The Hula Hoop of Life

On December 31, 2011, the Global School of Silicon Valley closed its doors for the final time. As Head of School, one of my last official duties was not only to say goodbye to our students, parents, and faculty on the last day, it was also to make certain that everything that physically remained of the Global School was either packed up for storage or carted off. This is the story of my final walk-thru . . .


There is an ebb and flow to the life of a school. There are always times of great action and activity, punctuated by the joy and presence of children as they go about their daily tasks. From the energetic raising of hands to answer a teacher's question, the squeals and yells of great leaps and feats on the playgrounds, or the highly animated conversations so characteristic of lunchtime in a crowded cafeteria - each of these activities and more produces an energy and enthusiasm unique to schools.

At the end of the day, the ebb of these same activities is often a welcome downtime. When the last backpack is stuffed with the day's work, and the final car door is safely closed, the change in the atmosphere is palpable. Depending upon the events of the day - and the behavior of the students - the last tick of the clock can represent the end of your finest day, or just another reason to catch your breath before beginning to prep for the next. Either way, there is usually a great sense of accomplishment and feeling of a job well done that permeates the minds of those teachers left in the quiet of their classrooms.

Imagine the feeling then, of a school where students do not simply go home for the weekend or a long holiday. Instead, imagine a school where the whoops and hollers, the surges of activities and events, and the simple presence of young children eager to learn and engage, are heard and enjoyed no more. A place where for one last time, the classrooms are empty, the floors swept, and seemingly each and every piece of detritus common to school life is gone . . .

Walking around the campus for the final time, I slowly realized that while the halls and rooms may be quiet, the floors vacuumed, and the walls and tables scrubbed clean - in fact, it is virtually impossible to erase the memories of children from a place where they once laughed and learned, played and discovered, and finally, where they spent an enormous amount of time simply being children.

As if to emphasize the memories that refuse to disappear, the buildings themselves that once housed the Global School now stand as mute testimony to the baby boomer years of the 1950's and 60's. Built of cement and cinder block as if to withstand any attempted Russian nuclear attack - can you say "Duck and Cover?" - they have seen at least five iterations over of the years of various types of schools, public and private. I had only to look down at my feet for evidence of prior children's memories. There, the once wet cement encased forever the handprints and scribblings of previous students - John, Susie, and someone named Tiz (I'm thinking "Tim" with a shaky hand . . .). Just north of the handprinted cement are the dozens of lockers left over as well from another school incarnation - too heavy to move and not quite appropriate for elementary schoolers.

It is around the corner from the lockers however, where memories of the Global School students are still echoing. In one classroom, no amount of scrubbing or cleaning can remove the tape marks on the floor where students once sat for reading time. In another room, the splashes of paint near the sink - stubbornly refusing to be wiped off - speak of projects now gracing refrigerators and bedroom walls all over the valley. While pencil marks on a door jam next door signify the physical growth of numerous students - and the "stunted" growth of the teacher - whose own pencil marks never seem to move . . .

Down the hall, the art room holds more special memories. In addition to the splashes of paint and ink - here not simply confined to the sink area, but found all around what was a very active place - there are other traces of fun, experimentation, and learning to be found. Though the forest of papers and projects no longer hang from the ceiling beams and walls, the holes and pin pricks that still punctuate these surfaces by the hundreds say that great art and great fun was to be had here.

Walking through each classroom for the last time before locking the door, I see the stain on one floor of an overly active volcano project gone awry. In one corner, I have to laugh as I notice a few puffs of styrofoam beads from the reading area's bean bag chairs that have somehow escaped the dreaded vacuum cleaner. My final inspections also reveal that numerous rooms still have student names posted on their cubbies - stubbornly refusing to be removed with anything approaching an easy task. Needless to say, I decide to leave them . . .

Locking the last classroom door and turning the corner of the building one final time before I head out the gate, I hear the faint sounds of a familiar gurgling . . . It seems that even the bathrooms require my presence one last time. After all, what would my day be like without having to jiggle the handle of the third urinal from the left in the boy's bathroom one last time? I think it's the only time I've ever laughed trying to address a plumbing issue . . .

Gurgling silenced, lights turned off, and bathroom secured, I happen to glance up to the tree that shaded our playground. There, my eyes are met by the sight of my final and most significant memory of the children of Global School. For there on the middle branches of the weeping willow tree, is one of the school's hula hoops - bright red no less - gracefully swinging in the wind and blithely refusing to fall.

And that's when all of the stress and pressure of the last few weeks seemed to hit me all at once. There, on the edge of a now-silent playground, and staring up at a red hula hoop in a tree, I started to laugh and cry at the same time. For of all of the memories I will have of Global School, remembering the students determined efforts over several days this past fall to get the hula hoop down, will always remain with me. While no one admitted the original crime of spinning the hula hoop up in the tree in the first place, everyone - including myself - volunteered to solve the problem. Basketballs, ladders, volleyballs, other hula hoops, and even a human pyramid were suggested, attempted, and ultimately futilely discarded.

My laughter and tears however, were not about the fact that the hula hoop still remained in the tree. My emotions had to do with the realization that in trying to "free" the hula hoop from its capture by the tree, the students had encapsulated and practiced virtually everything we had tried to teach them. Principles such as identifying the problem, attempting to come up with a solution, and most importantly, working together to accomplish the task were utilized as almost a second nature. Though the end result was a failure - the hula hoop obviously still swayed above my head - one thing became clear above anything else - the fun and the learning was in trying and failing.

For all I know, the red hula hoop is still occupying its place of honor in the playground tree, and I hope it remains there for years to come. As for me, wherever I may land in the future, I hope that there is a tree that I can throw a red hula hoop up into. It will be with great joy and just a tinge of sadness, that I will then have the opportunity to explain to all of those interested, the meaning of the hula hoop and stories of the wonderful students who once attended the Global School of Silicon Valley . . .

For more thoughts about education, please visit my new blog: 
www.oureducatedlife.blogspot.com

The Song That is Global School

You can learn a lot about life when you work with children. You learn about life's ups and downs, about success and failure, and you learn about how long and winding the road of life can be. But most of all, you learn that in almost every circumstance that life presents, you can find joy. For me, there is no greater experience in life than to see the joy in a child's face when they feel they have accomplished something.

This joy of accomplishment was more than evident in the faces of the children of Global School yesterday afternoon when they participated in our Winter Sing. Their long hours of practice - and my long hours of enduring their practices (see earlier blog) - finally bore fruit. From the traditional carols of the season such as 'O Little Town of Bethlehem' and 'Jingle Bells', to the less traditional but no less satisfying 'You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch', the children's voices soared and their faces shone. And the Chanukah play - with all of its memorization - was performed with much good spirit and aplomb.

Have there been better holiday plays in the history of school holiday plays? Maybe. Have their been louder singers, better bell ringers, and more fluent speakers? Possibly. But have students ever performed with more heart, more effort, or in the face of greater odds than those faced yesterday by our Global School students? Almost certainly no.

For you see, known to most, but still news to a few others, Global School will be closing its doors for good at the end of this week. As if saying goodbye to students and faculty for the long holiday break were sad enough, these students were singing their last songs and performing their last plays as Global School students. While everyone in the audience knew this, and certainly the students themselves felt the same, even this news could not disguise the joy in their voices, their hearts, and especially in their eyes.

If a school has to have a culminating event, where everyone can come together one last time - parent and student, faculty and staff - I can think of no better way than to be in the midst of our own students performing their best. There is something about a child's voice, their hesitant delivery of memorized lines, and the pregnant pause before the proper hand bell is rung, that encapsulates the joy of working with children - all the more so as you realize that this is last time you will do so with these special children.

Come January, everyone at Global School will find themselves elsewhere - new schools, new friends, new experiences. What they will not find, no matter where they may go, is a better vision of what a school can be, a new school community that loves learning more, and finally, a place that prizes children - their hopes, dreams, and their lives - more than we have.

Our doors may be closing, but the vision that was, and still is, Global School will live on. We have all tasted and experienced what a great school can be. As a result of our Global School experiences, we now know what it means to be part of a true learning community - what it means to be the best. Better yet, each of us has been enfused with a responsibility as we move on, to make sure that wherever we go, wherever we learn, we help the people we come to know and to work with, to understand the power of the vision we are leaving behind.

If there is a song for Global School, it is a wordless melody in the faces of our students for all that they have accomplished. It is, at its best, a song from the heart. It is in fact, despite the circumstances, a song of joy . . .

May you have a wonderful and blessed holiday season from all of us at Global School.

The Difference Between "Want" and "Need"

Life is full of transitions. As the holiday season kicks off in high gear, I'm reminded of one of the biggest transitions that virtually every child in America experiences at a critical point in their young lives. No, I am not talking about when the dream of Santa Claus is forever shattered. This is not a transition from broad fantasy to harsh reality - after all, Santa Claus or not, the gifts still flow . . .

Instead, this transition is more insidious due to its slow, and some would say stealth-like approach. In some cases, it may take years to fully manifest itself. The process begins in seemingly random and I am certain, sneaky fashion, perpetuated by parents and grandparents, with the occasional aunt or uncle dragged along for good measure. The transition? The slow and laborious change from toys under the Christmas tree, to clothing or other so-called "practical" gifts. No more Tonka trucks, chemistry sets, or Mr. Potato Heads. Instead, socks, pants, and the occasional packs of underwear begin to show up - things we are deemed to need, rather than to covet . . . Is there any more damning words to a child than "we thought you might need this?"

Though traumatized by my own transition from the safe and comfortable world of "wanting" something, to the harsh and cold reality of "needing" something, I have moved on in many ways. Most importantly, because I work in a school environment, the holidays hold a special meaning for me now - ultimately, even more satisfying than my former days of "want." For, in a school, there is nothing more exciting and fulfilling than the annual holiday concert.

This year, the holiday concert has even more of a special meaning for me. Due to the lack of a separate area for music in our school, the students in Mr. Burris' music classes conduct their rehearsals in the multi-purpose room just around the corner from my office. As a result, I have experienced each and every one of their rehearsals from their inception. Though I must admit their progress as singers and musicians to this point is remarkable, the road to the concert has not been without its share of bumps and rough spots.

Imagine if you will, kindergartners through sixth grade students not only learning to sing together in their various grades and groups, but also learning to play the recorder - though not at the same time. The variations in pitch, sound, and ability are staggering to ponder - and to listen to . . . From the high-pitched, near tweaking sounds of the kindergartners, to the roller coaster-like ups and downs of beginners playing the recorder, through the pre-pubescent voice changes of fifth and sixth grade boys, I have heard it all this year.

While I have strained at times to find hope for the future harmonies of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", I can only admire Mr. Burris' efforts as their teacher. As I close the outer doors to the multi-purpose room and think seriously about purchasing a set of Bose headphones to drown out the sometimes withering sounds of first-time recorder players, I once again admire the commitment and hard work of music teachers around the world - and especially Mr. Burris. If I'm ever asked to vote for sainthood for anyone, every music teacher I have ever known will be right at the top of my list . . .

Despite the closed doors and threatened headphones, and despite the early renderings of the old favorites that force us to question just which season they are singing about, by concert time, all of the hard work by teachers and students inevitably pays off. With voices in tune, recorders responding dutifully, and Mr. Burris looking more relaxed than at any time during rehearsals, I have no doubt that Rudolph and the Dreidel song could ever sound better.

Everyone has their own special memories and feelings about the holidays. For me, next to being with my family, nothing says the holidays more than hearing the children singing. There's just something about seeing - and this year, hearing - all their time and effort bear fruit. Though my brain will forever be infused with the tunes they practiced daily - including the phrase, "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch!" - it all fades away while sitting and listening to their actual performance.

Finally, unlike the afore-mentioned holiday traumas, the holiday programs in a school are something I both "want" and "need" to add to spirit of the season. However, I'm still hoping for one of those remote-controlled helicopters under the tree this year. I really want it . . .

Finding the "Thanks" in Thanksgiving . . .

I have often used this blog to communicate the life that surrounds and is within the Global School of Silicon Valley. As we approach the time of Thanksgiving, I wanted to pause for a moment and thank those people who make our school and our lives so much better.

The missive that follows is my annual Thanksgiving message to the faculty and staff. Though this year is different from the past in many ways, never have my thoughts been more genuine and heartfelt . . .

Despite the fact that the world around us seems currently overshadowed by uncertainty, I wanted to take a moment to share with you what I am truly thankful for this Thanksgiving season.

Topping that list would have to be our community here at the Global School. Through your own hard work, sweat, and even tears, you have crafted a place where our students are the center of our day, where their learning and growth are paramount, and most importantly, where they can be happy and joyful while exercising their intellect and discovering new things. Global School is a place that children cannot wait to get to on school day mornings, and cannot bear to leave at the end of the day. Few schools, if any, can boast the same.

I am thankful as well for each of you "veterans" - those of you who have been at the school from the beginning or near beginning. You have weathered a great deal in your time here, and I admire your strength, your resilience, and your aplomb. You have stayed for many reasons, but most of all, I like to think you have stayed because of the vision of the school and the students that we teach. I think it is obvious, that no matter how the chips may fall in the next few weeks, we will never again find a better combination of vision, community, and cooperation than we have right here. To your everlasting credit, we would never have achieved what we did here at Global School without your wisdom and experience - scars and all.

I am grateful also to the "newbies" - those of you who joined us this year. Your energy and enthusiasm had a galvanizing effect on everyone. Your ideas, initiatives, and just plain gumption - unencumbered by the strings of our past - have had a profound and positive impact on everyone. In joining our becalmed ship over the summer, you helped bring us new life and a clearer meaning to our mission.

Most importantly, all of you - either veteran or newbie - have more often than not, put aside the petty jealousies and bickering that so often characterize other schools, and have worked together - frequently in the face of great odds - to bring the school's vision to life. Indeed, each child who has had the privilege of attending Global School and working with you as their teachers, has had their own life enriched beyond measure.

If you recall nothing else from these Thanksgiving thoughts and meanderings, and certainly from your time here at Global School, please remember this always:

Each and everyone one of you has made your students' present and future richer for having been here and having learned from you. Though it may turn out that our time with them was brief, you have touched their minds and their spirits in innumerable and magical ways. Years from now, they will fondly recall their joy, their discoveries, and their teachers in the best of all possible lights. They will never forget their time at Global School and the time they spent with you.

Frankly, neither will I . . .

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bob

After You, Madame President . . .

As the election year in America begins to heat up, it's easy to get lost in all the rhetoric, mudslinging, and general blasts of hot air that are an inevitable part of our nation's electoral process. It seems as though every television channel and news website is dominated by the primary election hoopla that is sweeping the nation.

Interestingly enough, there is an oasis of electoral sanity in all of this crazy quest for votes - a place where good manners, sincere and thoughtful proposals, and good common sense prevail. It is also a place where the standards are high, and where the bar is set for the rest of the country to emulate - that idyllic spot is the Global School first grade classroom of Mrs. Pervez.

In order to help her students better understand how elections work, Mrs. Pervez organized some basic lessons and facts. As part of that discussion, she asked students to actually organize their own campaigns for the fictitious title of President of Global School. Each student worked to come up with a few campaign statements and pledges, designed a poster, and gave a speech before the assembled student body, followed by a final vote. With only three students in the class, the competition was destined to be intense. Thankfully, there were no debates . . .

The slogans that Royce, Madelyn, and Rheeya developed ranged from strong statements of personal qualities: "I am nice", I am cheerful!", and "I am smart", to promoting the practice of good manners - "I respect people", "I love people", and "I am helpful". One candidate of course, tried to summarize it all with "I am super", while another played to the patriotic angle with a "Vote for America" slant within their slogans.

Once the personal superlatives were out of the way, each candidate finally got down to brass tacks with their specific promises. Fully cognizant of where the majority of votes were to be found, the candidates went right for the political jugular. No vague promises of slashing the budget, dealing with foreign countries or regulating Wall Street - our first graders knew what the voters wanted to hear: "I will help you with your math", was my personal favorite - perhaps echoing my own greatest need.

The winning candidate however, pandered enough to her target populace to make most of the current crop of adult presidential candidates look like rank amateurs. Like the real-life candidates, her platform paid little attention to the need to pay for her promises, or the small practicalities of location and legalities. Instead, her slogan was simple, and embodied the essence and longing of every pre-teen's desire - especially in the hotter months of summer and fall - "If I become President, I will build a swimming pool!"

When the election was over, only one candidate was, to coin a term, "still floating". Throwing caution to the wind, but adding a nice historical twist to the process, the students and parents of Global School elected their first woman President. In her inaugural ceremony - thankfully minus the usual round of inaugural balls - President Rheeya was brief, yet graceful, in her victory and acceptance speech. In fact, her simple "thank you" may have set a record for clarity and brevity that will likely go untouched for decades.

Though most of the election excitement has subsided on the campus, and few if any students ask about the proposed pool - thank goodness! - there is still one notable perk that I like to think makes our new President's life a little better. At morning drop-off, I often assist the assigned teachers in helping to open car doors. Whenever possible each day, I make it a special point to greet Rheeya's car.

While it's not quite Secret Service-level protection, and no band is eagerly waiting nearby to launch a hearty rendition of "Hail to the Chief", my daily greeting as I open the door, "After you, Madame President . . ." seems to do the trick. Her quick, shy smile alone makes that simple phrase all the more worthwhile . . .

Waffling Allowed

A school's mission can be made evident in many ways. Some schools construct their buildings and campuses around the school's mission statement - open classrooms, large common areas, playing fields, art facilities, and more. Others make their mission known through banners, bumper stickers, or plaques around the school that spell out their purpose for being. Having been a part of schools that do all of the above, I can vouch for their usefulness and appropriateness in communicating the key elements of what they are all about.

However, never have I seen a school's mission articulated quite so well, as when it can be witnessed in action - not necessarily in a classroom environment such as you might see through a classroom observation of a particular teaching method or use of technology. Instead, I prefer to see the mission of a school come to life in the everyday lives of children. There is a very well known quote from a Torah study that says: "Character is what you do when no one is watching." For me the same is true for schools - if I were to paraphrase: "A school's mission is best observed when no one is watching."

Lest anyone think I am leading them down the paths of the paranormal, I am talking about those times, without teachers or other adults, when students actually practice and actively use the principles of a school's mission. Obviously, one has to observe them doing it, but it is in a situation where students forget they are being watched or better yet, couldn't care less. It is these times, and almost magical moments, where everything we work for as educators seems to come together.

Such a moment occurred recently in our after school program. With sometimes a dozen or more students of all ages coming together after a long day of classes, you never quite know what to expect. On this particular day, Mrs. Nancy Young, the After School Coordinator, brought out a box of over sized and multi-colored waffle blocks for any interested students. With students from ages 5 to 12, chances were good that at least someone would be interested.

Slowly but surely, a few students started to take the blocks from the box. Soon, they were joined by others, and the rest of the dozen or so students slowly gravitated over to join in. Without a clear leader, there arose a general agreement that some sort of tall tower should be erected and the work began. Again, without an alpha figure rising to dominate, there was a consensus to try and pattern the colors. Repeatedly, comments were suggested and decisions reached without rancor and most importantly, without regard for the various ages and abilities. Finally, the tower was judged to be finished and the same seamless process continued with new project after new project.

I will be the first to admit that on the surface having a group of students build a waffle-block tower together is not going to cause a rewrite of the tenets of progressive education. However, to see these students work cooperatively and politely with each other, was a true sight to behold. Without regard to each others' ages, heights - imagine the differences between a five year old and a twelve year old - and other limitations that we as adults might perceive, these students cast aside all of the normal impediments and worked together towards a common goal. They were not coached or rewarded, and no suggestions from outside their peer group were made or solicited. In fact, engrossed in their work, they were oblivious to anyone older than themselves.

At Global School, we see the future as a place and time requiring the daily practices of group cooperation and hands-on problem-solving. Our teachers constantly strive to practice and instill those beliefs in our students and in our school community. To see it all come together in a simple after school activity is both a source of pride and a bit overwhelming.

Our various and sundry after school builders may not change the world with their waffle blocks and towers, but they can and will change that same world with their attitude, skills, and cooperation learned during their time with us.

Mission accomplished!

Whole Latte Love

No pun intended - there is an art to working with and teaching children. As a teacher, you must first of all be passionate about children, and of course, passionate and knowledgeable about your subject. With all that passion and knowledge, ultimately, a teacher must be able to teach, to engage, and most of all, allow his or her students to learn. By allowing students to learn, a good teacher knows when to lecture, when to solicit individual student or class participation, and when to simply get out of the way and let students create. Such are the everyday occurrences in each of the classrooms at Global School, but one classroom in particular takes these tenets to a higher level.

Most of us in our early school art class experiences can remember being asked to draw or paint the obligatory vase of flowers or bowl of fruit. Taught by either the regular classroom teacher or by a wandering "art gypsy", the classes were often sporadic or lacking in any real focus. In my own case, one of my art teachers was fixated on Warner Brothers cartoons and we were asked to draw various popular characters - repeatedly. I became the class expert at drawing Tweety Bird. To this day, it is a life skill I will always cherish . . .

Tweety Bird expert or not, today, many children do not even receive the opportunity to draw the bowl of fruit. As school budgets are cut and trimmed, art classes are often among the first to fall under the axe. If not eliminated completely, the number of students in each class is dramatically raised to the point where individual creativity is often stifled in the name of uniformity or simply getting things done.

At Global School, art teacher, Jenny Dickson-Child, moved away from the bowl of fruit long ago, and I am not sure she appreciates Tweety Bird the way I do. What she does appreciate, is that students must become invested in art. To her, art is not simply line drawings or finger painting. Instead, it is also about space, texture, and materials. It is learning about the great and not-so-great artists of the past, as well as the present - not to copy or emulate them - but to help students understand how a particular style or artistic vision came to be.

Whether it be Picasso, Monet or Whistler, students of all grades are introduced to the artist and asked to "be" that artist for the duration of the study. Though thankfully, no one has been asked to slice off their ear in support of this teaching method, students have, among other techniques, lain on the floor to practice charcoal drawings in the style of the bed-ridden Matisse - the end result of which was quite fun and remarkable in its quality. Most of all, Ms. Jenny believes that all art should be shared everywhere and anywhere it can be appreciated. The halls, classrooms, and byways of Global School are a testament to this generous impulse.

Through an earlier blog, most of you know that the students at the school recently painted portraits of area firemen as part of a well-mounted joint project with our local Bank of America to "Honor Our Heroes." Though lacking a bit of the heroic aspect of their earlier work, second, third and fourth grade students recently prepared some additional work for display outside our campus.

Asked to explore the works of native California artist, Wayne Thiebaud, the students were engaged to paint a still-life. The pieces they created were a mix of acrylic paintings, mixed media works (paint and pastels), and collage. No regular bowl of fruit here - instead, students painted cupcakes. Forget the art, for students to overcome the urge to eat the cupcakes before they finished their pieces, was a huge achievement in and of itself. Invited frequently to visit classes throughout the day, I am trying not to take it personally that I was not asked to drop by during this particular lesson . . .

Steeling themselves against the pangs of pre-adolescent hunger, the students completed remarkable work. Excited as always over her students' success, Ms. Jenny arranged for the work to be displayed for a few days at Barefoot Coffee - a local business very close to the school. There, patrons - and not a few parents - are treated to a remarkable array of cupcakes and other bakery delights, the likes of which few long-time artists and students could rival.

Whether laying on the floor with a charcoal pencil taped to a broomstick or drooling over a cupcake still-life, it's clear that Ms. Jenny loves her students and her work. As a result, her students are thoroughly involved in the learning process. Exposed to a seemingly endless supply of artists to learn from - including their teacher - they each produce remarkable work, no matter their age. Their learning experience is active, engaging, and fun - the way all learning should be. The formula is simple: passionate and involved teachers = passionate and involved students. Welcome to Global School!