Educators. Students. Community members. Much more unites us than divides us, particularly knowing we all wear multiple hats. Building relationships. Thinking BIG.
Challenging and supporting one another. Developing engaged, empathetic citizens. And foundational working towards racial equity. Please join me in pondering how best to nurture these common ground connections.


Thursday, September 24, 2015

An Annual Repost


Each year, I give a prompt to my students for one of their journal reflections, "What was a difficult time in your life and how did you handle it?" The following is my response to that question. And I read it out loud to my students. One of the most difficult experiences of my life was the sudden loss of a close friend; he passed away from cardiac arrest.

Forty-seven years ago on September 28, 1967, a baby boy by the name of Daniel Eric Welsh was born to Kay and James. The fifth of five children. Dan and I eventually became very close friends, like brother and sister. We went to Blessed Sacrament Grade School, Morton High School, and the University of Illinois together. Our schedules were always identical, hour by hour, through grade 12. The only difference that occurred in high school was our language class—when I went to German, Dan went to Spanish. Then during our last year of college, I decided to go into teaching and he applied to medical schools. We both graduated. I began my teaching career and fell in love with it. He went to Rush University for medical school and also had found his calling. We, of course, kept in touch. Twenty-three years ago on September 24, 1992, four days before his 25th birthday, my dear friend died.


I’m sharing this story with you because I still have a hard time with the fact that he is no longer around, even after twenty-three years. One action that has provided me with some comfort is to share his life with my students. Why? I’ll explain.


Dan was the type of person who did everything 100%, otherwise he wouldn’t do it at all. When he studied, he studied 100%. No matter what gadgets or distractions we created at the library, he would not stop focusing on his studies. When he slept, he slept 100%. We actually had to break the door down one day to wake him up to go to Physics. Pounding on it wasn’t doing the trick! And when he had fun, he had fun 100%...well, you get the idea.


Saying that Dan was focused doesn’t seem to describe him thoroughly enough. When we were in grade school, we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. We actually recorded our responses, and I still have a copy of our class’s responses in my keepsake box. He said, without hesitation, “a doctor.” He was lucky this way. He knew what he wanted to be for a very long time. And throughout his life, his family experiences gave him the motivation to make his dream come true. His focus started at a very young age and never faltered. He was the type of person who wouldn’t miss class in college because he felt that something he learned that day might end up saving the life of one of his future patients. He was intense.


I’ve always had a very difficult time during this week of the year, ever since I lost Dan. When it first happened, I remember feeling so weak in the knees, to the point where standing up was an effort. My younger brother, Bill, was worried about me, because he knew how close Dan and I were. Bill had also lost a friend of his, Matt, 2 years prior to Dan’s death. Bill came into my room one day to give me a reassuring hug. I looked at him and asked, “When did you stop crying? When will I stop crying?” He said—and let me remind you that this is my younger brother, but at this moment he seemed so wise—he said, “Joan, it seems like holding onto the pain is the only way to stay close to Dan, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t know how or why, but one day I was thinking of Matt, and I laughed. I laughed out loud. And it felt great. And one day that will happen to you; you’ll think of Dan and smile. You just have to be patient. Just don’t think that the pain of his loss is the only way to stay close to him.” I  knew he was right, but had trouble with this for years. But, about 12 summers ago it happened. I was thinking about Dan, about how in second grade he glued a Kleenex on his eraser and started flying it around the classroom calling it a “Super Eraser”, and I smiled...then I laughed out loud. Bill was right. It did feel good to let the happiness through.


So why share such a tragic story? Because if Dan's life can in any way inspire you for one moment in your life to grasp everything that occasion has to offer, if this story can inspire you to make your next words and actions be a positive influence on the people around you, then this story will have made a difference. You have no idea to what extent you are impacting another person’s life. Who knew that I would ever remember “Super Eraser” and that that memory would in some way help me grow as an individual twenty-seven years later? Your words and actions make a difference for you and for others. Speak carefully, listen wholeheartedly, and live positively...as best you can.


Every experience, no matter how painful, provides opportunity for growth. Dan’s life and death have influenced many aspects of my life, including my teaching, in a profound way. And I will be forever grateful to my friend for playing his part in helping me to become the person, and the teacher, I am today.

Friday, August 14, 2015

College Readiness...With a Twist

This post provides no answers. Fair warning.

In the last 12 months, I have been inundated with, challenged by, and learned from conversations regarding "college readiness." In all honesty, that label has never been used as much in all my years in education combined as it has in the last year. That's both a good and disconcerting reality.

The dialogue can become suffocating when the focus is simply on numbers and what we baptize as "core content." BUT, happily, all of my conversations at Niles North are with colleagues who embrace and understand the nuances of that label. They reach for, and many times find, creative and loving ways to nurture our students on their high school journey so that they are ready for college in ways far surpassing simply being prepared for the rigors of post-secondary coursework.

The people I've been privileged to work with focus on the entire spectrum when it comes to helping prepare our students. We aren't perfect. But I've never seen a faculty so dedicated to reaching every child's needs and helping them grow and be ready for life outside our building. The commitment demonstrated by the educators here reflects an ability to think about the following...all at once...and how to get the kids to recognize where they are, where they can be, and how to get there. Areas they focus on include:

  1. Knowledge base
  2. Academic skills
  3. Maturity
  4. Emotional intelligence and flexibility
  5. Relationships
  6. Time Management
  7. Independence
  8. Reflection and Growth
  9. Citizenry
  10. Cultural competence

    I'm sure I'm missing many.

    But this week, as we've started school, I've had a conversation about each of these at some point. And it's made me think about my daughters and how they had/have varying degrees of "college readiness" in those categories. But in any sense of the definition, they were/are both quite ready. I had/have no hesitation that heading off to school was a constructive and appropriate next step for them. And I thank my family, friends and their teachers for helping to raise them and get them there.

      But here's the thing. We focus so much on the kids, which makes sense, of course, because that's our job. But recently, I've been thinking about our Niles North parents. I'm curious. Do we have anyone on staff for parents to speak with if they aren't ready for their kid to go to college? And if they're not (I'm not), can we keep our child in high school a little bit longer? Just a little bit?

      Please? Even if it's just for another week...


      Saturday, August 8, 2015

      What I Learned at Lolla

      This was my first time at Lollapalooza since it moved to Grant Park. Yup. I'm that hip (read, "old.") I was at the fest when it was hosted at Poplar Creek! Jane's Addiction's very own Perry Farrell was one of the founders. And many bands coined as "alternative" got their original recognition from being a part of this touring festival. (One of my all time favorites is Violent Femmes. :)

      So being there with my daughters—and 300,000+ others—this past weekend was an electrifying experience. I know that it might seem cliché to speak/write about experiences related to music festivals, but since it's new to me, I'm gonna give it a go. Here are my thoughts:

      1. Chicago rocks. Period.
      2. Alabama Shakes rocks. Double period.
      3. Alabama Shakes w/ Paul McCartney is a once in a life-time experience. If you left, it's your fault. It was magical!
      4. Walk the Moon's guitarist split his jeans. Still played. Had a ball. A man after my own heart.
      5. Sam Smith can captivate any audience. And make them believe they can sing. Even if they can't, they still sound wonderful.
      6. Coin. An up-and-coming-band who deserves our support. So humble. And talented. And passionate. Hoping they "make it."
      7. Being a teacher is the worst kind of celebrity at these occasions. Trust me. 
      8. I can eat pizza. And cheese fries. Under any circumstance.
      9. Being short is the best bonus. People block the sun, don't notice you, help you through crowds, and provide assistance. I love being "little."
      10. The stupidest thing I did at Lolla? Ran home from the train station in a lightning storm. Ignoring my science background, I was worried about my pup. Seriously, I should be fired for stupidity. Or dead. 
      11. My daughters both have incredible taste in music. Unique, but wonderful. I'll follow them each. Learning new things along the way, any time, any place.
      12. I'm the luckiest woman in the world. Although Lolla didn't teach me that, it reinforced it. :)
      Getting tix for next year. With my girls. Perhaps VIPs. :)

      Sunday, June 21, 2015

      What My Dad Taught Me...

      ...and continues to teach me.

      Just as I was on Mother's Day, I find myself particularly nostalgic this year. And the adventurous, reflective, and rewarding life I'm living has much to do with my father's influence. So on Father's Day, I'd like to share a few of the things my dad has taught me over the years.

      Some lessons were practical, some were necessary, some were life changing, some happened when I was little, and some happened today. But all of them were a gift from my father.

      My dad taught me:
      1. how to throw a ball and "have a catch."
      2. how to drive a car. And change the oil. And change a flat. And drive over a piece of trash with precision. Using each tire. And drive in reverse for a 1/2 mile. Really. That happened.
      3. how to fish. All of it, from making lures with a hot lead mold to building my own rod to "getting it in the net" to filleting. 
      4. how to fix things. So many, many things. Gluing chipped ceramic figurines, to patching holes in walls, to fixing running toilets, to repairing broken bicycle chains, etc. All things I broke in the first place.
      5. how to create an incredibly abundant garden. From seed. Literally and metaphorically.
      6. how to be coachable. "When the coach is interested in your perspective, he'll ask. Otherwise, learn from him." And yes, my Dad was my first, favorite and most insightful coach. (He took stats at every one of my basketball games. Pic below.)
      7. that hard work is as nourishing as healthy meals.
      8. to think "things" through and prepare for the most likely and most important outcomes.
      9. how to think like a scientist.
      10. to learn the difference between the quick, convenient decision and a solid, deliberate decision. And that each has its place.
      11. how to be physically adept, mentally strong and intellectually competitive while participating in sports. It's part of what put so much fun in sports for me.
      12. what the true meaning of respect means. Even if you don't respect a person's decisions, respect his/her position. And that self-respect is the most important kind.
      13. that life is too short to worry about things you can't control. Keeping your sense of humor in tact is critically important during those moments.
      14. to maintain an appropriate balance between academics, athletics, a social life and a spiritual life.
      15. right from wrong. And that sometimes it's not that simple.
      16. how to be calm in times of stress.
      17. how to embrace confusion. If you push past it, you'll learn something.
      18. how to advocate for myself. Intelligently.
      19. that family is everything.
      20. ...and so much more.
      I love you, Dad!
      I look forward to spending time with you this summer!