On the outside looking in

IMG_20180821_185246 — Ever feel like you’re on the outside looking in?

This is the first time since 2004 that I haven’t been a part of an opening of school and a new academic year, and it’s weird. In some ways, I imagine it is what it feels like to go through detox or to lose a limb—feeling things that aren’t there anymore.

The anxiety is ramping up. Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. I am trying as hard as I can to make use of every available free second I have. I find myself still dreading the changing of the leaves, and the prospect of the crazy opening of school schedule with endless faculty meetings in which everyone is glued to either their phones or laptops, the faculty party in which everyone asks what I did this summer (I worked, dammit!), and the arrival of students excited to see their friends again after the summer break.

My body seems to still be anticipating exhausting travel to sometimes awful and sometimes awe-inspiring but mostly mundane corners of the globe. Shouldn’t I be spending much more time on Delta’s and Marriott’s website? Shouldn’t I be calling my travel agent? Shouldn’t I be calling my counterparts at other schools trying to coordinate some crazy trip around the world?

And yet, none of that is coming for me this year. I’m watching others go through it—friends and past colleagues—and I keep asking myself, “Will I miss it?”

Will I wake up in the middle of some October night wondering where I am as I have done many times each fall?

Will I wake up one morning and momentarily panicked, wondering if I’m supposed to be on a plane, headed to some unknown country?

Will I scan my brain wondering how to say, “Thank you” in the native language while ordering my latte at the coffee shop down the street?

“Will I miss it?”

No. No, I don’t believe I will. But old habits and rhythms take time to run their course.

Tidbits from old notebooks

Last week I posted about my collections of various notebooks while I was on a crazy trip to Houston, Texas for a school fair. Part of the inspiration for that post were the four notebooks I brought along with my in my carry-on. I’m not really sure why I brought all of them. I could have easily left two of them behind, but I brought them none-the-less.

I’m glad I did too. One of the notebooks was an older one that I had filled a while back with a whole collection of random notes. I did stumble upon some gems from conferences I had attended in the last year. I also had some good notes from Jim Collins’s, Good to Great and Stephen E. Ambrose’s, Dwight D. Eisenhower: Soldier and President. Below are some of those:

“You have only 11 seconds to make a first impression. Make it count.”
This is from a conference presentation about tour guides given by the admissions team at Maderia. Good advice.

“In your first 90 days as a new director, you should force yourself to be uncomfortable and do not allow yourself to regress in the comfortable.”

“Focus your energy on the things that only the director can do.”
“Never check email in the morning.”
These were from a webinar for new directors of admission given by Ben Douglas of St. James School and Andrew Weller of Ridley College.
I don’t have a direct quote here, just some of my handwritten notes I took while reading Jim Collins’ Good to Great. I feel like the power of that book might be diminished a bit after the recession and the fact that a bunch of the companies he references in the books were total criminals, but it still does have value. I particularly like his use of a bus as an analogy to staffing. He describes the importance of getting the wrong people off of the bus, the right people on the bus, and the right people in the right seats on the bus. Once you do that, then your organization can reach its potential.

And finally, from Stephan E. Ambrose’s biography of Dwight D. Eisenhower, Soldier and President: “…only a man that is happy in his work can be happy in his home and with his friends. Happiness in work means that its performer must know it to be worthwhile, suited to his temperament, and, finally, suited to his age, experience and capacity for performance of a high order.”

Happy Birthday!

Every time I see a birthday notice in my Facebook feed, I make sure to write them a little birthday note . This is a 180 degree turn for me. I used to ignore them, and even took sort of a Scrooge approach to it. I have no idea why; I just did. I’m also at the age where I’m not longer psyched about birthdays. They’re just one step closer to 40.

I decided to stop being a jerk and start doing this soon after my birthday this past year. I usually get annoyed by those little red notices alerting you that someone has posted on your wall, but it rocks seeing a bazillion well wishes on your Facebook page on your birthday. I’m kind of on this whole, let’s be more positive and less critical kick as well (let me know if it’s working). I now figure that if I can push those birthday well wishes from a bazillion to a bazillion-and-one, well, why not be part of the awesomeness. If I’m Facebook friends with you, then we’re close enough that I can give you a little birthday love.

So if I’ve missed your birthday, (those helpful little notices don’t show up on the mobile) then here’s a happy belated birthday to you!

The Tug of the Plug

I don’t know about you, but I find it incredibly difficult to reflect, unplug, and be thoughtful during the school year. There is just so much going on, and there always seems like there is just one more thing to do. That’s why I so value the summer and especially these first couple of weeks in July.

My family and I are fortunate to have a place on a lake in northern Vermont. My grandparents bought it in the 50’s and still remains in the family. It’s in an area where there is little to no cell phone reception and up until this past year, we didn’t have cable or Internet access. The last few years, it has been my habit that as soon as we wrap up our Annual Fund year, I book it for Vermont to spend a week or so unwinding and unplugging.

I have at times relished in and at times been frustrated by the lack of connectivity up there. It’s wonderful to get away to a place where no one can reach you via email, cell phone or text message. It’s nice to go days without checking Facebook and Twitter, and I enjoy getting news and highlights from the newspaper rather than a television set.

Days are still busy and packed with things to do, especially with a soon to be three year old, but there’s something that happens to your head when you unplug from all of this connectivity. It’s almost as if I can feel my vision expanding like going from a old tube T.V. with a square screen to the rectangular wide-screen picture of a flat screen. After being unplugged for a couple of days, I remember old goals, think of new ways to do things, and feel seriously reenergized for the year ahead.

As I mentioned, this year was a bit different as I had access to the Internet and to cable that I hadn’t had in the past. I found the pull of all of these “screens”, as William Powers describes them in Hamlet’s Blackberry (which I read on my Kindle, oh the hypocrisy!), hard to resist. I’ve seen a few studies comparing the pull to stay connected to that of a drug addict’s urge. I don’t doubt it.

I found that I could not help but check my iPhone. I tried to limit myself to once a day and left it on the counter rather than carrying it around in my pocket. I had some success with this, but since I use it as a camera, it was hard to do. I was more or less able to leave the laptop closed and the T.V. off (except to catch the Tour), but I just could not put that damn phone down for an entire day.

What was I checking? Well, I was reading the Globe and checking up on the Sox. I was texting my wife or my friend summering in France. I was taking photos and posting them to Instragram and Facebook. And most egregiously, I was checking work email.

Not a single one of these things was pressing or necessary. There really was no need to check other than to satisfy that urge—that tug.

Really, what’s the point? Were those few minutes of connectivity really worth it? Did I gain anything from them except for a quick buzz from being connected to my network of friends?

No.

I wear a Road I.D. bracelet that has emergency contact information on it in case I get in an accident while on my bike. In addition to a few phone numbers, I also have “Live Deliberately” inscribed on it. It’s taken from Thoreau’s Walden, and I had forgotten these two words were on my wrist until I was reminded of it the other day when I just happened to be looking at it. With all of this pulling and tugging that comes from digital devices and screens, sometimes I forget to do just that.

Now it’s true that technology is incredible and connects us in ways that do bring us together. Just look at my three year old and the way he uses Facetime to talk to his grandparents halfway across the country. It’s also true that I run our school’s social media and thus am fully immersed in these tools.

That being said, I find immense value in unplugging and I often fantasize about wiping out my Facebook and other social media accounts and taking a multi-month hiatus just to see what would happen.

Maybe next time I go up to Vermont, I’ll just leave the damn iPhone at home.