First things first.
Some say I’m lucky. I refer them to the words of my father: “Luck is being prepared for opportunity”.
Yes, I’m lucky. I earned it the way my father taught me.
You get to benefit from my luck because I am incapable of telling you a lie as I write these blogs.
I am at the stage of my life where I am afflicted with a condition where I don’t give a tinker’s damn about what anyone thinks of what I say or, more importantly, what I do.
For instance, someone recently made the mistake of saying to me, “Less is more” to which I responded “No, less is less, more is more, good is good, and crap is crap”. But I didn’t say crap.
That said, I look at the 20+ principals I’ve worked with over the decades much like musicians I’ve played gigs with or witnessed over the years.
The good, the bad, and the “are-you-sure-you’re-at-the-right-gig?”.
Few were perfect, many had exceptional strengths and occasional blind spots, some couldn’t figure out how to take their instrument out of their case without dropping it, and some were technically brilliant but couldn’t hit a groove if their life depended upon it.
Some mesmerized me with their grace, some I wouldn’t trust being alone with my sister (if I had one), some would badmouth anything or anyone behind their back, some were physically and mentally chronically late to the gig, some were amazingly insecure, and some were so lost in the theoretical weeds that they never enjoyed the sounds around them.
And as my father would say, “There are a lot of 7s walking around like they’re 9s, and a lot of 4s walking around like they’re 6s.”
So with apologies to F. Scott, here I am in fifth act of my life.
Lazarus; come back to life.
After six years away from the classroom and walking the lyrics of Billy Joe’s “Boulevard of Empty Dreams”, I’m back on Fats Waller’s and Dorothy Fields’ “The Sunny Side of the Street” at the Eisenberg Elementary School in Delaware’s Colonial School District.
The naked fact is that while I have empathy and tact, I can and will honestly say anything about anyone to you or to their face.
As far as my principal goes, I often ask myself how did I luck out with one of the best administrators I’ve ever had the honor of working under, especially at this time of my career.
My principal, Dave Distler, “gets it”. He defines "10".
Not only does he get it, he shares it. He spreads that good vibe around the building like my mom used to spread apple butter on my warm toast.
You will not find a SINGLE person who has something negative to say about this guy.
More importantly, if you mention Dave’s name, it always elicits a smile, compliment, or good memory.
Oscar once said “Some people brighten a room when they enter; some when they leave.”
Dave Distler brings a thousand-watt aura to every room he enters, a positivity to all he does, and helping hand to every child he is charged with overseeing in his school.
Some might say Dave and I are lucky.
But you and my dad know better.
Some say I’m lucky. I refer them to the words of my father: “Luck is being prepared for opportunity”.
Yes, I’m lucky. I earned it the way my father taught me.
You get to benefit from my luck because I am incapable of telling you a lie as I write these blogs.
I am at the stage of my life where I am afflicted with a condition where I don’t give a tinker’s damn about what anyone thinks of what I say or, more importantly, what I do.
For instance, someone recently made the mistake of saying to me, “Less is more” to which I responded “No, less is less, more is more, good is good, and crap is crap”. But I didn’t say crap.
That said, I look at the 20+ principals I’ve worked with over the decades much like musicians I’ve played gigs with or witnessed over the years.
The good, the bad, and the “are-you-sure-you’re-at-the-right-gig?”.
Few were perfect, many had exceptional strengths and occasional blind spots, some couldn’t figure out how to take their instrument out of their case without dropping it, and some were technically brilliant but couldn’t hit a groove if their life depended upon it.
Some mesmerized me with their grace, some I wouldn’t trust being alone with my sister (if I had one), some would badmouth anything or anyone behind their back, some were physically and mentally chronically late to the gig, some were amazingly insecure, and some were so lost in the theoretical weeds that they never enjoyed the sounds around them.
And as my father would say, “There are a lot of 7s walking around like they’re 9s, and a lot of 4s walking around like they’re 6s.”
So with apologies to F. Scott, here I am in fifth act of my life.
Lazarus; come back to life.
After six years away from the classroom and walking the lyrics of Billy Joe’s “Boulevard of Empty Dreams”, I’m back on Fats Waller’s and Dorothy Fields’ “The Sunny Side of the Street” at the Eisenberg Elementary School in Delaware’s Colonial School District.
The naked fact is that while I have empathy and tact, I can and will honestly say anything about anyone to you or to their face.
As far as my principal goes, I often ask myself how did I luck out with one of the best administrators I’ve ever had the honor of working under, especially at this time of my career.
My principal, Dave Distler, “gets it”. He defines "10".
Not only does he get it, he shares it. He spreads that good vibe around the building like my mom used to spread apple butter on my warm toast.
You will not find a SINGLE person who has something negative to say about this guy.
More importantly, if you mention Dave’s name, it always elicits a smile, compliment, or good memory.
Oscar once said “Some people brighten a room when they enter; some when they leave.”
Dave Distler brings a thousand-watt aura to every room he enters, a positivity to all he does, and helping hand to every child he is charged with overseeing in his school.
Some might say Dave and I are lucky.
But you and my dad know better.
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