Becoming a building principal changed me as a thinker, a reader, and a writer. It’s not that I’m better or worse—I’m just different from how I used to be. The nature of the job requires me to handle interruptions on a constant basis; I must always be on guard to handle an emergency, no matter how minor, and I must travel a spectrum of decision making, from whether recess should be indoors to how clearly a teacher communicated learning outcomes during a lesson. In any given one-minute span, I may have the following thoughts in rapid-fire succession:
What IEP do I have after school today? I wonder whether Mrs. Quinn called me back today about Sarah’s change in medication. Wow, the cafeteria seems particularly loud today; I better go out there and make sure there’s nothing going on. Oops! I forgot to call my director to schedule my evaluation. The kindergartners are walking in; why is that little guy crying? I should sit down—right now!—and email human resources about the student teacher we have in music. I need to start on my classified-staff evaluations. Yay! There’s my secretary getting back to her desk; she can help me fill out this school-safety plan the state department of education needs from me yesterday. Uh-oh. The phone. Ringing again. I recognize that number—who could it be? I need to go observe a math workshop lesson and film it for next week’s professional development session.
And on and on and on.
This type of fractured thinking, although a natural occupational hazard, is something I constantly fight against, because it feeds into what I am quite sure is a lifelong bout with an attention disorder. In my daily work, I whirl from one task to another, my thoughts and words scattered willy-nilly in my brain. I have to constantly remind myself to slow down, think things through, and finish one task at a time.
Because of the multiple-balls-in-the-air-at-once nature of my job, it’s easy to lose track of why I’m in this job in the first place and what I want to bring to my school community while I’m here. My commitment to be a literacy leader could easily be drowned out by all the other noise my job brings into my thinking. For that reason, I must continually revisit my core philosophical belief about educating young learners. In other words, I constantly and actively work to keep literacy the focus of my leadership.
How do I do this? There are several things I have learned to do to keep myself in line:
Stay connected to people who value literacy as I do. I make sure to have conversations with people who are immersed in literacy all day, every day. I have a large network of professionals whose daily lives revolve around literacy, and I make it my business to speak with them whenever possible. Whether it’s a teacher, my district’s literacy director, our media specialist in the library, or even students who are actively engaged in reading, it helps when I constantly revisit literacy experts.
Take advantage of literacy-based professional development opportunities. Although I certainly learn and grow from professional development in the areas of math, content, curriculum, and operations, I still seek out and find literacy-based professional development. I’ve promised myself that several times a year, I will commit to learning something new about best practices in the instruction of reading and writing.
Read for learning. Fortunately, reading and writing teachers and leaders have a near-constant flow of books, online resources, and publications to keep them up with the most recent thinking by the finest literacy experts. That means new, fresh, innovative instructional ideas can be easily accessed anytime. I keep a stack of professional literature on my desk within arm’s reach and grab one whenever I have a few extra moments. I keep literacy-based websites on my Bookmarks bar for quick access to resources. I also make sure I reach out to colleagues for recommendations so I know I’m reading things that are relevant to my work.
Read for pleasure. This is an easy one, because I naturally gravitate to pleasure reading. I have a habit, built from childhood, of reading myself to sleep each night. After a long day, there are times I’d like to just drift off to sleep—but it’s not difficult to persuade myself to work through a couple of chapters as I snuggle into bed.
Seek inspiration. If and when I feel I’m losing my focus on literacy at work—when all the other things I think about begin to overshadow my days and I feel pulled away from my core philosophy—I seek something to readjust my thinking. I find a favorite literacy quote, spend some time on Goodreads, or find a classic book or poem to revisit. I find a student and ask what they’re reading and why they like it. I call my mother and ask her to talk to me about her most recent favorite book. Any of these things can help me feel glad I’m a reader—and will help bring my focus back.
Take notes. As I go about my day and observe teachers, view student work, or interact with colleagues, I am often inspired by their wonderful ideas. Sometimes the ideas are things I’d like to implement; other times they are just things I want to tell others about. To ensure I don’t forget—especially since I am growing increasingly forgetful as the years pass!—I grab a sticky note or piece of scrap paper to jot down a quick sentence about what I’ve seen and my initial ideas about it. That way I can refer to it later and consider how to use the information. If for some reason I don’t have a pen and paper close by, it’s not a problem; I almost always have my phone with me, and I can use the Notes app to email the information to myself. Regardless of how it has happened, I have captured countless good ideas—and remembered to do something with them—by taking simple notes.
Spend free time finding my literacy muse. Whenever possible, I spend a few hours on weekends at the library or a favorite bookstore. I seek nothing; I just peruse and see what finds me.
Accept that there will be times when the focus cannot be on literacy. Occasionally, I can’t think much about how to lead a literacy-focused building; I have to spend chunks of time on other things. For example, this year my district is focusing a lot of professional development energy on implementing a math workshop model in our elementary classrooms. To align myself fully with this vision, I did most of my first-round teacher evaluations during math lessons so I could understand what a good math workshop looked like and how to support the teachers as they implemented it in their classrooms. That meant I wasn’t focusing on literacy for a large chunk of time. I had to be okay with it; after all, a leader needs to lead in all areas, not just the ones he or she is passionate about. I knew I’d still see great literacy instruction in time, but for a while my focus was math. And that was okay.
Make and keep literacy-minded friends. I have a group of friends who are passionate about reading and writing—and the teaching of reading and writing. We have a standing brunch date once a month, and we spend a morning chattering like magpies: What has been happening in your classroom? What books are your kids reading? What books are you reading? What books can you recommend? This brunch date is sacred to me because it connects me to people I really, really like to talk to about literacy. My literacy cup overflows when we are together.
I am committed to literacy, but my job is much bigger than literacy alone. These are some of the tricks I have used to keep my focus. I want to make sure I’m running the building and taking it where I want it to go: That means I can’t—and won’t—let the building run me.
