An Unexpected Trip Home

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

March 2020   

The minute we walked into the Quito, Ecuador air terminal on March 14, my wife Hillary and I realized something big was amiss.  We had just landed from the Galapagos islands where we had shared a week with 12 other U.S. citizens watching and learning about the island’s strange creatures.  Things were about to become strange in yet another way.  

Having been hundreds of miles off the coast and without wi-fi news about the developing coronavirus pandemic, our group was aghast when our Quito-based Avalon Tour guide greeted us by saying, “I’m so sorry, but tomorrow midnight, on orders of our Ecuador president, the airport will close!  No more flights in or out.  You will have to cancel your connections and travel back home immediately.”

 Hillary and I turned out to be the only ones in our group who were not already scheduled to return home before the deadline.  We had planned to fly on to the Amazon for a week of hiking.  While we fretted, we migrated over to a Johnny Rockets restaurant, grabbed burgers and shakes, and got on the phone.

Our bucket-list trip had been planned years ahead, with expert guidance from our favorite travel agent Mary Szafarski (Airwave Travel 716-560-9209; mary@airwavetravel.com).  She is always calm, honest, and resourceful. Within just a few minutes after calling her, Mary had set up alternate flights that same evening to Buffalo via Miami and Charlotte.  She even emailed us the electronic tickets! 

Potentially being stranded in the Amazon for weeks with no flights out had certainly worried us, but not for long thanks to Mary.  Conversations with nearby travelers, especially those who had arranged things on their own, suggested they would face confounding delays getting home. Fortunately for us, at 4 a.m., when very few were processing in at the Miami terminal, we moved quickly through immigration and flew home without a hitch.  It took 30 hours, but after standing on the steamy equator, thankfully no snow storms awaited us in the Queen City.   

 Now as we shelter in place, we hope that everyone made it home safely and in good health.  Undoubtedly, our next trip abroad will owe its efficiency and assurance to our awesome travel agent. 

4/8/20

The Coronavirus Will Make Us Stronger

The Coronavirus Will Make Us Stronger

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

We are awash in a tsunami of bad news about the spread of the coronavirus and the urgent preventive steps we must take to curb the disaster and reduce the death rate.  Not for one minute should we deny or belittle the seriousness of this monstrous thing, but it may help to think just a bit about mitigating factors.  The news is not all bad.  Here are 10 examples of possible silver linings in our storm clouds of crisis. Probably you can think of many more.

•       Americans have always been resourceful, adaptive, and creative.  It is no coincidence that we register more patents than any other country in the world.  Research institutions and retooled businesses are rapidly developing promising medical interventions, health and safety equipmen   

•    Volunteerism is burgeoning as we look for ways to help one another; for example, consider the thousands of qualified retired medical staff who are arriving to support hospitals in New York City.  Meanwhile, many residents are sewing together home-made protective face masks to share with neighbors.

• ·         Staying at home and avoiding travel is not just reducing infection, but also lowering our consumption of fuel, thereby renewing the environment and improving the climate.  Also, less dependence on motorized transport is encouraging healthy outdoor activity like walking.

• ·         Whether through schools, businesses, and social media, we are developing nontraditional communications technology.  As we become more adept with electronic connections, we are gaining impressive practical benefits while breaking down social isolation and enhancing mental health.

• ·         Family life is enriched in ways we never expected, opening up communication channels among relatives and friends, and improving relationships for the future.  Going through a trial like this together has a unifying effect, despite the many emotional stresses togetherness may create.

• ·         We are learning, perhaps the hard way, that organized preparation and planning for disaster has a massive practical payoff.  What is more, efforts like this demonstrate the need for competent, reassuring leadership across all levels of government.

• ·         We are discovering that the knowledge afforded our children in this crisis may not be measurable in test scores, but certainly can and will be in terms of authentic, relevant real-world learning.  As many parents are discovering, teachers are an invaluable bridge between home and school.

• ·         We are learning that our dependence on immigrants, “legal” or not, makes them in many ways an essential cog in the machinery of our economy and national welfare.

• ·         There is dramatic, definitive evidence of world interdependence. Urgent cues for international cooperation may inspire new configurations of diplomacy, economic reciprocity, and peaceful coexistence.   

• ·         The science of disease is percolating, with benefits that will reach far beyond Covid-19.  New medications and innovative solutions are being tested,   hopefully with bureaucratic delays minimized.

The consequences of the coronavirus are truly at a crisis level.  Yet in every terrible trial or situation there is something we can learn, something we can gain. Besides all of the above, the gain stems partly from perspective.  Perhaps when all this reaches an exhausting conclusion, we may say some good things came out of this mess after all.  Surely we are being tested, and we will grow stronger.

4/4/2020

Adaptable Educational Leadership in a Time of Crisis

Adaptable Educational Leadership in a Time of Crisis

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Is leadership during a crisis different from other kinds of leadership?  And if so, what can be learned from the difference?  Recently, I posed these questions to an elementary charter school principal for whom I have served as an evaluator and mentor for years.  Suddenly, it seems like many of her routine executive decisions have become unnervingly irrelevant.

 The current crisis of spreading coronavirus presents a terrifying challenge to the routines of our lives.  Hopefully, our responses will save lives and livelihoods, but untimely or shortsighted steps may add to the chaos.  Educators and parents are acutely aware that continued confinement in home settings may compromise children’s learning.  

The leadership we need hinges on the type of crisis we confront.  Defined as a “time of intense difficulty, trouble, or danger” a crisis usually occurs in two phases:  first, a trigger event like a catastrophe or disaster; second, a smoldering rollout of responses during which policies and preventive steps are developed.  For example, 9/11 instantly killed thousands of people.  But today, anyone who checks in for their plane flight experiences the lasting effects on safety and security.

An educational example stems from a landmark report published in 1983.  Titled “A Nation At Risk,” the authors insisted our schools were trapped in a crisis of mediocrity.  They urged a national mobilization of more challenging courses and tests to preserve our economic future.  Consequently, most of our students experience a standards-based core curriculum as well as annual proficiency testing.  

The coronavirus embodies the crisis element of a viral trigger, reinforced by the growing need for resources to avoid overloading our health-care systems. Further up the road, policy and practical solutions must be clarified.  Among other things, the aftermath of the Covid-19 will demonstrate whether crisis leadership produces lasting educational results.   

 The charter principal I mentioned earlier offers a multi-faceted case study in crisis leadership.  As the chief academic officer of a K-6 charter school, she reports directly to a board and not to district administrators. 

Confronted by a quickly evolving crisis, the principal acted quickly to close her school until further notice.  She charged her staff with developing take-home learning packets to cover the basics and related practical tools.  Hundreds of packets were mailed home.  Meanwhile, she set up available online learning through Kahn Academy, and provided parents with lists of free online sites and resources.  The school’s website is updated every day with new electronic links for parents.  While the students are getting daily meals at schools located closest to their homes, the charter school is working with Feed More of Western New York to provide additional food and emergency food kits to families.   

All school staff are being paid during the closure.  Laptops for all teachers are used to conduct virtual meetings and to sustain professional development.  No teachers may enter the school, but cleaning staff sanitize the building regularly. Leadership  reports from executive staff are developed and shared with staff, the board, and the State Education Department.

Difficult as it is to profile acts of leadership mid crisis, the facts show this principal has adapted strategic choices to fit the circumstances.  A data-driven focus on school improvement is on hold, as state tests have been cancelled.  Inequitable access to technology at home remains a difficult issue.  Still, even without mechanisms for accountability, the principal is exploring options, taking careful steps forward, and learning from this harrowing experience.  

The goal of a viable curriculum has been preserved, though not guaranteed, along with reasonable ways to reinforce fundamental instruction.  Ongoing support and learning for staff are occurring; basic safety for all has been addressed; and clearly efforts have been made to extend the practical benefits of a caring community for parents and students.  Constant upward communication with the state and outward to parents and students are priorities.

Another crucial dimension to leadership in crisis is attitudinal and emotional.  The principal is enabling and empowering her staff, students, and parents by providing reassurance that a welcoming school life surely will continue.  She is capitalizing on a reservoir of trust.  By repeating the message, “We can do this together,” the principal is building what experts call social capital.  She understands that people are frightened.  Her success will be nurtured by sustained communication and a willingness to listen and act calmly and rationally.  

  

Did all these strategies materialize overnight? Certainly not, but management of resources, consultation with colleagues, existing routes of communication, and goals of continued learning for staff and students have come into play -- along with a plenty of inspiration.

 The role of the leader in this crisis is like that of an orchestra conductor who suddenly finds that unusual combinations of instruments and musicians must join together on short notice for multiple concerts using music they have not practiced.  By no means is this leadership as usual. But so far, thanks to the conductor, the band plays on.

NOTE: The leadership of chief academic officer Darci Novak at Niagara Charter School in Niagara County, New York is gratefully acknowledged and described in this article.

The Life and Language of Trees

 The Life and Language of Trees

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When we moved to our rural location, we were greeted by several towering maple trees that bordered our property and the country road past our house.   We estimated they were about 100 feet high, five feet in diameter, and more than 100 years old.  They were dying slowly, if not from old age then from road salt.   Every year storms would break off massive limbs and send bushels of leaves into the next county.  Roots swelled the ground and threatened mower blades.  As these ancient beauties succumbed and were carved down to stumps holding potted flowers, we felt a bit wistful, like we were losing old friends.  Little did we think about how the trees might have felt.   

            Our feeling was not for lack of trees.  Miles of hilly woods surround us.  Our property is home to apple trees, oaks, black walnut, mountain ash, locust, cottonwood, and sumac, among others.  We live in a house of wood.  We have butter wood paneling.  Oak furniture is our preference.  Although we have no pines, except around Christmas, many folks out here plant them in rows because they grow fast and afford both privacy and wind breaks.  There is stalwart comfort, strength, and protection in the wood that surrounds us.

My affection for trees goes beyond practical.   Remember those youthful times when you either climbed up one, or when you had to call the fire department to rescue your cat?  Think too about all those woodsy refrains like Norwegian Wood, Weeping Willow, or Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.  Tree imagery is nostalgic and powerful, inspiring poetry like Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”.   Joyce Kilmer’s classic line rings true: “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree”.   Recently I heard a line from the musical “Paint Your Wagon”.  It began, “I talk to the trees, but they don’t listen to me.”

Oops, yes they do listen, but in their own language!  My heightened awareness of the life of trees was inspired by a PBS special hosted by the famous actress Judy Dench.  She names each tree on her country property after a person.   In the broadcast she interviewed tree experts who showed her how the upward rush of water in a tree trunk is actually noisy if you listen through a stethoscope.   She marveled at finding her beech trees respond as a group to the underground networks of fungi extending out from their roots. 

Thus made curious, I purchased a little book titled “The Hidden Life of Trees,” by  veteran forest manager Peter Wohlleben.  I learned that besides supplying essential oxygen and disposing of carbon dioxide, trees prefer to live in forested communities where they share nutrients with their own species and create an ecosystem to moderate heat and cold, store lots of water, generate humidity, and even care for sick companions and help them recover.   I love the smell of pine needles, but had no idea that scent is a crucial method of communication among trees, while fungi provide what amounts to a forest internet and resource exchange system.

My appreciation of trees and forests has grown exponentially.   Recently I saw a cartoon showing an axe driven into a stump, with a split log lying on the ground.  A comment drifted out of the nearby woodpile: “Oh my God!  Not Greg!”  This is funny but real.   I am not a true tree hugger, but now I recognize they are social beings and act amazingly human.  It just takes them longer than we realize to show it.     

             

              

           

Time Will Tell

TIME WILL TELL

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

We pay an amazing amount of attention to time.  It seems to go by at a steady pace, like clockwork so to speak, but we like to think its speed varies, depending on what we are doing and our attitudes. 

Theoretically, Einstein and his successors would have us believe that time does uniquely vary by individual, and as we approach the speed of light, time actually slows down.  Putting time travel aside, every day we quantify this peculiar entity.  We may save or waste it, but we always measure it.

I confess to having a temporal obsession.  I have 20 different wrist watches.  All of them adjust differently, which causes a lot of frustration when directions get lost and we switch to daylight savings.  Plus I have several wall clocks, alarm clocks, sundry calendars, a weather station, an all-knowing exercise monitor, and a smart phone that broadcasts every changing moment.  So armed, I try to keep track of appointments, due dates, deadlines, and tv programming.

Given our preoccupation with time, no wonder we bestow upon it almost magical powers.  We claim that time heals all wounds, waits for no one, and really is of the essence.  When angry, we may insist that time steals from us and is a thief.  Eternity becomes a place where we can luxuriate in timelessness.  

The Greek philosopher Pericles advised that time is the wisest counselor of all, while War and Peace author Leo Tolstoy pointed out that patience and time are the two greatest warriors in the world.  The best paradoxical explanation comes from business columnist Harvey Mackay: “Time is free, but it’s priceless.  You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it.  Once you have lost it, you can never get it back.”

Despite these profound notions, time has no altogether separate powers of its own.  When it gauges or directs our lives, mostly it is because we let it.  Therein lies an important lesson.  The better we understand our relationship to time – how it affects our daily patterns of thinking, behavior, moods and attitudes – the more self-aware we become.  This helps us shape our viewpoints, habits, and destinies.

Some of the most recent revelations about time can be found in a current best seller by Daniel Pink.  Aptly titled “When”, Pink’s research highlights a dominant pattern in our moods and performance throughout the day.  In the morning we seem to be more alert, perceptive, focused and emotionally balanced.  By afternoon, a dip in mood occurs and we drift into negative feelings, becoming more frustrated or less resolute. 

Yet the afternoon does have virtues.  With our guard down, and inhibitions loosening, afternoons promote creativity and innovative thinking.  “Aha” moments are more frequent.  Then by evening, the morning’s emotional assets rebound, making us more productive and logical.    

Before you dismiss this pattern of peak, trough, and rebound, consider certain mitigating factors.  For one, roughly one of every five of us operates in reverse:  recovery, trough, and peak.  In other words, most of us may be larks, but a substantial minority are owls.  Also, much depends on the nature of our tasks, as well as our genetic predisposition, which experts call our unique chronotype.

If you still doubt the dominant pattern, some “big data” research by two Cornell sociologists is convincing.  After analyzing more than 500 million tweets by 2.4 million users worldwide, the researchers found that the peak-trough-rebound pattern prevails consistently.

  It is reassuring that millions of us use language suggesting we feel hopeful, engaged, and positive typically in the morning.  In addition, evidence suggests the importance of taking a timely lunch break away from our desks, enjoying short breaks throughout the day, and offsetting the afternoon “Bermuda Triangle” of our days with a short afternoon nap.  Pink calls these naps “Zambonis for our brains”.

 Pink and many other researchers highlight the untimely ironies of typical school schedules.  Grades and test scores can be dramatically improved by starting high school classes later (after 8:30 a.m.), and scheduling science and math courses in the morning, with English, social studies, art, and music following in the afternoon. 

It behooves us to make institutional schedules fit the peak-trough-rebound model more closely.  It is shocking to learn that, in the afternoon, much more so than in the morning, doctors make more mistakes in the operating room, judges issue more severe sentences, and parole boards grant fewer paroles.  

Bureaucracy, convenience, and tradition explain why resetting our time is like removing the stakes holding up circus tents.  Just bear in mind Daniel Pink’s admonition that today’s timing is everything, but tomorrow we may fully realize that everything is timing.

1/10/20

How We Become Lifelong Readers

How We Become Lifelong Readers

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When you were a toddler did your parent or a relative tirelessly read stories and nursery rhymes to you?  Was there a special elementary teacher who enthusiastically used books to stimulate your curiosity?   At the dinner table when an odd word cropped up, were you challenged to look it up?  Did someone send you to the local or school library where literary adventures awaited?  

I had these experiences, and perhaps with variations, you did too. These are just a few of the prompts that may lead to a lifelong love of reading.   For instance, by the sixth grade I had devoured every available library book about dogs and knew every breed by sight.  Later on, as a parent and educator, I realized that adolescents who develop a passionate interest can benefit from consuming every relevant piece of literature on the topic.   Lifelong reading needs a trigger, and dogs were mine.

A recent article in Atlantic magazine answered why some people become lifelong readers.  While leisure reading is linked to an array of academic and professional outcomes, the underlying factors are hard to explain.  Motivation is a big stimulus.  The strongest connections seem to be socio-economic background and the culture of reading found in the household.

About half of the American public reportedly have read just one book outside of school or work over the preceding year.   More avid readers account for about 20 percent of adults.   Their habits follow predictable patterns into adulthood.  The earliest readers tend to be more educated, urban, affluent, youthful, and typically female. 

The Atlantic account also suggests that “family scholarly culture” plays a big role.  Books lying around the house provide an excuse to pick one up.  Reading becomes more appealing when it reminds us of chocolate cake instead of spinach. 

Three factors reinforce the lifelong habit of reading for pleasure.  First, becoming a fluent decoder; that is, being able to transition smoothly from print on the page to words in the mind.  Second, bringing background knowledge to the task.  Without some context, one might as well be reading Greek.  Finally, positive motivation should reflect one’s self-image as a reader.  This last factor reminds me of the ambitious elementary kids I used to see hauling around heavy copies of the Harry Potter books.   

Debates about the reading impact of TV, video games, online and mobile devices have grown heated.  Kindles have made library stacks seem antiquated.  Yet my old habits die hard.  I still prefer paging sequentially through a book, ones I can mark up easily, and then store like a historical accomplishment in my bookcase. Even so, I reluctantly admit that the large bright print and cheaper price of electronic books is alluring. 

A deeper concern is that fewer kids are developing the habit of reading.  Little more than a third of American students can read proficiently, based on the Nation’s Report Card (NAEP).  The biggest declines occur in literary experience, not so much in nonfiction reading only for information.  By no coincidence, research shows that, on average, 8-12-year-olds spend five hours of screen time a day outside of school. 

Thus certain trends are becoming evident.  More time spent as a heavy digital user associates with lower reading scores, poor sleep habits and eyesight, weak attention spans, and depressed academic progress.  However, not all of the digital news is bad.  For example, electronic reading programs are helping teachers effectively diagnose reading issues.  Moreover, digital libraries provide broadened access to reading materials.

I take comfort in knowing that high school English classes still require classic novels.   Colleges and universities still prefer students who are culturally literate.  The skills needed to follow a narrative and comprehend text deeply remain an academic aspiration.  Yet digital technology is inevitably reshaping the landscape of leisure reading.

Reading is infinitely practical and useful.  But personal experience has taught me more.  Reading books leads to deep learning especially when it becomes a labor of love.  Hopefully, parents, teachers, and young people will keep finding a good balance between the convenient and immediate outputs of technology and the satisfaction that comes from extended reading for pleasure.         

J.M. Bowen

1/2020

Sleeplessness

Sleeplessness

By Jeffrey Bowen  (November 2019)

I lie awake in darkness.

My mind discovers a life of its own.

Images roll in like waves,

And problems float to the surface

With help or hindrance

 From unpredictable characters.

Nothing is resolved, everything unraveling.

I remember my first night in this room,

Wrapped in a sleeping bag before we moved in.

The humming of the city still echoed,  

But out in the country

The silence was surround sound.

I could actually hear it.  

The dark was a disquieting cloak.  

Tonight a sweet tragic song from my teenage years  

Plays in my head like a scratched up 45.

I hear the words again and again

To a point where the record skips.

 I forget the lyric, but I know it rhymes.

As my night mind wanders,

I dream that I am never quite on time,

Never packed but urgently due somewhere.

I wander through familiar offices

But don’t really know where to go.

Often I meet the bastards who made life difficult.  

In the semi-dark I trace the shreds

Of cold snowlight peeping through the window corners.

The furnace comes to life.

The pipes creak as their water veins swell.  

The dog sighs and shifts positions.

 So do I.  

But there is little comfort as my shoulders

Complain to each other,

And my legs refuse to rest.

 A distant train gains volume

As it works it way from town to town

And then recedes as it always does on schedule.

I remember my preset.

imprinted long ago when I had to mind the weather.

Retirement never stops me from awakening

Precisely at 5 a.m.

But that is two hours away.

 So I lie in stillness half aware,

And I wait, then wait some more.  

The images, my urgent mission,

 My teenage angst, the furnace,  

And my strange dark life

Recycle as I shift and toss.

Then gradually, but without warning,

I disappear.

 Later I can never remember when.