I don’t write blogs as much as I used to, and I have wondered why.  Writing used to be a joy, something I looked forward to. I loved waking up early on Saturday morning, making a cup of coffee, and writing about something that inspired me from that week. But Covid changed that, and I have definitely retreated into myself.  It’s just that I don’t feel I have any answers, only more questions, questions that you can’t Google. Larger questions about our humanity, our planet, and my purpose in life.  I bet you asked those questions, too. I know I am not unique or alone in this cognitive dissonance created by the trauma of the past few years.

However, putting these emotions and ideas into intelligible sentences has been challenging. I have written over 60 blog posts but haven’t been able to finish them because print feels permanent, and my perspectives about things are in flux. It’s impossible to hit the publish button when I feel like my thinking about something is incomplete.

But at my new school, we have a professional requirement to keep a portfolio. That got me thinking about why I started this blog to begin with–as a professional portfolio for a course I took about creativity.  This blog has been and always probably will be my professional portfolio. So, it’s pushing me to get back to writing. Moreover, it’s helping me to reflect upon my perfectionism and be okay with incompleteness and muddled ideas.

So now that I have shared this preamble with you, I feel like I can move forward with writing this post. This post, as with many others, is just me reflecting out loud.

New School, Same Person?

It is a mistake to take any approach and assume like a flower you can take it from one soil and put it in another one. That never works. We have to figure out what aspects of that are most important to us and what kind of soil we need to make those aspects grow. -Howard Gardener-

I share this quote by Howard Gardener because, in Brazil, I was starting to feel like a potted plant. I was pretty comfortable in my school. I adored the people I worked with. I believed in our mission and saw real change created by my supporting role at our school. But it was not a place where my whole family could flourish. Even though it was a  painful decision to move, it was the right decision. And I couldn’t be more grateful for my new professional home.

But I know I cannot “copy and paste” what I did in Belo Horizonte. I have new “soil” that I must research and learn how to live in. This new “soil” consists of structures and systems I must become competent in, the mindset and approach to IB and our curriculum design, and the level of collaboration in and amongst teams. Not to forget the dynamics and personalities of staff. When you move to a new school, the first few months are just about building relationships and understanding the context of a school. So, I designed a 90-day plan, but I underestimated my timeline for “unpacking” my new school since there are more layers of leadership and slightly different expectations within my role. For example, I had to evaluate teachers before I even had a chance to get to know them, which made me feel uncomfortable. I held the opinion that there should be a bright line between principals and coordinators, and evaluation is one of those expectations.

Truthfully, I am unskilled in classroom observations because I often go in to observe the learning of students, not take notes on teachers. This is the culture of our school; teachers depend on me for this feedback, and I can’t let them down. I had to pivot. Needless to say, I resisted this expectation, and I had to meditate on that and contemplate what beliefs I must reconcile to support my school’s expectations of me.

This potted plant is still learning.

Wherever you go, you take yourself with you–your experiences, your memories, and your emotional reactions. It made me realize that I may be at a new school and have a new home, but I am trying to be the same person I was back in Brazil. Ha–I have different soil, but I am the same plant! I have to expand my roots and take in what my new school culture and leadership have to offer so I can grow.

In the past, I perceived my role as a coordinator as an ally in learning, not a professional judge of teaching acumen. I saw this as a binary role: ally or judge. However, as I examined this belief, I have come to reflect on how dualistic thinking creates a barrier to stretching my skillset and mindset. So, I can see how I was open to change, but only the change I wanted–not what was needed.  Change is okay as long as it is on my terms. I suppose this is residual thinking from the pandemic. This oppositional thinking has slowed me down and hindered me during this period of readjustment. In fact, it has created discombobulation.

So, here I am, entering the 2nd term and still working on my 90-day plan. The good news is that this 90-day plan is self-imposed. There is plenty of time to continue to work on developing relationships and appreciating the context of our school.  I also feel that I can now evolve my reflective questions and have time to ask myself: What do I need to grow? Where are my sources of energy? 

Now what?…..

I titled this blog post: Change Begins with Me. Not Change Happened to Me. Oftentimes, we feel that the world should bend to suit us. But in reality, that is rarely the case. The structures and systems in our world can evolve, but we must accept what is first. Through this move and transition, I have come to understand that I must begin to change if I want to support the change I wish to see in the world. My professional life takes up much of my time and is the natural starting place.  So, challenging the areas of dualistic thinking in myself as an IB practitioner at our school seems relevant and practical. On the eve of the Chinese New Year, I am making this my aspiration for the Year of the Dragon.

I am infinitely grateful for this opportunity to reflect out loud. Thank you for reading.