RULE BOOK IN MY RIGHT POCKET, STARDUST IN MY LEFT

This is the ID I didn't get to wear all year. It was hanging by the preschool house door all these months, and I took it for granted because I thought that everyone knew me anyway, and I had an official ID, so why bother?


I should have bothered. I should have bothered to go to that preschool house each day, to check up on what the kids are eating, to play with them, help them mold clay into funny little animal shapes, to talk to the teachers, not just about school, but about telenovelas and other "fripperies", as Neil Gaiman would call trivial things that matter in the long run. Should haves and What ifs. If only life had reruns, replays, delete and back buttons, it would have been so much easier.


Reflecting on my role as principal this past year, I would say that each day was different, and I dealt with it differently. Each student was different, and I treated him differently. Sure, there are templates and rubrics for everything that's ever done in school, but in many cases, these are thrown out the window once something without precedence comes up (like a brass knuckle or a failing grade in Values Education). This is where collaborative management comes in. I am just blessed with a stellar team of educators who brainstorm with me on just about everything--from facebook posting policies to new curricular offerings. I am very certain that I cannot lead a school all by myself. My ideas as principal are almost always collaborative in nature, and for my team of teachers to believe in me, I have to walk the talk and be where they are--in the midst of classroom chaos, varsity triumphs and defeats, and whatnot. I made sure that I showed up not just for the opening remarks; I went backstage and gave my two cents worth to the student manning the lights and audio booth for the school play. Some may call that micromanaging, a euphemism for meddling in local affairs; I'd like to think of it as mingling with the troops. I've never been comfortable calling the shots from behind a massive office desk at command center.


Then again, I look back at this year, and I wish I had a better master plan. A Super Template. A Mega-Rubric. I wish I had a master plan for students falling through the cracks of academic failure. I wish I had a better master plan for the school's finances. I wish I had a better master plan for the school's outreach program. Actually, wishes aren't regrets. They are next steps waiting to commence. So in about three months, I'll be wearing that ID once and for all. There'll be a RULE BOOK in my right pocket, and a handful of STARDUST in my left. It'll be tough and demanding, but my God, it'll be magical too.