Like our new curriculum model (love it? hate it? couldn’t care less about it?), there are some “common core” ideas one must learn and understand if he or she is going to take pictures.  While the list is not exhaustive, here are a few I’ve picked up along the way.

1. Understand your camera.  It doesn’t matter if you are shooting the latest and greatest Canon or Nikkon, an old polariod, film, a point-and-shoot, or your phone’s camera, you need to understand how it works.  What are its limitations?  How does it excel?  This leads us to point #2.

2. Read the manual.  My first trip to Knoxville for a Knoxville Area Photography Meetup I learned this one embarrassingly well.  I was shooting with a Canon Rebel, and I was already in way over my head.  “Do you shoot in manual mode?” I was asked.  Well…..uh…..no.  “Have you read your manual?”  I didn’t have one.  It turns out that every camera is just different enough that even the most seasoned photographers will need to read up on the manual if they change cameras.  The learning process is never done.  So, I did what any self-respecting technology geek would do, I used my phone’s Internet browser to search for and download the manual to my camera.  And I started reading instead of taking pictures.

3. Understand the basics of how a camera works.  This is different than the previous point.  By this I mean you need to understand things like focus length, aperture settings, ISO, and what all those little cute dials on the top and sides of your camera do.  I still get confused at times.  I know that as the space in which you are shooting gets darker, the ISO number should get larger (we’ll talk about tripods later).  So it is counter intuitive for the aperture to be the opposite.  To “shoot wide open” (meaning you are letting in as much light as possible to your lens), you crank the aperture number down to its smallest possible range.  The smaller the aperture number (which actually means a larger aperture opening), the faster the camera will take the picture and your images won’t be so blurred (we’ll talk about bokeh later).  I get this wrong all…the…time.  There’s more, but you get the point.

4. Understand the basics of composition.  The very first thing I learned about taking better (or to my mind, more interesting) photographs was the rule of thirds.  In the rule of thirds you imagine a tic-tac-toe board drawn across your screen.  Horizon lines either go on the top or bottom horizontal lines.  People or other objects of interest go on either of the vertical lines.  Faces go where the horizontal and vertical lines intersect.   Of course, at times breaking the rule of thirds makes the picture even better, so maybe we should call it the “suggestion of thirds.”  There is more, but you get my point.

Up until this point, we can assess a person’s knowledge of photography with a bubble sheet style multiple choice assessment.

Which of the following is not true:

1. The larger the ISO number the faster your shutter will open and close
2. The larger your Aperture number the faster your shutter will open and close
3. The smaller your Aperture number the faster your shutter will open and close
4. None of the above

Not rocket science.  But, the same cannot be said once we move away from the basics.  Notice the verb change…

5. Explore your creative side in composition.  People compose photographs differently.  They see angles differently.  We can’t all be expected to take the exact same shot that everyone else takes.  Using your camera at eye level will give you a much different shot than if you get down on your stomach and shoot from ground level.  Or climb a ladder to shoot from sky level.  Use different camera settings to get different results.  For example, I love to slow my shutter speed down as far as possible (take take longer exposures) and shoot rivers and waterfalls.  The water turns to silk as its movement is blurred over time, but the rocks and trees stay in sharp focus.

6. Explore your creative side in post-processing.  People say to me all the time, “Tim, your pictures are so vibrant.  Mine never look like that.”  Mind don’t either.  I make them look like that.  I used HDR techniques for a bit (High Dynamic Range) where you take 3 or 5 of the exact same picture but exposed as dark, medium, and light, and then combine them in a software program like Photomatix to analyze the best pixels in each picture and create one really eye-popping, jaw-dropping photograph.  Or, at least, that’s the plan.  I’ve moved from HDR to Tonemapping.  I let Photomatix do sort of the same process on one picture to bring out the best highlights.  iPhoto does a great job of changing color saturation, shadows, adding blurred edges, and more.  Make the picture you like.

7. On phone cameras, explore the app store.  Yes, this one could cost you some money.  I now have 15 different camera apps on my iPhone and 23 different apps for editing.  I also have 7 apps for taking different videos and several more for processing videos.  I hardly ever post a picture from my phone that I haven’t taken  through the Snapseed app.  Others I like to “grunge” up a bit just for fun.  Some people like them.  Others don’t.  But I am demonstrating a skill that cannot be bubble sheet tested.

As teachers, we know we can’t test everything a student knows with multiple choice questions.  We can assess the basics.  But to stretch students into being creative creatures, we need to learn different assessment techniques.  We need to move away from “you didn’t make this look exactly like mine,” to “I see you are mastering this concept.”

I believe photography is making me a better teacher.  I know it is making me a better student.

Most of what I do is still a large matter of luck.  I’m in the right place at the right time.  I capture something in the picture that really makes it “work” for me, but I didn’t even see it when I was actually taking the picture.  And I am learning to “fix” bad pictures with good post-processing in iPhoto, Pixlr.com, and various assorted apps on my iPhone.

One of the best things I’ve done for my photography is join a couple of photography groups on Meetup.com.  There is a great group of professional and amateur photographers in Cleveland and another in Knoxville.  Both groups have helped me learn a lot, and any pictures you might see these days that you like can be credited in large part to their influences.

Last Saturday, I traveled to Knoxville to meet some fellow photographers at the Art Museum next to the Sun Sphere.  It was a great day of laughing and talking and, of course, picture taking.  I took the picture to the left with my iPhone and did a quick edit in Snapseed.  I kinda liked it.  And, when the event was over, I published the picture to our group photo album where we all share pictures taken during the day for feedback (OK, feedback means everyone loves it!)

I was enthralled with the “Day The Earth Stood Still” look of the statues placed throughout the courtyard of the museum.  It was a beautiful day.  On a whim, I grabbed this shot in order to show the justaposition (yeah, I’m an English teacher so I know some big words) between the “aliens” frozen in the sunlight and the “real” lady sitting in the background.  I did a little color enhancement and some edge blur in Snapseed and really didn’t think any more about it.

About 24 hours later, I remembered I had a few pictures on my iPhone that I had not uploaded to the group album.  So I put up four or five more, clicked through the ones others had posted, and then settled back to let the email updates tell me when new pictures were available or when someone had commented on one of mine.

That’s when I was hit with shock and awe.

I got an email that a new member of the group had uploaded some pictures, so I went back to the site to take a look.  That’s when I found the picture on the right.  My picture.

My…precioussssss.

Let me be clear.  I’m a Creative Commons kind of guy.  If someone wants to use my photo for something, I’m absolutely fine with that.  Just let people know its mine.  And if this person had wanted to edit the picture (which she did by taking the woman and the small child out of it) because she “saw” something different in the photo than I did, I’m OK with that as well.  Just tell people you edited the picture.

I contacted the website curator and asked him what he thought I should do.  He suggested a comment on the picture page to see what her response would be.  So I did.  I asked if that was my picture and, if so, told her she had done a good job editing it.  Pretty non-threatening I thought.  So, imagine my further surprise when I got the following response:

No [Name Deleted], this is not one of yours…though yours gave me the inspiration….thanks!

What??

So I pulled both pictures into PowerPoint and laid one on top of the other.  Then, using the transparency slider, I made the top photo begin to disappear.  Except for the woman and child, both pictures were identical.

Then I realized this had not just happened to me.  At least two other pictures were done the same way.  (You can read another take on this drama on this blog post…)

So I’ll be honest.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in a hurry to build a presentation, searched for just the “right” image using Google, copied and pasted, and forgot to attribute the image to the creator.  I’m pretty sure its more than 3.  OK, more than 10.  And not once have I ever thought about what it would feel like to a photographer or artist if they sat in my presentation, got the shock of their life seeing their picture on the big screen, and received no credit from me.

And I’m an English teacher that believes in citing sources!

So.  Lesson learned.  My own image use will change from this point on.  In fact, I will be using more and more and more of my own images in my presentations.

I can personally attest to the fact that it does not feel good when it hits home.

The session was about the efficacy of using video as a means for professional development with staff, especially in a system as large as Memphis City Schools.  Face-to-face training is great, but it is hugely limiting when you can only reach 5, 10, or even 50 people at one sitting.  By creating video tutorials (flipping professional development), teachers can log in at their convenience from any Internet-connected device and receive the information as many times as they need.

And so, the question…

When we do in-house training, we know the teachers are there.  We have them sign-in (and sometimes sign-out) as a way to verify their attendance.  But, online, they could start the video in the living room and then go to the kitchen to fix dinner.  (You know the question, don’t you….)  How do we really know they watched the video?

Now, I have to admit, I had a totally different answer in mind than Scott’s brilliance.  I would have answered with another question.  OK, so you know they were in attendance at the face-to-face training, but how do you know they were really, truly present?

Scott went an entirely different direction.  He talked about a paradigm shift in the way we view these things.  It is a paradigm shift from “training” to true “professional development.”

We offer training on a variety of subjects at our schools, and we require attendance in order to demonstrate both accountability and in order to only have to do the training once.  It is a fairly good model for principals and district administrators.  We can have a county-wide training and cover all 800 or so teachers in one, well-planned, thought-provoking hour, or half-day.  We have a box we can check off that says, “Been there.  Done that.”

But Scott wasn’t talking about video tutorials online for training.  He was talking about using them for professional development.  Professional development doesn’t come from the top down.  It comes from within.

Did you catch that?  It comes from within.

As a teacher, I am supposed to know what I don’t know.  Teaching is a never-ending quest of learning.  We use professional development for ourselves to make us better teachers.  Better learners.  Better team-mates.  Better advocates.  And, in general, just… better.

There is a place for training.  Hey! Its my job!  I provide “training” for teachers on how to use Web 2.0 tools, district-purchased software, and, of course, iPads.

But, it seems to me, there is a much larger arena for professional development.

Thank you, Scott, for helping me draw a line between the two on my to-do list.

During the course of the evening our discussions turned to education and technology and Internet and…filtering.  Rob’s wife is an educator.  Rob is an IT guy running his own company.  It was a natural progression.

Rob is also a church historian and theologian.  So it was no surprise in the conversation that he divided the Internet filtering groups into two camps: John Calvin and John Knox.

Calvin believed strongly that pretty much everything was sinful except those things expressly stated in Scripture as being “acceptable.”  Knox, on the other hand, believed that pretty much everything was acceptable except for those things expressly stated in Scripture as being “forbidden.”

Theologically, I was raised Calvinist to a degree.  Don’t do this.  Don’t do that. Don’t go here.  Don’t say that.  In my later years I have found myself more and more in the camp of Knox.

Educationally, I am very much in the Knox camp with regard to technology.  I don’t like the fact that we have to filter sites like YouTube and Flickr and others.  And yet I understand its necessity at times.

Recently, I’ve had some pretty spirited discussions with some of our IT people.  They like to rag on me, and I like to rag on them.  We have a lot of fun while debating our positions.  I absolutely love those conversations!  (Others see me as always wanting to argue a point.  Their loss, huh.)

I would venture a guess to say that most IT Departments in school systems across the country are Calvinistic.  They say, “We will block everything unless you can demonstrate the site is both necessary and safe.”  They have to be this way, I suppose.  They have thousands of computers being run by teachers and children in dozens of locations across hundreds of miles.  It is a huge investment, and they have to protect it.  I know how I feel when I walk into a room and find another student has taken it upon himself to update a file, but left the box checked that installs some other unwanted program that ties up memory, slows down performance, and keeps popping up asking if you want to buy something.  I can only imagine how they feel when malware hits dozens or hundreds of computers across the system.

Most educators would probably fall into the Knox camp.  We want access to information.  The Internet is the teaching tool of our generation (not Interactive White Boards or iPads).  How we get there doesn’t matter.  We just want it open.  Even if it is only open for us (or more open for us) and not for our students.

Like theology, technology is probably best handled somewhere in the middle.  To get there requires a dialogue between Calvinists and Knoxists.  A give and take.  A mutual understanding of each others’ goals, aspirations, and needs.

I am indeed fortunate that I can have that discussion with the IT Department of my district.

I gained about 5 pounds in one week.  It wasn’t pretty.  I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t proud of myself.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved the food!  I ate without guilt knowing I would be back on track in a few days.

I’ve been back on 500 calories a day now for 3 full days and I’ve lost the 5 pounds I gained plus another pound and a half.  I weigh less today than I have weighed in nearly 8 years.

Every day I wake up and weigh.  Every day I look at that small weight loss (I consider it a gain in the goal book).  Every day I commit to 500 calories that day.  A pound of weight loss overnight is enough to give me big motivation to keep going.  It is a little positive reinforcement in the midst of something that isn’t that fun or enjoyable (but necessary).

This morning as I thought about looking down at that scale and seeing 202 and the feeling of elation that came with it I was reminded of helping kids in our computer labs a couple of years ago as they struggled to write better essays in preparation for the 8th Grade Writing Assessment.

Most of them hated those practice essays.  But this year was different.  We were piloting some software that would automatically grade essays and offer feedback.  As students revised, scores changed and charts were produced.  We had them type their essays into Word and then copy and paste them into the program.  They looked at the results with sullen eyes.  Their score was uninspiring.

Then we told them to change one thing.  In some cases we had them add a quote.  In others, we asked them to add a simile (comparing two things using like or as).  They dutifully added one sentence, saved their work, and re-scored it.  In most cases, their scores went up a full point.  Suddenly their eyes got big.  Their mouths dropped open.  Over and over we heard the same question, “Is it really that simple?”

Yep.

Small changes.  Big motivation.

I love taking pictures of old things.  Abandoned things.  Lonely things. Solitary things. Black and white things.  You can draw your own Freudian conclusions.  I am learning more and more how to take pictures of people.  Capturing moods at parties.  Oh, and food.  I love to take pictures of food.

Recently I’ve been experimenting with HDR.  I follow some blogs that specialize in this photography type.  My camera has limited capabilities for it, but I’m learning with it before I spend the $6,000 or more on a new camera (yeah, in my dreams).

So, a couple of days ago I drove out to Parksville Lake to take some pictures at sunrise.  I took a few I liked even though I technically missed the sunrise because it didn’t show up over the mountains until long after the weather channel told me sunrise would happen.  Still, I had 5 or 6 pictures of which I was fairly proud.  I posted one on my Posterous site.

On the way back home, I passed an old barn that nearly always catches my eye along this stretch of road.  It sits on the edge of a wheat field.  It is old and run down.  It calls to me for some reason.

And when I passed it on this particular morning it was gorgeous.  There was a thick layer of fog out over the field.  Immediately, I could see the shot in black and white.  Maybe even one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken could come of that scene.  I started to turn around and go back, but….

So I convinced myself I was busy.  I needed coffee.  I was hungry.  After all, the fog would be there again, right?

I got up this morning and drove back out to the spot.  Nothing.  No fog.  Just a barren old barn in the middle of a field. Nothing spectacular.  Interesting, yes.  Eye-popping, no.

How many times has my classroom behavior mirrored my picture taking?  I spot a teachable moment.  I can see it in the kid’s eyes.  She wants to learn.  But what she wants to learn isn’t in my lesson plan and I’m being evaluated.  What she wants to learn isn’t one of the SPIs the state has dictated I spend my time on.  What she wants to learn would mean that I have to get 24 other kids doing something else for 5 minutes while I help her.  What she wants to learn won’t be learned today because I’m busy. I’m overworked. I’m stressed.  I’m…

Now I’m stuck. I will go back to that barn a lot over the next few days.  Earlier.  Later.  Rainy days. Sunny ones. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the perfect fog cover just once more.  I won’t let it slip away from me again.  I’m determined.  I have promised myself.

And I wonder when that longing for learning will show up in the eyes of one of my students again.  Will I be as ready?

What about you?

A boy is having his arm set in a cast and asks the doctor if he will be able to play the violin when his arm is healed.  “Why sure!” answered the doctor.  “You should be able to play the violin just fine.”

“That’s good,” said the boy.  “I’ve always wanted to play the violin, but I never could before.”

Yeah, its lame I know.  But at 6:00 this morning when I was halfway through my 4 mile jog on our town’s Greenway, it was one of the things that came to mind between songs on Beatles-A-Rama.

I’ve never thought of myself as a runner.  There was always an excuse.  I’m too fat. I want to protect my knees. I get bored.  The list is long.  And it started early.

When I was attending Charles Elementary in Richmond, IN, we had to run in PE class.  I hated it.  Not because I couldn’t do it.  I could.  I was an outdoorsy, skinny, always running around the neighborhood kind of kid.  But I was bored with it.  And I didn’t do it well.  It wasn’t a natural gift for me.  If you had to graph out the results of all the kids in our grade level who ran the mile in PE, it might look like this:

Students are divided into quintiles.  The red line represents the accepted state standard pace which all students are supposed to achieve.  As you can see, there are some kids who just naturally thrive above the line.  There are some kids who are just below the line.  They could easily meet the standard with just a little help from their teacher.  And then there’s me.  That last group on the left. Way below the standard.  Way.

Now, the PE teacher could have helped me with my stride.  He could have helped with my breathing.  He could have had me run more in order to run faster.  I could have been placed in a remedial running group with all the other low runners.

And none of it would have helped.

Why?  Because I quit inside my head.  My body could do it easily.  But my head put the brakes on in a big way.

And it still does.  As I go out to the Greenway to run (or jog or walk really fast, whichever you would like to call it), I can sense my head telling me it is time to stop and walk.  My breathing is fine.  My legs are warmed up.  The Beatles are playing.  Everything is fine.

So I tell myself I will run as far as that next park bench down the trail.  I’ll go at least that far before I walk for a bit.  And then, about 50 yards before I get there I find myself walking.  It is my biggest frustration with running.  It isn’t the running.  It isn’t even the boredom.  My biggest frustration is my brain telling me to quit when I know I can still go farther.

Let’s flip those scores for a moment.  Instead of elementary PE class running times, let’s label them TCAP Proficiency.  With what group of students does a teacher naturally spend most of his or her time?

• Some teachers thrive on teaching those upper level kids because it is so easy and fun.
• Some will focus on those kids just below the line.  With a little push, a little encouragement, those kids might actually make it up into the proficient category.
• A few will focus on those kids at the bottom. They will see glimmers of hope, but experience a lot of frustration.

Those kids at the bottom often get extra help.  They are assigned after school tutoring.  They are put into an intervention class.  There are numerous parent-teacher conferences.  Extra work is assigned.  Easier work is assigned.  Less work is assigned.  Kids are allowed to draw the answer rather than write it.  Some can make videos.  We put them in Glogster, Blabberize, Prezi, and anything else that looks exciting.

And often we see very little improvement.  Why is that?

Because the kid has already quit in his brain.  His mind has convinced him that he can’t do it.  Her brain tells her to answer 6 questions, but quit before she answers the last 4.

Teachers can’t fix this.  Parents can’t fix this.  Friends can’t fix this.  Only the child can fix it.

People tell me all the time, “Once you start running you will love it.  You just need to get out there.”  OK.  I’m out there.  I’m liking it a little better.  I can even imagine myself loving it at some point.  Thriving on it even.  I get images of me in a 5K run. A half-marathon.  A marathon!

And then my brain makes me walk 50 yards before I need to.  And the reality of my frustration floods back through me again.

At 52, I can handle this kind of thing.  I can push myself a little farther next time.  I can push beyond my brain and let my running be guided by my heart.  Its not easy.  But I can do it.

But I couldn’t do that at 8.  Or 12.  Or 17.  Or even 32.  A lot of people can.  Some of us can’t.

NOTE: This is not necessarily an “opinion piece” on students or learning. Rather, I wrote this blog as a way to start a conversation about how to help kids who have already checked out of school.  What are you doing?  What are those around you doing?  We talk all the time about how a teacher has to motivate her kids.  What does that look like?  Is it working?  I look forward to reading your thoughts in the comments section below (or on FB if you read this there).

As I was walking down the street I passed a teenager trying to learn how to do flip kicks on his skateboard.  I saw him from over a block away.  He did it over and over and over.  He kept failing.  He kept trying.  Failing. Trying. Failing. Trying.

At some point it will be Success. Repeat. Success. Repeat…. Mastery!

The teacher in me jumped to the forefront of my mind.  How do I get kids to try again and again to write a good sentence?  A good paragraph? A good story?  Essay? Research paper?

Kids are kids after all.  Getting them to grind out trial and error over and over in writing or math or science or social studies or art or….

Well, it must be as difficult as my mom and dad trying to get me to practice the piano when I was young.  I knew I had no natural talent for it.  My left hand just doesn’t want to cooperate, and while I’m concentrating on the bass notes, my right hand just stops working.  I took lessons for 6 years.  I may have practiced for 6 months.

My brother, Steve, on the other hand has a natural talent for the piano.  He sat down at 12 and just started playing.  He plays country, rock, jazz, classical, gospel, and more.  Don’t get me wrong, he had to practice, too.  He took lessons.  But he “heard” the music in his hands.  He just sort of knew where his fingers should go.  It got him on the road as a gospel trio pianist the week after high school graduation and eventually on Solid Gold (he’s wearing the white shirt to the right of Paul) and American Bandstand as a keyboard player for Paul Davis.

I don’t know if the kid on the skateboard had any natural abilities like my brother, or if he was a struggler like me.  All I know is that I saw a determination in his face as I walked past that told me he wasn’t going to quit until he “got it.”

As teachers, that’s the look we long for in the faces of our students.

There are two areas, more than any others, where data needs to be recognized as plural.  They are weight loss and education.  Well, OK, they are really important to me right now.

Take a look at this chart:

This is a pretty simple weight loss chart.  I updated just before starting this post.  I have multiple points of data that indicate I am on the right track.  It demonstrates both where I am in relationship to my goal (210 pounds at the end of 30 days).  It also demonstrates my progress along the way from one point to another.  It has multiple assessment indicators.  I can look at it and see that I am on track.  I don’t mind the plateaus or the slight gains on one day or another because overall I am doing what I set out to do at the pace I wanted it done.

As a teacher, I often get frustrated when a parent comes to me and says, “I see Billy Bob made a C on his last quiz.  He’s never made a C before.  What can he do to change that grade?”  This is a concerned parent.  It is the kind of parent I want my students to have.  But the parent is exchanging data for datum.  One point in time.

My guess is that the student has never been a 6th grader before either.  I would also guess that the student has never studied this concept before in earlier grades.  More than likely, I’m already aware that this student made a C when he should have made an A.  How can I know what happened with just one point on a grade chart?

I don’t just need multiple data points.  I need multiple types of data.

I can look at that chart above and know, in my head, that the facts indicate I’m doing exactly what I set out to do.  But it often doesn’t feel like I am.  So I use other measures.

• I have moved up one notch on my belt, so I know Ive lost at least an inch in my waist
• At least one pair of pants that were previously cutting off circulation to my legs are now very loose when I put them on
• Some of the shirts that looked alright while standing now also look OK when I sit down (fat bulges when you sit you know)
• Yesterday I took a picture of myself in the mirror (wearing one of those shirts) and compared it to a picture I had in the same shirt 15 pounds ago.  Its hard to see the day to day changes, but that picture screamed, “Way to go!”

We should be prepared to do the same in the classroom.  Why did Billy Bob make a C on this test?  Well, here are some end of chapter questions we assigned and Billy Bob was struggling with them.  I asked Billy Bob to write his own test question about this topic and it was clear that he didn’t really understand the problem.  After the test was over, I chose three questions Billy Bob missed and asked him to write down for me how he thought this through, step-by-step, so I could see where the disconnect is.

If I have multiple ways of assessing progress, I shouldn’t be backed into a corner of “change the grade or I report you to the principal.”  That test is over.  Billy Bob can’t un-ring the bell.  And yes, that “C” is going to lower his overall GPA at the end of the grading period.  But I’m much more concerned that Billy Bob demonstrate learning than making sure his GPA is inflated to help his self-esteem.

Let’s face it.  I could put any weight I want in that graph above.  The scale says I weight 225.2?  That’s not fair.  I stayed within my calorie limits.  I stayed out of the refrigerator.  I went to J. Alexanders for Father’s Day and didn’t have the carrot cake!  I deserve a bigger weight loss than that.

So I change the number.

But it won’t change the outcome.

Or the facts.

Right now, if you looked in my closets, you would find clothes for the 190 pound me, the 210 pound me, the 230 pound me, and even a few for the now 250 pound me.  I used to pride myself on the fact that the heaviest I had ever been was 225.  Then I prided myself on 230.  then I stopped getting on the scales.

There are a number of factors that lead to weight gain.  Lack of exercise.  Taking in more calories than you work off.  Not enough sleep.  Diet drinks.  Too many carbs.  Lack of motivation.  Poor nutrition.  The list is long.  And I think I have hit them all at one time or another.

Research shows that autopsies reveal there really is no such thing as being big boned.

Taking off the weight is much harder than putting it on.   I mean, if it was easy we wouldn’t have an obesity problem now would we?  I mean, you have to work at it.  Exercise.  Eat the right things in the right amounts.  Drink water.

And assess your progress.

Many of our schools across the country are in trouble.  They didn’t just get in trouble overnight.  It was a long process.  We started expecting less of kids in order for all of them to make As in our classes.  We stopped having them exercise during the day (look at the research).  We established a bar of mediocrity and not excellence.  We laid all the responsibility and the blame at the feet of teachers, but we forgot to give them the authority to do what is necessary.

The list is long.  And the ever widening belt of low performance kept expanding.

It isn’t going to be easy to put our schools back on solid footing.  It will take a lot of work.  From teachers.  From administrators.  From parents.  From children.  From government.  From business.  And more.

Hard work. Long hours.  Seemingly little rewards.

And then, like getting on the scale a week after you’ve started eating right and exercising, we will see results.  They may be small.  But they will be positive.

And the sun will shine a little brighter.  And we’ll put our head down and work a little harder.  Struggle a little longer.  Until we weigh our progress again.

We can do this.

Together.