Answering a Challenge: My Non-Negotiables

I am a blessed educator. I honestly mean that. Some of those blessings are the simple, "that's nice" blessings that, on some days, make all the difference. Other blessings are of the "wow, I could never do enough good to deserve this" blessings. Every once in a while, I am shocked by a blessing that I did not realize was a blessing until much later down the road. Regardless of the type or timing, I am without a doubt blessed.

I am blessed to work in a room with windows. It has not always been that way. For several years after I arrived at BHS, I taught in an interior room whose cinder block walls are uninterrupted by any aperture that might allow a glimpse of natural light to cast a glow on the faces of my students. Prior to that, during my final two years at LHS, I had a room with a window, a window without a view. It had once looked out on the courtyard, but after bond construction added another wing of classrooms where that open, outdoor space had once been, I had a window that did not open and looked upon darkness. So, the fact that I can look out the south windows at the skyline of Buhler, and open those windows if I so choose, so we can all smell the rain during a springtime Kansas shower, is truly a blessing.

I am blessed to work with administration that not only supports me as a teacher, but has been known to walk in during class, sit down next to my students, and ask what we are doing in class. And the kids are not shocked by it. They know Mr. Ellegood and Mr. Abbott because they are present in our building, our hallways, and our rooms. Sometimes they are a bit harder to find than would be expected because they are not in their offices, or perhaps have left the building to go pick up a senior who is in danger of not graduating if she does not come to school but has says she does not have a ride. Beyond the walls of BHS, administrators push one another and us as teachers to grow, to be the leaders we are meant to be, and to push ourselves to truly provide every one of our kids with an exceptional educational experience. I meet and talk with district level administrators more often than I ever dreamed I would, and I keep finding myself trying to keep up with those leaders who challenge me to think more and differently about how much better we can be.

I am blessed to be surrounded by amazing colleagues who push me, laugh with me, teach me, challenge me, and lift me. Whether I am collaborating with kindred spirits, learning from grade school teachers who astonish me, or scheming and team-teaching with the greatest coaches in Kansas, I am surrounded by incredible people. Not to get too cheesy, but they are my best friends and some help form a weird, tangled branch of my transplanted family tree.

(Speaking of family, I try to keep this space relatively professional, and as a teacher that line between personal and professional is so often kind of squiggly and rather blurred. But I am also blessed with family, from my parents who still come to 'my games' and who, despite not being 'in education', taught me how to be a teacher, to my brother and sister, to my extended family, those still here in flesh and those who watch and guide me through memories and lessons engrained in my DNA. From my wife who is my opposite and my yang, who somehow is still putting up with who I am, to my two children, Emily and Dylan, who are just who they are and are meant to be, and who continually stoke new flames of pride within my heart, mind, and soul. So yes, I am blessed by my family.)

And, most importantly, I am blessed with my kids, my students. I have had incredible young men and women walk through my doors, sit in my rooms, sweat and bleed on the track and field. I work with creative souls who shock me with their maturity and vision. They keep me on my toes, they keep me sharp, and they keep me young. They make me laugh, they bring me to tears, they make me grind my teeth at night, and they make me want to be better each day. As one young lady this year told me, after I said she was one of the reasons I teach: "Of course I am one reason you teach. Without us, you would have no job." No Natalie, without you, and each of the blessings like you, I would have no calling. That is what teaching truly is: a blessing and a calling.

And because of those blessings, I have certain Non-negotiables. This post began in my mind with that idea. One of those kindred souls, Samantha Neill, challenged us in her blog to declare our five non-negotiables. That is where I was headed, but sometimes I ramble. Sorry. By the way, you should check out her blog.

So, in response to her challenge, here are my non-negotiables. They are somewhat intertwined, and may even sound somewhat similar at times to Sam's list. We work together a lot. Sometimes we rub off on each other. These were not always what guided my teaching. I have changed over the years, hopefully for the better. And it what i have learned that has shaped me into the teacher I am today.

1.  "Is this what is best for my kids?" must be my driving question each and every day.  
My kids must be the guide to what happens in my classroom, no matter where that classroom may be. During a Twitter chat this morning, Brian Knight posted "Never forget the faces that are impacted by decisions." Close your eyes and picture those students with whom you have connected over the years. Look at their faces, into their eyes. When I make decisions, I have to remember those faces. I cannot do what i do because "it has always been done this way" or because it is what is most efficient, or because it will make my grading a little easier. Those faces are what must guide my path.

2.  My "room" will remain open. 
I will admit, embarrassingly, that there were times in my career when I just wanted to shut my door. In fact, I actually said the words "Just let me close my door and teach." To my students and colleagues during those times, I apologize. As a disclaimer, I will admit that I do sometimes close the wooden slab that fills the casing of the entryway of my room. We get a little loud sometimes, but I also want people to open that entryway and look in or step through. "Leaving my door open" is more of a philosophical thing, although literally leaving it open is also preferred when possible. Metaphorically leaving my door open means several things. It means my room is welcoming. It is a place where students want to come because it is NOT MY ROOM, but theirs. I want my room to be open, and for kids to feel they can come there when they need to. This room may be literally my classroom, it it may be virtual. I love when students share with me on social media or email me writing in the summertime. It means they feel they can. I also want my room to be open for other teachers. This is not because they can learn so much from observing me. Quite the opposite. Nearly every day the last few years, I have walked into Greg Froese's room or he has walked into mine. Collaboration is not something we do because it is on the schedule. In fact, it is not on our schedule, no matter how much we wish it was. We do it because we are better teachers when we do. I mentioned virtually opening my classroom earlier. Collaboration with teachers and other professionals not just in my hall or in my district but from across the country and around the globe has become a daily occurrence since I have opened my door in that way. Twitter sometimes gets a back rap, and that is not entirely unearned. But I control my feed, its tone, and its content. My feed is a positive place of learning, celebration, and sharing. It allows my kids to interact with me in a different way, in a way they are comfortable. It also allows parents to poke their heads in the door, to take a peek at what we are doing each day. And it allows me and my students a way to open even more doors.

3.  Like my students, I need to keep learning.  
Ok, this one goes back to #1 and #2 in a way, but that is fine. It is really important. A few years ago, I began what I can only describe as a professional growth spurt. Until then, I did not realize how stagnant I had become. I think I was still a pretty decent teacher, but I was not getting better. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to take part in the Kansas Teacher of the Year program. I was forced to reflect on who I was and what I did as a teacher. Really, truly, deeply reflect. That is a learning experience in itself. I also had the chance to begin meeting and interacting with great teachers from across Kansas. (The odd thing is, as  coaches, we try to do this all of the time, and always have, because it allows us to grow and improve as coaches and teachers. But more on that later.) At the same time, and probably because of that experience, a world opened up to me that has kick started my growth as a teacher.  I visited schools around the state, and I saw what truly great teachers do. I was introduced by Paul Erickson to Twitter as a learning tool. Game-Changer would be an understatement. I began truly seeking out people to learn from, not at conferences or workshops, but on a daily basis.  I came to realize that elementary level teachers are an invaluable resource that I had never tapped into as a high school teacher. Just listen to a kindergarten or fourth grade teacher, a truly great one, talk about teaching sometime. These are amazing people. Anyway, as I said, I entered a professional growth spurt. There have been growing pains. I find myself in spots I had not really expected to find myself. I am trying new things much more often. I read even more than I used to. I also listen more than I used to. And I steal so much great stuff!

4. I will never be "just a coach."
Please, do not take that sentence in the wrong way. I have coached football since before I entered the teaching profession. I have had the pleasure of coaching track, and even a little basketball. Some of my most rewarding experiences as a teacher have been through coaching. Yes, as a teacher. The greatest coaches I have been fortunate to work with shared the same qualities as the greatest teachers. No, let me rephrase that: some of the greatest teachers I have known happen to teach outside of the classroom and answer to "Coach". So, why would I say "I will never be just a coach"? During one of my early years at Buhler, a young lady in my junior English class asked to speak to me after class just before Christmas break. She was a dedicated, talented student, and after a rough start during which she seemed a little bit defiant, we had had a pretty good semester together, or at least I thought we had. So, this student told me she wanted to apologize. I was confused. She went on to explain herself. "When I saw that I had Kohls for English, I cried," she said. I was even more confused, and even a little hurt. She cried at the very thought of being in my class. Merry Christmas. She continued. "Mr. Kohls," she said. "All I knew about you was that you coached football. The first thing in my mind was Coaches don't teach." She went on to tell me that she took her education very seriously (something that I already knew), and she had to be ready to do well on the ACT, go to college, and perform well there. She was not pleased to think she was going to waste her junior year of English. "Mr. Kohls, I found out pretty quickly that you teach. You take this really seriously. You are not just a coach. You are really a teacher."  A student, the kind of student who wanted to learn and be challenged on a daily basis, who had aspirations and goals and a plan to work hard to get them, cried when she thought she would 'waste' a year' because her teacher was just a coach. That was so wrong. I could not be upset with her in any way. But I had to be upset. I never had thought of myself in that light, and thankfully, she did not after we started working together. That phrase, just a coach, sickens me. It is not about being a coach. It is about being a teacher, and a passionate professional, or failing to do so. A true coach, in the truest sense, is a teacher who impacts the lives of hundreds of young people. Are there individuals who help perpetuate the image of 'just a coach"? Unfortunately, yes there are. And to be honest, they make things harder for the good coaches, the ones who are teachers inside and outside of the classroom.

5. I will never apologize for nor regret what I am. 
I am a teacher. I am truly fortunate to have my classroom stretch from the traditional four walls of a classroom, to the racks and bars of the weightroom, from the athletic field to the virtual arena a Twitter. I get to wake up each morning and interact with young people who can change the world. I want to share that with the world. My kids deserve it, and I need to tell our story. Could I have chosen a different career path? Absolutely. That would have been a mistake. My Dad reminded me recently that no matter what the political atmosphere or the public sentiment. one truth remains: I am doing exactly what I am meant to do. I am who I am, and I am fortunate to have discovered that. Some people go through their entire lives working jobs, maybe even building a career without actually finding out who they are meant to be. And in my classroom each year is some young man or women who will answer the same calling. I will never discourage a bright young person from pursuing a career in teaching. It frustrates me when a person who works in our profession says, somehow almost proudly, that he or she has told brilliant, creative students that they should never consider teaching. Science, music, athletics, math, English, FACS, social studies, administration, PE; name an area and reasons abound for why we need the passion and energy of talented and intelligent people in that area. Why would I attempt to sabotage my own profession, my calling, by steering someone away from it? Why would I steal from a young man or woman the rewards that come from answering such a calling? I am proud of who I am and what I do. I want new blood to feel that passion and pride and to enter the profession, to push us to a new level. We need them.

So, there you have them, my non-negotiables. What are yours?

Argument versus Discussion.

It is weird how things sometimes come together. I have been frustrated with myself because I have not blogged lately, and while I have had numerous ideas and begun several posts, none of them seemed particularly interesting, engaging, or enlightening. Then, two events took place that truly made me think.

The first was a during a workout. An athlete made a poor read on an option. It happens. Before I could even point it out, a voice behind me beat me to it. "That should be a keep if the DE closes." Kids coaching each other, getting better. I like it. Then the stumbling block sprung up. The athlete felt the need to argue the truth. It happens. A lot, unfortunately. Not with this kid, but with kids, and people, in general. Sometimes, the first reaction is not to examine what happened, accept an "error' has occurred, and learn from it, but instead to argue that "NO! I am right!" It becomes more important to give the perception of being right than to learn and improve. More on that later.

I reacted to the response in an incredibly poor way. I did what I just complained about. I was right, darn it, and was not going to be questioned. I snapped at him, and I wasted a moment to really coach. I hate it. Luckily, the kid did not walk away, and then I actually said something intelligent, instead of making things worse. "It is better sometimes, to just admit you are wrong, and learn from it, than to argue just so you can feel like you are right." He said, "I know. I'm having a bad day. My bad."

I got lucky on that one. I'm not saying that in coaching there are not times when intensity and immediate, forceful correction is the best approach. More often than not, however, coaching is about developing people in a positive direction, just as in any type of teaching. Possibly the most disappointing thing for me is that I caught myself basically taking the same approach later, during an evening session of camp, with another particular player. I recognized it, and I think I did a better job coaching him at that point. I hope I did. He deserves for me to do better. And guess what? He got better. He improved. He listened and asked good questions, and he learned. Imagine that.

The second event, a throw-away moment really, took place on the way home from our last session of camp today. Something the radio DJ said stuck in my mind and demanded some thought. I cannot even tell you what station it was or what DJ said it, but here is a close paraphrase of his statement: The point of an argument is to try to prove YOU are right; the point of a discussion is to try and discover WHAT is right.

It got me thinking, and it reminded me of those moments with our athletes. I could be frustrated with the kids, but I control whether it becomes a meaningful discussion or an argument. When we ARGUE, we do so because we want to prove we are RIGHT. It does not matter if we are actually right, or if admitting we are wrong would eventually lead to something better; we just have to show we were right. I know I fall into that trap more often than I want to admit. And if I want to become a better teacher, a better husband, and better dad, and a better friend, I have to get past that. I have to focus on discovering WHAT is right, regardless of who is.

Here is the amazing thing: if one person refuses to take the "argue who is right" path, and turns the interaction toward discussing what is right, the other person usually follows suit. The challenge, the accusation of being "wrong" is gone. Instead, both sides are focused on the same goal, and both gain from the transaction.

I know I am rambling on this point, but I have one more thought. Sometimes, that obsession with who is right takes on another form. At times, kids just fear being the one who is wrong. Instead of arguing they are right, they allow themselves to settle back, to withdraw. Nothing ventured, nothing lost is how they seem to see many situations. They may come off as obstinate, standoffish, or disengaged, but maybe it is less about being any of those things and more about just not being wrong. I have seen it in athletes, and breaking through that barrier is often the most important gain they can make. There is an old saying that a defensive back has to have a short memory because every single one of them is going to get burned at some point. The great ones know how to learn from the experience, file away what will help them next time, and then forget about the fact that they were burned. In other words, fail, learn from it, and improve.

The way I see it, our goal as teachers should be to make every kid we work with a great defensive back in whatever arena they perform. We want each one to risk failure and go for the big play, intellectually, athletically, academically, or creatively. Making the wrong read is not the issue, especially in practice. Getting "burned" and bouncing back to make big plays is so much better than having a kid remain on the bench simply to avoid the possibility of giving up a first down.

And being wrong does not mean I am a failure. Failing to grow from it just because I have to be seen as right? That would be true failure.

And the kids, all of them, deserve better.