2nd Inning--Be Proactive

The first inning on the mound is a battle between the pitcher and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.  Getting that first strike and first out and, eventually, that first successful walk back to the dugout under his belt signify more than just one ninth of the game.  Somehow, someway, they feel even bigger than that.

Consequently, the second inning sets itself up for disastrous returns for the pitcher who isn't ready for it.  The second inning is a trap--the adrenaline has worn off, the crowd has settled in, and in a way, there may even be a false sense of security.  Meanwhile, waiting with bats in their hands are, arguably, the 3 or 4 most powerful hitters in the opponent's line-up:  the heart of the order.

The smart pitcher  knows better.  He understands the importance of pacing, both physically and emotionally.  Most importantly, the pitcher who has the intention to complete a game understands the value of preparation--the value of proactively looking at an entire lineup's strengths and weaknesses prior to even walking out to the bullpen before the game.

In education, a quality leader also understands the value of being proactive.  In our ever-changing world, it's always best to try to stay a step or two ahead of the game...

"There are 3 types of baseball players: those who make it happen, those who watch it happen, and those who wonder what happened."

-Tommy Lasorda

"Success always comes when preparation meets opportunity."

-Henry Hartman

Six years ago now, I was offered an opportunity that was simply too good to turn down.  I was just finishing up my third full year of teaching at West Leyden High School, a place that felt like a home away from home for me.  Having taught at neighboring Mannheim Middle School for the four years prior to my move into District 212, suffice it to say I knew the West Leyden community very well.  I knew the streets and I knew the towns.  I knew the families, and most importantly, I knew those kids.  When I started at West, it was almost as if I had been there for years already.  As a result, I will always look back on my time there and smile.  One would be hard-pressed to find a situation in which a teacher had a better rapport with a student body than I did during those three years.

Toward the end of that third year, I was offered the chance to take on the role of Assistant Dean--at East Leyden.  There was no doubt I was excited about the chance to take on a new challenge.  I was just finishing up my Master's Degree in Educational Leadership, and the move seemed to be a no-brainer.  Of course, the decision also meant I would have to leave a school that I had never really envisioned saying goodbye to. I'd have to start over in a new building with a new role, a new set of colleagues, new bosses, and most dauntingly, new students.  More importantly, I would have to say goodbye to those kids that I had grown to know and care deeply for.

During that summer, I had the chance to work in the building during summer school.  I spent an awful lot of time pondering what my new role would entail.  What is a dean?  What does a dean do?  How is the relationship between a dean and a student body different from the relationships I had built as a full-time teacher with my students?  There were many, many questions.  The only way for me to find answers was to jump in with both feet.

I am more than willing to admit that that first year was a struggle.  There were good days, and there were bad days, but I often found myself walking out of the building and wondering where I was going wrong.  In my 8 previous years in education, I had never experienced the main issue that was plaguing me at that time--these kids just weren't responding to me.  I can say now that there were days when you could have put up a cardboard cutout of Mr. Dykes in the dean's office, and the response from students would have been the same.

I was working just as hard--probably harder.  I was asking for advice from colleagues.  I was willing to put in as much extra time as possible.  Where was I going wrong?

At one point, it finally dawned on me.  In pitching terms, I had shown up to the ballpark 10 minutes before the game, thrown on a uniform, and attempted to pitch an entire game throwing as hard as I could.  I was completely unprepared. These kids didn't know me.  Therefore, they didn't trust me.  I was a dean's Nuke Laloosh.  

Being a dean isn't easy.  We aren't often presented with flowers and chocolates at Christmas time.  Let's face it--from time to time a dean takes on the persona of the Grim Reaper.  You screw up, we hand you your penalty.  That's the reality of the situation, and it's the job I signed up for.  So how could I make the situation better, while still maintaining the integrity of the job?

It was time to be proactive, as opposed to reactive.  I made the decision, then and there, that I wanted to do as much of my "work" with students as I possibly could BEFORE they happened to walk into our office with a disciplinary referral.  I've made a concerted effort to be visible throughout the building to ALL students--not just the ones who come into our office.  I enjoy being a part of our district's pep rallies and assemblies, as it gives me a chance to interact with students in a way that I may not have seen before.  As a coach, I have the good fortune of getting to work with students on the baseball field.  I track student grades and attendance and make a point to check in with them from time to time, just to let them know I'm watching.

I'm certainly not saying I have all the answers. In fact, I'm sure I have very few. Each individual situation calls for an individual plan of attack.  But here is what we know for sure:

In our schools, today, student success is bred through the fostering of relationships.  When one of our 1900 students walks through the doors of East Leyden each day, I want that young man or woman to know one thing about Mr. Dykes, whether we cross paths during his or her four years here or not:

Mr. Dykes cares.

Preparation, inevitably, leads to success.

First Inning--Be Humble

The first inning of a game is crucial to a pitcher.  It's difficult to explain why, but often times the stuff you have in the bullpen is not necessarily indicative of what you'll have when it comes time for the first pitch.  But every good pitcher has been taught that it's essential to attack the hitter, throw strikes, and keep your team behind you on their toes.

For that reason, my First Inning is about a quality that I think is paramount to being successful in education...

"Just the minute you think you have this game figured out, it brings you to your knees."

-Sparky Anderson

"Power is dangerous...unless you have humility."

-Richard J. Daley

I'm still hanging on.  After taking a couple of years off (2 little ones will do that to you), my wife encouraged me to get back on the field and start playing again this summer.  I'm very happy she did.  The quality of the game (specifically, the quality of MY game) is nowhere near where it used to be.  But the little things about baseball--the conversations on the bench, the mental side of the game, the competitive nature, and of course...the stories--that's what makes it so much fun to be back on the field at the not-so-ripe age of 35.

A few weeks ago, my team was in the midst of a 3-game playoff series to determine who would play in the league finals.  Average attendance for the series was 7, but to us, it was important.

In the middle of game two, one of my teammates (and also one of my Leyden co-workers...we'll call him Tom) was on third base with nobody out.  It was a fairly crucial moment in the game, and I was getting ready for my own at-bat, both mentally and physically.  However, the coach in me never really allows me to focus only on myself.  I'm constantly thinking about the 74 different scenarios that could take place on the next pitch, while simultaneously thinking one, two, or three pitches ahead.  It can be exhausting.

On the next pitch, it happened.  Tom made the inexcusable mistake.  As the pitch came across home plate, the catcher snapped a throw down to the third baseman.  Tom was out.  By a lot.  With nobody out.  Those of you that know baseball are shaking your heads right now.  Internally, so was I.  I couldn't believe that such a "heady" baseball player could do such a thing...a guy I'd coached with...a guy who I consider a FRIEND.  I hung my head.  I felt bad for Tom.  I knew he felt bad too.  A few teammates gave him the obligatory pat on the backside.  Most treated him as a leper.  I couldn't even make eye contact with him.  What a bonehead mistake.  What ARE YOU DOING, TOM?!

You know where this is going...

Next inning.  I get a hit.  Eventually, I advance to third base.  With nobody out.

You know I'm thinking about this before I even get in the batter's box.  IF you get on base, and IF you somehow find your way on third base, and especially IF there's nobody out:

DON'T GET PICKED!

I swear I was only 5 feet off the base.  I will cling to that until my dying days.  The pitch crossed home plate.  And through some force of nature, the ball catapulted out of the catcher's glove...in my direction.  It blew away the laws of Physics.  My 35-year-old reactions caused me to do what happens when you're 35 and you're surprised.  I tripped over my own feet.  

And I was OUT.

Suffice it to say that I, a man who is never at a loss for words, was shocked.  And worried.  And pretty sure Tom was smiling.

Here's the best part of this story.  Upon reaching the bench, someone on the team told me that the catcher is the best he's ever seen at that one particular play--the snap throw to third base.  He also told me how old the catcher was.

He's 54.

A nice giant helping of humble pie.

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We, as educators, are presented with a responsibility that it is easy to lose sight of.  The sheer number of students who cross our paths is mind-boggling when you sit down and do the math.

Let's take the average high school teacher/coach, for example.  Assuming he or she teaches five semester classes of, let's say, 25 students, the total number of students seen in a given year in the classroom ALONE comes out to 250.  Add in a team or a club, and we can bring that number to 275.  And that's just the ones we have DIRECT contact with on a daily basis.

If those numbers remain consistent over the course of a 35-year teaching career, that teacher interacts directly with....9,625 students.

As educators, we take pride in our craft, as well as the work we put in to get where we are today.  We all have degrees from universities.  Most of us possess at least one master's degree, and there are even a few "doctors" among us.  We are nationally recognized, we present at conferences, and we are esteemed leaders in our profession.

In the end, though, how much of that matters when a young lady tells you she's suffering from a terminal disease?  How about when a student of yours  whose only living relative is on her death bed asks how she is going to support herself?  Or the sophomore boy who is working 40 hours a week to help support his family that is on the brink of financial disaster?

Will your degrees, your blogs, your PLN, and your vast array of awards and distinctions help you (and them) then?

Probably not.

Walk in your students' shoes.  Take a moment to consider the roadblocks that many of them have had to hurdle already, and still see out in front of them.  The minute we are more caught up in ourselves than we are in the well-being of the young people we are charged with helping, some serious questions need to be asked.

Be humble.

The Bullpen--Getting Loose

"I am still learning."  -Michelangelo

"Finish what you started."  -Nolan Ryan

In 1977, the year I was born, Nolan Ryan led the American League with 22 complete games.  In 2012, Chris Sale led the big leagues...with 4.  Completion has become a lost art---in more ways than one.

If anyone can think of another time Michelangelo and Nolan Ryan were quoted back-to-back, please let me know.  But there is a method to my madness here.

As you can probably guess based on the title, there is certainly a bit of a baseball theme intertwined into this blog (I apologize if the references are lost on you, but contact me directly if you need clarification.  I will ALWAYS talk baseball).  I wanted to take the opportunity to use my first post to explain the thought behind this endeavor of mine.   In other words, I'm just getting loose in the 'pen.  Since it's supposed to be in the 90s this week, it shouldn't take too long.

I've been thinking about the concept of publishing my own blog for a while now.  Like many others, the question that continued to stop me in my tracks was, "Who am I, and why in the world does anyone care what I think?"  (Trust me, that doubt is still there).

I figured that if I was going to share my thoughts, I wanted the forum to be unique.  It got me thinking much more big-picture...about who I am now, how I got to where I was, and where I hope to continue to build toward. 

I know, I know...deep thoughts.

It didn't take long for me to recognize that any big-picture item addressing such issues would need to have something to do with baseball, the game that has had such an incredible impact on my life to this point.  I began making subtle connections in my mind to the lessons I have learned on the field as a player and coach, and those which I hope to instill in the players I am entrusted with.

Thoughts of baseball brought me back to my days as a pitcher in college.  If I was known for one thing on the mound, it was the desire to, as Mr. Ryan stated, "finish what I started".  Some starts were better than others, but most of the time I took the ball, I wasn't handing it off to anyone for the rest of the day. That desire to follow through and complete the task in front of me continues to fuel me today, off the field.

When it comes to education, I am at a very interesting crossroads, both personally and professionally.  As a high school teacher, dean, and coach, I cross paths with hundreds of students on a daily basis.  I volunteer my time at North Park University, helping the baseball program there.  I've also taught middle school, and get to hear plenty of stories about the elementary gifted education students my wife works with in her district.  At home, I am the proud father of a 1 1/2 year old (James) and a 3 year old (Jillian) who is about to embark on her own educational journey in a couple of weeks as she begins pre-school.

All told, I have some sort of connection, on an almost daily occurrence, with young learners from age 19 months to 24 years.  

I hope that I'm doing right by them.  As educators, we have always been under a lot of pressure.   We're entrusted with children...with learners...with bright, impressionable, enthusiastic minds.  With that in mind, I began to ask myself if I am truly "pitching" a complete game right now.  I don't just want a five-inning win.  I want to dominate.  I want completion.

After today, this blog will be updated 9 more times this school year--one for each inning needed to complete a game.  Within each post, I will try to focus on one characteristic that I feel I have learned from my players, my students, and my children...one characteristic that I feel is necessary to truly be complete as an educator.

It's customary to "air it out" with the last fastball in the bullpen.  I've done that, and I'm taking that long walk to the dugout in anticipation of the first pitch.  There are always butterflies, but they come in conjunction with a heavy dose of adrenaline.  Here we go....