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doubt…
despair…
rejection…
dejection…
self-doubt…
despondency…
I cleaned out the garage Tuesday afternoon…
the phone never rang…
I dug five post holes on Wednesday… by hand…
blisters…
erected five posts in concrete in those holes on Thursday…
blisters…
putting up a fence on Friday…
calm…
peace…
assurance…
self-assurance…
work begins again on Monday…
exemplary again…
I was at Disney World this week. I stood in line with my family for about an hour to see Fantasmic. It was an hour wait. It was hot. It was humid. A small intimate crowd joined us. If you can say that a crowd of about 8,000 is small and intimate. The show was great… but this is about something else.
On the way in we heard many languages. French, German, English, Portuguese, and Pig-Latin. (I said a few words of it so I could say that I heard it.) Many different people from many different places… but it all started with a small group of people on the left most edge of the crowd.
Several of the people in that area stood and raised their hands over their heads and made a cheering sound. It didn’t do much. They tried it again. A little better response. The third time… the third time was the charm. They started it again and the crowd caught on. A wave had been spawned.
It rolled across the crowd from one end to the other. It rolled over (through) large and small humans. It united a crowd from the four corners of the earth.
The wave carried on for several minutes before it became tiresome and started to fade. The intensity getting less at each passing. Then… something happened.
Several people in the far right corner of the crowd stood and cheered sending the wave back to it’s originators. This wave was bigger and stronger than the last several. This was new and exciting. The reverse wave.
The reverse wave didn’t have the stamina of the original direction. It only lasted about half the time. The newness gone.
Do we all speak different languages? Yes! Do we have common things that tie us together? Yes! You can say several things separate us from other animals. Several things put us higher on the food chain (pecking order). Is the wave one of them?
I think God smiles when he looks down at us and sees us doing the wave.
I have the best job in the world. I get to see the world through the eyes of kids. I am amazed at the wonder they see. I am amazed at the hope and passion they possess. I am truly amazed at how pure things really are for them.
We are leaving on Monday morning, at 6AM I might add, for a trip to Disney World. I (43) have been once and loved it. I went to Disney Land once but that doesn’t count. My beautiful bride (37) has been three times. Our eldest (13) has been twice. Our middle child (12) has been once. And, our sweet precious baby love child (5) has never been. He is so cited [sic].
Let me tell you why…
(click above to see video)
I am at the Leadership Academy in Austin, Texas put on by the Schlechty Center for Leadership in School Reform. I want to take this opportunity to thank both of my loyal readers. You guys rock.
I had the pleasure today of interviewing the one and only Lenora (Lennie) Hay. She was gracious, mildly trepidacious, but willing to play my game. This interview is different than past ones. I have moved into the modern era… using video… enjoy!
Len_Hay (click the name to the left for the interview)
As always, my archived interviews can be found on the left under the heading interviews.
Like many of you when I was old enough to push the mower… I was allowed to push the mower. How exciting that time was. How short lived the excitement was. Every week I had to push that mower around our yard. My Dad was a bagger. We bagged the clippings. Not because he was against being ecologically minded. This was in the seventies and mulching mowers hadn’t hit the retail market yet.
I learned in my early teens that the lawn mower was the bane of my existence. I learned how to manipulate the mower so it wouldn’t start. I could only do this when my Dad wasn’t home as he wouldn’t fall for the tricks. He was too mechanically minded to let me get by with not working.
The days of fooling my Mother were ended by my Dad. That was the day my world changed. My Dad was a hardware man. He spent most of his adult life as a manager in a hardware store. Occasionally he would bring home great pieces of hardware technology. The hardware tool that changed my life is pictured below.
This is a new model. Not the model my Dad brought home. This lawn mower is electric. It plugs into the wall. It starts every time with the flick of a switch. No more fooling Mom. No more skipping mowing days. Technology changed my life… and not for the better. Mowing the cord was not an option… too dangerous.
So… mow I did… mow everyweek… always mowing… today… I don’t care much for mowing… I dream of…
A zero turn radius mower. Riding mower. Sit and work… ahh the good life.
A colleague of mine from the secondary world was visiting my campus recently. As we walked through the building and looked around, he concluded something about me. As we walked by about the fourth or fifth group of kids, he turned to me and said, “Dude… you are like a rock star.” He said this because every group of kids that we passed said, “Hello, Mr. Bicknell.” Rock Star… I do not think so. I am just the big bald guy in the suit. Do I feel like a rock star? I guess I do some days. Nevertheless, I know better. I know who the real Rock Stars on my campus are… the real rock stars are anyone but me…
It could be the four kindergarten teachers who take on a huge burden each year of training a bunch of new kids in the ways of school. I am amazed that they come back. The teachers that is. I am also amazed at the amount of growth shown by the kindergarten kids. They grow and change so much.
The real rock stars could be the four first grade teachers. They take those malleable kindergartners and enrich what has already been taught. They extend the reading and mathematics.
The real rock stars could be the four second grade teachers. These ladies work diligently to close the gaps that students have before they enter the wild world of TAKS testing. This is such a crucial year.
The real rock stars could be the three third grade teachers. They work at making sure the students learn the required material. They work at building relationships with kids that endure past the TAKS test. The make sure that school is important to the kids… and fun for the kids… even in this environment of high stakes testing.
The real rock stars could be the four fourth grade teachers. They work with what I like to call the middle children. You know, every family has them. The middle awkward child. That is fourth grade. These ladies overcome much with these kids!
The real rock stars could be the fifth grade teachers. These ladies do an incredible job of preparing these students for life beyond elementary school. It is not all about reading and writing… it is so much more.
The real rock stars could be the special services teachers on my campus. They work diligently to meet the individual needs of our students, from designing lessons to encouraging words. They fill the gaps.
The real rock stars could be the specials teachers on my campus. From music to physical education to computers… these ladies go above and beyond to make the learning experience out of this world.
The real rock stars could be the BRAVO teacher, the Speech Language Pathologist, the EXCEL teacher, or the ladies who work in the library. All of these ladies work above and beyond what is called for in their job descriptions. It is all about the kids.
The real rock stars could be the ladies who provide services to the students with visual impairment. The VI teachers, the braillists, the O&M people. They work to make sure that our non-sighted students are successful.
The real rock star could be our Instructional Technology person. She keeps us running and up to date on what is new and cool. She teaches the staff and the students on the ways of instruction and learning in this century and beyond.
I am not a rock star… but I walk among them daily… and for that… I am in awe.
ro∙mance (rō-măns’, rōmăns’)
n.
1.a. A love affair. B. Romantic involvement; love.
2. A mysterious or fascinating quality or appeal, as of something adventurous.
3.a. A medieval narrative telling of the adventures of heroes and extraordinary or mysterious love affair.
4. A story or film dealing with a love affair.
Romance is a very mysterious thing to me. So, let’s chat. Send me some feedback on what you think romance is. What is romantic to you? What is the most romantic thing your significant other has done for you? Respond to this post and I will add your response.
I was an Indian. Not like my Grandfather (yet I am an Indian like him) more like Mike Hargrove or Jim Thome. Okay, I started my baseball career wearing a uniform for the Pioneer Youth Association team called the Indians. The caps and stirrups were purple. I don’t know why. I was a first baseman like Hargrove and Thome. A big difference, other than they played in the big leagues, is I was (am) afraid of the baseball. I hear you laughing… not nice.
From second grade through graduating from high school I was a first baseman. Believe it or not I made the All District team in high school. Still, I was afraid of the ball. I’m not sure if my coaches knew it (how could they not)?
I have three kids. Three boys. The oldest boys, Drew and Tyler, are baseball players. I want my kids to be happy. I want them to be good. I want them to enjoy the sport because it’s fun. My fear has been my phobia of the ball flying at me, at my face, would be inherited by my kids.
I was watching Drew’s, my eldest’s, first game the other day and I was amazed at the way he approaches the ball. I would have turned my head to the side and moved so the ball would come next to me not at me. Drew is like a vacuum cleaner going directly at the ball. Seating it securely in his glove before popping it out and firing it over to first base. He has no fear of losing teeth… or an eye… or breaking his nose… I don’t get it yet I do… I had an epiphany.
I am putting my fears and failures on my kid. Not a great idea. It hit my that he doesn’t necessarily have the same fears that I had at his age. He’s not afraid of the ball. Good! He’s not afraid of contact. Good! He’s not afraid of girls. Not so good!
Bottom line… don’t put your fears on your kids. Let them experience life. Let them get some bumps and bruises along they way. Let them get their heart broken once or twice… it will mend healthier and heartier. Let them be kids. Let them enjoy what being a kid means. Don’t shield them from the wonder of growing and learning.
I’m still afraid of the ball… my boys aren’t… life is good!
Tomorrow is the longest day of the year. The Friday before spring break.
I remember being a kid in elementary school and watching the clock. The day before spring break was the longest day of the year. The second hand traveled sssslllloooowwww. The big hand on the whatever. The small hand on the whatever. Didn’t matter. The second hand wouldn’t budge.
I will arrive at school tomorrow morning about 7:15. Not that I will be watching the clock. But, I know it will ttttiiiicccckkkk ever so slowly… sssssslllllloooooowwwwwwllllllyyyyyy.
The problem is… at 3:15 tomorrow… time will begin accelerating… faster than 9.8 m/sec/sec. Crazy fast until it screams back to a crawl nine days later.
Call me crazy…
