technology, and especially about the societal revolution emerging from ubiquitous mobile internet access and ability to share information and form groups.  My position is, like it or not, the tidal wave is upon us, so we had better learn to surf it!

Here is a spot of equal time, with a beautifully-done artistic video, apparently viral on Facebook.  Ironic, of course because its message is, "turn this thing (the computer or more likely, the mobile device from which you are watching) off."  It is a good reminder that virtual connectivity, while it can be an amazing thing, is not the same thing as connectivity in "real life."  Certainly worth the time it takes to watch it:  Here is the link, if you are on a mobile device without Flash.

It is interesting to read the commentary, and different points of view, on the YouTube channel/page where this is posted by Gary Turk (disclaimer:  I don't know who that is, or anything about him--not an endorsement of anything but this which I found to be a valid and interesting visually presented poem and comment on our times).

See you online...AND, in real life.

Technology and Leadership

So, here is another choice, or decision point.  I have just started the next course in my doctoral program at Creighton:  Technology and Leadership.  We are to do the lion's share of our work, it seems, as posts in a public blog.

Now, I have a number of blogs:  two are strictly professional, and actually behind passwords, targeted at my school communities.  Then, I created a blog on my Weebly-based portfolio of work that will be reviewed by my dissertation committee.  It is focused on my "dissertation journey" and my own reflections as I zero in and do that work.  Then, there is this.  For whatever it's worth.  What started as an intended travelog, or public diary, or whatever, as our family headed overseas to Morocco, and evolved into a hodgepodge of my musings.  The one for "no audience in particular."

I need to decide whether to use THIS blogspot, or to create a new, dedicated spot, for class-related posts on technology and leadership (I'm excited about the class, as it represents the intersection of two topics very high on my interest list).  For some reason, I feel like I want to use this one.  I don't think I will, as that just doesn't make much sense.  For one thing, it would unbalance my hodgepodge.  One or two rambling posts per month, at best, for five years, and then suddenly at least one a week, and all on tech-related topics.  My goodness, the asymmetry.

Here is what actually makes the most sense, and provides a bit of a compromise.  I'll create a new blog on Blogger, with an appropriate title:  TechnoLeadership.  I'll link and reference it here, and reciprocally as well.  So there it is.

For whatever it's worth.

Choices

I don't really have time to post a blog (Yes, I call a "post" a blog, inaccurately.  It just feels right.  Deal with it.) here.  I have a professional blog (my "principal's page" for my school constituencies--with variants for staff and for parents and students.  I have a blog that is part of my doctoral portfolio, tracking the evolution of my dissertation.  I have discussion forums to post in--as graded classwork.  I have a monthly newsletter to contribute to.  And papers, and reports, and memos and emails and so forth to write, in considerable bulk, every day.

Yet, here I am, posting here.  It feels safe, and cathartic, I guess.  This is my "no consequences" blog.  Sometimes, it is ok to indulge oneself.  Sometimes, that kind of a choice is even healthy, and productive, in the longer term.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about choices, and the cumulative importance of small choices.  I wrote, in a recent reflective paper, about an exercise I have done with students of mine, painting an analogy of standing at the 50 yard line of a football field.  I ask them to imagine one end zone to be filled with success (whatever that means to them) as great as they can imagine.  Riches, prestige, joy, love, self-actualization, being the best at something important, making a difference--whatever.  And in the opposite end zone, I ask them to imagine the opposite of that:  doom, gloom, despair, failure--"rock bottom."  I then talk about how every day, each of us is faced with small choices, and each choice is like a step in one direction or another.  The big take-a-way I want for these young adults is the apparent lack of consequence (position and perspective remain pretty similar after one step) of each choice, contrasted with the cumulative effect of many steps (even with a "two steps in one direction for each one step in the other" approach).  Right choices, a majority of the time, progressively move you in the right direction, and likewise the converse.

A recent book (on Ignatian spirituality, actually) brought that idea back home for me.  I'm working to consider my small choices, in the moment, and make sure they are heading me in the direction I want to go.

Time spent on this self-indulgent post, notwithstanding.

Happy New Year!

So there is this thing going around Facebook (I've mentioned here, before, not to look there, for me saying anything of substance.  In fact I rarely update my status at all.  There are reasons for that I suppose.)  I do enjoy keeping up with friends' adventures and opinings.  (My word processor underlined that last word in red, but I contend that it is a properly constructed and legitimate gerund of the verb "to opine.")  But I digress.

There is this thing going around Facebook, where people are prompting each other to list three positive things about the year just passed.  I am surprised at the number of people saying things like, "I'm so happy to turn the page on this year," or opining (see there?) in generally negative terms about 2013, on a personal and/or global level.  At the same time, most are able to generate a substantial list of positives.

So, I'm picturing the hoary Taoist icon depicting Yin and Yang--the one I've always found profound, compelling, and insightful into the Nature of All Things.  Each year brings its good and bad, and the further we step back (and, the more years we add) the more things tend to balance out.  You can apply the Law of Large Numbers, or the idea of Regression Towards the Mean (yeah, I'm reviewing Statistics as a gear up for my dissertation).

In the end it is down, of course to our choice of focus.  I like trying to focus on the positive (honestly that is easier said than done), while acknowledging that without the negative, the positive would be undefined and unrecognizable.  Or suspend value judgments altogether and acknowledge that it is ALL glorious, this wonderful, incomprehensible miracle that comprises our very existence.  With all its nuances.  All that being said...I'll play:

1)  I have reached the halfway point of my doctoral program.  While a two week break between classes (the first such since last Christmas, I think--when it was only one week long) has made me realize just how hard I have been pushing myself, balancing a challenging, long-hours job, a family that wants, needs, and deserves my attention, and a graduate program that demands a lot of thought, reading (you know, high-density, academic reading) and writing, and 20 or more hours each week.  While taking energy, it has also granted some.  And I have my eye on the prize.  Anyway, the experience has been a central defining positive, on the whole, of 2013 for me.

2)  Arlee and I marked 20 years of married bliss.  OK, not all bliss.  Refer back to the diagram.  Strife, contention, frustration, joy, adventure, and bliss.  But, together and in love, still.  So, I'm counting it, and her, and in fact the family we have made together, as a central defining blessing, this year, and really every year.

3)  I've been privileged to live, travel, adventure and just work and play day to day (such that I have time--refer back above) in Europe, with all the cultural and historic richness that I have come to take for granted.  And, I've given that give, for when they later look back and appreciate it, to my boys as well.  In 2013 I've ranged from The Hague, to Brugge, to Southern Oregon, to Phoenix, to Paris, and of course all around our local environs here in the Eifel region of Germany.  And that was a quiet travel year out of the last several.  I am lucky, our family is lucky, to be in a situation, geographical and financial, that lets explore so broadly and drink so deeply at the well that is the world.

Now, we've had some tough challenges, too.  And hard lessons, and lessons left unlearned.  But, as David Steindel-Rast sagely posited in his recent TED talk, focusing on gratitude is not only right and enlightened, but it is THE key to happiness.

So, I'm going to be grateful for a wonderful year, and I hope you will find a way to do the same.  Now, bring on 2014!

It's a lot

Don't get me wrong.  I knew it would be.  A wise mentor once told me (I never, ever doubted it was true):  In this field (education; educational leadership, specifically), you can be on top of your game in any two of the three:  work (e.g., being a school leader/administrator), school (e.g., taking graduate courses to grow), and family (e.g., being a terrific husband and father, and taking care of aging parents in a meaningful way).  But, all three at once--something has got to give.

So here I am.  I will say that family comes first, and it is the most important thing.  But, my family has been very patient, and very wonderful with me, as I sometimes (often) put them on hold.  Being a high school principal--being one that makes a difference--is a 60 to 70 hour a week job (yes, some weeks go over that), and high intensity as well.

A year and a half ago I added "doctoral student" to that mix.  My studies have been positive, energizing, even transformational.  But, time consuming.  I've found some tricks.  I put all my reading (it's a lot of reading) on a tablet, that I carry around obsessively.  I use all those little bits of found time (waiting in line, waiting for the food to come, for the next barber to be available, riding in a car if I'm not the driver, etc.) to chip away at that load.  I use wifi and a laptop to work on my discussion posts while my kid is soccer practice, or whatever the event du jour. 

So far, so good--I'm halfway through the program with flying colors.  My wife hasn't left me.  I have not quit or been fired (and the data says my school is doing well under my leadership).

And as a human being I still need down time.  To process, to assimilate, to rest.  Simply to rest, and recharge.  That time has become so precious, and I am learning to treasure it.  Maybe my mentor was wrong--maybe each panel of that life triptych can give, and take, and an essential balance can remain.  It is a lot, but not too much.

This blog post has been an indulgence, and counts toward that "recharge time."  All is well.  Now, back to work.

Furloughed

I won't politicize my blog, here, or express opinions my employer might not like.  Or talk about sequestration, the continuing resolution (or lack thereof), or the state of the federal budget in general.  Or, unintended consequences or hidden, soft costs.

I'm furloughed today.  I can't go in to work, though I have piles to do (I'm still the guy responsible for seeing to a smooth start to the school year at my school), can't check my email, and can't answer my work cell phone.  Tomorrow morning, I'll start sorting through all of that.  First thing.  Early.

I'm also off school (my school, the school I'm attending) for this one week.  I'm pulled in so many directions.  A short "found" day.  Run some errands.  Spend a little extra time paying attention to my wife and kids.  Catch up on a little reading.  Go for a walk. Blog. Watch a rerun of West Wing.  Work on my Creighton EdD portfolio (a program requirement, I need to update). 

Tomorrow will be a whirlwind.  Today, I'm laying low.