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Personal & Authentic
“In Personal & Authentic, Tom Murray taps into some of the deepest emotions we all share and know are essential as educators and parents. He helps us to focus on the relationships that we develop with children and adults, the self-reflection that we learn quickly is so important, and the impact we make on our schools and communities. After you read this book, you will become a better teacher and leader. And if not, you might want to read it again!”
—Salome Thomas-EL, award-winning principal, speaker, and author
“One of the most helpful, heartfelt, and unassuming stories I’ve ever read. Thomas C. Murray sets a new standard for what it means to be Personal & Authentic. This is the book educators will be telling their friends, mentees, and future generations of educators about.”
—Brad Gustafson, national distinguished principal and best-selling author
“As educators, we often are so busy doing the intricate, intentional work of good teaching that we don’t allow ourselves time to stop and reflect on the larger impact of our profession. Personal & Authentic gives us this much-needed time while weaving in space for reflection, suggestions from fellow educators, as well as easy-to-implement practical tips for all educators. Teachers will finish this book feeling inspired and empowered to continue the important work we are called to do.”
—Luisa Palomo Hare, kindergarten teacher, 2012 Nebraska Teacher of the Year
“In his inspirational book, Tom Murray helps educators make the connection between personal and authentic experiences through the power of storytelling. This philosophy sets the foundation for meeting the needs of students by building equitable opportunities for success. As Tom eloquently demonstrates in this book, in order for fundamental change to occur, one must remember it is all about fostering meaningful relationships first—everything else comes second!”
—Basil Marin, high school assistant principal, Georgia
“Wow! What an awesome source of inspiration, motivation, and hope for the future of our humans (students) and all those leaders in the education ecosystem that will have an impact on them. Personal & Authentic is a perfect description of this book, as Tom engages both the mind and the heart—making every word and interaction count. This book is for everyone! Tom's journey and lessons along the way will have you both in tears and laughing out loud. Give Personal & Authentic as a gift to yourself and share it widely! Thank you, Tom, for showing us the power of vulnerability and authenticity in this deeply personal connection to building a lifetime of impact.”
—David Miyashiro, superintendent, Cajon Valley Union School District, California
“The story always wins. The most impactful learning has always been personal and authentic. Murray does a masterful job of weaving both the gripping story of educators and the opportunities for them to increase their impact on students. The text takes the reader on an emotional ride but also provides the challenge and resources to get better. The ideas jump off the page and will help anyone rediscover both the why and how to improve their space. This book is an essential piece of every educator’s toolbox and one I know I’ll go back to often.”
—Joe Sanfelippo, PhD, superintendent, author, and speaker
“Murray has created yet another resource for teachers looking to make schools more impactful for students. Personal & Authentic not only demonstrates why our schools need to be built around what is best for each child but also gives the tools and strategies to get it done.”
—Josh Stumpenhorst, high school librarian, 2012 Illinois Teacher of the Year
"This book had me crying, laughing, and feeling inspired to work with students and teachers. When we think about the work we do each and every day, it can connect on such a deeper level when it includes the personal and authentic pieces of the human experience. As Murray says, 'Every child in our schools is someone else's whole world.' We have the opportunity to provide unique opportunities to each and every student!"
—A.J. Juliani, director of learning and innovation, author, and founder of the PBL Academy
“Students yearn for a learning experience that resonates with them on many levels. The time is now to usher in the needed change in this area so that school means something to those it is designed to serve. Tom Murray takes you on an emotional roller coaster where you will see firsthand why a shift to more relevant techniques will benefit kids now and in the future.”
—Eric Sheninger, NASSP digital principal and senior fellow, International Center for Leadership in Education
“Tom Murray takes you on a roller coaster of emotions throughout his book, Personal & Authentic. His heartfelt message of connection, empathy, and the need for equal opportunities for all students will leave you, regardless of your role in education, feeling inspired and wanting to do more for all kids. This book will touch the very depth of your core and remind you that every day is an opportunity to change the trajectory of a student’s life. A must-read for all schools!”
—Jimmy Casas, educator, author, speaker, leadership coach
“What a privilege it was to read this book! As a fan of Tom Murray's work, I knew his newest endeavor would be great, but what I didn't expect was to find it chock-full of stories, social science, and surprises. Educators—at least those who want to ‘move’ people—should own this book. Finding a book for my teachers that can be easily learned from, regardless of their setting, grade level, or subject matter, is priceless . . . the only qualifier for reading is that that you have a heart and passion for kids.”
—Amber Teamann, principal, author, speaker
“Tom Murray has found a way to weave heart-tugging stories, connected to research, and practical tips that can provide a profound impact on education today. Personal & Authentic will leave a lasting imprint on how you lead at school, home, and in life.”
—Jessica Cabeen, nationally distinguished principal, author, and speaker
“The perfect title for a leader who ‘practices what he preaches,’ Tom Murray’s latest book Personal & Authentic that Impact a Lifetime captures what we are all looking for as educators: a powerful approach to achieving success at both the classroom and district level. The book serves as an exemplary overview for achieving both personalization and authenticity in our schools and classrooms.”
—Suzanne Lacey, EdD, superintendent, Talladega County Schools, Alabama
“Personal & Authentic is a story from the heart. Tom Murray shares powerful stories from his teaching career as he conveys the importance of educating the whole child. I encourage anyone in the education field to read this book. The message resonates with teachers, leaders, and everyone involved in a school by inspiring everyone to get to know the kids, let them tell their story, and, above all else, show them you care.”
—Jerry Almendarez, superintendent, Colton Joint Unified School District, California
“Tom Murray has poured his heart and soul into Personal & Authentic. This book is filled with compelling stories and examples that will inspire you to create learner-centered experiences that ensure students are equipped to not only succeed in school but lead meaningful lives. In a time when many educators are asked to do more than ever, this book serves as a powerful reminder about why our work matters and how we can prioritize the experiences that bring out the best in our students and each other.”
—Katie Martin, educator, author of Learner-Centered Innovation
“As a follower of Tom's work for years, I have witnessed how his heart for children has touched so many of our colleagues. Personal & Authentic is no exception. Through the triangulation of personal stories, research, and practical tips from others in the field, this book is powerful, informative, and engaging. I highly recommend it!”
—Sarah Thomas, PhD, regional technology coordinator, affiliate faculty, and founder of EduMatch®
"Personal & Authentic is a true reflection of the title. Tom not only shares stories that share his core values and beliefs through the personal stories that he tells, but the tips he includes from other educators show a glimpse of their core values and beliefs as well. If you are looking for a read that cuts straight to the middle and touches the heart, but then leads to actionable results that will transform you as an educator and the relationships and experiences you encounter each day, Personal & Authentic is your go-to resource. This book will help you reflect, recharge, and refocus on the most important aspects of education—relationships and relevant learning experiences."
—Sanée Bell, EdD, principal, speaker, author of Be Excellent on Purpose: Intentional Strategies for Impactful Leadership
Contents
The Personal & Authentic Framework
Chapter 1: Relationships: The Foundation of Personal & Authentic Learning
Chapter 2: Creating a Culture for Learning
Chapter 3: Understanding the Story Inside Each Learner
Chapter 4: Envisioning Personal & Authentic Learning Experiences
Chapter 5: Designing Personal & Authentic Learning Experiences
Chapter 6: Leveraging Tools & Spaces to Amplify Learning
Chapter 7: Creating a Legacy That Impacts a Lifetime
Bibliography
Acknowledgments
Bring Thomas C. Murray to Your School or Event
More From IMPRESS
About the Author
Personal & Authentic
© 2019 by Thomas C. Murray
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing by the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. For information regarding permission, contact the publisher at books@impressbooks.org.
This book is available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for use as premiums, promotions, fundraisers, or for educational use. For inquiries and details, contact the publisher at books@impressbooks.org.
Published by IMPress, a division of Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc.
Editing, Interior, and Cover Design by My Writers’ Connection
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019951888
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-948334-19-8
eBook ISBN: 978-1-948334-20-4
First Printing: October 2019
The work is hard, but our kids are worth it.
Foreword
“Son, I love you, and I believe in you,” were the words he said that I’ll never forget. In my entire life, this was my very first encounter of a personal and authentic moment with a male who truly cared for and believed in me. Those words were spoken by Mr. DeMarco Mitchell, who, at twenty-three years old, was my eighth-grade math teacher and basketball coach.
I was born to a sixteen-year-old single mother, and we lived in a two-bedroom home on the eastside of Atlanta. It was located in one of the roughest places in America, and that home was where fourteen of us lived. This was a household and environment filled with drugs, gangs, and violence. As a child, one night each week, I’d have the opportunity to sleep in the bed. Most nights, I’d sleep on the floor. Each morning, I’d stand at the bus stop before school and shake out my bookbag to make sure no mice or rats had made their way into it during the night.
I didn’t want to become a statistic. I wanted to break a generational curse on my family, one where nobody had ever been to college. Since I was seven years old, I wanted to play in the NFL so my mom and family would never have to miss another meal.
Growing up as I did, the most dangerous part of it all was that low expectations and failure was normal and acceptable. It was a way of life for those I lived with, many of whom are still in and out of prison, and those who lived in our part of the city. Life gave me every excuse not to succeed, but I was blessed to have had a teacher who refused to give up on me, even with my circumstances.
Every night, my cousin and I would go out to the street and race light pole to light pole wearing no shoes. I knew achieving my dreams meant that I had to put in the work, and I was determined to make it happen. I remember this one night, standing on the corner in my neighborhood surrounded by drug dealers, and that same teacher, the one who wouldn’t stop believing in me, pulled up and said, “Inky, you’re better than this.” Although I wasn’t engaging in any illegal activity, he knew the danger I was in—not only personally but also my dreams, goals, aspirations, beliefs, and potential—just by being present.
As my coach and mentor, he proceeded to speak to me as if we were in the midst of one of our basketball games. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Here’s how we’re going to beat this. I’m going to pick you up every morning before school and play you in a game of one-on-one basketball. Then we will study and learn Proverbs until you graduate high school.” To be honest, I thought our game plan would last probably a year, maybe less. But I was wrong. My teacher showed up, picked me up for school, day after day, and poured into me. He did whatever it took to support me. He believed in me.
I’ll never forget the day the principal approached him in our gymnasium and said, “I heard you’ve been talking about the Proverbs with Inky.” Mr. Mitchell said, “Yes, sir, I have.” The principal reminded him of the separation of church and state and said that he could lose his job if it continued. Mr. Mitchell replied, saying he would just have to get fired then because my life was worth it. I remember walking home from school that day thinking that if my teacher was willing to put the way he provides for his wife and kids on the line for me, I had to make him proud, give him my best, and not let him down.
Needless to say, he didn’t get fired. He did whatever was needed to help me. To this day, Mr. DeMarco Mitchell is still my mentor. It’s been nine years since he walked my wife down the aisle at our wedding. He will always be the man in my eyes who showed he cared more about me than he did about my grades, test scores, and sports. He wanted me to know and understand what personal and authentic love and connection looks and feels like. He would often tell me, “My press in life is to VALUE you more than I value what I believe about you.” As a teacher, his impact on my life, and the lives of others, has now been passed on to the next generation.
I’m a firm believer that things don’t happen to you. They happen for you. The funny thing about my injury was that my life found new meaning and new purpose. Instead of the injury serving as a curse, it has served as a blessing. It’s an opportunity. You see, my arm may be paralyzed, but my heart isn’t. My mind isn’t. My attitude isn’t. The same arm the doctor told me I would never use again because of paralysis, I now use every day of my life. I believe you are not defined by your circumstances or your situation. You are defined by your decisions and your choices. Every day I make a decision to make my life count. Every day I’m going to work to inspire someone. Every day I’m going to work to encourage someone.
As an educator, you get to do the same.
Much like Mr. DeMarco Mitchell, Tom is someone who is passionate about people and education. He is a friend whom I admire and respect. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him speak to a school district and the way in which he thanked the school bus drivers, cafeteria workers, and custodial staff and how it pierced my heart. His love for teachers, administrators, support staff, and kids is something that is very personal for him. If I had to use one word to describe him, it would be authentic. He values people and understands the lifelong impact each person can have in whatever role they serve. He understands how, as educators, your fingerprints remain on the lives of others for generations to come.
This book, Personal & Authentic: Designing Learning Experiences that Impact a Lifetime, is going to serve as a source of encouragement to people all over the world, and I’m excited to see it manifest!
With much love and respect,
Inky Johnson
@InkyJohnson
ESPN Story Emmy Nominated
Dedication
Professionally, this book is dedicated to the countless teachers who pour their lives into other people’s children every day. You dedicate your work to supporting those who desperately need you. May your fingerprints of impact be on the lives of those you serve for generations to come.
Personally, this book is dedicated to my parents, Tom and Cherie Murray. God couldn’t have given me more when he allowed me to call you Mom and Dad. You’ve sacrificed so much to help propel me forward, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful. You are models of perseverance, resilience, overcoming life’s challenges, living life with love and humility, and ultimately, what it means to be personal and authentic. Love you both so much, and I’m honored to call you my parents.
via Merriam-Webster:
The Personal & Authentic Framework
To download the framework, visit thomascmurray.com/AuthenticEDU.
The words personal and authentic describe much of the work we do as educators. Whether describing a learner-centered experience, our relationships with students and colleagues, the culture of our schools and classrooms, or the legacies we leave, the syntax of personal and authentic can mean different things under different constructs, yet often go hand in hand. This book explores many ways in which these ideas interconnect and how being personal and authentic in our work will positively impact those we serve. When fused together, this Personal & Authentic Framework can help guide our work and empower us to leave impactful, long-lasting legacies. Here’s a quick overview of what you can expect from this book:
In Chapter 1, you’ll read part of my story and discover how I formed my personal educational lens. You’ll clearly see how I came to understand what this work is about, how being personal and authentic helps to define our relationships with those we serve, and how it must remain core to all that we do as educators. You’ll immediately see why the learner is at the center of this framework and how relationships surround it.
Chapter 2 guides you in understanding how personal and authentic can help define the culture for learning that our students need to thrive. Beginning with a focus on you as the reader, I hope this chapter will challenge your leadership mindset and help you make every interaction matter by building trust and taking calculated risks along the way. In the framework, this culture for learning reinforces the relationships and remains at the center of the student experience.
In Chapter 3, we’ll explore the personal and authentic stories hidden within each person to make sure that when we see our students, we not only see faces but hearts as well. Starting with why, we’ll seek out ways to prioritize each child’s story to find the unique beauty inside.
In Chapters 4 and Chapter 5, we’ll build on the relationships and culture for learning aspects of the framework to envision and design personal and authentic learning experiences for our students. From creating the vision and being intentional with our first impressions to exploring many of the ways in which the student learning experience can be personal and authentic, these two chapters outline practical ways to support each student as a valued individual on a unique journey.
Chapter 6 helps us rethink the use of tools and spaces and ultimately refocus on how to effectively leverage them as part of a personal and authentic experience. Seen as framework supports, these facets can either amplify or hinder the student experience. As such, we’ll explore issues surrounding equity, first by recognizing the gaps in opportunity and access that still exist for marginalized groups, and second by identifying ways to tackle these vital issues head-on in our classrooms and schools.
In Chapter 7, we’ll bring it all together so we can maximize our personal and authentic legacy as educators. It is only through perseverance and resilience and by developing a fail-forward mindset through adversity that we can make it happen.
Throughout this book, you’ll learn from dozens of educators as they share their tips to “Make It Stick,” giving you practical ways to maximize personal and authentic learning in your classroom or school. I wrote the “Stop & Reflect” questions specifically to make you pause and reflect on your own practice, as we know that reflection is a key component of growth and the start of any change in practice. You’ll also have the opportunity to see personal and authentic experiences “In Practice” through the supplemental vignettes, which were written by some of today’s leading educators, who have shared their stories of making their student experiences both personal and authentic. Most sections conclude with ways you can “Try This.” Written to support your work, whether in leading a classroom or a school, these examples offer practical and tangible ideas that you can implement immediately. Finally, you’ll have the opportunity to take “A Closer Look” at some behind-the-scenes video footage as well as many tools and resources that correlate with the ideas found inside each chapter.
Throughout these pages, as you reflect upon the work you do each day, I encourage you to share your thoughts using the hashtag #AuthenticEDU. Together, let’s amplify the many amazing things happening in classrooms and schools each day while continuing to take steps forward on our own unique journeys.
Chapter 1
Relationships: The Foundation of Personal & Authentic Learning
Every kid is one caring adult away from being a success story.
—Josh Shipp
Is it possible to recognize a life-changing moment as it’s happening? Or does the significance of those moments only become visible after the fact?
A life-changing moment happens in a blink. It’s that moment where faith overcomes fear. It’s the first step toward a new reality, a step that permanently alters your dreams and changes the way you think about your life—forever.
In my own life, I didn’t see that moment for what it was until it had put me on a course that changed who I was and how I viewed my purpose—and yours—as an educator. The spark of a single piece of advice created opportunities for many moments—moments that were personal and authentic, and yes, life changing.
I was twenty-one years old and fresh out of college in my first year of teaching, and I thought I had a clue as to what I was getting myself into. I had always wanted to work with kids, and finally, I was getting my opportunity to do so as a brand-new fourth-grade teacher.
I spent countless hours that summer setting up my first classroom. Then, ripe with anticipation, the day finally came. My first opportunity. My very own students.
Mark Wieder, my mentor and a veteran teacher, taught across the hall in room 303. He had twenty-six years of teaching experience and was the heart and soul of our school. He was brilliant. He was funny. His kids excelled. He was exactly the kind of teacher I wanted to become. He was the kind of teacher every kid wanted.
How do I know?
On my very first day teaching, it seemed as if every student walked into my classroom hanging his or her head and saying, “I really wish I had Mr. Wieder this year.”
Yes, really. And I couldn’t blame them.
From the moment I met Mark, I understood why. He was passionate. He was fun. His love for people and for learning radiated in all that he did.
Just before my first day began, Mark and I stood in the hallway and talked for a few minutes, and I can remember my excitement to this day. It about paralleled the nerves I felt at the time. Just before the bell rang, Mark put his arm around my shoulders, looked at me, and said, “Tom, as your mentor, if there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s that this work is about loving and caring about kids. Everything else, and I mean everything else, is secondary to that. It’s all about relationships. Tom, if you keep that core to all you do, you’ll have amazing success in your career. If you lose sight of that, as your mentor, I’ll give you two options: one, get out and go do something different, or two, refocus on it. The kids who are about to walk down this hallway need you. For some, you may be all that they have this year. Don’t you ever forget that. Relationships first, everything else comes second.”
The bell rang, and my first set of students walked down the hallway, ready for their first day of fourth grade. Little did I know, at that moment, what would happen over the course of the school year would fundamentally change who I was as an educator and who I was as a person. I’d learn more in that year about people, loving others, and what teaching was truly about than I had in any course, in any student-teaching experience, or in any previous life experience. My first school year would challenge me to my core and alter my mindset.
My first class of students was challenging. As much as I enjoyed working with them, they were a difficult group. Similar to previous years, many of them struggled with their behavior; albeit being brand new, I’m sure I also struggled as a teacher because I had so much to learn.
From across the hall, I’d watch Mark. His students laughed often, as did he. In the morning, kids would run to him. It seemed that every afternoon when the bell rang, people would come back to visit. Decades later, I still remember one particular Friday afternoon vividly.
A young couple, holding a baby, walked down the hallway toward Mark’s room. I glanced at them, assuming they were the parents of one of his students, but I’d soon learn that they weren’t.
“Mr. Wieder,” the man said as he waved from the back of Mark’s room. “I’m Sam. I was in your class twenty years ago. Do you remember me?”
Immediately, Mark responded, “Sam! Of course I do. Come on in.”
Sam looked at his wife, smiled, and said, “Honey, this is the teacher I’ve always told you about, Mr. Wieder. That’s him!” I watched in awe as Mark walked to the back of the room, gave Sam a huge hug, and then introduced himself to Sam’s bride.
Sam went on, “Mr. Wieder, this is our baby girl. She’s five months old now. We’re here visiting my parents for the weekend, so I wanted her to meet my favorite teacher.”
I was twenty-one years old. This man had been Mark’s student the year after I was born, and Mark remembered Sam and his class after two decades. I watched in awe. Would that ever be me? Would students remember me and my classroom as they did his years later? Would students want to come back and visit me? Would I leave that type of legacy? Would I be the kind of teacher they’d tell their children about decades later?
As those first few weeks went on, I watched Mark lead. When he’d walk into the faculty room, people would smile. He made people laugh. Never once did I hear Mark complain. He brought his best every single day—and it showed. Mark practiced what he preached to his students. His students loved him for it and so did the team around him.
Meanwhile, across the hall, I was simply trying to survive. Like any new teacher, I found just keeping my head above water was a challenge. I wasn’t concerned about long-term planning. I was more concerned about being ready for tomorrow (and sometimes just making it through the day). My students had a tremendous set of needs, and each day seemed to bring a different challenge. I was inexperienced, and I’m sure it really showed on more than one occasion.
I finally lost it in October of that first year. Having felt like I had exhausted every option and feeling deep down that I was failing, I exploded in the faculty room one day during lunch.
After a frustrating morning, I walked in, huffing and puffing, and threw myself into a chair, slamming my hand on the faculty room lunch table.
“He’s not getting it!” I blurted out. “He’s not changing. I call home almost every day. I hardly ever hear back. He’s disrespectful. He doesn’t listen. He does what he wants. I can’t take it anymore. I hold him in for recess almost every day. The mom never even calls me back. I can’t deal with this kid an more!”
On the verge of tears, I stood up and stormed out of the faculty room, huffed all the way back to my classroom, and let the door close behind me.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but Mark had left his lunch on the table and followed me back down the hall to my classroom. Then my mentor opened my classroom door and closed it behind him.
Mark walked toward me, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Tom, as your mentor, don’t you ever, ever do that again. You want to get through to him? You need to love him. You need to care for him. You need to show him, every day, how much he matters. Tom, when he knows how much he matters, maybe then he’ll start to show you that he cares.”
“Tom, what did I tell you before that first day?” Mark asked. Without waiting for me to respond, he continued, “This work is all about relationships. This work is about loving and caring about kids. Without it, you have nothing. And right now, with this student, it looks like you have nothing. Instead of holding him in for recess, what if you asked him to have lunch to get to know him? Instead of yelling at him, what if you encouraged him the moment you saw something positive? Instead of calling home for being in trouble, what if you called home for something great? When do you think he last heard a compliment? When’s the last time you think mom received a positive call home? If you want to get through to him, Tom, maybe it’s you who needs to change.”
Humility set in instantly. It was the lowest moment of my young career and, ultimately, one of the most humbling moments I have ever had as an educator. Tears streamed down my face as we stood together in my classroom that October afternoon. After some necessary (and deserved) harsh words, Mark stepped toward me, and this amazing teacher of twenty-six years leaned in and gave me a hug.
I realized at that moment that he had become emotional too. He truly cared for me. He desperately wanted me to succeed.
Mark then whispered softly, “You can do this, Tom. I believe in you.”
He was spot on. I needed to change. It was my heart that had hardened.
In that moment, faith overcame fear. In that moment, empathy overcame my hard heart. In that moment, I realized relationships really were the foundation of our work as educators.
Later on that year, I’d learn that the child I struggled with had been the victim of one of the worst abuse cases I’d ever see in my entire career. That was the reason he acted the way that he did. When I started to take the time to see his heart and understand his story, I was no longer blinded by my own shaded lens. Just getting to school in the morning was an accomplishment for this boy. I had been so focused on myself that I couldn’t see him. I had been so focused on my needs, so insistent that he conform to my rules and my ways of doing things, that I had completely missed looking at his heart and what it was that he really needed.
Mark was right. I will forever be grateful that I had a colleague, a true mentor, who called me out face-to-face and set me straight. He didn’t gossip about my shortfalls in the faculty room. He coached me and challenged me when needed. He openly shared his experience, and through his example, I learned it was okay—even courageous—to ask for help. His mentorship ultimately changed the course of my career. And it was exponentially compounded by what happened next.
As the months went on, my respect for Mark grew. I watched as he asked our principal if he could take the first few minutes of a faculty meeting to lead a fun activity for the team. I watched him dress up for assemblies to make kids laugh. I watched as he created the type of classroom where kids wanted to be. He had high expectations for and loved every one of his students—and they thrived.
I no longer wondered why every fourth grader wanted Mr. Wieder as their teacher. Mark’s students felt loved in his classroom. He challenged them and made them believe they could rise to meet his challenge. Mark impacted hundreds of students over the years. He made the learning experience personal and authentic for them. The relationships Mark had with his students and the way he fostered an inclusive culture made them feel like they belonged and could change the world. His relationships were the foundation of the success that occurred in that classroom.
Mark attracted people to him, students and staff alike. It wasn’t his step on the pay scale, the bulletin boards that he hung, or how pretty his handouts were. He was a personal and authentic person. He treated others well, and he focused on relationships and loving others in everything he did.
Over the next few months, learning from Mark and other experienced colleagues, I began to change my practice. I found that as I changed my own mindset, my students responded—just as Mark had said they would. The experience of a veteran teacher is invaluable, and Mark guided me as only a true mentor could. My heart softened. When I changed my mindset from what I taught to who I taught, the real work came into focus. I began to understand the immense connection between personal and authentic relationships, classroom culture, and student learning outcomes.
As my attitude improved, so did my students’ behavior.
As my love for them grew, so did their respect and concern for me.
As my heart opened, their lives could finally be poured into.
As a team, working through things together, we began to win.
Teachers are some of the only people on the planet who go to bed worrying about other people’s children. Early on, I’d go to bed and stare at the ceiling with frustration from the day. Months later, after many lessons learned, I still lost a tremendous amount of sleep but for entirely different reasons. I’d gained immense empathy for all my students because I had a better understanding of what was on their plates, all they dealt with at home, and all the things I took for granted in life, for which their little hearts longed.
The months went on, and things improved. I received encouragement from other teachers, as well as guidance and support, and my confidence increased. I finally felt like maybe, just maybe, I could do this teaching thing.
When I changed my mindset from what I taught to who I taught, the real work came into focus.
I’d soon learn that the next few months would be some of the most difficult that I would ever encounter. My core would be shaken. My confidence rattled. My heart broken. I would question over and over again if I had the courage to be a teacher. I often wondered if I had a strong enough heart to work with kids.
It was the Wednesday before spring break. Due to the upcoming break, students were dismissed early that afternoon. The previous night, Mark and his wife Rae Ann had picked up the brand-new fourteen-foot camper they had just purchased. He had such excitement in his voice as he showed me the pictures from the brochure and told me all about it that day.
“Check this part out, Tom. We can put the grill back here. The bedroom is back here,” he’d said.
After school that day, Mark was heading home to pick up his wife to go and watch their son, Mark Jr., play tennis at his college in Maryland. They were going to get to use their beautiful new camper for the first time, and I was excited for them. As we stood in the hallway that afternoon and wished each other a great, long weekend, I waved and said, “Have a great time, Mark! Enjoy the new camper! Have a safe trip. I’ll see you on Tuesday!”
I didn’t realize it until later that everything changed in that moment because those would be my last words to Mark. I didn’t know that moment would be our last. I didn’t know that goodbye would be my final goodbye to my mentor.
If only I could have said “thank you” one more time.
The following morning, I walked outside to retrieve the local newspaper from the box at the end of my driveway. I looked down at the front-page headline: “Couple from Macungie Killed in Fiery Accident on Turnpike.”
Image Credit: The Morning Call, reprinted with permission
I began to read the front-page news.
A sport utility vehicle pulling a trailer ran out of control and skidded off the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike south of the Quakertown interchange, catching fire and killing a Macungie couple Wednesday afternoon. Mark Alton Wieder, 48, and Rae Ann Wieder, 50, both of 30 S. Sycamore St., were killed, state police at King of Prussia said.
Only those who have experienced sudden tragedy with loved ones can understand the fear, the anger, the disbelief, and the raw emotion that ensues in moments like these.
Wieder’s vehicle, which was pulling the fourteen-foot camper trailer, went off the road and struck the guardrail with the right front bumper, police said. The SUV separated from the trailer, became airborne, and slid down an embankment. It spun clockwise before striking a tree on the driver’s side, police said.
The SUV fell about thirty feet from the highway to Kumry Road, said Bucks County Coroner Joseph Campbell. The road was slick from a steady rain that fell throughout the day. Campbell said gasoline leaking from the vehicle caught fire and gutted the vehicle with the driver and passenger trapped inside.
“The fire was pretty extensive,” Campbell said. “It was a pretty violent accident.” Campbell said Mark Wieder died of smoke inhalation, burns, and trauma, and his wife died of burn and smoke inhalation. Firefighters arrived on the scene to find the car in flames, fire officials said.1
In that moment, my mentor—an amazing husband, dad of two, family man, and one of the best teachers that has ever walked this earth—and his loving wife were gone. Like so many others, heartbroken doesn’t begin to describe the grief that those who knew the couple felt.
That afternoon, many of my colleagues came together at school to mourn the loss of our friend. We shared stories of the man he was as our hearts were heavy. We cried together. We loved on one another, holding each other’s hearts in our hands.
I’ve come to realize that you never really know when that moment will be. You never really know when it will happen. You only know once that moment has passed, and reality has become a memory.
The last smile.
The last high five.
The last hug.
The last goodbye.
Mark’s life was cut way too short. Yet during his forty-eight years, he fully lived. He lived every day to the fullest. Mark had more joy and found more happiness through his relationships in forty-eight years than many feel in a lifetime. He epitomized the true impact of a teacher.
The following Saturday, over 4,000 people paid their respects to Mark and Rae Ann Wieder. Lines circled the church in Macungie, Pennsylvania, and people waited for hours to say their goodbye to two people they respected and loved so much.
I’m not sure if Mark ever grasped the actual impact he had as a teacher, the legacy he built, or the lives he helped change course, including mine. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever really know how long our fingerprints, as educators, will last on those we have the privilege to serve. Mark’s fingerprints will be seen on the lives of others for generations.
The Impact of a Teacher
Never say that you are just a teacher. You have just the right opportunity, every day, to change the lives of kids—just like my mentor Mark Wieder did, for over two-and-a-half decades.
Mark’s passing helped me understand that the quality of our relationships dictates our personal happiness. Ultimately, these relationships solidify and authenticate our successes. For Mark, these relationships were plentiful. They were personal in nature. They were authentic in experience. They were the foundation of all he did, both at home and at school. They are his legacy.
In our schools and classrooms, we need to ensure that students are not experience rich and relationship poor. It is in the quality of your relationships where your legacy as an educator will live.
I’ve come to learn that the more personal and authentic we are, the greater our impact will be. As educators, our effectiveness is based on the quality of our relationships. These relationships are the foundation of our work, the center of our why.
Never say that you are just a teacher. You have just the right opportunity, every day, to change the lives of kids.
As an educator, your fingerprints remain on the lives of those you serve. The greater your impact, the more profound and long-lasting the prints will be. Your daily work alters the course of history as you mold and shape the lives of others and that of future generations. Your fingerprints and legacy change the course of humanity. But you determine how it will change through the choices you make and the relationships you build.
Another month passed, and our school family was still grieving. All who have experienced the loss of a loved one know how difficult moving forward can be. We didn’t hide our grief. We worked together to face our new reality, and it reflected in our work.
For an authentic writing experience, I asked the kids to write a short essay answering the following prompt:
“Write a descriptive paragraph about someone that you admire. Make sure to include as many reasons as you can that tell why you admire that person. Make sure to include things you have seen the person do that have inspired you.”
Selfishly for me, it was an opportunity to write about Mark. It was an opportunity to write down the many ways his life touched mine. It was an opportunity for me to be vulnerable in front of my students. It was an opportunity for me to show humility. It was an opportunity to continue to grieve. It was an opportunity for me to finally take a step forward.
I shared how, as a new teacher, I admired Mark Wieder for who he was. I admired him for his integrity and how his love for others radiated in everything he did. I admired the teacher he was and how his kids loved being in his class. I also shared how I admired Mark for having the courage to call me out when I was wrong and to help me become a better teacher. For me, Mark defined the true meaning of a teacher, as he was far more than a content deliverer—he was a life changer.
That week, I shared my writing with my students and used it as a model for their work. I shed many tears throughout the writing process and was amazed at my students’ responses to my vulnerability as I shared my heart with them. Our team had transformed from a group of students previously known for behavioral issues to a team of kids who would be bound together forever by tragedy.
The following Monday, the students finished and handed in their essays. I still remember many of them being unable to stop talking about the person they wrote about because of the impact that person had on them. They had excitement in their voices and love in their eyes. They were proud.
That night I read the essays with joy. Faith wrote about her mom, Bryan wrote about his favorite baseball player, and Alyssa wrote about her gymnastics coach. And then I read what Cody had written.
Cody wasn’t your typical student. He was a student I knew I needed to find ways to reach. He was one of the students I knew needed extra love. He was also one of the students that Mark helped me learn to understand. After Mark pushed me to really get to know my kids, I began eating lunch with students one-on-one each day to get to know them as people rather than just as learners.
Cody was one of those students who marched to his own drum. During recess, most times, he’d wander the playground on his own. He’d often come to school with mismatched clothes or missing his homework. It was during our first lunch together the previous November that my heart began to connect to his. When I asked Cody what his biggest goals were that year, he smiled faintly and said he “was hoping to make a friend that year.” I remember holding back tears the moment I internalized it. I remember feeling awful that it had taken me until November to know that about him. We had spent so much time together in the classroom, yet I hardly knew his heart. I remember promising myself in that moment that I would do whatever it took to help him. Before I could really teach him, I had to try to understand him.
Over the following months, Cody and I ate lunch together regularly. As Mark had suggested, I’d play soccer with him at recess, and other students would join in. I learned of his love for science and video games. I discovered his fun-loving, quirky personality. The more I got to know Cody, the more he knew I cared for him. His attendance and grades began to improve. He began to display some confidence, and his smile began to show more frequently. The day he came in telling me about his two best friends in the class, he wore one of the biggest smiles I’d ever see on him.
After a few moments of reflection, I read Cody’s essay. He had written about me.
Tears flowed from the moment I saw my name on his paper following the word admire. For the first time, I felt that even as a brand-new teacher, with so much to learn, I could have an impact on the lives of others. I finally had that feeling, one that Mark probably had countless times over his career.
I spent the rest of that evening feeling proud of my kids. They shared their hearts with me through their writing and articulated why they admired others with such detail.
Students were off the following day, as it was a teacher in-service day. After spending the majority of the morning with the other fourth-grade teachers in the district and then going out to lunch with my team, we returned for the afternoon sessions. Soon into that afternoon session, a voice said over the loudspeaker, “Tom Murray, if you’re in the building, please come to the office.”
My colleagues looked at me, perplexed. I had a sinking feeling; something just didn’t feel right. I grabbed my bag, packed up my stuff, and stepped out into the hallway. One of the district administrators, Karen Beerer, was walking toward me. I will never forget what she said to me: “Tom, it’s not your family, but something’s happened.” We walked downstairs to the main office. She couldn’t bring herself to say much else.
We entered the high school principal’s office and someone closed the door behind us. As I sat in the chair they had pulled out for me, I looked around the room and saw the superintendent, the two assistant superintendents, and my school principal, Bill Gretzula, who had tears in his eyes. Bill had been a rock of courage and support for me since Mark’s loss. He said, “Tom, this morning something terrible happened.”
I remember feeling like I wasn’t strong enough to hear what he was about to say. I can remember bracing myself for the worst.
Bill continued, “This morning, while at home, Cody passed away.”
My tears fell like rain and wouldn’t stop. What did stop, however, was my world at that moment.
Bill went on to share additional details of what they knew about how the death occurred. “I’m so sorry, Tom. I know how close you were with him.”
Cody was ten.
The flashbacks began immediately. I remembered spending lunch with him, kicking the ball with him at recess, and his beautiful smile. Closing my eyes, I could hear his laugh from the day before. I had flashbacks of the times he mistakenly called me “Dad.” I recalled the ten-year-old boy in my class that I’d grown to have a personal and authentic relationship with, a student that I had loved.
I never had the chance to return Cody’s essay to him. I was never able to share with him how much his words and encouragement meant to me.
If I’d only had one more chance. If I’d only had one more opportunity.
Police ruled Cody’s death due to “accidental causes.” To this day, I hope and pray that was the case. For a child who was dealt a very tough set of cards in life and for all he shared, I’ll forever wish I did more for him.
As a brand-new teacher who was already struggling emotionally due to the loss of my mentor and friend, I went from heartache to feeling like I couldn’t go on. I can honestly say that I didn’t believe I had the strength or the courage it takes to be a teacher.
The following Saturday, I went to another funeral—my second in five weeks. This time, it wasn’t for a well-known teacher whose life was celebrated by thousands and thousands of people. This time, it was a small service with a handful of family members, a few neighbors, and a few classmates with their parents, who exhibited far more courage than I could have dreamed, to pay respects to their fourth-grade friend.
Saying goodbye to Cody that final time was another defining moment for me as an educator. As I stood there saying goodbye, tears for this boy I had grown to love streaming down my face, I promised myself that no child would ever come through my doors without knowing they were cared for and loved. No child would ever walk through my classroom door without being told, and more importantly shown, that I’d do whatever it took to show them how much they mattered.
Mark’s relationships with others defined who he was and helped me see who I wanted and needed to be. Cody’s relationship with me helped define who I was and who I needed to be—for him and for every child who walked through my classroom door.
The best thing that we can give kids this school year is not a new curriculum or technology; it’s an empathetic heart that sees and hears theirs.
As we begin our journey to make learning personal and authentic, know that the work starts with us. If we want to leave a lasting legacy, as every educator does, the work begins in us. The best thing that we can give kids this school year is not a new curriculum or technology; it’s an empathetic heart that sees and hears theirs. The foundation of creating learner-centered, personal, and authentic experiences is, and always will be, relationships.
It is our mindset. Our lens. Our way of thinking. Our relationships. That’s where learning that is personal and authentic begins. Education begins and ends with people, and we must own our roles in this process. When we become more concerned about what we teach than who we teach, we have lost the purpose of the work. We must look deep inside ourselves and discover who we are before we can impact anything outside ourselves and, ultimately, who our students will become.
We must love our kids more than we love our pasts. We must love our kids more than we love our habits. We must love our kids more than we love our own egos. We must love our kids enough to change ourselves when needed.
The work is hard. The work is stressful. The work is emotional. But our kids are worth it.
Together, we can do this.
Stop & Reflect
How would you design a student learning experience if the quality of the relationship was at the core? What personal and authentic experiences have impacted you as an educator? Share them on social media, using the hashtag #AuthenticEDU.
When we become more concerned about what we teach than who we teach, we have lost the purpose of the work.
Try This
Ask the previous year’s teacher, or a family member if necessary, the proper pronunciation of the child’s name and what she prefers to be called.
Be vulnerable and authentic with students and don’t be afraid to be transparent about your own struggles and challenges. Such a perception makes you approachable and relatable.
Begin the day with three Post-it notes on your desk. Over the course of the day, write a brief note to three different students, highlighting something you appreciate, recognize, or that makes you proud. After students have left for the day, place the three notes in a creative place where the student will find it the next day, such as inside a locker, on the textbook page he will open to next, or in a folder inside her desk.
Designate a classroom greeter who is responsible to greet each student at the door each morning or before the class period every day for a week. Students enter with their choice of a handshake, high-five, or fist bump, and a hello by name.
Early in the day (for elementary students) or at the beginning of the class period (for secondary students), provide a “one-minute reflection” opportunity. Students can ask a question about the previous day’s content, reflect on what they just learned, or share something currently on their hearts with the teacher. Handing in the reflection can be optional or completed through a digital tool such as Google Forms. This allows every student to provide confidential feedback in only a few minutes.
Don’t simply tell students that you care; show them that you do. Empty words become meaningless, whereas modeling through your actions enables personal and authentic connections.
A Closer Look
For a deeper dive into Chapter 1 as well as free tools, resources, and study guide questions, visit thomascmurray.com/AuthenticEDU1.
Chapter 2
Creating a Culture for Learning
We may not get the chance to choose which kids or families to serve, but we do get to decide what kind of climate we want to serve them in.
—Jimmy Casas
For learning to be personal and authentic, a dynamic learning culture must exist. Developing such a culture, whether as a teacher in a classroom, a principal in a building, or a superintendent of a district, becomes possible when four core pillars are solidified. It is on these pillars where such a culture can be built. Ultimately, it is within this culture where a shift in the learning experience for kids becomes possible.
The four pillars to create a dynamic learning culture:
1 Leadership
2 Interactions
3 Trust
4 Risk-taking
For learning to be personal and authentic, these pillars must be intentionally reinforced and done so regularly. A culture for learning is bound in the strength of these pillars.
Stop & Reflect
Which of these pillars is strongest in your classroom or school? Which needs to be solidified the most?
Leadership Starts with You
“What you do has far greater impact than what you say.”
—Stephen Covey
I’ve had the privilege of working for some fantastic leaders over the years. Those leaders had courage. They had articulate, kid-centered visions. They valued people first and helped foster cultures of risk-taking and innovation. Those leaders modeled the way, led by example, and saw kids as far more than data points and test scores. They were willing to challenge the status quo and do whatever it took for the students they served. They understood that to be effective, they had to lead by being personal and authentic.
Working with educators in the United States and throughout the world gives me great hope. Spending time with educators every week affords me the insight as to the vast array of work that’s being done to support our students. Many incredible things happen in classrooms every day.
I’ve worked with amazing leaders in states like Mississippi where 100 percent of the students where I served lived below the poverty line. In places like this, I’ve met dynamic, passionate, and talented educators who serve brilliant, determined, hard-working, and courageous kids.
I’ve also spent time on the other end of the financial spectrum, in some of our country’s wealthiest suburbs, where outfitting the newest virtual reality and STEM lab with the latest technology and spending tens of thousands of dollars on such products each year is more than feasible. In places like this, I’ve also met dynamic, passionate, and talented educators who serve brilliant, determined, hard-working, and courageous kids.
If I’m fully transparent in these thoughts, the converse is also true. I’ve worked with leaders in some of the most impoverished areas and leaders in some of the wealthiest areas whose leadership I’d struggle to place my own children under. These interactions have been limited, as the vast amount of school and district leaders I work with are people-loving, kid-centered, dynamic, and talented individuals who pour their hearts into other people’s children each day.
With the vast experiences mentioned above, from urban to rural, from large to small, and from poor to wealthy, incredible educators can be found in every demographic.
What I’ve come to know is . . .
. . . a school’s budget doesn’t make a great leader.
. . . a school’s location doesn’t make a great leader.
. . . a school’s size doesn’t make a great leader.
. . . a person’s title doesn’t make a great leader.
In Learning Transformed: 8 Keys to Designing Tomorrow’s Schools, Today, Eric Sheninger and I address this issue as we contrast “Leaders by Title” (LBTs) with “Leaders by Action” (LBAs):
In our opinion, the best leaders have one thing in common: they do, as opposed to just talk. Leadership is about action, not position or chatter. Some of the best leaders we have seen during our years in education have never held any sort of administrative title. They had the tenacity to act on a bold vision for change to improve learning for kids and the overall school culture. These people are often overlooked and may not be considered “school leaders” because they don’t possess the necessary title or degree that is used to describe a leader in the traditional sense. Nevertheless, the effect these leaders can have on an organization is much greater than an LBT. We need more leaders by action (LBA). Make no mistake about the fact that you are surrounded by these people each day. They are teachers, students, parents, support staff members, and administrators who have taken action to initiate meaningful change in their classrooms or schools. These leaders don’t just talk the talk; they also walk the walk. They lead by example in what might be the most effective way possible: by modeling. They don’t expect others to do what they aren’t willing to do. It doesn’t take a title or a new position for these leaders to be agents of change. LBAs drive sustainable change and make the transformation of learning possible.
Never underestimate your own unique talents and abilities; they have the power to shape the future of our schools and create a better learning culture that our students need and deserve. Everyone has the ability to lead in some capacity, and our schools—and the kids who are being shaped inside them—need more educators to embrace this challenge.1
Leadership is defined by action, not by one’s title on a business card. In life, your success is intimately tied to your actions.
Stop & Reflect
When you think of the words “school leader,” who comes to mind? What characteristics does that individual consistently display?
From my experience, quite often, especially in toxic environments, educators will talk about “a lack of leadership,” which is often paired with comments about “low morale.” Toxic school cultures are real. Toxic, egocentric, self-serving “leadership” is real. Innovation will not thrive in these school and classroom cultures, and risk-taking will be minimal. In these spaces, it is ultimately the students who have the most to lose.
In life, your success is intimately tied to your actions.
This cycle of toxicity will continue until hearts change or other leaders rise.
Some of the most dynamic school leaders I’ve ever worked with are perhaps not whom you’d expect. It has been the third-year teacher that runs through walls for kids every single day. It has been the support staff member who earns far less than she deserves yet is a backbone to the building and knows every child within it. It has been the thirty-five-year veteran, teaching her last year but making every day count. She’d been teaching second grade for twenty years, but she still recognized that her students only had one year in second grade, so she did whatever it took for them to have their best year yet.
The best leaders, whether in the classroom or the office, don’t believe it is someone else’s responsibility to make great things happen. The best leaders don’t believe it is someone else’s responsibility to make their schools a great place to work. The best leaders don’t point the finger outward before they point the finger at themselves and examine inward.
Leadership starts with you.
Regardless of your role, regardless of your position, if you work in a school, you are a leader for kids. If you work in a toxic environment, you have two choices: maximize blame and minimize impact or maximize impact and minimize blame. If you work in a toxic environment and the perceived consensus is that the toxicity is due to one person, what would happen if you and every other adult in the building did everything in their power to make yours the greatest school on the planet in which to work? Some may call it a utopian thought. But why?
Toxic environments are real, but to move out of that environment, we must own our parts in the learning culture, regardless of our titles.
So much of the role of leadership comes down to one word—mindset. It’s easier to point the finger than it is to take responsibility. It’s easier to make an excuse than to fight an uphill battle. It’s easier to hide than it is to rise in the midst of uncertainty.
If you want your school to have great leadership, it begins with you. If I want my organization to have great leadership, it begins with me. Our mindsets, our actions, and our circles of influence can move us forward. We can’t do it for others. We can only do it for ourselves.
Every one of us is responsible for our workplace cultures. Each of us contributes to it. Each of us either builds it up or tears it down, even just a little bit, each day. Right now, your school’s culture perfectly aligns with the mindset and actions of the adults in your building. If we want things to change, we must look inward before we look around us. We must move forward if we want the whole group to move forward; otherwise, we’re simply solidifying the foundation of the status quo.
Right now, your school’s culture perfectly aligns with the mindset and actions of the adults in your building.
While toxic school cultures and poor leadership are very real, so are the countless schools and districts that people flock to each day. These are places of joy, places where both students and staff want to be. These are places where leaders take responsibility and model the way, where the adults do whatever it takes for students to thrive. These places aren’t created by one person. Cultures of innovation are the culmination of action-oriented leadership by many inside an organization.
Where leaders rise, kids win.
The top levels of leadership of an organization set the tone for the culture within. In toxic cultures, innovation will not and cannot thrive. In cultures of innovation, the unthinkable becomes possible. It’s a superintendent and her team who set the tone for a district, principal for her school, and a teacher for his classroom.
“Culture,” as defined by Merriam-Webster, is “the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution or organization.”
Take a moment to consider the following questions:
What are the shared attitudes of those in your school or district?
What shared values are consistent among those that work with you?
What shared goals are in place and owned by those on your team?
What types of practices are most consistent?
Do the attitudes and practices in your school propel or hinder learning that is personal and authentic?
Cultures of innovation are the culmination of action-oriented leadership by many inside an organization.
For learning to be personal and authentic, an inclusive culture must be in place so students know they belong, regardless of differences they may have from those around them. In these cultures of innovation, the adults model the desired behaviors, and both staff and students understand that every person and every interaction matters.
Try This
Hire by committee. Give teachers a voice in who their next colleague will be.
Provide mentors for new teachers for their first three years, giving veteran teachers opportunities to build capacity in the next generation of the profession.
Empower teachers to plan and lead professional learning throughout the year. If most professional learning is top-down, there will be significant resistance and, quite often, minimal impact.
Set aside time for reflection at all levels. Reflecting on experience propels growth.
Principals: Sometimes the best things happen when we get out of the way and let our people run! Build capacity and give them the opportunity to do so.
Educational leaders are not simply those that have chosen the career field, but are those who send their children to school every day with their best hopes and expecatations. Intentionally engage families and give them the opportunity to lead!
Every Interaction Matters
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
—Maya Angelou
Each summer, I have the privilege to work alongside thousands of educators to help kick off their school year. The energy surrounding these days is infectious. For me, one day from the summer of 2018 stands head and shoulders above the rest. It wasn’t what happened while on-site that became a moment in time that I will never forget; it was what happened on my trip back home.
Like many other days, I was on the go and running non-stop. Part of my world entails spending countless nights away from home, in hotels scattered around the country while flying from place to place. That afternoon was similar to so many I’d had before.
After opening for a district that morning and rushing back to the San Diego airport, I dropped my rental car off and hopped on the airport shuttle bus. But I’d hopped on the wrong shuttle bus. Being at airports non-stop doesn’t prevent me from making careless mistakes at them. Just before the driver pulled away, I grabbed my stuff, hopped off, and ran to the other shuttle; this time, it was the right one. As we drove toward the airport, I did what I’ve done hundreds of times: I looked down at my phone, made sure I was checked in, looked up my gate, and figured out how much time I had until I boarded. A few minutes later, our crowded bus full of travelers disembarked in what seemed to be complete chaos.
I moved through the large crowd and followed signs to Terminal 2. Upon arriving, I looked around and saw all of the airlines for my terminal, except for the one I was taking, American Airlines. Flying so much each year, I’m entirely comfortable in airports, but for a few moments in this one, I felt alone and lost. I looked around and finally asked someone for help. An older gentleman pointed me toward the opposite end and said, “Didn’t you see it? It’s on the other side. You have to go all the way back down there.” I thanked him and went on my way, walking quickly back through baggage claim and again through the masses of people toward the other side of the terminal.
About halfway through the crowd, I noticed a man about my age. I could tell he seemed a bit lost and appeared to be looking for someone or something. He was holding a cane and was wearing unique glasses. I remember thinking to myself that he was probably trying to locate his bag. I also thought about how challenging that must be if he was alone and was, in fact, blind like I had assumed.
I kept walking and eventually walked right by him, glancing back down at my phone.
Consumed with my own craziness, all that was on my own plate, the calls I had to make, and the work I had to get done, I continued walking toward the security checkpoint. At one point, I turned back to glance at the man who had caught my attention and noticed that he continued to stand alone. It was clear he felt lost, just as I had a few minutes prior on the other side of the terminal.
I started to feel sick to my stomach.
A few hours before, I’d had the opportunity to encourage almost one thousand educators who give their all for kids every day at a Southern California opening day. In part of my talk that morning, I was challenging them on building relationships and the responsibility of building and owning the culture in their schools. I shared how even the smallest interaction can make someone’s day and be an encouragement, how showing someone you care and that they matter can be life-changing.
That morning I was hoping to tug at their hearts by helping them truly understand their lifelong impacts and how their fingerprints would be left forever on the children they serve. This afternoon, however, it was my own heart tugging back at me. The further I walked, the more like a hypocrite I felt. Here I had just been challenging others to make every interaction count, and there I had just walked right past someone with obvious physical needs who could use some help.
So I humbly listened to that little voice inside my head, and I turned around.
I hustled back over to the man who was still standing there, looking around, and it reminded me of how I had felt only minutes before, but I had been able to see where I was. I walked up to him and simply said, “Hi, my name is Tom. You look like you need some help. Can I help you with something?”
“I’m not sure where I am,” he said. I asked him which airline he had just flown and if he was trying to get his bag.
“I can’t remember which one it was,” he said.
I started to realize he needed a bit more help than which direction to head or how to find his bag. I looked around and saw an information desk by one of the exit doors, figuring those at the booth might be able to help. I asked the man his name, to which he replied, “Scott,” and then I invited him to put his hand on my shoulder to go figure out where he needed to go. As we started walking together, I asked if he had a boarding pass so we could help figure out where he needed to go.
Scott responded, “I think it started with a U. I don’t remember. And I came from up north.”
Over the next few minutes, the attendant at the information desk helped us figure out which plane Scott came in on and which carousel his baggage would arrive. The attendant asked, “Scott, was it the United flight from San Francisco?”
He responded, “Oh. Yes, sir. That’s it. Thank you.” The attendant then pointed to the far end of the building, exactly where I had just asked for my own directions.
Scott turned to me and said, “Thank you for helping me.” Still feeling bad that I had walked right by him the first time, like hundreds of others, I asked if I could help him get down to the other end safely and help him get his bag.
As we began to navigate the crowd, Scott paused and turned toward me. “I’m really sorry. I have a hard time knowing where I am sometimes, and it’s easy to forget things. It’s not that I’m blind; my brain just doesn’t function right,” he said.
I replied, “No problem, Scott, let’s get you there safely. I’m glad to help.”
After glancing at my phone to see how much time I had to get to my gate, I asked Scott what his bag looked like. He struggled to get the word camouflage out. He then said, “It’s a military color.”
Having a dad that served in the Marines and having tremendous respect for those who protect our freedom, I paused and asked, “Scott, are you in the military?”
Scott stopped walking in the middle of the crowded room and pointed to his hat. “Purple Heart” was embroidered on it. I had completely missed it, both the first time I walked by him and during our few minutes of interaction.
Scott slowly began, “It happened in Mosul. It’s a place in Iraq, if you’ve never heard of it. I was Delta Force. It’s part of the army.”
My heart stopped. I started to anticipate where he was going with his story.
He continued. “It was a beautiful day like today, except it was much hotter. Maybe one hundred and thirty degrees and, trust me, that’s really hot.” He laughed. “I can still smell the air from that day. My team was helping a family in the city. We were keeping these women and children safe because there were a lot of bad guys in the area.”
I’m not ashamed to admit that it was about that moment I had to hold back tears.
“We thought the bad guys had left. A while later, I went to check if they had and walked out the front door.” He paused again. “That’s when it happened. I got shot.” He turned and pointed to the left side of his head. “We were trying to help protect them. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see it coming.”
As Scott relived a few minutes of a life-changing day, the last day of what he had always known, I became emotional thinking how only a few minutes prior, I was so self-consumed in all I had to do that I had walked right by this amazing, courageous man.
Scott continued. “But it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. The problem is the bullet is still in my brain. It’s right there.” He pointed to a spot on his head. “The doctors say they can’t move it and can’t take it out, and it needs to stay in there. But I’m okay. This is just my new life.”
The floodgates opened. My tears flowed as I stood listening to the story of someone whom I had completely ignored just a few minutes earlier.
We made our way over to baggage claim, his hand still on my shoulder. As we worked our way through the crowd, I asked about his story and where he was from. Scott shared that he had grown up in Texas. He talked about his family and how he joined the military to help people in need and how he always liked helping other people.
I grabbed his camouflage bag off the conveyor belt, and we moved to the place outside where his dad was going to pick him up. As we waited, he turned to me and said, “I don’t understand why you wanted to help. Most people just walk right by.”
His words sent chills through me.
My heart sank because I had been one of the people who walked right by him. I was the one who couldn’t take a few moments to help someone. I had been all-consumed with myself. I’d been too busy and too preoccupied with my own needs to realize that I was in the presence of a hero.
“Hey, Scott, it’s not every day that I get to meet an American hero,” I said. “Can we take a picture so I can remember you and your story? I want to tell my kids about you. I want them to grow up and understand what true sacrifice means and what a hero really looks like . . . and it looks just like you.”
Scott nodded and said, “I’d be honored to, sir.”
As his dad approached, Scott stuck his hand out and said, “Thanks for being a friend, Tom.”
Feeling like I didn’t even deserve to carry this hero’s luggage and with tears streaming down my face, I could only get out, “No, thank you, Scott.”
It was truly an honor to be in Scott’s presence and have the privilege of carrying his bags while helping him safely get to where he needed to be. It was an honor that I will never forget.
For me, those moments reaffirmed how every interaction matters.
In our schools and in our classrooms, every interaction matters. We must also understand that every interaction is an opportunity to make an impact on those around us. A single interaction can change a person’s life forever.
When you walk into the faculty room, do you build the energy up? Or do you suck the air right out?
As kids walk by us in the hallway, how do we react? Are we looking at our phones or looking into their hearts? When we see a child in need or one who appears to be lost or one who seems to have a heavy heart, do we keep walking? Or do we pause our own worlds for a few moments to help lift someone else’s higher?
As we engage with students in the classroom, what do our everyday interactions look like? How can we ensure that we make every interaction count? How can our daily interactions show kids how much they matter?
As an educator, every day is an opportunity to have an amazing impact on those around you. Even a chance interaction can be life-changing, just as meeting Scott was for me that August afternoon.
To create cultures of innovation where learning is personal and authentic, we must recognize that every interaction matters.
Stop & Reflect
Think of a recent interaction that was personal for you. How was that interaction authentic in nature? What type of impact did it have on you?
We must own our actions. We must own our mindsets. We must own the opportunities that we take and those we pass on. We must own our roles in creating the cultures our kids need to thrive.
When you walk into the faculty room, do you build the energy up? Or do you suck the air right out? If asked, would those around you compare you to a faucet that pours into the lives of others and adds to the existing energy? Or would they say you’re more like a drain, where the energy and momentum go to disappear?
What flows out of you?
We must own our abilities to create the cultures our kids need to thrive by making every interaction count. When done consistently over time, it is these interactions, these moments, that build trust.
Try This
Keep a personal journal in your desk or digitally. At the end of each day, spend three to four minutes reflecting on which interactions you feel were most impactful that day. At the start of each week, take a few minutes to read and reflect on your impact from the previous week.
Find a colleague whom you admire who “makes every interaction count.” Tell that person why you enjoy working together.
Keep a private “Interactions Checklist” where you can informally keep track of meaningful interactions with your students (or staff). Over time, reflect on those you haven’t connected with and go out of your way to do so.
Building Trust
“Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair.”
—Unknown
Whatever takes time and energy to build can also be shattered in a moment. Without it, little positive progress can be made. With it, unbreakable bonds can be secured. Learning cultures depend on it.
Trust, the foundation of all interactions, dictates the speed at which progress in our classrooms and schools can be made. Leadership works at the speed of trust. Collaboration works at the speed of trust. Transformation works at the speed of trust. School and classroom cultures where personal and authentic learning flourishes are built at the speed of trust.
What is it that you do to intentionally build trust in your classroom or school? This isn’t a one-time activity or something that gets checked off the list on the first day of school. How do you build trust consistently over time?
School and classroom cultures where personal and authentic learning flourishes are built at the speed of trust.
As educators, we process things with our minds but often make decisions with our hearts. We cannot forget that our students do the same. It is through trust that we can build relationships—the foundation of personal and authentic learning cultures. It’s no secret that students learn from people they love. This love comes from a sense of safety, security, and knowing one is cared for in the process. It is trust that stabilizes and solidifies these in our daily interactions.
Before trust can become an unwavering thread of classroom culture, educators must learn to trust themselves. Putting trust in ourselves comes from a sense of knowing that we are worth it. Putting such trust in ourselves comes from us being cognizant of our own needs—our self-care. Self-care allows us to refuel so we can continue the work we are so passionate about.
We can only maximize building trust with others when we take care of ourselves first. Doing “whatever it takes” for kids does not mean running yourself ragged in the process. Doing “whatever it takes” for kids means being able to put yourself in position to advocate for those traditionally underserved, to bring passion to your content area, or have a quiet moment with a child in need, and be your best while doing so. We must take care of ourselves as educators to maximize our effectiveness during the most challenging moments. We spend time every day recharging our phones but often go months without recharging ourselves.
Everyone who has flown in an airplane has heard the standard preflight announcements (or at least have been present as they’ve occurred). During these announcements, the flight attendants will instruct passengers on what to do in an emergency situation. It goes something like this:
