Ed Wilkens: Still Learning

2012-01-30T13:25:00.001-08:00

Have you noticed how many “blueprints” are sprouting out there recently? As soon as I wrote that I realized readers might accuse me of opening like Andy Rooney, but, really, there are a lot of blueprints lately. The president refers to his blueprint for America. There’s a blueprint for improving health care. And the Stern Center and collaborators recently crafted the Vermont Blueprint to Close the Achievement Gap for Vermont learners. The appeal of the metaphor, and it is a metaphor since none includes digital schematics of any kind, seems to be the confidence imbued in the word. Blueprints make dreams and visions practical. Blueprints define and specify what goes where. Blueprints convey a professional language and imagery that confronts “What we want” with “What will it take?”
In the case of the Blueprint to Close the Achievement Gap, the blueprint is based on decades of ever evolving research about the brain, language, learning, and how best to ensure that all learners learn. What we all (a wide range of collaborators across education, business, public policy makers, legislators, the governor) want is a Vermont where all learners achieve, where the present gaps framed by poverty, disability, and learning differences disappear in the wake of effective instruction and intervention. What it will take is sustained focus, intentional momentum, mutual and collective accountability, and financial support for the essential training, tooling, and restructuring needed to do what we know how to do. The trick is to make sure that this Blueprint doesn’t end up simply one of those charming artifacts someone dusts off when exploring the attic of reform. This time, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen!

2012-01-09T06:24:00.001-08:00

When is the last time you moved into a new house, condo or apartment? Even if it was years ago, I bet that question caused some involuntary reflex about the stresses, challenges, and ultimate pleasures that the process brought you. It’s not for nothing that psychologists include moving to a new home on lists of most stressful events. We at the Stern Center have just completed a move to a new building, consolidating from two into one which will save us in operating expenses and bring all local programs and services under one roof. Six years ago Jill and I moved to a new home after 30 years in the first one, so I’m familiar with the dynamics of planning, implementing, celebrating, and boxes, boxes, boxes. This move for the Stern Center was similar in all dimensions. Thanks to excellent leadership for the move, we had a great system of communication, packing, mapping, labeling, and working together to make it all successful. After one full week in our new home, we’re fully engaged, working on small adjustments such as “which way to turn once I step out of my office to visit colleague X?”, or “which still unpacked box contains that set of reports from the archives?” or “where did I put my new scan-card key?” We still have boxes, and I’m still not able to get from room A to room X every time without a sidetrack, but we’re here, and it’s fabulous! The Stern Center for Language and Learning, 183 Talcott Road, Suite 101, Williston, Vermont.

2011-11-21T14:06:00.001-08:00

Motivation sneaks up us sometimes. Today’s my workout rotation for the elliptical, and I’ve been negotiating with myself that I might just skip tonight. Jill’s out until 9:30 for Parent Conferences at school. The cat won’t tell. No one but me will know if I miss a workout tonight. And then I was walking through our Waiting Room and greeted a lady with a simply, “Hi; how are you?” Unlike most folks, she replied that she was fine except for her allergies. I wished her well with that, and she further explained that her swimming always bothered her. Meaning to show interest, I suggested she simply stop swimming. “Oh, I can’t do that! I’m always in training for my next Iron Man.” At first I thought she was jesting, but no, she’s done three and is preparing for the fourth. As I left the building I decided that after all, I can handle 30 minutes on the elliptical.

2011-10-17T05:58:00.001-07:00

I hadn’t noticed until I was reviewing the video tape and the photographs that John sat with his arm around his mother throughout the ceremony. We held a “Virtual Ribbon Cutting” to celebrate the new home of the Stern Center and to honor the woman who’s spirit, commitment and generosity made it all possible. Three generations of Cynthia’s family gathered in what John jokingly referred to as “my family reunion” for the Stern Center. Any family reunion brings with it joy, spontaneity, celebration, warmth, and a touch of poignancy for those not present. This event carried all that and more as it gave us all the opportunity to thank the family members for their humbling generosity as enduring benefactors of the Stern Center and its mission supporting all learners. In a most fitting culmination to the more formal ceremonial ribbon cutting, we all enjoyed a housewarming potluck of fabulous food. And in final tribute to the shared warmth and affection of the day, folks lingered to chat in the hallway, the parking lot and even as they walked together to their cars. This is event reminded us all of the importance of family and relationships in all that we do.

2011-09-26T09:30:00.001-07:00

When is a stalemate as good as a win? In my case, after six months of weekly chess matches with my father when my typical performance is met with, “That was a great game…you had me on the ropes for a while, but then things turned around.” Or something like that. A couple of weeks ago Dad and I altered our weekly ritual of Als for burgers and fries followed by chess and instead we played at the Friends of the Stern Center Annual Card Party. This was the first year they chose to add chess to the festivities. And we replace fast food with delectable desserts. Early on into our match I became aware that I was controlling the action, and as things progressed and the board thinned out, I could actually feel my heart beating a bit faster recognizing, “I’m actually going to win this, and with an audience no less.” Alas, you know from my opening sentence that I did not. At the moment when he successfully dodged the loss, I was so disappointed that I left my chair and clapped my hands, much to the dismay of the ladies still quietly bidding at nearby tables. In short order, however, I rationalized that finally I hadn’t lost. Maybe I just need dessert and an audience!

2011-08-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

My morning commute was nearly 10 minutes longer today thanks to all the yellow busses stopping every 200 yards or so. I’d gotten very frustrated by the time I approached a gentle hill and saw yet another set of red flashing lights just on the other side. I was sure my distance promised that I wouldn’t have to stop AGAIN, but as I down-shifted the MG I realized the driver was still waiting patiently for the family vignette on my left to unfold. A little blonde girl with a pink backpack was just then kissing each of two golden retrievers on the tops of their heads, high-fiving Dad and waving broadly to Mom who stood back a bit with her hands clenched at her chest. The girl finally nearly pranced across the road to board the bus and the row behind me finally got back into commute mode, but I at least was no longer irritated, frustrated, or fed up. I was warmed nearly to the point of tears. Happy New Year!

2011-07-29T08:54:00.001-07:00

My office window is ground level and a mere 15 feet from the parking lot. As such it gives me a clear view of arrivals and departures, especially in the summer when I forego the AC preferring fresh air early in the morning. This morning while working at the computer, I noticed two sets of arrivals which both illustrate the impact of our work here at the Stern Center. First, a young mother arrived and as she helped her son out of his car seat they were talking excitedly about the fun he was going to have with his teacher. Before they were fully assembled out of the car his instructor greeted them, and the little guy clapped his hands in reply. An hour or so later another vehicle arrived, this one driven by a woman appearing to be in her 80s who had a front seat passenger also in her 80s and a back seat passenger of about 6 or 7. As the grandmother (?) and her grandson made their way to the building, his primary colored backpack bounced on his shoulders as he skipped to the door. Pretty cool. It’s summer. This is not the beach or the playground, and yet both kids and their adults showed excitement and enthusiasm for being here. That’s what personal, genuine, effective instruction will do!

2011-07-14T11:30:00.001-07:00

How best celebrate a woman’s 95th birthday? You start, as with all birthday parties regardless of age, with cake and ice cream (in our case mini-designer cupcakes), add balloons (in our case at least one nearly large enough for the guest of honor to hide behind), stir in three ridiculously handsome young men to offer greetings and kisses (in our case our board chair and two former students of the Stern Center), fold in staff and board members from across the nearly 30 years of the Stern Center, sprinkle liberally with current students and families as well as staff; bring all this together and gently warm with love and affection. Mrs. Stern had a blast! As the founding benefactress of the Stern Center, Bernice (as she is known) has been a constant cheerleader, an inspirational force, and a source of hope for all learners. As one of those young men said yesterday, it is practice to give gifts at a birthday party, but Bernice herself has been a gift to us all! Happy Birthday, Mrs. Stern, and thank you!

2011-06-20T13:17:00.000-07:00

I recently attended an event which featured David Lawrence of Miami, FL. Mr. Lawrence is the visionary and guiding force behind the successful Children’s Movement of Florida working toward ensuring that children are at the heart of all policy and budget decisions in their state. During his presentation he described how he evolved from a highly successful career in newspaper publishing to, as he described, a late in life epiphany about how vital it is to society that we care for our youngest. The purpose of the Movement is “to educate political, business and civic leaders -- and all parents of the state -- about the urgent need to substantially improve the way we care for our children.” His is a compellingly simple, clear, emotional invitation to put children first. I was taken back in time to more than 30 years ago when I had accepted my first principalship and was eagerly preparing for my new role. Full of enthusiasm unfettered by the rigors of politics or policy, I recall the most powerful advice I was given at the time: “Ed, no matter what, always keep the kids first.” It seemed too basic, too broad, too bumper stickery at the time, especially on a scale of dreams of making a huge difference. I eventually discovered, however, that making a huge difference really did mean always keeping the kids first. That veteran administrator so many years ago and David Lawrence last week both had the right idea.

2011-06-07T06:27:00.000-07:00

Last week the Stern Center hosted the 9th Annual Charles M. Poser, M.D. Lecture bringing together educators, medical professionals, and parents to learn more about learning and the brain. Dr. Poser, a former chief of Neurology at the University of Vermont, valued and promoted collaborations between educators and the medical profession. This year’s lecture was the first since his death last November, and the private dinner the evening prior was a poignant but lively opportunity for dear friends, colleagues, and family to share the power of their mutual affection and respect. As a member of the Stern Center’s leadership team, I am honored to be part of this annual reunion, but as such I have come far too late to the party to fully grasp what Dr. Poser created among his wide ranging assembly of colleagues/friends. I am able, however, to feel the palpable power of his intellect, appreciate the impressive range of his social interests and talents, and envy the personal passion of the many and enduring friendships he nurtured. The Poser Lecture brings new learning to all those attending, provokes new thinking, and instills an increased sense of hope for the work shared by medical professionals, educators, and parents. The Poser Dinner allows a window into an intimate community drawn together by Dr. Poser and now sustained by the private memories of how he touched their lives.

2011-04-22T14:16:00.001-07:00

Opening Day of trout season in Vermont is as fickle as any other notion of spring in our glorious state. Eliot was correct; April is indeed the cruelest month! On this year’s opening Saturday, after nearly 15 years of hiatus from the vagaries of the day, I was with three friends dragging two canoes across knee deep snow down a logging road to a pond. Dragging in was at least down hill; for the way out we chose to drag across level, snow-covered swampland portaging by sections of the outlet brook. Drag, sink to above boots, drag, drag, drag, sink. And so it went. Bookends to our day, a day which yielded only two fish to one guy. Nice brookies, but still; we all worked pretty hard!

Even so, at the end of the day, cold, a bit wet, no fish for supper, and snow in my boots, I realized I’d had fun. Lots of laughs. Exercising the muscle memory of tying tackle, casting line, packing the canoe. The familiarity of rituals and friendships. Opening Day means all that, even with the snow. Next time out there’ll be less snow and more fish, but the same friends.

2011-04-05T18:47:00.001-07:00

One month. Thirty-one days. Mom died March 5. Since then, Dad has given me her art supplies, paints, brushes, knives, and palettes. Since then, I’ve completed one new painting using some of her things. Since then, I’ve collected a number of her books and read one. Since then, a few times I’ve forgotten that she has died, especially while working at my easel, thinking I need her feedback before moving on with the piece. Since then, Dad and I have met for dinner and chess each week; although “dinner” is a bit fancy for what is most typically burgers and fries at Als. Since then, I’ve read and re-read the cards from friends and colleagues. Since then, I still get to work each day at 7:30, attend meetings, complete projects, joke with team members. Since then, I realize I left too much unsaid and undone and have resolved not to let that continue. Since then, I’m more tired but at the same time calmer. Since then, the snow has melted, the robins have returned, and the crocuses have bloomed. One month.

2011-03-24T03:59:00.000-07:00

Plungers and perspective. Late yesterday I was approached by a group of four 11 year olds and their Social Understanding coach. The guys are members of the Stern Center’s Social Understanding and Communication program (the second largest such program in the nation) and participate in weekly small group activities designed to help develop, among other things, greater capacity for “perspective taking.” Perspective taking is an essential social tool that not everyone acquires without explicit, contextual instruction, modeling, and coaching.

In any case, these guys came to report that one side of the double sink in their group area was plugged, standing water, food particles, and so forth. Lacking a facilities person, and with my years of experience as a school principal, I not only know how to use a plunger but I know where we keep one for emergencies like this. Thus armed, I attacked the problem to the delight of the group members whom their coach was trying to keep focused and engaged with their intended activity, not four feet from my slurping, slopping efforts. Sound effects aside, there is not much more entertaining to a group of 11 year old boys than to watch a grown man all dressed up in shirt and tie, wield a plunger only to have one massive geyser erupt from the adjacent sink directly into his face.

Of course they laughed. Their coach was hysterical. Even I was laughing as I spun away a millisecond too late and shook my face like a golden retriever. The kids were beside themselves. Even in the midst of this impromptu entertainment, the coach kept enough of their attention to turn this into a teachable moment about perspective taking. “We’re all laughing right now. Something disgusting happened to Sink Boss Ed, but we’re laughing. How do we know it’s OK to laugh? How would we know if it isn’t OK to laugh?” They all got the point that since I was laughing as quickly and as much as they, it was OK to laugh with me, but if I’d been angry or crying, they should not laugh. One never knows when real life offers plungers and perspective, but we should be ready just in case!

2011-02-14T09:57:00.001-08:00

Last week I had two encounters with success and celebration neither of which I’d anticipated, and sometimes, that’s the best kind. First we’d invited students to design a Valentine card which our marketing team would adapt as this year’s greeting from the Stern Center president. She loves such holidays, and has a long established tradition of personalizing them. In any case, a young man responded with a design that captured everyone’s heart as it were. When he and his parents learned that his design would be our official 2011 Valentine’s card, they were delighted. He was simply joyful that he’d “won” something. His parents felt something much deeper, a joy derived from their son’s success in the sort of venture that had escaped him in his first 14 years of struggling through life’s too frequent and too daunting challenges. We made several copies for them to use as their Valentines to family and dear friends.

Two days later, I was at our State House on Stern Center business when from across the Chamber, I thought I recognized two former colleagues from many, many years ago. As it turns out they were there as principal and curriculum coordinator for an elementary school being recognized for achieving the best scores in the state’s recent state/regional school assessments. The little school, nestled in one of Vermont’s picturesque villages experiences many challenges one readily associates with such contexts: limited financial resources, high levels of ‘free and reduced lunch” families, limited social and community services… Despite those challenges, the people of this school found success at such a level that they were being recognized not only in their own cafe-nasi-torium, but also by the state media, and this particular day by the state legislators full of “whereas-es” and “let it be knowns.” Both of my former colleagues (and probably a few more of their current ones) have been connected to that same school for at least 15 years, building relationships, developing programs, managing resources all the time focused on what’s best for the kids.

It works that way sometimes. You create a cherished Valentine. Your test scores are the best this year. In both cases, you smile, laugh, and maybe even cry just a little as you celebrate success!

2011-02-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

OK, so the Stern Center has developed a research-based and research-proven program for early childhood providers/educators and parents that we know dramatically improves children’s readiness to read. Not only do all preschoolers coming from this program perform better, but more importantly those children in the lowest 20%, those at-risk for reading failure, rise above the at-risk level! This program, BUILDING BLOCKS FOR LITERACY® http://buildingblocksforliteracy.org really works!

BUILDING BLOCKS FOR LITERACY® works! It’s FREE and online. It’s play-based, developmentally appropriate approach is available to everyone working with pre-schoolers. In five sections of brief, engaging lessons care providers and parents can learn what to do and why to do it. Participants enter the program, stay as long or as briefly as they wish, return whenever they want, take as long as needed to complete the program, and all the while try out the best practices with their children. BUILDING BLOCKS FOR LITERACY® provides an online community where users can share their experiences, hold conversations, and post video examples for feedback and dialogue.

If you are an early childhood provider/educator, or a parent, guardian, or grandparent of pre-school children you should check out http://buildingblocksforliteracy.org
If you’re a local, state or other public policy maker, you too should check it out. This program better prepares children to be successful readers. Better readers means better learners. Better learners means less cost for special and remedial education.

More successful readers. Reduced costs to school systems. Everybody wins! http://buildingblocksforliteracy.org Check it out!

(We also offer fee-based BUILDING BLOCKS FOR LITERACY certification for CEU’s towards re/licensing etc. as well as a 3-credit undergraduate course for those wishing to go further with these studies.)

2011-01-20T13:09:00.000-08:00

My mother has been in rehab for two weeks after 3 in hospital for a systemic infection which continues, fortunately at a much reduced level, but which has also left her essentially immobilized and in considerable discomfort. Not fun anytime, but especially when you’re 80. So I’ve been visiting on alternate days trying to provide a connection to the outside world, encourage her hard work in PT, and just let her know we love her. However, even with those good intentions I have noticed myself becoming a bit frustrated that the PT hasn’t progressed any faster. “Come on, Mom. It’s going to be hard work, and it will be painful, but you need to work through that in order to get back on your feet.” That sort of thing; Ed, the personal trainer.

Until two days ago when I pulled muscles in my back after shoveling wet snow too vigorously for too long. That night I couldn’t take my socks off without sitting down, pulling on foot onto the opposite knee and gently tugging, first the toe, then the heel. For two days it has taken me 15 extra minutes to get dressed in the morning. I get in and out of my car by slowly sitting backward, perpendicular to the seat, then more slowly dragging myself into driving position. I won’t let myself sneeze while driving because the pain brings tears to my eyes and would definitely distract me from the road.

So, I’m at least partially considering that this back pain is meant to be instructive. Cut Mom a bit more slack. Allow time for the PT process to work. Pain is a legitimate voice from one’s body. OK, I get it. Lesson received. Now, I need help putting on my suit coat…

2011-01-05T09:34:00.001-08:00

It’s been a while. Life simply got in the way and refused me the time and inclination to write. However, it’s a new year, and I just had an encounter that begs recording, at least in the parameters of my life and what increasingly matters.

Earlier this morning I made passing eye contact with a woman in our waiting room. Some barely perceptible click occurred and I glanced back to discover her doing the same thing. No nods, no smiles of recognition, but the click was a bit louder. I allowed that to linger for several seconds waiting for the “Aha!” that never came, so I simply completed my tasks and returned to my office. Thirty minutes later new business brought me back through the waiting room and this time we both began with, “Aren’t you…..”

We first knew each other in 1976 when I was a first year English teacher and she was a sophomore. A few years later I became an elementary school principal; she got married and had children who attended the school. Since it’s Vermont, after a 10-year circuitous trip in and out of being a principal, I returned as a high school principal, and one of her children was a freshman. So, after 35 years we spent 35 minutes playing “Do you remember…?” and “Where is…”

This was such a rich encounter. It illustrates not only the jewel of connections and how we touch each others lives, but also reinforces the notion from Marian Wright Edleman in her little book The Measure of Our Success, “…that many fruits of your labor will not become manifest for many, many years.”

2010-11-23T05:23:00.000-08:00

I was struck by the power of expectations in an unusual context last week. Wednesday night, Jill and I went to dinner at a terrific local bistro (great atmosphere, good food, always a good time) followed by the Pink Martini concert at the Flynn. Thursday night we grabbed a burger and frys (their spelling) at Als (their punctuation) and then went to a high school production of Beauty and the Beast. The interesting part was that despite the better food and undeniably fantastic talent on Wednesday night, I felt a bit more energized by the burger and occasionally struggling vocalists of Thursday night. Why? I presume because I know the bistro so well and have all but one of Pink Martini’s CDs, that I expected more from that evening. On the other hand, Als is Als where the black and white tile and red plastic booths are the atmosphere, and the food is not heart healthy. And any high school production where you aren’t connected to the players does not promise high art of high engagement. However, the opening night of Beauty was a beauty. Extravagant and gorgeous costumes, fine acting by a few and acceptable performances by all, excellent voices by a few, terrific sets. All and all that was a surprisingly entertaining show. Don’t get me wrong, Pink Martini was a blast, charming, funny, enormously talented, pulsing energy, fabulous on-stage dynamic; and the dinner before was fine. But sometimes, when our expectations are not high, nights like the high school theater sneak up on us and make for a delightful surprise.

2010-11-12T10:24:00.001-08:00

In planning a tribute event for a former Stern Center board member we solicited family photos from his wife and his parents. When the bundle of photos arrived from his parents our team spent many minutes in entertaining discovery as well as personal reminiscence as we (those of us of an age) recognized clothing and hair styles, furniture types, crude technology like dial-phones and rabbit ears, and even the faux leather miniature photo albums produced by Kodak. While I chuckled, recognized and flashed back, I was struck by a powerful, almost visceral reminder of when I wore my Zorro cape, mask, cummerbund, and saber one Christmas morning many decades ago. It’s time to look for those old photos.

2010-11-05T12:56:00.000-07:00

You now that phenomenon of buying a new car which you think is reasonably special only to then discover that seemingly 33% of all cars on the road are the same as yours? Or you hear what you think is a new band on the local album station only to learn from 4 out of 10 friends that they’ve all been fans for a year or more? Well, that’s what’s happened to me and ducks. Yes, ducks. The Stern Center is hosting a special event that includes a rubber duck race, and we’ve had our webbed feet wet for a few months now, with the event just a week away. Everywhere I turn I’m bumping into ducks in one form or another, and it’s not just in relation to the race. Admittedly some of it is our own making: the miniature rubber ducks on our key chains, the 8 different styles of rubber ducks lining our hallway, the rubber duck rain poncho tacked on the wall, singing duck puppets, a yellow duck stress ball on my desk (made necessary by all the other ducks flocking in), post-it notes, note pads, event posters. But, as they say on QVC, there’s more which we did not create: I walked into a restaurant yesterday and the Specials Menu is topped with Grilled Autumnal Duck. Someone recommends Lucky Duck wine. I scoop out a handful of M&M’s from a colleague’s bowl and end up with all yellow and orange. There are no new ‘duck puns’ to be made, but people keep trying. I know, I know, this is starting to sound like I might need therapy. Actually, all I need is for us to have a successful event, with lots of ducks in the race, large funds raised for scholarships, and hundreds of happy people enjoying a ducky evening on, of course, the waterfront!

2010-11-01T11:57:00.001-07:00

Ducks Unlimited! No, not the hunters/conservationists, but rather a large raft of ducks partially disguised as colleagues here at the Stern Center. Last Friday morning our development/marketing team had another of our seemingly endless work sessions focused on our upcoming event, the First Duck Race. The event will raise funds for our scholarship program while honoring the many contributions of former board member Dr. Lewis First and doing so with the added light-hearted element of a rubber duck race. In a charming and warming show of support, several colleagues appeared in our halls and in our meeting room adorned with various duck regalia. Customized T-shirts imprinted with our event invitations, beaks, webbed feet, hats and visors complete with orange bills and cartoon eyes, feathered boas in yellow/orange/white. It was delightful and uplifting to be greeted by feathers, quacking, and good will at every turn. Human Resources literature abounds with accounts and evidence that people tend to love jobs first because of the people and second because of the nature of the work. The people last Friday are certainly a ‘first’ as they helped us gear up for the First Duck Race!

2010-10-26T14:00:00.001-07:00

I felt like Day Two of the flu. On a day-to-day basis I generally don’t think about my age much, still practicing the delusion that the pretty young woman was actually looking at me not just trying to read the sign behind me. I avoid mirrors and photographers and don’t try to compete with 20 or 30 somethings on a basketball court, all of which makes it easier. However, a few days ago I spent 9 straight hours landscaping a 30x12 raised bed, digging holes in clay-based soil, edging the bed, hauling mulch, and planting the shrubs. Fortunately I was working with a guy, so we served as mutual incentive (“I’m not taking a break if he doesn’t need one.”). The telling part was the next morning. Even though I’d done the 1,000 grams of ibuprofen throughout the workday, the next morning I felt like I had the full blown flu minus the fever and congestion. And I still had 10 shrubs to plant in a hedgerow near the raised bed. I decided 6 would be enough before shuffling inside to the heating pad and a college football game where I watched in wonder as those kids slammed into each other at full speed and simply bounced back up. All I did was plant shrubs four days ago, and I’m just not feeling fully back to that same old guy looking back at me in the mirror I can’t avoid when I shave. I hope all this aging eventually brings the wisdom everyone promises.

2010-10-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

Toys of Summer

Yes, I know, the book title was Boys of Summer, but in that book it became apparent that men remain boys and that interest in toys does not diminish as the years accumulate. So the pun is relevant, as last Sunday I stored my MGB for the season. There were dozens of people, mostly ‘boys’ gently, lovingly packing away their cars, boats, and campers for the winter. As we disconnected battery terminals, draped dust covers, and taped ID numbers we seemed deep in our private thoughts despite the busyness in the huge storage barn. This had been the best summer in the 11 years I’ve enjoyed the MG, so the memories of great road trips are more abundant than usual. I always stretch the driving into foliage season, and hanging up the keys back at home until late next April is a bit like hibernating. So many things are seasonal. We might think we’re above those powers with our 21st century technologies and science, but when it comes down to it, the days do get colder and shorter, and we put away our toys of summer.

2010-10-11T07:08:00.000-07:00

10/10/10. My parents’ 57th wedding anniversary. Jill and I took them out to dinner to celebrate because time together is more valuable than more stuff they don’t really need. We had a great time on the round trip ride and during dinner. We went back to the site of Lindsay and Joe’s wedding reception, and I was struck by the comparison of the two marriages at opposite ends of the time spectrum. Both couples are in love. With the younger one it is more strikingly apparent, like brilliant sun shining in your face, everything is brighter, sharper, and crisper. With the older couple, it’s still the sun, but rather than the light, it’s more the warmth, a slower, more enveloping sense of comfort, stability, dependability. My parents met at the Champlain Valley Fair on a blind date, and they have returned to the Fair every year since. Dad not only sends flowers on their annual anniversary, he brings three roses on the 10th of every month. It may be cloudy occasionally, but after all these years, the sun is still shining!

2010-10-05T07:30:00.000-07:00

Birthday greetings in the age of social media have removed geography, time, and 44 cents! Yesterday I received “many happy returns of the day” from thousands of miles and decades of years away, from former colleagues, relatives, former students, friends of my kids; most of whom I’ve not actually spoken with or seen in person for many years. It was startling to begin the morning with so many surprising, happy greetings. At the other end of the intimacy spectrum, my work team managed to schedule us all off campus for an extended brunch celebration at a family camp in the beautiful hillsides not far from the office. The food, foliage, and friendship made for a delightful escape. Then in the evening family gathered for dinner, wine, and affection. So, Face Book allows geometrically more contacts without traditional limits of time and space or even familiarity. It may be only coded bytes magically transmitted through space, but it is still a manner of reaching out and touching someone. And when those messages recall a time and place when the writer and reader actually were face-to-face, the soul is still there. The Internet will never replace the brunch at camp or the family dinner, but it does let us connect when otherwise we might not. So, if you’re reading this on your birthday, “many happy returns of the day to you!”

2010-09-29T05:16:00.000-07:00

Clanggg! Clanggg! Yesterday I felt like I was living in a Kafka novel. I was being cut off from the world one step at a time with no idea why and no idea how to fight my way back in. First, by mid-morning I became unable to use any search engines, a tool I frequently turn to throughout the day for research. Rather than delivering vital information, I simply found myself being routed through an apparent mobius strip of “redirects” and “jump” sites. I struggled to no avail and finally gave up awaiting IT support. After several meetings, I returned to my computer in early afternoon optimistic that IT had solved the problem, but instead I found my screen black and unresponsive. No function, no activity, the power light the only one lit. Bad signs all around. The verdict: hard drive crashed. Had I done something to offend the technology gods? Had I forgotten to pay protection deposits to our IT director? And why had I saved so many handy files to my desktop instead of to the network? I received a new laptop, connected to the network but continued to feel increasingly cut off. None of my program or file shortcuts existed. None of my hundred or so internet bookmarks survived. None of my personalized email formatting remained. Every task that had been a click or two became a seemingly arduous and interminable process of manual keystrokes. Things that had only taken two seconds now took 15 or 20! The final straw was later in the day when my boss, the founder and president of the Stern Center, told me she’d been trying to call me fro her Blackberry but that the speed dial indicated my phone number was no longer available! I was frustrated, bewildered, and trapped. It was nearly the end of the day and coworkers advised, “Just go home. It will be easier tomorrow.” But I saw the voice mail light blinking on my phone and decided I could at least check messages that way. I pushed the button only to hear, “There are no messages.” Clanggg!

2010-09-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” Plato

Last Saturday evening over 100 souls and imaginations gathered for a new community experience at the opening concert in the new burlington ensemble’s 90/10 series. The concept grew from conversations among three local musicians aspiring to make their music more accessible to new audiences while supporting broader community resources of the nonprofit world. The 90/10 reference in the series title illustrates the ratio of funding support between the nonprofit and the musicians for each concert. The founding musicians are developing programs which reflect the essence of each nonprofit partner, have secured a donated venue, and are seeking commitments from local and regional professional musicians. The opening concert benefited the Stern Center for Language and Learning with a program of Beethoven’s piano quartets written when he was only 14 years old, a truly Precocious Prodigy per the concert title and fully in keeping with the Stern Center’s conviction that ‘all great minds don’t think alike.’

As people lingered after the concert, still basking in the shared pleasure of fine music, conversations focused on both the quality of the performance and the wonder and simple elegance of music helping build community. It touched our souls and gave flight to our imaginations. It’s not Plato, but it reminded me of another famous quote, “Let it be.”

2010-09-09T05:42:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, fishing on Lake Champlain with my grandfather in his 15 foot, closed hull, outboard we paid serious attention to the weather forecast, especially the wind speeds. All afternoon each Friday I listened to my pocket transistor radio for the weather. “Small craft warnings” and “waves over a foot” smashed my fishing plans for Saturday. So imagine my adjustment when last weekend Jill and I were invited sailing because there would be “really good wind, with waves 1-2 feet!” Neither of us has been sailing more than twice and never on a 32 foot craft or with 2 foot waves, but we decided, “Why not?” and had a great time. I handled the wheel and learned a bit about tack and jib. The real sailors, our hosts, noticed I was clenching most of my muscles and advised that I relax, which I found easier said than done. Eventually I unclenched but never became “one with the boat!” (The photos prove the angle of the boat with the horizon in the background.)

I guess the point here is that we didn’t say, “No thank you,” but rather went for it despite our trepidation, and it proved really cool. Last year it was a hot air balloon ride one mile high. This summer was sailing when my grandfather would have headed for shore. I’m finding that often saying, “Yes” is more fun than, “No.”

2010-09-02T05:52:00.000-07:00

The end of summer carries many clichés, many poignant memories of releasing our grips on long days, balmy nights, volleyball on the beach, smore’s at camp, shorts and flip-flops. State fairs. Leaves beginning to change. And school busses slowing our morning commutes. It’s that last one that still tugs at my heart the most. Having spent 24 years working in public schools, 19 as a principal, at this time of the year I feel like the geese being pulled toward a familiar, powerful destination. As I drove to work Monday (now at the Stern Center for Language and Learning, still education though not in the schools), I passed clusters of kids waiting for busses. Kindergarteners in crisp new clothes, clutching primary colored backpacks with one hand and a parent with the other. Teens slouching in T-shirts and boarder’s shorts, ear buds linked to i-Touch. Still, four years removed from the school scene, my heart bends just a bit, like a dowser’s rod, toward those kids, those schools, those days.

2010-08-24T08:29:00.001-07:00

My daughters and I were celebrating Fathers’ Day in August, a recent tradition they began when they bought themselves fishing licenses as a Father’s Day gift so we could plan a day of fishing and picnicking together. It has been great fun despite my not yet having caught a fish on this special day! This year we were fishing near the camp where I’d spent most summer weekends with my grandparents. I was shocked that I’d never brought the girls to see this place that had been so important to me through my teen years, so we took a detour which ended up feeling more like a pilgrimage. Driving slowly down the road, I felt my body travel back in time. We stopped in front of the log cabin camp with the full screened-in porch, and I noticed only two visible changes. The current owners had installed white, ornamental scrollwork along the roof lines, and the porch door (I could still hear it slapping behind me) was lavender. Otherwise the camp was the same place I remembered from all those enduring and endearing summer weekends. However, when I drew back for a wider view I realized that what had been small, neighboring camps had been transformed into two-story, expanded year-round homes complete with vinyl siding and garages. “Our” little log cabin looked like the main character in the children’s book “The Little House” (1943, Caldecott winner), diminished by encroaching and expanding development. Nevertheless, the girls thought it was cool, and they both remembered the most dramatic story from family lore, “This is the place where your grandmother fought all the bats!” It was also the place I slept on the porch on a green plastic glider couch, played cribbage with my grandparents for hours on end, and caught a lot more fish than I have on the these Fathers’ Days in August!

2010-08-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

Pixels and degrees; by any measure the separations between us all are at least fewer if not thinner. I attended a very provocative luncheon session yesterday featuring Mitch Joel, blogger, podcaster, and author of Six Pixels of Separation. As the book’s subtitle says, “Everyone Is Connected.” In the emerging digital age of social media, those connections are broader than ever before and growing exponentially, or is it “fractally?” The presentation, less than half delivery, more than half Q&A conversation with the audience, was lively, focused, witty, both philosophical and practical (“Don’t ask what you should be doing with social media; ask why you would use it for your business.”), and stimulating. While not unusual for VT, before the session even began as we 7 at our table made introductions we discovered almost instantly that 6 of us had at least one connection only one degree of separation apart. Given that in terms of our physical social networks, image how connected we and the other 300 people are in terms of pixels!

2010-08-11T13:55:00.000-07:00

Marissa had just turned one, and Lindsay was not yet even in the plans when we first stayed at the cottage on Thomas Pond. Built by the parents of Jill’s college friend Liz, it had the rustic allure of the film On Golden Pond. Quiet, peaceful, loon pairs, families of geese, canoes and paddle boats, no television but with electricity and plumbing. We were young and enchanted and without knowing it began constructing family traditions with unbreakable bonds and deep roots. Last week we returned for our annual stay, now less than a week but still made graciously available to us as the only non-family members having access. (The Wood family is now into its third generation of cottage-goers, so we are delighted to schedule our days whenever offered in their family calendar planning.)

Over the years the cottage has gained accoutrements of that family’s growing interests, talents and needs. It became part of our family tradition to ‘find the new things’ each year. Some where obvious, like the carpeting over the cement slab floor, or the window curtains, or the television (both a blessing and a curse), or the microwave, or the new dock. Others less so, like the can opener or the extra set of coffee mugs or the replacement screens. Of course, as the cottage changed, so did we. Our activities took on more variety as the girls moved through childhood into adolescence and now are adults. Over the years we added a trip to Freeport, first night lobsters for everyone, fried shrimp boats at the Lobster Shack at Two Lights State Park, s’mores, occasional friends adding to the mix, eventually even a boyfriend, wine tasting at the Blacksmith Winery, collecting sea glass, feeding the ducks, and watching the loons.

Every year at least one of the girls, but in a remarkable blessing, most years they both want to and can be with us for a couple of days. Last week for two days and nights, both girls managed to join us. Marissa is now 29 and Lindsay 25, and we still play “find the new thing,” still go to Freeport, eat lobster, watch the loons, and taste the wine. And again this year, when we returned home, I sprinkled a handful more sea glass into the vase on our coffee table.

2010-07-30T08:39:00.001-07:00

Grape. Lime. Orange. Root beer. Cherry. Raspberry. We all sat around a rustic kitchen table in John Dewey’s birthplace (1859) on Summit Street in Burlington. Five boys, 10-13; two instructors; Blanche and I, trying to figure out what those words have in common according to the third instructor leading the activity. Give up? Popsicle flavors! Each July the Stern Center provides Camp Compass, a unique, off-site, activity-based, social learning experience for children with difficulties navigating their way in social situations. Through fun, cooperative learning experiences, social coaches give individuals the social thinking tools to deal with the challenges of social interactions in multiple contexts. A couple of weeks ago, Blanche (Stern Center president) and I visited for an afternoon and participated in activities with the kids. I had a blast. It reminded me of the best times when I was a principal: great teaching, learner focus, warm relationships, and exciting results. Hats off to Nancy, Mary, and Janella for their roles in making Camp Compass such a success! And John Dewey? He’s thrilled that his home is being used a few weeks each summer to create a learning experience founded on and dedicated to social interaction and its relationship to education and personal growth.

2010-07-28T05:28:00.000-07:00

I participated in the two opening sessions of the Stern Center’s new Learning at Lunch series at Three Tomatoes restaurants in Williston and Lebanon. The topic for this initial pair was Executive Function, which it turns out is simply new jargon for old, essential concepts of organizing, planning, priority setting, time management, self-monitoring, adaptable thinking…things we all need, but many people do not acquire without direct instruction and practice. These are the skill set of our brain’s CEO, and unfortunately we begin needing them as children in school, way before our brain is developed sufficiently to actually apply them. Clearly this is an area we should be incorporating into school curriculums. While the kids aren’t likely ready, we can at least help them by our own better framing of assignments, projects, expectations. Sometimes, they really are just acting their ages! Recent brain research has revealed that the frontal cortex, the vehicle for this CEO, is not fully developed until we reach our twenties. And of course, since I was one of the few men in attendance, there was much discussion about men’s brains developing slower than women’s….you get where that was going! But, seriously, the bottom line here is that most of us misplace mail, forget an appointment, misjudge how long a project will take or simply lose track of time….occasionally. However, when those challenges truly interfere with our daily life, our work, or our relationships, that’s an indication we might need outside assistance in working on the cognitive muscles necessary to develop better executive function.

2010-07-19T05:00:00.000-07:00

Epiphany might be the word, but it somehow lacks the full bodied joy I felt last weekend. Four straight days of family, friends, fun, food, festivities all around Lindsay and Joe’s wedding. For nearly forty years I’ve cultivated an approach to life that had left me largely an observer, often an enthusiastic one, but never an immersed participant. I’d installed lots of windows allowing me to see others and for others to see guardedly released glimpses of me, but I kept the windows shut. Until this past weekend. Lindsay and Joe’s unbridled joy, exuberance, affection, and love did more than open those windows, it smashed the glass. Father-of-the-bride was so much more than underestimating the cost of the gown, or helping choose the band, or lettering the place cards, or trying not to cry walking down the aisle, or crying while dancing with the bride. This father-of-the-bride finally jumped in and splashed around in the wonder of people sharing great joy. Going forward, I will continue to be a keen observer, but now I won’t just watch others having fun, I’ll join it!

2010-07-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

Fourth of July in Vermont…unpredictable. Last year it was so cold and inclement that the Vermont Symphony Orchestra’s annual concert at Shelburne Farms was cut short in order to protect the valuable instruments (audience members simply layered with wool and plastic!). Last night, however, was the post card version…brilliant sunshine, temps in the mid-80s, a spectacular sunset which then brought a cooling breeze. Our private party was even better because not only were Jill and I with our girls (though Marissa was working as Inn co-director) but Joe, Lindsay’s fiancé (this Saturday is the wedding!) joined us, as did Jill’s parents and mine. Mary and Ann arrived and found space right next to us as well. Gentle breeze, warm sun, glorious sunset, intimate conversations, inspiring music, striking fireworks. A family evening for the ages. Sousa punctuated the night with Stars and Stripes Forever! He was right, and last night reminded us that family is also forever.

2010-06-30T12:38:00.000-07:00

Very early this morning (the paper was here, but the parking lot was empty) I was unlocking the back entrance and noticed people way across the lobby appearing to do the same at the opposite door. When we all entered, I realized it was one of our instructors with a student and his mother. “Hi, Ed! We’re starting early today so Kevin can be off to camp.” That’s a sign of the parent’s valuing our service, of the instructor’s flexibility to meet the family’s needs, and of the student’s willingness to engage at such an early hour. As we say all the time, “The learner is at heart of the Stern Center.”

2010-06-29T06:31:00.001-07:00

Last week we had a run of automotive bad luck. First, on one of those rare-to-Vermont perfect early summer days I drove the MG to work. Azure skies, brilliant but not sweltering sun, no rain in the forecast. It was a spectacular early morning drive. Ninety minutes later I went out to leave for a meeting downtown, turned they key, and to no surprise of MG drivers, absolutely nothing happened. No fuel pump engagement, no key buzz, no lights, no click. Nothing. Several creative attempts involving coworkers failed even to pop the clutch and bypass ignition. More on this later, but the next day I had to use my real car, only to discover an eighteen inch crack across the mid-sightline of the windshield. Two days after that Jill’s car had a flat tire; fortunately I discovered this in our garage. By that point our luck changed, primarily because we’d run out of cars!

So, the MG saga. Towing the car back to our home: $105. After reaching my mechanic and getting an appointment, towing it to him: $175. His time to make magic on the infamous Lucas Electronics, $125. Parts needed to build a better mousetrap: $10.
Driving the MGB again instead of paying for therapy: priceless!

2010-06-24T05:01:00.001-07:00

Ebbett’s Field and Fenway Park.. Dad’s been a Dodgers fan for so long he refers to them as “my Dodgers.” From his days as a youngster at Ebbett’s Field in Brooklyn to eventually forgiving the owners for the exodus to LA, Dodger Blue has been his favorite color. I’m not sure how, but I ended up a Red Sox fan. Over the years, until 2004 anyway, he’s had more to celebrate. This year on Father’s Day weekend, Saturday, we made a road trip together for inter-league play to watch the Dodgers play Boston at Fenway. I picked him up around 9:30 for the trip down so we could avoid travel worries, get there in time for BP, and settle in for the 4:10 Game of the Week. Perfect travel, easy in and out on the Metro. Excellent seats in the leftfield grandstand. Delightful weather. Boston won in the bottom of the ninth, with two out and two strikes on Pedroia. We all went nuts; well, not the Dodgers fans, except for Dad who has quietly come to appreciate the Sox. After the return trip, I dropped him off a little before midnight. It was a long day, but the most time we’d spent together since my freshman year in college when we made an earlier road trip to Fenway. This time our conversations were more open, more meaningful, more profound. We talked about the baseball teams for sure, and we replayed the best moments of the game on the way home. But we also talked about family, values, and milestones of life. I know that clichés abound about baseball and fathers and sons, but this is one road trip I’ll never forget. Thanks for coming, Dad.

2010-06-14T04:59:00.001-07:00

School’s out for summer! I was in fifth grade 8 years before Alice Cooper made that an anthem for “older” people, but I still remember the pre-Alice purity of the sentiment. In those unfettered summer days a small group of us would start the day deciding which brook to fish, which woods to explore, whose mother would make grilled cheese (or bologna) sandwiches, when to play baseball and whether four foul balls would equal an out. We’d end our day with one more decision, “Pink or regular lemonade?” So even now, maybe especially now, 45 years later when I realize that school’s out for summer, I long for days when the toughest decision is what color lemonade to have.

2010-06-10T12:26:00.001-07:00

What do you say to a father, tears in his eyes because his son is finally able to read well enough to keep up with his 5th grade school work? Family dinners are no longer battle grounds about finishing the social studies chapter, the English essay, and the science lab report. Parent conferences have become celebrations instead of struggles. Report cards are now posted on the refrigerator. And the principal wrote him a congratulations note when he made the Honor Roll. I guess what you say, is simply, “That’s great!” even though you can’t really know how ‘great’ unless you’ve been there, done that as a parent.

2010-06-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

About an hour into the Allen Toussaint concert last Friday night I realized I was smiling and that I had been since it began. Thirty minutes later, still smiling! Not odd, perhaps except that I inherited a generally stern resting countenance from my father, whose seeming ‘scowl’ intimidated more than a few childhood friends. Anyway, the point here is the power of music and the joyful, visceral impact it can have. Friday night it was foot tapping, head bobbing, body throbbing jazz, but another night it will be a Mozart concerto, an Eric Clapton guitar fling, a Japanese flute pastoral, or a Celtic harp. Music makes us smile, sometimes despite ourselves!

2010-06-01T11:34:00.001-07:00

Run through the pain. Extend your limits. Establish a new personal best. Recover from this one and map out your training for the next. A few weeks ago I was talking with an ill, elderly friend, and he asked about my kids. I told him one was preparing for a half-marathon on Memorial Day Sunday. His eyes lit up, his voice deepened below a thin tenor, and his cheeks reddened as he asked if I’d heard about his first Boston Marathon, 72 years ago.

Delighted that I had not, he then spun a “It happened yesterday” account of his running the Boston as a callow 17 year old in brand new, leather running shoes, a gift from his father. He’d saved those shoes just for the race itself, not wanting to mar them prior to the big event. As you might have guessed, brand new leathers do not make effective footwear for the tortures of a marathon, and his feet began bleeding by the mid-point. He finished the race, running through pain and bleeding through his shoes which had to be cut from his feet at the finish line.

My daughter, unable to sufficiently train due to a demanding spring work schedule, and with a tender knee, also finished her race this past weekend. No blood. No shoe cutting, but in some pain and grateful for finishing in “acceptable” time.

Both runners ran through pain, extended their limits, and spoke immediately about “the next one.” They shared a kindred spirit of determination, effort, and endurance. They would have liked each other, perhaps enjoyed a slow beer together had they run the same event. My friend died just a few days after telling me about his Boston. My daughter is plotting her next training regimen. Indomitable spirits, both.

Fishing and Fundraising

2010-05-05T10:30:00.000-07:00

After two recent fishing trips this spring I realized how similar that activity is to my professional activity of fundraising. In both cases I invest in good equipment, depend on past experience, plan and prepare in significant detail, usually approach the tasks with a partner, and have a success ratio somewhere below that of an average major league baseball hitter (using time spent/fish caught or funds raised). Unfortunately, what passes for "excellent" hitting for the Red Sox or Yankees does not put fish on the plate or funds in the Operations Account.

Regardless of the limited success rates for both fishing and fundraising, I start out making plans with renewed enthusiasm and expectations of success. "This brook will provide our limit of trout!" or "This donor will decide to invest in our scholarship program." I suppose the explanation for that anticipation lies not in my naivete, but rather in the occasionally major rewards from each activity. On my den walls I have a 4 lb smallmouth bass and a 14" native brook trout as evidence of that, and in my office files I have letters announcing enduring support from a few very major donors.

It's May. The fishing season has just begun in earnest, and we are just three months from wrapping up our fiscal year. My tackle is ready, and I've got some calls to make!

2010-04-26T07:44:00.001-07:00

April is National Poetry Month. Perhaps that’s because in spring creativity spurts with the buds, or maybe it’s about young men’s fancies, or maybe it was the only month left. In any case, it’s an opportunity to read again, share with others, seek new works. Ruth Stone. Wordsworth. Billy Collins. Shakespeare. Taylor Mali. Maya Angelou. Dr. Suess. Langston Hughes. Robert Frost. Seek a poem. Read it. Read it again. Read it aloud. Read it aloud to someone. Feel the rhythm, see the images, hear the sounds of the words making new meaning in new ways.

2010-04-21T05:27:00.000-07:00

We are not here merely to make a living. We are here to enrich the world.
-------Woodrow Wilson

Ten days ago our Board Chair, Steve Waltien died. Yesterday we had our quarterly Board Meeting without him. We began with a still disbelieving moment of silence and ended with an uplifting focus on the emerging Stern Center 2020 Vision, a collective reminder of what lay at the core of Steve’s nine-year passion for the Stern Center and its work. In between, Board Members and staff moved forward with that work, much of the business conducted within the poignant, tacit memories of Steve at the center of similar conversations. It is sometimes easy to forget that all these Board members participate because of their common vision, their shared passion for ensuring literacy and learning for all, while at the same time, they have their own work, their own passions, and their own lives. Yesterday reminded me of that, as each person in the room struggled with a sense of loss and sought the grace to continue to enrich the world.

2010-04-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

Stevenson H. Waltien, Jr. died Saturday. The state, the community, and the Stern Center lost a great friend and champion. Steve was a community treasure eager to share his time and talents to ensure the greater good. For nine years we at the Stern Center have been blessed to be one of Steve’s passions of service. Through his powerful regard for learning, his welcoming good humor, and his enthusiasm for our mission, Steve brought personal and professional strength to his role on the Board and most recently to his role as Board Chair.

Steve was about improving lives, and we are all the better for his having helped do that through the Stern Center. The image I will carry is from just last week when he slapped me on the back and gave me thumbs-up as we parted after a meeting.

2010-04-06T08:23:00.000-07:00

The seduction, promise, and power of reading are brought to charmingly funny life by Alan Bennett in The Uncommon Reader. Bennett, an acclaimed playwright, posits what might happen if the Queen of England were to become and insatiable reader, changing her habits, her relationships, even her world view. Michiko Kakutani, reviewing for the New York Times, October 30, 2007, describes the novella as, “a witty meditation on the subversive pleasures of reading.” Kakatuni is on target. This little book is delightful on all levels. Enjoy it and then share it. Have a dictionary at hand!

2010-04-02T07:23:00.001-07:00

Summer Surprise! 75 degrees on April 2 in Vermont shocks us all. It’s as if we are powerless to resist binging on sunny warmth. T-shirts, flip-flops, shorts, sunglasses, convertibles, motorcycles, chaise lounges, dinner al fresco, reading on the deck. All the more delicious for the wait and knowing that in April it’s ephemeral.

2010-03-29T13:38:00.000-07:00

The Journey Archetype
I spent several hours Friday evening staffing the Stern Center exhibit at a Family Expo. End of mud season, everyone emerging from our winter burrows squinting at the sun, eager to reconnect with friends, neighbors, the world in general. It was a busy place with lots of people. One theme struck me as people stopped to talk. Whether folks had established connections with the Stern Center or not, once they heard about our mission of helping all learners meet their full potential they had stories to share, stories of personal journeys through various learning challenges or obstacles. A woman who'd recently had a stroke, a young man who'd never quite figured out why reading was so difficult, a mother concerned about how to help the teachers figure out how her daughter learns best, a para-educator constantly searching for best practices to use in her work with students, a son-in-law describing the patriarch of the family business who'd become a successful entrepreneur despite (or perhaps in part because of) dyslexia. Great stories, eager for an audience.

2010-03-25T05:09:00.001-07:00

In her book, The Measure of Our Success, Marian Wright Edelman’s Lesson 13 is Be confident that you can make a difference. I happened to see a notice in Sunday’s paper that a former Stern Center student had been named to the Dean’s List at his college. When I last saw him he was completing high school having risen from a very low point of academic failure and crushing self-esteem as a freshman to being on the cusp of a challenging academic and athletic career at a competitive college. In between he’d been a student here at the Stern Center. According to him and his parents, one year of specialized instruction reinvented his life and reopened previously closed possibilities. I emailed congratulations on the Dean’s Listing, and this afternoon he and his father stopped by to thank us for helping make all the difference. Still learning….

2010-03-22T05:38:00.000-07:00

I was hustling my briefcase, assorted extra paperwork, keys and a cup of coffee to my car. A few minutes behind schedule and fretting because the clerk at the service station had spent too much time just chatting with another customer. As I approached my car I was met by a bounding, skipping 5 year old singing happily that, "This is the first creemee of the season!" His slightly older sister and his mother followed right behind also celebrating this milestone, one day before spring officially began. I didn't stop for a creemee, but I did smile, slow down and wish more people my age would sing improvised lyrics and bouncing melodies about the first creemee of the season. Still learning....

2010-03-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

I was rummaging through packing boxes yesterday and found the Dr. Seuss book, Oh the Places You’ll Go! It was a parting gift from colleagues at one school where I’d been principal. What is there about Dr. Seuss? Even now I can’t resist falling into the cadence, wordplay, rhythm, and images. I’m reading Daniel Pink’s latest, DRiVE, which is useful and applicable, and Benjamin Black’s mystery, The Silver Swan, which is provocative and entertaining. But for pure, simple fun, my accidental reunion with Dr. Seuss wins!

Gen Y Literacy

2010-03-12T07:27:00.000-08:00

"For SEO, search engines use spiders and robots to scan for meta-tags and key words." If you understand that sentence, congratulations! If not, welcome to the emerging literacy of technology and its vocabulary. This is a literacy, challenging or inviting, depending on your perspective (or perhaps your age!), that makes us all learners. The foundation elements of literacy are phonemic awareness, phonics, fluency, vocabulary, comprehension, and motivation. These apply not only to the young child just acquiring such skills, but also to those of us well equipped for previous technologies of literacy but recently recognizing challenges to our vocabulary and comprehension domains. We can still pass notes, play Scrabble, conduct research, compose sonnets, or read novels, but the technology and often the vocabulary of it is changing how we do those. The Gen Y's are teaching their parents and grandparents.

Great minds

2010-03-09T04:49:00.001-08:00

I'd seen a couple of pencil drawings and wondered which student was the artist. Eventually, I thought I'd figured it out and approached a young man in our Waiting Room one morning. "Yes" he liked to draw and would I like to see more of his work? The next day he brought in a folder full of pencil and ink drawings, painstakingly detailed, almost engineered representations of cars, trucks, trains, the recently imploded Lake Champlain Bridge, and even a few softer landscapes. I was struck by his work, his quiet pride in it, and the obvious pleasure he found in describing his research, intentions, and techniques. He might be working with Stern Center teachers to overcome learning challenges, but he has already discovered and is nurturing a special talent, an important way of seeing, learning, and knowing his world. That is one of our responsibilities as adults, as educators, as fellow citizens even, that we help others recognize, develop, and celebrate their unique talents.

2010-03-04T13:37:00.000-08:00

She was right in front of me, slightly to the left actually, so I had a clear view of how engrossed she was in her book. We were in a crowded, busy location with lots of people-watching opportunities. I'd been reading in spurts, frequently glancing up as the passersby gained numbers or dynamics, but this girl remained completely transfixed by her book, riveted to the page, her expressions changing occasionally from frown to delighted smile punctuated by gentle laughter. It was as if she was in a world of her own created by the book. Eventually, she released her grip on the pages only when her mother gathered her up to snuggle on her shoulder and cooed her to sleep. Not yet two years old, and already drawn to reading! I've often been struck by the power of books and reading in my own life and in the lives of others. That has never been more evident to me than in the stories I continue to hear from learners and their families here at the Stern Center.

2010-03-01T07:24:00.001-08:00

“That’s What Friends Are For”

With a nod to Burt Bacharach and Carole Bayer Sager, we recently held our annual Valentine’s Appreciation Brunch for the Friends of the Stern Center. This group of devoted supporters has enjoyed a parallel history with the organization. Begun 26 years ago, soon after the birth of the Stern Center itself, these folks have dedicated their time, talents, and treasures to spread the word, share the possibilities, and support our scholarship program. Knitting hats and mittens, hosting annual Card Parties, staffing rummage sales, designing and selling greeting cards, sharing as ambassadors…our Friends are indefatigable when it comes to ensuring the mission of helping all learners reach their full potential. This is not merely a monthly meeting to get out of the house; this is truly part of the fabric of their lives. As with all our truest friendships, this is personal and from the heart. That’s why we hold the Appreciation Brunch on Valentine’s Day! We thank all the members of the Friends of the Stern Center.

2010-02-21T14:13:00.000-08:00

The Olympics. Perhaps each nation's media coverage revels as much as ours in the depth and breadth of adversity overcome by our quadrennial heroes. Childhood poverty, single parents and battling parents, pre-dawn practice hours, injuries and surgeries, difficulty in school, a variety of hidden, personal sacrifices offered on the altar of athletic success. At some point yesterday while watching one more such colorful commentary meant to make heroes more human, it occurred to me that these stories of surmounting obstacles sounded much like those I've been collecting since joining the Stern Center. The difference is that the Stern Center stories are about struggling learners, hours of slogging through efforts to read and learn, to compete with one's peers, eventually to mount the medal podium of learning success. The pain endured, the sacrifices made by individuals and their families, the conviction that success is possible, and the joy at achievement are the same for the Olympians as for the father and son who recently told their respective stories to a ballroom full of appreciative admirers. As each took his turn at the podium there was no medal draping, but we smiled and applauded their victories just the same.

2010-02-16T05:18:00.000-08:00

Last Friday I dropped by Herb’s house. I meet with Herb every few weeks just to keep in touch, seek his perspective and look for advice. I first met Herb when I was fourteen. He was a neurologist, stern, intimidating, almost frightening…and the father of my girlfriend. Thirty-six years later I met Herb again and struggled at first not to revert to being 14. This time around, however, our relationship was about work, not puppy love. Herb is an Honorary Board Member of the Stern Center, and I had just been hired to what eventually became the role of Development Director. Herb’s passion for the Stern Center is focused on his dedication to our Scholarship Program. Last Friday I stopped by to bring him a DVD of our most recent fundraising event, the Gene Richards Roast. Herb has delighted and then launched into detailed questions about how much we raised, which accounts would receive the money, and what our plans are for making continued progress on our goals for the year. He’d been reading the Wall Street Journal and New York Times both of which continue to offer daunting diagnoses for the economy; serious challenges to Herb’s mission of raising funds for our scholarships.

Herb’s own diagnosis is even more serious. He is 87 years old and battling cancer, but neither of those factors has diminished his spirit for the Stern Center. I visit Herb hoping to offer him an ongoing link for that spirit, and I leave feeling inspired, confident that despite any recent disappointments we’ll figure this out and the Scholarship Program will thrive. Thirty-six years ago I didn’t even make eye contact with Herb; today, every few weeks I listen intently, heed his advice, and share a laugh. Thanks, Herb.

VT Nonprofit Day

2010-02-12T09:21:00.000-08:00

The annual Nonprofit Day at the VT Legislature yesterday was a little like a family reunion without the occasional tensions inherent to holiday gatherings. One of the charms of Vermont is that those of us who have lived and worked here for years (decades in my case) periodically reconnect, revive, and recommit to our relationships, our passions, and our life’s work. Yesterday was another such opportunity. Between the Legislators and other elected officials, the nonprofit attendees, and other guests from the End Childhood Hunger campaign, it felt a bit like “This is Your Life.” Blending with conversations about my current role at the Stern Center for Language and Learning were accounts from my earliest days teaching English at Richford High School, my first stint as school principal at Berkshire Elementary School, the six years I worked for the US Department of Education, and my more recent years as principal of the Albert D. Lawton Intermediate School in Essex Junction. In a mere five hours at the State House nearly every phase of my adult, professional life was represented by at least one person! Perhaps this is not as unique as it seems, but I’d like to claim it as “Made in Vermont.” It was truly an example of the State House being the People’s House.