Leadership With Latoya

Welcome to 2023 friends where public education seems to be a convenient tool in America’s hyper partisan politics battle. What was once a bipartisan effort of our democracy has now become overrun with a focus on opportunistic divisiveness. The assumed credibility of the latest disinformation posted to one’s preferred social media channel will have enormous consequences on the educational experience of the American children for generations to come.

Those consequences aren’t simply relegated to what children should and should not learn. There are even more important implications such as who will teach them and choose to be subjected to this type of infighting overshadowing their simple desire to make a difference in the lives of children. Who will lead the teachers, watching politicians at every level operate with an assumed distrust of the public education system and often those who lead it? How has this dark cloud of attack and distrust already impacted the public education profession? Could it be responsible for the extreme teacher shortage many states are experiencing? Might it be the reason that the number of students choosing to major in education at institutions of higher learning is starkly declining? Is anyone thinking of the impact of these things in the years to come? I know I am. I find myself gravely concerned about the future of public education more so than the present drama surrounding it.

I am of the belief that no other profession is as subjected to being used as a political pawn quite like ours. That’s because public education is a universal experience for nearly all people. However, just because schooling is a shared experience, doesn’t mean that we’re all equally equipped to determine how it should be done. In short, having an opinion doesn’t make you an expert.

Imagine everyone deciding they knew best how to provide medical care because they’ve been a patient? I know. It’s laughable, and may seem like a bit of an extreme analogy but the concept is the same. What is different, in my opinion, is the level of respect for those who choose to educate our youth and those who choose to provide medical care. Our work is equally important and we can be sure that a quality public education leads to a better quality of life.

If I had one wish for our profession for the new year it would be simple: Let us teach! Allow us to do the jobs we’ve been trained and credentialed to do. Stop draining our passion with the partisan hot topic of the quarter. Don’t make waves where there are none. Support and encourage us. Help us recruit the best and brightest to our profession. Provide adequate funding for this noble work. Partner with us so that together we can give our children what they deserve: the absolute best educational experience we can offer.

We didn’t get into this work because we wanted to battle political strategist who find our profession a convenient tool to accomplish larger partisan goals or personal political aspirations. It’s simple. We care about children, their future, and their education. We want to teach them, support them, and encourage them. We want them to become productive, contributing citizens who serve their communities. It’s really not that complicated. We just want to teach.

Until next time, be you, be true, be a hope builder!

Latoya

In the middle of my workout yesterday, I had this thought pop into my mind: Persistence is the ability to stay with the pursuit of a goal without losing optimism and the belief that one can be successful. It requires endurance, resilience, discipline, and commitment. Learn how to persists no matter what, and you can accomplish anything.

I immediately had the urge to stop and write it down, but I didn’t need to interrupt my workout. As I continued to ponder this thought, I had so many life experiences cross my mind, particularly those where I could easily apply this concept: growing up in poverty, earning my college degrees, working as an educator, and losing weight and becoming more fit. It hit me that too often folks miscalculate what separates those who experience success and accomplish their goals versus those who do not. To me, it’s quite simple: they give up too soon. Staying with something, especially something that is challenging, is more difficult than it sounds. We’ve all heard it: Never give up. But I’m not so sure that’s the only reason for folks not making their dreams come true. Instead, I’m convinced that far too many of us are quick to give in, and by that I mean we give in to the opinions of others, the idea that because something has never happened, it can’t happen for us, to the ideas that others might have for our lives instead of our own, to temporary feelings of exhaustion, despair, and sadness. Giving in and giving up are not the same. Giving up requires a conscious willingness to acknowledge you no longer wish to pursue your goals. Giving in is more like a distraction. You allow other things to take precedent over what’s most important to you, you lose your way because you lose your focus, and before you know it, that thing you said you wanted is somewhere in the distant background.

Our attention is a masterful tool that can help us bring our desires to fruition. How we spend our time, what we choose to focus on and think about, who we select to spend time with and what we choose to spend energy on, are all very important predictors of our ability to persist. To live with intention is a goal I have for myself, one that I feel certain will require continuous work. Redirecting our attention to the things that matter to and for us as individuals can help us persist. For the past few years, I’ve practiced a 90 day social media detox, usually beginning in October and ending in December. I’ve done this for many reasons, but one that stands out to me is the amout of time I can easily spend engrossed in other people’s posts, comments, and likes, and how that time could be spent on the things that matter most to me, the goals I’ve set for myself, or the dreams I still want to make true.

It seems the older I get, the more important this becomes to me. I want to make sure I’m doing the things that matter the most, spending my time on and with the people who are important to my life, and on the things that bring me joy. I want to practice this kind of persistence because it can help me stay optimistic and productive. I can reduce the probability of regret and resentment, and most of all I can match my life with my intentions.

That’s the ultimate goal: to live with purpose on purpose and for a purpose that matters to me.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

T

I remember the day I met Dr. Rose Wilder vividly. I was sitting in the State Superintendent’s Office for a meeting with her. We wanted to ask her if she would be interested in coming out of retirement and doing some work for us in places where we knew experience, wisdom, and help was needed. She had a poised demeanor, and a confident but comforting tone to her voice. She could hold a gaze and her smile made me smile too. As they chatted, I listened, and inserted myself in the conversation as invited. I recognized that she was the one we needed and I hoped she would say yes. I was thrilled when she agreed to serve as superintendent in one of the state’s take over districts.

Upon beginning our work there, I traveled to Williamsburg routinely to check in and on the progress of things we were working to rectify. It wasn’t long before I figured out I wasn’t the one doing the teaching. Instead, I was being educated by Dr. Rose H. Wilder. As the state superintendent’s liaison, I had responsibilities and tasks that I had to make sure were completed. Turns out Dr.Wilder didn’t need my help. She was wise, experienced, and had a heart for the work. She was led by the need to serve-not anything else. After a few months, I couldn’t soak up enough of her knowledge, her wisdom, her wit, or her leadership. Every time I was with her for a visit, I took notes-either mentally or physically, because I wanted to make sure I never forgot what she was teaching me.

To be clear, I’ve had other folks to invest in my growth and development-many of whom I have reported to and who evaluated me, but Dr. Wilder was different. When she told me she believed in me and my abilities, I believed her. When I looked at her and listened to her, I saw that I could do what she said I could do. I saw someone who looked like me, had battled the things that make my heart the heaviest, and she was victorious. She understood me. She didn’t need to be convinced that what I faced was my reality, and she had experiences that I could connect to and learn from.

I found myself routinely in awe of her. I remember visiting one time and as we chatted, I learned we were members of the same sorority (Delta Sigma Theta, Inc.). At some point in my asking her as many questions as I could fit in a single visit, she shared with me that she was the first African-American female superintendent in South Carolina, named in 1994, and the only one for seven years thereafter. I remember asking her how she felt about that and how she survived what had to come with that, and her responses will forever be something I treasure. She made it clear. The work we do is for children-not adults. Keep the students in focus and you will be able to do what needs to be done.

Each time I visited, we would share a meal. It was a standard part of our time together. In between the work, we ate, and I shared stories of my Momma and her rearing, my family, and my battles. She shared stories of her daughter, her grandson, and husband. She was proud of her family and I was proud of mine. We talked about being natural, our hair care, and how much she loved her sister locs. In her I could see what’s possible, and I knew I always had someone to call for guidance, direction, encouragement, support, and correction-without judgement. She never hesitated to set me straight if it was needed, but I always knew it was from a place of love, and I listened to her because of that.

Dr. Wilder transitioned to heaven on Tuesday morning. I sat quietly in my office and wept. I thought about how much I would miss her, how blessed I was to have had the opportunity to know her, and how very much I loved her and hoped she knew it. I told her often-over phone, email, and text, but there would be no more of those. Her race has been run, and very well so. Her legacy will remain in the many lives she touched, mine included, and I hope I will do her proud.

I was texting with my Momma once I learned of her death, and my mothers’s message gave me the comfort I needed. I share a portion of it here for your reading: “So sorry to hear that. God saw fit for her be in your life for a season. I know she did everything that God wanted her to do for you. You can take it from here. She gave you the foundation to get your start. She will be looking down on you and feeling very proud.” I can remember her always telling me that she would tell others to give her their hearts when they seemed to lose focus, get stuck in a rut of complaining , or get lost in the real reason we do what we do.

Dr. Wilder-My heart is yours. I promise to make you proud. Rest well and in eternal peace.

I absolutely love you.

Latoya

I have high hopes that the title of this blog intrigued you enough to have you click on the post and read it. I hate to do this, but I need to confess something right now. If you decided to read this because you thought I might actually offer some philosophical wisdom that would blow your mind, you need to know this is not that blog. There really isn’t some magical secret to success. In fact, what I have to offer here is incredibly simple in logic, but challenging for so many to execute.

Success isn’t about personality, popularity, or your ability to “play the game.” It has nothing to do with being most liked, admired, or even dressing the part. It’s my opinion that too many folks have the wrong perception of leadership, attaching things like charisma, charm, and the ability to schmooze with the right folks to it. Leadership is not an act. It is who you are, what you believe and stand for, how you behave and treat others, and what you are not willing to accept. It’s about having a standard of expectation for yourself, no matter who your boss is, where you work, or what you do. It starts and ends with you.

Highly successful leaders get the simple things right and they do so consistently. Here’s my list of things that I believe make the biggest difference in how we succeed in anything we do, personally or professionally:

1. Work hard. Take pride in what you do because it is a reflection of you, your character, and your values. Be diligent, conscientious, and proactive. Most of all be consistent in your performance. Excellence isn’t a sometime thing.

2. Deliver high quality work. Never confuse getting something done with doing something well. Speed is not a factor in success unless you are on a track running a race in which you must sprint. In leadership, delivering quality work is far more important than showing that you can do something quickly. Every time you produce something, assess it for quality. Make sure the quality meets the standard of excellence that you want associated with your professional reputation.

3. Be consistent. When you work hard and deliver high quality work over and over again, you cement an expectation from others that you can be trusted to not only do the work, but to do it well. That’s what sets some people apart from others. While some individuals treat their work like a list of tasks to check off, others see quality as much more important than compliance. Doing it well, whatever it is, matters more to them than getting it done, and because of that they work to do their very best on a consistent basis.

4. Go above and beyond what is expected of you. Successful people don’t obsess over the minimum requirements for anything. They live their lives in a way that exceeding the baseline is their standard. They live and work above average, going beyond what is required of them because they value doing their best. Let me be clear. They do not benchmark their performance against others. They are only in competition with themselves. Their goal is to draw out the very best of themselves. Their only competition is the person looking back at them in the mirror!

5. They are positive. I’ve yet to meet a successful leader who complains about everything, or can turn a joyous occasion into a miserable one with negative energy and commentary. They understand that optimism is a key to being successful. They seek out joy and find the bright side even in a challenging situations. This isn’t because they are into toxic positivity. It’s because they know and understand that negativity-in attitude, mindset, energy, or behavior, has never resulted in something great and powerful happening for an organization. Grouchy and grumpy people don’t make anything better or anyone feel better. It’s really that simple.

So that’s it. That’s the secret in my opinion. As simple as those things sound, they are incredibly challenging to execute on a consistent basis. My challenge to you, and me, is to show up and nail 1-5 every day. If we can do that, success will meet us at the top of our potential! I’ll see you there!

Until next time-be you, be true, be a hope builder!

Latoya

Every year as a principal, I’d find myself emphasizing at this time of year one very important thing to staff: Don’t stop teaching. Maintain the structure and routine in your classroom. Children thrive when the instructional day remains consistent. In my annual reminder email I’d write something to this effect: “Dark rooms and movies, along with unstructured activities can lead to issues with discipline and detract from an opportunity to provide our students with high quality learning experiences until the very end.” And then, I’d walk the halls and visit the classrooms because that’s how important it was to me that instruction continued for our students. They had too much they needed to learn for us to waste a minute not giving them what they needed.

Now-don’t get me wrong. We held the annual field day, awards day program, and those other end of year events. However, we had a collective agreement that the ending of state testing did not signify the ending of instruction or learning. Learning for our students had no finish line.

The end of the school year, or anytime you have available for that matter, is a great time to capitalize on the opportunity to extend learning for those who have demonstrated mastery in a particular area, provide intervention and support for those who still demonstrate academic deficits, and position students to be as ready as possible for their next step in their academic journey.

I worry that the heavy emphasis on state testing being over-sends a signal to our students and perhaps to some educators, that the bell has rung on the instructional experiences we provide. Learning is a continuous process that has no ending. Let’s model that for our students whether testing had ended or not, because if we keep teaching they will keep learning!

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

Bridges are important to our world. They are often used as a way to allow people to travel from one place to another, to connect two geographic areas, especially when there is no natural path for that connection. Our bridges and roads are so important that they often make up a good portion of the work of state and federal legislatures, making sure their upkeep is maintained so that we are safe as citizens when we choose to drive our vehicles across them. They are often accompanied by warning signs, (Bridge ices before road. Weight limit: 2 tons.) and in spite of these safety precautions, the world’s transportation system would not be functional without the use of bridges. They are a critical part of our infrastructure.

Like the physical bridges in our world, we need people who can serve as bridge builders. The current climate of society pushes us constantly to choose a side, and treats the most complex issues as an either/or rather than a both/and. As I reflect on our society’s history and some of the most controversial issues of our time, I recognize the role of bridge builders in moving society forward. Voting Rights, Women’s Rights, Civil Rights, and desegregation would not have happened had there not been individuals who felt compelled to build a bridge between people who –thought-they were divided. I am convinced that to move forward in our state, and our country, we need more bridge builders.

Bridge builders help people find what we know we all have: common ground. We were each born, and we will each die. We all smile when we are happy, and we cry when we find ourselves sad. Caged between our ribs is our hearts, and water falls from our eyes when our souls are moved. When we work to find common ground before we work to find where we disagree, we can work together to better our organizations, our society, and more importantly ourselves. Our approach in challenging times is what moves us forward or keeps us stagnant. If we hope to move beyond a society where finding where we are oppositional leads our language, our love, and our lives, we need to adopt a perspective that focuses on finding common ground with others and nourishing our connections with other people as human beings.

If we’ve learned anything from the global pandemic, we know for certain that human beings need each other to thrive. We aren’t wired to be isolated from one another. We NEED connection. Our connections with each other have the power to make us better people who can love, live, and work together in productive ways, and we get to decide who it is we are willing to build connection with; That’s the power of the human condition. It is possible to connect with anyone, we just don’t always choose to do so.

And while I recognize that this is not new information, it certainly appears to be difficult for us to implement. In an age of social media “followers” and “friends,” bandwagon like appeal seems prevalent and our feeds are often echo chambers of people who think, look, love, and believe just like us. This makes it easy to get swept up into an us vs. them mentality, and when scrolling to pass the time becomes habitual, we may subconsciously find ourselves feeding our minds confirmation, rather than learning ways we can connect with others who are not just like us.

So if we are going to make it past this era of divisiveness, we are going to all need to be mindful of our work with others. Are you building bridges or fences in your conversations and interactions, whether they be public or private? Are you finding connections with others or oppositions? Are your words and actions helping to build the social infrastructure of our society, like the bridges in our world? Or are the things you do and say, online and in person, fueling divide and shining a light on differences?

I am convinced, because history tells us so, that there will be some special people who build the bridges we need to move forward. And those are the people who will be remembered in ways that add love and light to the world. I want to be one of those people, whose heart is full of love, that is demonstrated unconditionally, no matter what, because love has no side.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

Seems I read a headline daily about the surging teacher shortage, and stories abound of educators who are exiting the profession at all levels. I’ve always believed that people should follow their heart’s desire and nothing is more miserable than doing something that you do not desire to do any longer. I’m thankful for every educator who chose this noble profession, those who are leaving or have already left, and those of us who are choosing to stay.

This era of public education reminds me of two distinct periods during my career. I started teaching in the late 90’s. Openings were everywhere. I came home for Spring break as a senior in college and went back to school with a job secured. State standards were the hot topic, and hobby teaching was said to be no more. Technology was about to disrupt the way we communicated because email was going to change the way we worked and help us all be more efficient.

Fast forward to 2011, and in South Carolina our new State Superintendent, was Mick Zais (who went on to be Deputy Secretary of Education under Betsy Devos). Those years with Zais at the helm in South Carolina were difficult and challenging for public education. Schools and districts were rated with letter grades A-F, funding was pushed toward a massive school choice movement, and many did not think we’d survive his tenure, or No Child Left Behind, but we did.

And here we are now in 2022. Public education has endured a global pandemic, challenges to broadband access, increased mental health needs of all stakeholders, educators included, and a complete disruption to the way we live, work, play, and learn when it comes to technology. Add to it the polarizing debates of our time including CRT, book banning, and vaccinations, and you get what we have today: messiness. I completely get why some folks are choosing to walk away from the field. It’s hard. It’s stressful. It is more challenging than it’s ever been before. I understand. I really do, and I’m not judging anyone for doing what they feel is right for them.

But I can’t leave. My soul won’t let me. For me, the right thing is to stay, and to keep fighting for what I know is an essential cornerstone of democracy: public education. I might be wrong, but I’ve got a sneaky suspicion that we’ll survive this era too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some folks return because passion doesn’t lie and it doesn’t die. It may flicker, but that flame is always there.

The way I see, now more than ever, I have a chance to make a difference in the field that I love so much. My goal is to do just that in my work, my words, and with all I have the opportunity to interact with in this field. The time to make a difference isn’t when things are easy, but when they are hard, and that’s why I’m choosing to stay. I want to see what happens if I don’t give up and I know that our children need strong, positive, effective, and resilient educators, and I want to be one of them.

Before anyone accuses me of toxic positivity, allow me to make it clear: this work is hard. Everyday is not sunshine and rainbows. Some days are very stressful and some problems are taxing and challenging. I would never deny that. I’ve lived it as a teacher, assistant principal, and principal. It’s not easy, and I’d never make any attempt to say otherwise.

Even so, I am staying. It’s MY civic duty. I owe the change in my life’s trajectory to public education. Growing up in poverty in a single parent household and in a housing project, I know first hand the power and influence of a good public education. My life is a living testimony to what a great public education can do and how it can change the future for generations to come with a single quality experience for one student. Thank God that my teachers stayed and didn’t give up on me or the field. I’m sure they had challenging times too. Without my education, I wouldn’t be where I am today, so my commitment is simply a return on investment.

For those who are leaving or have already left, thank you! Thank you for sharing your minds and hearts with our children, and making a difference where you were and with the children you served. You are truly appreciated, and I feel sure after 23 years in this field that you’ll see a return on your investment when the children whose lives you’ve touched are successful, productive, and contributing citizens of our society. I hope you’ll find a way to continue to support this great and noble profession. We are going to need your support and encouragement!

To those of us who are choosing to stay, I see you! Let’s stick together and do the work that we know makes a difference. No matter what happens in the future, let’s not forget that. I’ll see y’all on the battlefield. We’ve got work to do!

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

I couldn’t bear to watch the confirmation hearings for Judge Jackson in their entirety. I wanted to, but my heart was troubled by each instance I saw of how she was treated, spoken to, and disrespected. Each day of the hearing, I’d try to watch some of the highlights and read a few articles about the day’s events to see what had transpired. I told myself that less was better to protect my mental and heart health. I needed to know what was happening but I didn’t have to know every detail. But the day that Senator Corey Booker spoke everything changed.

I called my Momma on my way home from work. We were having our usual small talk and mid week check-in conversation when she asked me if I had been keeping up with the hearing. I replied, “Somewhat. It’s just so hard to watch. I don’t know if I can take it.” That’s when Momma corrected me in a way that only she can do. She simply said, “If she can sit there and take it, we can watch it.” That hit me squarely in the heart and the gut. Momma was right. My secondary hurt was nothing compared to what Judge Jackson was enduring. From absolutely illogical and ridiculous questioning to stir the pot of divide to a complete disregard of her credentials and achievements, she was steadfast and unwavering. She responded with dignity, class, and the undeniable intellect that can never be taken away or denied, no matter how she’s treated. I was so moved and so proud of seeing someone who looks like me in that seat, and I especially loved what she said she tells young people: Persevere.

Her experience was a reminder to me, and I’m sure to many others as well. It reminded me that being first and breaking down centuries of denied opportunities is for specially chosen people. I believe that God carefully selects some of us to be publicly brave for a reason. It’s because while our accomplishments may be a part of our purpose, our purpose is so much greater than our accomplishments. What Judge Jackson has endured will pave the way a little smoother for the next candidate of color for the United States Supreme Court. How we treat each other should not rests on any affiliation other than the fact that we all belong to the human race. In the grand scheme of things, we don’t need any other knowledge of anyone to know how to treat and interact with them. Humanity is our shared experience, and that ought to be enough.

When the world feels messy, our purpose must remain clear. That’s the only way one can remain as steadfast Judge Jackson did throughout the hearing. Watching the hearings reminded me that we must not be moved by the evils of this world or some of the people in it. It is our duty to be led by our purpose, regardless of what we experience, and to remain steadfast in that sense we have that God has an intentional reason for our assignment here on earth. When we trust and focus on that, especially when we are exhausted by the actions of others who want to deny our achievements, overlook our accomplishments, and keep us in a position of inferiority, we can do what Judge Jackson said: persevere.

Momma made me realize that while I found much of the hearing to be a collective grieving experience for Black women, there was also collective joy, and the bad should never overshadow the good. I am so inspired by Judge Jackson and I know without a doubt that millions of us were watching her with the same sparkle in our eyes as her daughter in that now infamous photo taken during the hearing. We are proud. We are inspired, and we are hopeful.

Thank you Momma, and Thank you Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

There’s power in a made up mind. My Momma was sure to emphasize to us as young children that we were to think for ourselves. Momma used to tell us all the time, “You’ve got your own mind. Think for yourself.” She wanted to emphasize to us that our decisions ultimately should rest on what we believed in our hearts and minds, and encourage us to not to “go along to get along” or do or say what everybody else was doing and saying just because it seemed popular. As Momma would simply put it, “You ain’t everybody else, and I ain’t everybody else’s Momma. I’m yours.”

I didn’t quite understand that sentiment until I was much older, and even now it becomes more and more clear to me exactly what she was trying to communicate. I’ve interacted with countless folks who are victims to peer pressure, children and adults alike, making choices and adopting mindsets that belong to somebody else, so much so that when pressed with the question of why they believe what they say they believe or think what they say they think, they can’t articulate it. Momma’s rearing and words have given me a sense of security that I don’t think I could have ever developed on my own. I don’t mind being the odd man out or being thought of as different. I’m fact, I find it incredibly freeing to not be the victim of other people’s expectations, beliefs, and ideas of who it is I should be. It isn’t always easy to operate like this, but it’s far easier than the alternative-being someone I am not.

Mommas words, “You’ve got your own mind. Think for yourself,” have helped me to not succumb to the societal pressures of life or to make any attempt to be who others think I should be when their ideas are contrary to my own. Instead, I’ve been focused on being who I am, as authentically as I can, and continue to focus on this as life progresses. I’ve watched many of my adult friends fall victim to worrying about what others might think and making decisions in response to that false limitation rather than their real life. I see how much the need to belong can get conflated with wanting to fit in when people aren’t clear about who they are and what they believe. I’ve watched people try to feel internal gaping holes in their heart and soul with surface level friendships and doing things they really don’t want to do but feel like they need to do. I’ve watched people battle between public personas and private desires, living a life that they believe to be approved by others although they find themselves unhappy more times than not. Seems age does not make one immune to the peer pressures of life after all, despite often being articulated as teenage problem. Thinking for one’s self is a necessary prerequisite for living as one’s authentic self.

I didn’t always value Momma’s teachings as I was growing up, and I often wondered why she found it necessary to say the same things over and over and over again. I get it now. She wanted to make sure we heard it, processed it, and gathered meaning from it. There were so many times I am sure she found herself uncertain as to whether or not I was listening, but clearly, I took it all in, and am so grateful that I did.

In this season of my life, I am focused on living more authentically each and every day, aligning all that I say and do, with my heart and mind. I want to be sure that my thoughts are my own and my decisions are not driven by what others might think, but by MY purpose, even if others do not understand it. No matter what I experience, whether it be rejection. criticism, or affirmation, I hope I always remember what Momma said, “You’ve got your own mind. Think for yourself. You ain’t everybody else,” and my goal is to live, work, and love accordingly! I got my mind made up because that’s where the power is!

Y’all be easy!

Latoya

Growing up in Black southern Baptist church comes with a lot of traditions. In August, we have revival, also known as “August Meeting.” From one Sunday to the next Sunday, guest preachers offer a nightly sermon and gospel choirs from all around sing and bring the house down with their talented members. After any service, the parking lot is where you can find people chatting it up, kids running around playing, but being told not to scuff their Sunday shoes, and hear reactions to the sermon. If it’s one of those Sundays, folks might be making their way to the fellowship hall or the basement to eat Sunday lunch. But on Easter Sunday, things are just a little bit different.

Easter Sunday was when Momma got us a new dress and new shoes. It’s when everyone wore their very best to church, kind of like dressing up for Jesus. It’s also when every kid had an Easter speech memorized and went to the front of the church to recite it. We’d practice for a week reciting our Easter speech which had been given to us by the person who worked with the youth. As you got older, the speech got longer, but there was one rule back then: No reading from the paper. You had to memorize it, and even if you missed a word or two people would give you a “mighty hand clap” and a few good Amens. Walking in to church on Easter morning was a bit stressful, so it was good to be dressed up in your new digs. You never knew the order of the program so as Momma would say, “Pay attention and be ready when your name is called.”

That lesson-“Pay attention and be ready when your name is called,” has stuck with me. Despite our efforts to try to predict life’s events and the order in which we think they should occur, we can’t. We don’t know when the next opportunity is coming, and that’s ok. Our job isn’t to have some exact linear progression of what we do in life from one step to the next, and for those of us who have a need to feel like we’re in control of something, this can be difficult. Our job is simple. No matter what is going on around us, we all better be ready when our name is called.

I’m sure many people reading this might think I’m referencing professional opportunities, but the truth is I’m referencing any opportunity. An opportunity to speak the truth, to offer a perspective to someone that they may not have otherwise, to make a difference, right a wrong, extend mercy, offer grace, or promote justice-whatever it is, it’s important we do what Momma would tell us every Easter Sunday-“Pay attention and be ready when your name is called.”

I can’t predict what life holds for my future, and neither can anyone else. I don’t know what the next minute will look like, let alone the next day, month, or year, but in this season of life, I’ve got a strong feeling that I need to take Momma’s directions seriously. My goal isn’t to try and predict what might happen. No matter what I encounter, I have just one job: Pay attention and be ready when my name is called, because that’s how I can make sure I fulfill my life’s purpose.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

When I was a junior in high school, my French teacher called Momma. While I had hoped she would share the news of my good grades, that wasn’t the case. She wanted to let Momma know I’d taken on the role of Class Clown, giving an extra effort to make sure my classmates had humor in their lives. Momma didn’t take to well to that, and she certainly didn’t find it funny. Momma’s reaction to my misbehavior terrified Ms. Fields. I believe my teacher was afraid for my life after disclosing the news to my Momma, who she knew well, having taught both of my older sisters. So much so, that she tried telling Momma that I wasn’t the only one acting up in class. It’s just too bad Momma wasn’t their Momma too, or they too, would have been subject to the discipline I received. It was simple: “Stop. If I get another phone call, you are off the basketball team.” Momma didn’t believe in the three strikes rule. She always said, “it only takes one time to do anything right.” That second call never came, and I got a certificate from Mrs.Fields for good behavior at the end of the semester; a sort of thank you for stopping the disruption of my class with your jokes and silliness.

Over the years, Momma has had to help me learn how and when to utilize my strongest skills and talents. Be a leader. Leaders aren’t bossy. Take pride in your work. Don’t put your name on anything that doesn’t represent your values. Do it right-not fast. Take your time. Don’t rush quality. Do your best. Don’t half do anything. Know when to say what. Timing is everything. Eventually, I learned how to use my humor for good and not disruption. In college, I used it to win a stand up comedy contest and won myself $200.00. I’ve always loved making people laugh, and thanks to Momma, I know that nobody finds disruption funny.

As I’ve matured and endured adulthood, laughter has become very important to me. It’s no different than making sure that I allow myself a good heart washing (cry) when l need one. It’s all about being tender enough to feel AND heal. I’ve used humor to break the tension in a room where everyone was clearly uncomfortable. There’s no greater joy than watching a frown become a smile, a burrowed brow relax, and tears fall from the eyes of someone who has a smile on their face. We all need a good dose of laughter and we need it routinely. Because everything doesn’t have to be and shouldn’t be so serious all the time. I’ve yet to find that doom and gloom and grumpiness brings any joy to anyone’s heart.

But laughter can change a tone, open a heart, break the ice, and lower cortisol levels. It’s an important part of living life to the fullest extent possible. My conversations with Momma or my sisters are rarely without laughter. We always find a way to get a good laugh in, and I may or may not be the ring leader in cracking jokes. It’s not being funny that I enjoy; it’s making other people laugh that gives me great joy because I know it will give them the very same.

In a world where every social media feeds and news reel are often filled with all things serious, sad, and some downright scary, we need more laughter in our lives. We need to do the things and spend time with the people who put joy in our hearts. I’m convinced that allowing ourselves to feel joy plays a significant role in our ability to handle tough times, challenges, and move forward with resilience when we most need it. It’s how we stay hopeful and push ourselves to get through what we go through, because we know that joy is always on the other side of struggle.

In this phase of life, I’m not trying to avoid crying. I just want to laugh equally as much, because life is too short to not spend as much of it as possible with a smile on my face and joy in my heart!

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

One of the biggest battles I’ve fought in my life is worrying. As a young child I worried about many things. Sometimes I worried about having money for unexpected expenses, our car breaking down, and how Momma was going to make ends meet when something unforeseen happened. For years, even into adulthood, I was plagued with anxiety about car trouble. I don’t know this to be certain, but I’m convinced it’s from the many issues we experienced with car trouble as a child. When my two door fuchsia Saturn conked on me because I had a friend connect two ten inch Kicker speakers in a plexi glass box to my alternator so I could be one of the only girls on campus with a booming system in college, I cried. I remember calling Momma and crying profusely as if the problem couldn’t be solved. My car got towed to a mechanic, who put in a new alternator, and let me know not to hook up those speakers to my alternator for a power source or I’d be back at his garage again. Momma talked me through that one like she always did, and with age and experience, my trauma response to car trouble has subsided. It also helps to know that money is no longer a struggle.

I can remember my Momma saying then, and many other times in my life, “You’re worried about the wrong thing.” She was right. It wasn’t that she was minimizing my concern, but rather helping me to realize that worry attached to everything that makes you uncomfortable isn’t productive. In fact, it’s debilitating. Momma’s take was that when we worry about the wrong things and not the right ones, our efforts are focused on symptoms of a problem, but not the root issue. And like Momma says, no matter the problem, if you don’t focus on the root, it’s coming back.

I can’t help but think about how worried American policy makers seem to be about the wrong things in public education. Bills and other potential legislation are focused on censorship this season: banning books, what students are taught, and what teachers can say or do in their classrooms abound. People are giving real energy to this; folks are showing up at board meetings to express their concern over the bad books, CRT, and face masks. COVID isn’t the only pandemic we are facing. Public education is under attack and some folks are too blind to see what is happening right before their very eyes. Momma would say they’re worried about the wrong thing, and I’d have to agree.

This nation is facing a teacher shortage like never before in a time where our students need the best and brightest minds in our classrooms to lead them. Imagine if the focus was on elevating the profession, raising teacher salaries, fully funding the base student cost, and making sure we recognize the impact of poverty on student learning and then doing something about it? What if we were using this time as an opportunity to right the wrong this nation has done to the profession that I see as a cornerstone to our democracy-public education? How might we incentivize young people to choose teaching as a profession, and to stay in it because of the noble work it is, and because it is valued by the American public as it deserves to be?

Public education has been made a political pawn in the nation’s messiest argument of my lifetime, and a result, the children suffer, and the profession is under siege. I often remind folks, our children are watching. They are watching how the world treats its’ teachers, how people treat the profession and the leaders of it, and what being a member of the profession looks and feels like for those of us who are still choosing it. No matter what advocacy or recruitment tool we develop, there is none greater than what we put on display for our children everyday. In my mind, we are indeed worried about the wrong things.

Four years ago, I wrote a book that called for a reshaping of the public education narrative, for educators to take their rightful place in the policy reform and advocacy arena, and shared with the world how I fought back from feeling demoralized as an educator. Today, I believe in what I wrote even more than I did before. I remain committed to the profession I love, and intend to dedicate my entire professional life to public education. I do not underestimate its power to change this world and do so for the better, and I am forever grateful for how it changed my life’s trajectory. For all the divisive issues plaguing our profession, and for every person who asks me what I think about it all, I’m going to give them Momma’s classic response, “You’re worried about the wrong thing.”

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

Attention: Please replace all your social media where you have posted this phrase: Check on Your Strong Friends!

As a child, I often experienced anxiety and frustration when doing my homework with Momma. This was especially true when Math proved to be a bit challenging for me. Often times in elementary school, Momma would offer an alternate way to solve the problem, different than the way my teacher had shown me, and make an attempt to teach me the same method she used. Immediately, I would launch into my routine response, “But that’s not how my teacher said to do it.” In spite of Momma’s working with me and emphasizing that it was safe to solve the problem in the way she had shown me, I felt overwhelmed with anxiety. In my 8-year-old mind, it was wrong, and I didn’t have the skills or the experience to work through what I was feeling. Momma did a lot of talking to get me through those moments. She wouldn’t let me lash out, and in other moments, when she suspected I was keeping something bottled up inside, she wouldn’t let me keep it in either. Momma’s way, one which I have grown to treasure, was to talk. We talked about the hard things and we talked through the harder ones. We didn’t avoid what was emotionally strenuous. We dealt with it head on and talked until we felt better. We still do.

What I appreciate the most about being raised this way is that I’ve been blessed enough to recognize when I need someone to talk to, and that my need is not a disservice to the love I have for Jesus in my heart or a symbol of me lacking faith. As my sister would say, “Everybody needs to lay on somebody’s couch and talk sometimes.” In my early 20’s I went to counseling. I found myself at a point where I couldn’t help myself work through the anxiety and depression I was experiencing. For three years, my counselor, Gus worked with me, listened to me, and helped me get back to a healthy mindset and healthy heart place. I am forever grateful for his support, and I am not ashamed to say I needed help. I am quite the opposite, and most thankful that I got the help when I needed it.

As I’ve worked my way through life, and on to adulthood, I’ve often had others tell me how strong I seem, that my personality is bold, and because of that it has sometimes been assumed that I am not tender. As I have moved into leadership roles, I’ve found this to be especially true for me, and countless other Black colleagues, who also are in leadership roles. Just as some people are given an automatic level of credibility, and assumed to be kind, we are often assumed to be just the opposite. Words like intimidating, bold, and forward come to mind. Our self-confidence is unexpected, and because of that, it is often interpreted as aggressive. As I’ve thought long and hard about the deaths of Chelsie Kryst and Ian Alexander, Jr., and watched other people’s commentary on their deaths, I’ve felt compelled to write this blog post. Both were described as pure sunshine, talented, and warm. It’s apparent that both touched the lives of so many people. My heart breaks for their Mothers, Fathers, family, and friends who knew and still love them. For those of us who are outsiders, I offer this sentiment: There is no such thing as strong friends.

We are all human, and because of that we are all weak (at some points and in some ways). The fallacy of “Check on your strong friends” creates an illusion that our work is in determining who is strong and who is weak. Let me be clear: This is a false narrative. Check on ALL of your friends. We do not know what people carry internally and, no matter how strong you think someone is, your perception isn’t what needs to be the measuring stick against someone else’s needs. Secondly, “Check on your strong friends,” is the epitome of passing judgement. Who are you (myself included) to declare anyone as strong? Does that mean everyone else who you don’t deem as strong is weak? And what does that even mean? If you care about someone, talk to them. Call them. Visit them. Connect with them. And most importantly, make it safe for them to talk to you-without your judgement or moral assessment of how they should be doing or what they need to do.

There are battles we all fight that are lodged between our rib cages and our hearts. Some we find the courage to speak aloud, while others we do not. The human condition is weak. Over time, and if we live long enough, our bodies deteriorate, our minds slow, and our hearts eventually stop beating. It is only our souls that are strong enough to last for an eternity. There are no strong friends; there are only strong souls.

Each and every day, I am working to suspend judgement. I want to love without condition, and make it safe enough for others to know that about me without me ever saying a word. It is a work in progress, because just like you, I am human, and I am weak. Judging others is easy. Loving others is harder. I pray that love will always and forever be my guide, and I hope it will be yours as well.

Y’all be easy.

Latoya

One of my favorite memories growing up was getting new shoes. I almost always took off my old ones, put them in the box the new shoes came in, and wore the brand new ones home. I particularly loved sneakers, and truth be told, I still do. I take pride in taking care of my sneakers, and having a variety to match my outfits. I still believe that shoes can make us feel better, give us a new sense of energy, and that hasn’t changed since I was a child.

In the fourth grade, I got a pair of high top pink and white L.A.Gear sneakers for Christmas. I loved those shoes. I felt sure I’d be the best player on the basketball court with those on my feet at recess, and even if I wasn’t, they made me feel like I could be. In my youthful mind, I believed they made me faster, and because of that I played with a belief in my speed and abilities that I didn’t have before I got those shoes.

My sisters could probably tell this story best, but I’m going to make an attempt to tell it here. High top Converse Chuck Taylor’s were all the rage my 6th grade year. I begged Momma to get me a pair, and my persistence paid off. But I just couldn’t get any pair; there was one requirement that had to be fulfilled. They HAD to be hot pink. Luckily, they had a pair in my size and in the right color. It was indeed my lucky day. I wore those shoes home just like I always did, and when I got home I felt it necessary to show my sisters just how much power these shoes had. I still remember jumping up and down and simultaneously exclaiming, “See how they make me jump higher? I’m jumping higher!” My sisters chuckled, but that didn’t matter to me. I was convinced that I would now be able to jump higher and my basketball skills would definitely be elevated because of these shoes. Nothing could change my mind.

My sisters and I laugh when we recall that story now as does my Momma. However, there’s definitely a lesson in all of this in my mind, and that is, we ought to put on the things that help us to be our very best selves. Whether that be shoes, self confidence, or an assurance that we belong, we all need to put ourselves in position to be our best selves daily. I still believe that when I am intentional about my dress, and especially my shoes, I set myself up to be my best self. When I believe I look good, I feel good, and consequently, I do good.

To be clear, this isn’t a post about material things. It’s about self love-not the kind of ego driven love of self, but the kind you need to have self confidence. There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately that I think folks have twisted up: Humility is not the result of being uncertain about who you are or lacking self confidence and confidence isn’t about being self-centered. Instead, humility and confidence are the very two elements we all need in order to know that we belong, and so does everyone else. That balance between confidence and humility is what’s most important, and contrary to popular belief, you can have both. We’ve all been victims of the idea of fitting in, and fitting in doesn’t require confidence or humility. In fact, it pushes people in the opposite direction.

In this life, it is necessary that we have the confidence to attack our fears, take on challenges, persist in the face of difficulty, and do it with a belief that we can accomplish what we set our mind too. I fear, that far too often, we mistake those who have worked on themselves, their esteem, and their confidence to be their authentic selves as being self-centered rather than self-assured and comfortable in their own skin. I worry that so many folks shrink themselves because of this, working to make themselves appear unsure of who they are because it resonates better with the insecurities that others possess, allowing them to “fit in”-whatever that might mean. For me, belonging matters most,and I have done a lot of work to get to this point. My only regret is not having done so sooner. I know now, that self acceptance comes before the acceptance of any other person or group. Because of that, I choose to embrace my quirks, imperfections, and all that makes me…me, which allows me to do the very same for others. That’s the kind of peace and love I want to give and receive in my life.

In this season of life, I am on a mission to live as authentically as possible, and I hope the very same thing for every other human being I interact with in my work and my life. The idea that we allow what others might think drive who we are and what we do is perplexing to me, but I understand that human are social beings, and because of that the idea of fitting in takes a front seat in many people’s lives, but what we need to focus on is belonging. We need to tell ourselves we belong-regardless of what others think, and so does everyone else.The freedom to be yourself with yourself can not be underestimated. It elevates your peace, reduces your worries, and simplifies what really matters.

Imagine a world where everyone felt they belonged. How different would our lives be? How would that impact our work and our world? In this era of my life I’m not focusing on fitting in because I KNOW I belong, and it gives me such peace to let go of that part of life.

I belong. I say it to myself regularly, and especially on the days and in the moments when fitting in tries to rear its ugly head. In some of life’s hardest moments, my Mother has always offered the best advice: Be Who You Are! My goal is to live that way to the fullest each and every day, and give others in my life the freedom to do the same!

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

One of my most prized possessions growing up was my bicycle. It was the old school type. A white banana shaped seat, wide handle bars, and a beautiful baby blue color. I cherished that bike. Santa Claus delivered it on Christmas Day 1984. I was seven years old. It snowed that Christmas, and Momma let me try and ride it in the snow because I was just that excited.

For as much joy as that bicycle brought me, it also brought me tough love, punishment, and hard life lessons. I seemed to struggle with self control when allowed to ride the bike. Whether it was not coming in on time, using Mother’s dishwashing liquid to wash my bicycle, or riding it beyond the areas I had been told to remain in, I always seemed to push the boundaries when on that bicycle. It was no trick bike, not made for jumping curbs and popping wheelies, but of course I had to try it. That usually resulted in a blown tire and ruined inner tube, which meant I had to wait until my uncle had time to come over and fix it before I could ride again.

Each time I violated Momma’s rules for me on that bicycle, I was punished for what felt like an eternity, but usually meant no bike riding for one to two weeks. That bicycle taught me about taking risks, calculating the cost of each one I was willing to take, and deciding if it was worth it. Most of the time, I decided it was absolutely worth it, even knowing I’d be punished. I imagine Momma’s frustration having to keep telling me the same things over and over again only to have me repeat the offense. However, I am grateful that she did not give up on me. I graduated from that bicycle years later and got a ten speed. I was grateful for the upgrade, but it didn’t bring me nearly as much joy as my banana seat blue bike. By then, I’d gotten into sports and my main objective for going outside was to play basketball.

I knew just how much joy that bicycle meant to me when I arrived home one weekend from college and saw that my bike was being ridden by a neighborhood kid. Momma had placed it at the community dumpster, and some lucky kid was trying to ride it. My heart sank. How could she? No I couldn’t ride it anymore, but I loved my bike! It brought me such joy, and even just looking at it made me reflect on memories of riding it down the hill with the wind blowing in my face feeling free and fearless. As I walked in the house, I approached Momma and said, “My bike. You threw it away!” She replied, “You can’t ride that bike anymore. It was time.”

What I learned from this experience is that one of life’s greatest gifts is joy, and our greatest opportunity lies in sharing that joy with others. Seeing another kid trying to ride that bike should have made me happy that day, but I was too young and inexperienced to understand that. Now I get it. Joy is meant to be had and to be given away. Feeling joy is great, but sharing it is even better.

As of late, I’ve been trying to think about what makes me happy and what brings me joy. I want to make sure I am clear about those things because only then can I live my life accordingly. Now I know that joy isn’t derived from possession of material things, but from an experience. It comes from what we’re doing and who we are doing it with, not from what we have or possess. I can’t help but think that we’d all be better people and friends if we could answer that question clearly: What brings you joy? Because then we’d be much more deliberate and intentional with our time and our connections. In this season of life, I’m on a quest to discover that for myself with such precise clarity that I can articulate it without pause. I’m not there yet, but I’m definitely closer than I’ve ever been before.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

I was my Momma’s hardest child to raise. I was the one to always push the limits, to do the opposite of whatever my Momma said, and to add levity and joy to almost every classroom I entered as a student. That ended in 11th grade. Mrs. Fields, who had taught both of my older sisters, called to tell Momma she didn’t think she’d approve of the way I was cutting up in class and making everyone laugh. She was right. Momma didn’t approve. That was the last phone call Momma got about my behavior at school. She made it simple. Stop or you will not play basketball. No threats. Only promises. I knew that, and because of it, I made sure Momma didn’t get anymore phone calls.

Momma never compared us to one another. We all had different interests, talents, gifts, abilities. She connected with us on an individual level that allowed her to nurture each of us in just the right way. Whatever we were interested in, and as long as it was positive for developing us into self sufficient and independent young women, she encouraged it. Momma had one rule: Always do your best.

I get it. Lots of parents have that rule and yes, it is cliche, but here’s where my Momma differed. She always followed that with, “whatever YOUR best is,” meaning that she understood clearly that everyone’s best is different. That’s why when I told my Momma I wanted to be a teacher she responded, “That’s great. We need great teachers.” My older sisters chose business and engineering as their career fields. Momma never steered us in toward any particular career. She simply asked that we do our very best at whatever we chose to do. It wasn’t about being the best. It was about doing our best, whatever that was. There’s a difference.

My Momma is the most unselfish person I know. She never brags about how much she does for others, but when it comes to servant leadership she’s at the top of my list. I think that’s why I find it a tad bit irritating when folks self describe themselves as servant leaders. Shouldn’t other people be the ones who decide that? I digress. My mother’s unselfish acts have always been an example of what unconditional love looks like, sounds like, and feels like. More importantly, Momma’s example has taught me how to love others and what it means to know that if you need help, support, or just a listening ear, you have someone you can consistently depend on for that.

Momma has always valued belonging over fitting in, and here’s what I mean by that. She never pushed us to be a part of certain social networks it put pressure on us to engage in certain social circles. Some parents feel an enormous pressure for their children to be a part of certain social groups, and struggle with disappointment when they are not. My Momma just wasn’t wired that way. Momma encouraged us to select friends who accepted us just as we were, not because of what we could do for them or what they could do for us, whatever that might be. For Momma, belonging was key, and she taught us that there was no criteria to belong. If God put you on this earth, you belonged and were good enough (not better than anyone else), with or without other people’s endorsement. Because of that, I’ve always been comfortable with not fitting in, and in many cases I haven’t cared to fit in anyway. My goal has never been to be like everyone else. Momma used to tell me, “I want you to be who you are and do your best,” and those words have given me comfort and security throughout my adult life.

When my sister had her second child, I was blessed to be in the delivery room. I count it as one of the top two miracles I’ve witnessed, my niece’s birth and my Grandma’s death. I apologized to Momma for how hard I’d been to raise after that. Momma knew she had a strong willed child on her hands when it came to me, but she taught me to use it for good, and today I attribute that to my determined spirit. It has helped me get through tough situations and given me a sense of confidence knowing that if there’s something I wish to accomplish, I’ve got the tenacity to endure whatever may be required.

I imagine the world to be a much kinder and loving place if we were to love each other for who we are, accepting one another, not because we fit in, but because we all belong. There would be a lot less group think and we wouldn’t see those who think differently than us as contrary. Instead we’d value the diversity that life can offer us when our hearts and minds are attuned to people being just who they are and not who we think they should be because that’s the beginning of unconditional love.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

I have vivid memories of my Grandma Moa. I’d write the pronunciation for you but can’t seem to quite get it right. At any rate, I spent a lot of time with Moa as a child. Even when I got into my teenage years, a time when many pubescent hormonal lads are too cool for anyone, including themselves, I still enjoyed hanging out at her house. We did all kinds of things together. We tended to her four o’clock flowers, walked to the grocery store and back, and visited with her friend Beatrice. Moa never had a driver’s license, but she was fiercely independent. She loved to ride in the car. She said it was good for getting earth air, which meant the windows should be rolled down, and many times just before we were dropping her off she’d share that she could ride to New York. She exhibited a heightened curiosity when we were in the car, taking it all in as we traveled down the road. No matter how many times we traveled the same routes, to church, the mall, or the grocery store, she seemed to practice the same awe. She was curious about the world around her, and having a sixth grade education did not limit her way of living.

She read the newspaper cover to cover every day, and when she came to a word she was unsure of how to pronounce, she’d call a family member for help, spelling the word over the phone, and then practicing it by repeating what you’d said. She had the birth weights and stories of how she named each of her 10 children memorized, and she called in everybody’s birthday to the local radio station for a chance to win the dozen doughnuts they raffled off each day. I know everyone thinks their Grandma is special, but mine was clearly one of a kind.

Moa taught me to be intentional with my words. She had a number of sayings , but many of them revolved around using your words with care and intention. “Never say what you won’t do. Don’t talk about other people because you might be talking about yourself. The only way to keep a secret between you and someone else is if one of you are dead.” Moa knew that words, once said, could not be retracted. She was careful with what she said and would guard anything you told her in confidence as if you had died. You could be sure it would never be repeated. There were so many lessons in those three sayings. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to better understand the value of each of her wise offerings.

Moa was right. None of can be certain of what we won’t do, and that’s what I believe is at the heart living and loving in a way that doesn’t render judgement upon other people. Life is tricky and uncertain. Our interactions cannot be predicted and we can only hope to behave in a way that won’t result in regret. Our fragile state as humans doesn’t allow for us to use the word never when speaking about ourselves and our future hopes and dreams. We really don’t know what’s ahead of us and we’d be wise to not put ourselves in a box that later feels like a prison.

Moa valued trust. She’s honestly one of the few people I know in this world who actually could keep a secret. I don’t have any recollections of her gossiping about other people. In fact, when I’d call her and ask, “What you know good?,” her response was inevitably, “All on myself and I’m not telling.” She carefully chose her relationships and their depth. She didn’t offer depth to just those who were willing to listen because I believe she knew that humans needed people to listen, but more importantly to care. She clearly didn’t confuse listening with caring, and I recognize now that the two are not the same.

One of my goals as of late is to be present and curious. I’d like to be as curious as Moa was every time we were riding in the car, as if it were a brand new experience with lots to see and enjoy. I want to exhibit a curiosity in others that doesn’t wane when the phone buzzes, a cheer is heard from television, or the clock ticks. There is so much to take in when we practice curiosity with care. Questioning can indicate curiousness, but it’s not necessarily indicative of caring. It could be plain and simple nosiness, cloaked under the cloud of asking lots of questions.

Everyday I hope to notice something I didn’t notice before. Practicing curiosity with care can make me a better person, and hopefully a better daughter, sister, and friend. It means entering conversations with others with an expectation to learn something, no matter how regular the interaction. Moreover, it means being more curious about the world and people who I desire to connect with deeply, and carefully selecting those who demonstrate care as much as they do the ability to listen.

One of the most significant experiences of my life was being with Moa when she made her way to heaven. This February will be 15 years. I am still learning from her, and her words seem to come to me exactly when I need them. Her love, which she said we had just because we were hers, is something I value greatly, and something I want to give away to those who are curious enough to care even more in my lifetime.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

My Grandaddy was the oldest of 17. That’s right. He had 16 brothers and sisters. A pair of his siblings were twins, named Mary and Joseph, his mother having named each of her children after someone in the Bible. Granddaddy was what I’d call an entrepreneur in his day. He was a farmer, not a sharecropper, because he owned his own land. He sold milk, eggs, and butter on the weekends, and worked at a local mill during the week. He also had a vineyard, and was said to have gone to jail for selling moonshine three times. Each of his children had their own cow, which they were responsible for milking and caring for per Grandaddy’s expectations. Momma said she named her cow Fred because she was so young when he was “given” to her she did not realize cows were girls. She tells us stories about getting up early in the cold, milking cows, helping Aunt Gloria fetch her cow who liked to run away from where she was supposed to be, picking cotton before breakfast, and growing up in a time where people lived off the land and had a mutual respect and interdependence with it.

Other than these stories, I can offer no similar recollections. From one generation to the very next, things can change, and they did for us. However, these stories offer me something greater than just knowledge of family history and traditions. They help me understand the value system I now hold dear and give me an immense amount of respect for my family and all they’ve experienced. That interdependence, the land and its people or the people and their land, is something that’s missing in our world today. In Momma’s time, people believed that community and mutual interdependence were necessary for success. Within families and among neighbors, people helped one another. From borrowing an egg or cup of sugar to sharing a meal, interdependence was not only necessary for survival. It was expected and enjoyed. Today, society seems overrun with a focus on self. Personalization seems to be the marketing genius of every new product. Even the ads on our phones are “made just for us” thanks to an algorithm that takes note of our likes, purchases, and technological behavior.

Before anyone makes an assumption that this is an anti-technology post, let me make a point of clarity. It isn’t. This is a pro-community post. In the midst of all the technological changes of the world, it seems to me that the connection we so desperately need and many are seeking, won’t be rectified by going live on IG, TikTok, or even with the opportunity to FaceTime our friends and family. If there is one thing I’ve learned through this pandemic, it’s that we need to be in the physical presence of one another. While those substitutes may help us bridge the gap in the short term, the human condition won’t be sustained and the disease of loneliness won’t be healed with these methods. Good old fashioned living room sitting, chatting, and sharing the same physical space honors the interdependence that human beings need to thrive.

I imagine the world we live in would be quite different if we were to honor the fact that we need to be in relationship (romantically or otherwise) with others to thrive and that those interactions serve us better when we share the same physical space with others. So how do we move from a world where we count our friends by the number of followers we have and who we are connected to through Facebook to the ones who sit with us in our grief, share with us in our joy, and enjoy our company in the physical sense?

I don’t have the answers, but here’s what I’m going to try in 2022. I want to spend more time in the company of those who are important to me. When safety allows and whenever possible, I’d like that to be time where we are physically present one with another. I intend to share more laughs, smiles, and story swapping over coffee or cocktail with the persons who I believe I share a sense of interdependence with and need in order to thrive. The list isn’t long, but it doesn’t have to be if the quality of the connection is solid and strong. I’m convinced that if we all did more of that, this hyper sense of individualism that America seems to be infected with right now would shift. Instead, we would see and understand that our humanity is connected to that of our neighbors and friends, and that no matter what we achieve individually, we are only as valuable as the community we are connected to is. Just like Grandaddy needed that land to feed and take care of his family, we need each other too, and when we honor that need, we all can thrive.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

A year ago I remember hoping for things to transition back to normal-whatever that means. Right now I’m simply looking forward to moving on and coming out better on the other end of things when this pandemic era of living is finally done. There will be no return to normal. None of us will exit this thing untouched. We’ve all been changed by it, and to say otherwise is to deny the reality of a trauma we’ve all shared.

But the world is sick, and I’m not just referencing COVID. I’m certainly not making light of the 800,000 plus Americans who have lost their lives to this pandemic. It’s tragic and certainly a grief we all share. Beyond the obvious illness of the COVID virus, there’s more disease. Hearts and minds are not well. Rugged individualism has perpetuated a new line of behavior that permeates our lives, our schools, and our legislatures. Book banning, infighting over masks, and disagreements about what being American has meant and should mean continue to cause strict division. Common ground is scarce. Differences of opinions, beliefs, and perspectives about who is responsible for what, and most shockingly, what is truth and who gets to tell it, suffocate the timelines, social media feeds, and conversations at American dinner tables, and show up at public comment opportunities of all kind.

A debate usually consists of two concepts, both which usually represent opposites, but possible and realistic perspectives. Weighing the pros and cons of both concepts, using experiences to connect one’s position to the lives of those listening, and understanding how our experiences influence the values we propose to hold dear all makes sense. Yet, what seems to be under debate right now is whether or not America will own its truth-all of it, the good, the bad, and the painfully ugly.

As a child, I remember my Momma distinctly using two phrases that seem to be applicable to these times we are living in right now: 1. “A lie don’t care who tell it,” and 2. “An excuse is whatever you want it to be.” It took me years to fully understand the meaning of these colloquialisms, but I feel as if they are playing out right before my very eyes right now. The people are divided on every issue you can think of-from vaccinations to voting rights. Some of the same battles of the past that the people already decided are back in the debate circle-Roe v. Wade, voting rights, etc. It’s absolutely perplexing to me, and it echoes that nothing is final-not even justice. Freedom is an eternal battle that must be fought continuously in order to ensure that is available and accessible for all. The thought of that alone exhausts me, but there is no time for fatigue.

Over the last year and a half, and throughout this era where everything seems politicized-even when it’s clearly not a matter of politics, I recognize a few things in ways I did not before. The mind is fragile. Group think is powerful. The battle between good and evil is a real thing, not just a thematic concept in the books we read. If we are not careful, we can find ourselves going through the motions of life without thinking about how we are being influenced, and more importantly, how what we do or fail to do, and what we say or lack the courage to say, impacts the lives of others.

Even with all of this heaviness, I have no desire to go back to the pre-pandemic world. Clearly we need to do something different, especially if we want healing. Healing of all kinds-physical, mental, spiritual, societal healing that America so desperately needs. Healing never comes from ignoring the wound, neglecting the sore, or pretending it doesn’t exist. Doing any of those things creates a breeding ground for infection.

Healing comes from dealing with the root issue, facing it head on, with courage, honesty, and love. Momma says if you don’t get to the root of a problem it’s definitely coming back. I recognize I have an incredibly tiny part in the grand scheme of things, I’m taking my part seriously, because in my little corner of the globe I only want to live in a space where love and truth are honored and not debated, because those are the only absolutes in this crazy world.

Y’all be easy,

Latoya

90 days ago I decided to take a break from social media. I’m glad I did. My thumbs are in much better condition because they haven’t spent the last quarter of the year scrolling up and down to see what everybody else is posting on whatever their favorite social media platform happens to be these days. 90 days with no TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, or my fave-Twitter. Interestingly enough, I missed Twitter the most, and I use it for social purposes the least. It’s more of a professional platform for me, and I’m looking forward to joining my PLN again tomorrow. The others not so much.

I made a decision to deactivate my Facebook page near the conclusion of my hiatus. I determined Facebook was mostly responsible for my decision to detox from social media and so maybe staying away from it might work best for me. Prior to the hiatus, social media started to feel like I was spending time bathing my brain in bad vibes. Even when I made attempts to post something positive every morning, I still found myself sucked in and watching the comments on various posts, which tended to land on the negative and complaining end of the spectrum. At the same time that I broke up with social media, I started seeing stories on the news about the Facebook whistleblower. I was intrigued and felt affirmed in my decision. I’m happy to report that I don’t miss Facebook. At all.

I couldn’t help but notice all the ways I had used social media as an escape, often spending countless hours scrolling and looking…at other people, their experiences, and their stories. A few weeks into being off of social media and I found the stack of books on my bedside table had dwindled to two instead of six. Suddenly, I had time to read. I’d also somehow found time to make new music, reimage my computer, listen to podcasts, and enjoy two new television shows. Each week I decided to start my Mondays by writing a thank you card to people whose friendship and connection had been important to me during the pandemic. I enjoyed the messages I got from each of them after being surprised by receiving my card. That was a really good feeling.

I worked to be more present in my conversations and with my thoughts, ideas, joys, and thinking about my future goals and aspirations. I started journaling again for the first time in years. I enjoyed simply sitting in the quiet, taking naps on the couch, and sitting out in the sunshine on warm days listening to music. I was taken aback by how often I initially reached for my phone at first, especially in those “there’s nothing else to do” moments. I didn’t realize how accustomed I had become to scrolling and looking, and now that I think about it, I can’t help but wonder how much of my life I’ve probably missed because I was so busy looking at everyone else’s.

My goal isn’t to condemn those who enjoy social media and use it to stay connected to family and friends. I, too, want and need that connection. I just want it in person, being present, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, rather than virtually. It seems to me that life is comprised of a series of exchanged experiences, and I want to savor the ones that bring me joy and happiness, with the people I love and care about the most. No matter how many likes or hearts a posts might receive, nothing can take the place of an exchanged smile, a shared laugh, or an offered hug.

It’s a new season of life for me. I have no idea what the future holds, but I promised myself I won’t miss it looking out when I need to be looking within.

Until next time,

Latoya

I was recently speaking with a writer who was working on an article that highlighted advice and wisdom for new leaders. We talked about all the things you’d probably predict: trust, relationships, and communication. At the end of the interview she asked me if there was one central piece of wisdom that I thought every leader needed to know, and I answered: “Make sure love is at the center of everything you do.” In that moment, the thought came from a very natural and casual place, but after reflecting on that quite a bit, I’ve determined that love is a critical component to effective leadership.

Now there are a few points that I should clarify so that my sentiment isn’t misinterpreted. When love is at the center of your leadership, it doesn’t mean that you don’t address hard things or difficult situations. It means because you care deeply about helping those you serve become the best they can possibly be, you do the exact opposite. You challenge them, encourage them, and push them to grow, even when it is difficult. That’s real love; love with purpose.

I believe that it would be hard to find joy in leading if one does not love people, love the idea of serving for a purpose far greater than one’s self, and love the idea of having a positive impact on the lives of others. I’ve never been in love with the idea of being in charge, the boss, or the person who bears the weight of making the final call on major decisions. In fact, those are my least favorite things about leadership, and quite frankly I find that the idea that one is in charge is a grave fallacy that brings many of the wrong type of people to leadership.

What I love about leadership is the opportunity to help others, to support them in their growth and achieving their highest potential, to point out something great that they may not see in themselves, and bring people together around a common goal to make a difference in this world. I believe that’s what all good leaders love about leadership. They love the people and the purpose in equal measure.

I fell in love with leadership as a youngster. I loved the idea of bringing people together. Sometimes that meant getting everyone to agree to play kickball on the playground in elementary school, or encouraging classmates to bring in their can tabs on aluminum soda cans so we could see what a million really looks like, or serving on student council. What I found is that I enjoyed is people, talking to them, supporting them, encouraging them, and most of all helping them. Helping others bring such joy to my heart because it is one of the simplest ways to give and receive love.

In a recent conversation with a colleague who was moving to a new school and somewhat saddened by it, I shared with her that the emotional pull she felt was absolutely normal. It’s the result of her investment in other people as a leader, and their investment in her. In fact, it’s the way it’s supposed to be, especially if love, a love for people and purpose, is at the center of all we do and why we do it as leaders.

I want to encourage leaders who are reading this blog post to think carefully about the role love plays in your leadership. If love isn’t at the center, it’s not worth doing. Let love be your guide!

Until next time, be you! Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

There should be no doubt now. There should not have been any before the Corona virus took hold of our lives, our work, and our socializing. Public education is an essential cornerstone of American democracy. Our approach and operation moving forward must be one that honors the clear indication of the needed change to the way we conduct teaching, learning, and leading. Here are a few insights that come to my mind in this regard.

1. Leaders must become comfortable and competent at leading change. The future of public education is uncertain and the ability to adapt to the social and structural changes occurring in our world is going to be a critical component in leading effectively. Leaders who are future focused, visionary, and willing to utilize innovation and flexibility to produce better outcomes for both students and staff will outlast those who maintain a fixed mindset centered heavily on the management of people and operations rather than the creation of new opportunities and experiences.

2. The voices, needs, interests, and passions of students must be honored in the way we approach the teaching, learning, and assessment practices. Caring and trusting relationships and authentic connection with each student is of critical importance. If we don’t provide students with the personalized experience they desire and deserve, they may seek other avenues to equip themselves with the skills, knowledge, and characteristics they need and desire. Students will demand and develop a sense of community with or without pubic education’s invitation. To combat this, we must work to ensure a sense of belonging and affiliation for every student we educate coupled with opportunities to demonstrate their knowledge and skills in authentic ways.

3. The post-pandemic successful teacher must be provided with personalized professional learning opportunities and given the flexibility to innovate in his or her classroom. Further, the voices of teachers must be honored in what we ask of them and how we support their efforts to provide students with high quality, meaningful, and relevant learning experiences. These teachers will demand a sense of community and an opportunity to lead from their classrooms to improve their professional experience and the learning experiences of students.

Our ability to look forward towards a brighter and more equitable future in public education matters more than it may have ever before. The consequences of missing and failing to seize the opportunity before us are large and serious. Let’s make sure we’ve learned from our past, but more importantly, let’s ready ourselves for a better future for all of our children, those who serve alongside of us, and do so by redefining success for ourselves and our students.

Until next time-Be you! Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

Hey y’all,

I hope you are all taking some time to relax, refresh, and rejuvenate your mind, body, and spirit this summer. After teaching and leading during a global pandemic, I believe self-care isn’t just a good idea, but necessary to be your best self. If I’ve learned nothing else during COVID-19, I’ve learned to protect my mental health and to take mine and that of others seriously. Our wellness-mind, body, and spirit-matters.

But that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing to plead with each of you. Please promise me that you will not return to the past, “go back to normal,” or relish in the comfort of teaching, learning, and leading in the same ways you did pre-COViD. I feel compelled to remind you of the enormous opportunity we have before us. We know that many of those practices and routines we were allegiant to pre-COViD were not working-for our students, our families, or us! Yet, it can be so tempting to seek comfort, and especially so in times of uncertainty.

I’ll be the first to admit it: the future of public education is unclear. However, I hope we embrace this as a chance to create the future we know our students, their families, and our fellow educators so desperately need. This is an opportunity to finally abandon a system of mass learning, teaching to the middle, and conditioning students to care more about their G.P.A. than their passions. Let’s use this as an opportunity to design an education system that helps children find the intersection of their most competent skills and passions, to design meaningful and relevant learning experiences, that have timeless value and enduring lessons.

I know what you’re thinking. How do we do that? What about the tests? What about school report cards? What if it doesn’t work? What if we fail?

I’d like to counter those thoughts by asking these questions: Why not? What if we improve the system for all involved? What if we redefine success? What if we create a new way of thinking about public education, it’s’ purpose, and value? What if we create a spark that draws the best and brightest minds to our profession? What if are children end up more ready for life that they’ve ever been before?

As much as we find comfort in routine, I hope we find the courage and execute the bravery it takes to chart a new course. We are either held hostage by our fear or made free by our courage. I’m choosing courage. Who’s with me? Our children deserve it. Our families deserve it. Our profession deserves it. We deserve a new day in public education. Look forward!

Until next time, be you! Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

The last three weeks have been an important time for me. I’ve had an opportunity to pause from the daily grind and routine. I knew I was in need of it, but I had no idea the extent to which I needed a moment to clear my heart, my mind, and be still and quiet. For the first time in a very long time I did not present at the South Carolina School Administrators Summer Leadership Conference. Instead, I was able to spend my time reconnecting with others I had not seen in person in quite some time, attend sessions as a learner, and make new connections as well. At the start of June, I was talking with a friend about how exasperated I was feeling, and I shared with her that I was uncertain if that feeling was due to COVID-19 and working during a pandemic, over extending myself in my desire to help anyone that asks for assistance, or if I was just in a season of being overwhelmed that was lasting a bit longer that I desired. My friend very simply encouraged me to put boundaries in place to take care of myself and to provide myself with time and opportunity to receive as much as I was giving to other people, work, and areas in my life. I needed to pause and be still. My mind, body, and spirit needed a clearing and a reset. The last two weeks have been exactly what I needed, and I’ve learned so much from pausing that I felt compelled to share it here in this blog post.

To clarify, pausing and stopping are not synonymous. There’s an important distinction between the two words that needs to be acknowledged. To stop means to come to an end, to close, but pausing is a brief interruption. Pausing allows us to remain engaged and committed to our purpose and life’s work while simultaneously taking a brief period to renew our mind, body, and spirit in ways that feed our hearts and souls what is needed for us for us to continue it journey. Think of a hiker who desires to complete an arduous trail hike. Pausing for water, food, or to observe nature allows for rest and renewal, and without it, the hiker’s ability to finish the journey is compromised. Leaders must do the same thing if we intend to complete our journey.

Secondly, pausing allows us to be fully present. When we are not at the mercy of email, the next meeting, the next due date, or deep in the throes of planning for the next big assignment, we can be fully present. Our undivided attention can be given to those things which are most important. We can fully engage without a lingering feeling that we are compromising our dedication to all the other things we need to get done. What a gift it is to be able to be fully present and in the moment. When we spend too much time anticipating what’s next, we can miss some of the most powerful experiences and interactions in our lives.

Finally, the benefits of pausing and what it can do for us afterwards is far more valuable than I ever realized. I feel with great certainty that my professional and personal interactions will be approached with a greater sense of positivity, and that my productivity levels will be much better than they would have been had I not had an opportunity to simply still my mind, body, heart, and soul.

I want to encourage leaders near and far to be sure to recognize when you need to press pause, and even more so be willing to do so. The people we are called to serve, care for, and lead will thank you for it, and you may find that you are a better and more present leader when you press pause too.

Until next time, be you! Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting and thinking over my last 22 years in education recently. I’m not sure if it has been initiated by COVID-19 and the challenges educators faced this school year, the last 18 months in my new position, or just the journey of life that pushes us along with age and experience. But what I now have concluded and know for certain, is that it’s time for me to explore, innovate, grow, and move forward on my own terms.

I’ve gained so much clarity about my journey which is far from over, and here are a few of my latest thoughts:

1. Don’t waste time waiting. If your value isn’t being seen and added to, move your feet.

2. Because time is so precious, I can no longer engage in inauthentic relationships, personally or professionally. My time and my talent are too valuable for meaningless interactions and surface relationships.

3. Investing in my own development must be a priority. I must balance the pouring out to support others with pouring into my own growth, and use boundaries to help make sure things don’t get out of balance.

I’m clear about that and ready to move forward with purpose. I encourage all of us to think forward, and caution us all to not spend too much time reflecting or living in the past! Time flies, but it doesn’t move backwards!

Until next time, be you, be true, be a hope builder!

Latoya

#DaunteWright

How many more? When will it happen again?

I am tired. I am sick of it. I am sad. I am hurt.

I cannot believe so many White folks who I thought knew and cared about me have said nothing.

Ignorance.

Not watching the news right now.

But the day the Capitol was attacked. I heard from almost all of them. Wonder why?

Dear God,

Make it stop. Please.

Latoya

There isn’t a single soul who should be surprised, astonished, or even shocked by what happened in our nations’s capitol this week. We all had more than context clues; we had evidence of what was to come long before it transpired: “Proud boys. Stand down and stand by.” Tell the truth.

The disrespectful and vile behavior of those individuals who chose to stain the hallmark of American democracy, the peaceful transfer of power, should be called what they are: domestic terrorists. Tell the truth.

And we all know that if those rioters who immersed themselves in the destruction of the consecrated halls and offices of the people’s house were not White, there would have been a lot more blood shed and a slaughtering of Black and Brown bodies left for dead. Remember, “when the looting starts, the shooting starts?” Tell the truth.

The time to use precise language about what happened this week is now. There is no need to construct vague sentiment that doesn’t put you in a predicament of having to defend your position or opinion. Right vs. wrong isn’t a matter of opinion, and the fact is that what happened was wrong. If you have difficulty seeing this, consider the wise words of my Mother: “There is no right way to do wrong.” Tell the truth.

We know the consequences of not telling the truth. We saw them live and in living color on our televisions and social media feeds this week. When those who call themselves leaders embrace lies-big or small-they should not be surprised that those who follow them believe them. And further, when those followers act on what they’ve been sold as truth, sentiments like, “Enough is enough,” isn’t good enough. One’s retroactive concern for himself is about the only transparent thing I’ve seen from these newly enlightened individuals.

Courage is not convenient, but it is precisely the way one can cement his legacy on the right side of history. And that’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Until next time, be you! Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

Since March and the pandemic began, I’ve struggled. Every social pattern I’ve had has been disrupted: family, friends, associates. My sleep overs with my nieces, shopping and dinner out with my mom & sisters, and time with friends laughing and cutting up …gone. And to make things more interesting, I started a new job last January. A new job means “new” people, new relationships, new vulnerabilities. It’s been a struggle, but it did not make sense to me until today. I just finished reading Brene’ Brown’s book The Gifts of Imperfection. It’s the best self help I’ve received since March.

Self-doubt is dangerous. It’s especially dangerous when one feels that everything is uncertain and unpredictable. It’s easy place to go when we are “new” at something. In some ways, second guessing ourselves can feel safer than believing in ourselves. It means if things go awry, I can say, “I knew it would.” But I’ve never been one to be afraid of failing, until recently. I’ve checked all the boxes, attained all the degrees, and built a reputable career. And all of a sudden, I get a new job and a pandemic ensues. Timing really is everything.

Here’s what I recognize: I must dig deep into what’s always worked for me: Believing in myself. Self doubt didn’t earn me-a kid of poverty, of a single parent, who grew up in government housing, on free lunch every year, struggled over and over again-any thing I’ve ever accomplished. Believing in myself, however, did. And that should never change-pandemic or not. And further, I am more than the sum of my accomplishments.

I’ve not blogged in some time, but I’m ready now, and I implore you to join me in not making these uncertain times make you uncertain of yourself. You are enough. I am enough. And it will all be ok.

Now, go read that book I mentioned. And enjoy every moment of life because if anything should teach us that life is too short, a global pandemic ought to be sufficient.

Thankful,

Latoya

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” -Ernest Hemingway

When change comes, I’ll tell stories of how the pain led to the love. I’ll be reminded that no matter how deeply things can hurt, the love that can follow can run deeper. I’ll look back and think, we held on to hope, we held on to our faith, and those of us with pure hearts and genuine intentions held on to each other. When change comes, there will be rejoicing where there is unrest, community where there is rioting, and peace where there are protests. When change comes, we will think about how in the midst of pain, there is a story to be told and that we are allowed to control the ending. When change comes, I will no longer feel the pressure that my Black and Brown people feel to be twice as good for a single chance. I will be enough. We will all be enough.

When change comes, the freedom to feel hate, to express it in your bumper sticker, on your website, in your social media feed, will be extinguished. Change will not allow hate to lead the conversation, let alone be a lingering visitor who always overstays his welcome. My friends will love me for who I am and not for what I can do for them. Humanity will be what centers our ability to treat others with dignity and respect instead of money, greed, network, and connection. I will not carry the burden of waiting for my four nieces to experience their own evolution with the pain I have known as racism and prejudice, that my mother has known, or my grandparents knew. Instead, I’ll watch them grow into beautiful, intelligent, young ladies without the trauma of carrying a lifetime of worry about racism and prejudice. There will no need for them to wonder if they will get a fair shot, an equal opportunity, or a chance that they more than deserve.

When change comes, our education system will not highlight turn around principals who pour their hearts and souls into schools of concentrated poverty in hopes that education will be a part of the cocktail of medication needed to change their lives. There will be no more haves and have nots. There will not be people who suffer the consequences of redlining and ecological impacts like chronic asthma and other underlying health conditions because their neighborhoods are built within feet of the city’s landfill. When change comes hunger will not be an issue in the richest and most industrialized nation in the world. People won’t die because they cannot afford medicine because they do not have health insurance or a job that pays a living wage that is less than what they would receive being unemployed. When change comes, an achievement gap, centered in American education’s original sin of segregation, will be healed. Families will choose schools before they choose neighborhoods. Teachers will teach where they are needed and not choose their schools because of a worry that the test scores won’t manifest in a way that demonstrates their sincere efforts and hearts. Educators will be treated like the important people they are and there will be no need to question if public education benefits all of society. When change comes, my sisters and I will not be statistical anomalies. We will forever be examples of the rule and never thought of as an exception.

When change comes, we will feel better. People will be better. Love will be more abundant and present than it ever has before. Peace will be ever present and will be as pervasive as the hate and evil rhetoric that is front and center for the globe to see in America today. When change comes, we will know that justice and mercy, grace and hope, are not for some, but for all. There will be no question as to whether America’s foundations like life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness are conditional and only for some, and not all. But change won’t come, unless we will it so. Change is on us. All of us. We have a responsibility-now more than ever before-to be the change we know the world needs. The time for wishing for change has expired. We are well past due. And it won’t be easy. It will require courage and bravery like never before. We cannot operate in our safe circles and keep our intentions and feelings to ourselves. We must carry each other to the other side of this thing. One step, one idea, one person, one relationship, and one conversation at a time. We’ll have to make sure our vulnerability does not turn into vitriol, our longing for love does not turn our hope into hatred, and that the slow tendency of progress does not cause us to lose our persistence in the fight for what we know is not only right, but also desperately needed. And if we can do this, together, change will come. I believe that. I need to believe that. I have to believe that.

Until next time-be you. Be true. Be a hope builder!

Latoya

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.”

-Ernest Hemingway

Stop killing us. Stop killing us. Stop murdering us in the open streets of America. Stop strangling us. Stop shooting us. Stop choking us. Stop using your knee to cut off our airways while we are restrained and handcuffed on the ground and begging for our lives. We raise hell every time you raise the price of a Black American’s life.

I cannot watch the video of George Floyd being killed. My psyche cannot take another mental image of a fellow Black American dying in the open streets of this country at the hands of those whose motto is to protect and serve. The fragility of my emotional state is not due to a lack of mental instability, but due to what seems to be a constant loss of Black life due to hatred, racism, and pure evil. Seems I have spent much of my adulthood trying to reconcile why the unwarranted deaths of Black and Brown people in this country continue-whether it’s the way we’ve been disproportionality impacted by COVID-19, the killing of unarmed Black and Brown persons at the hands of authorities, or the infant mortality rate of Black babies-it hasn’t stopped. In the beginning I asked the question, Why?, Why are they killing us?, but I am far beyond this question now. I’ve come to realize that there is no good why, and so it is not the question that needs to be asked, but the demand that needs to be made. Stop killing us.

I often ask my Mother about the things that trouble me most, and this topic is something we have discussed often. I’ll never forget how she enlightened me on how this kind of vitriol hatred that turns into murder happens: “The only way you can do things like this is to not see another person as human. We are not human to some of them.” The realization that we are seen as something other than human by some stings to the core and eats at my very soul, but doesn’t seem to touch theirs. These are the people who claim Jesus as Lord, as do I, who do not believe in abortion, who believe that their views are not just right of center, but righteous. They use their single religion issues-abortion, gay marriage, and more-to cast their votes, and at the same time can sit idly by while the mistreatment of Black and Brown people is clearer than it was in the age of the Civil Rights Movement. No one was with cell phone to film Bloody Sunday. No one videoed and posted to Facebook the assassination of Martin Luther King. No one posted the recording of the four little girls who were murdered in Sunday School at the 16^th Street Baptist Church to Twitter. Yet, change came. Or at least we thought it did.

Fast forward to 2020 and there is no doubt that Emmitt Till’s accuser lied. She admitted it. And there is no doubt that George Floyd, Tamir Rice, Keith Scott, Jordan Edwards, Stephon Clark, Botham Jean, and Ahmaud Aubrey-who was hunted like an animal, just like Momma said, were all murdered. We saw it. We don’t have to wait for an advancement in technology or the admission of one whose days seem shorter and closer to ending to make things right by owning the truth. We have the truth. We know the truth. ALL OF US. We don’t have the inconvenience of determining the truth about what really happened to these people. The truth is before our very eyes, and yet there is still a lack of consensus among us. The need to choose a single side divides us, but what is right is not complicated.

Patriotism has many faces. It’s the tears that ran down my Daddy’s face, an Air Force and Vietnam veteran, when he stood at attention to listen to Proud to Be An American. It’s the fury I feel that we are all supposed to be equal and free and we are not. It’s the pride I feel when I watch the Olympics and see Simone Biles, Serena Williams, and Simone Manuel bring home the gold. It’s the anger I have when I am treated as an exception, rather than the rule. It’s not about which side I am on or if I can feel the complexity of all that I feel and still clearly believe that murdering someone is wrong. I can do exactly that.

As I process all that is happening in our world, I wait. I wait for the day when my psyche isn’t fragile because of the videos circulating of Black and Brown people being murdered, and wondering about the deaths that I haven’t seen because they weren’t videoed. I welcome a fragile psyche due to heart break, loss of a loved one, sadness for a change in life that wasn’t expected, but the traumatic experience of watching Black folks murdered in the street on repeat-and waiting for justice cannot be ignored. I don’t want to wait for the arrest. I don’t want to wait for the trial. I don’t want to wait for them to be punished, to be sentenced to death, to be sent to prison. I’m tired of waiting.

I want them to stop killing us.

-Latoya

Our public schools are more than teaching and learning hubs for our children. Many students receive a variety of services beyond instruction at school. These include access to mental health counseling, physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, art, music, physical education, access to a nurse, food bags on Fridays for those students who we know live in food insecure situations, & breakfast, lunch, and snack at school during the weekdays, to name a few. This ecosystem of services is essential to the healthy development of a child and those are the things you won’t find on any school report card. For example, our school district served 18, 474 meals last week, we handed out paper pencil learning packets, and we delivered meals to those who didn’t have transportation to come pick them up. There’s no rating for that.

It’s high time America recognizes its’ public schools for the incredible work they do. When an epidemic or crisis hits, the school buildings become shelters over night, buses are suddenly used to transport anything-people, food, materials-that will help the situation, and educators stand on the front lines to fill the gaps. As much as some may attempt to use this as an invitation to the idea that brick and mortar schools are no longer needed, everything about how the public school systems and educators have stepped up and stepped in right now says different.

We are an essential part to the success of our country, the continuation of our democracy, the future of our children. Let us not forget that our children our watching during this time. They see us, the educators, working as essential staff to make sure they have food and keep learning. Let us not grow weary about the children and what they are missing right now. We’ve never needed standardized testing to tell us what our children need, and we don’t need it now. They need the opportunity to create, play outside, collaborate, problem solve, read, and write. They need to connect and build strong and trusting relationships with caring and nurturing adults. They need encouragement and support as they face this new situation, just like us.

I’ve never been more proud to be a public school educator. I pray for strength, safety, guidance, and wisdom for all of us, and I hope the rest of the country can clearly see our value and shift the narrative that’s contributed to teachers being underpaid, schools being underfunded, and efforts to dismantle and privatize the important work we do for ALL children. When this is done, let’s work on those things. That will be the best thank you of all.

Until next time, be you. Be true. Be a hope builder.

Latoya

“The real test of leadership isn’t about what you can accomplish, but how well you can drive the improvement of someone else’s knowledge, skills, and capacity.”-Latoya Dixon, Ph.D.

Over a year ago, I started working to put together a practical tool for school leaders to use to support their improvement efforts. So here we have, The Instructional Leadership Workbook: A Practical Guide to School Improvement.

I debated about releasing it for some time, but ultimately decided to share it as a resource on my site, Leadership With Latoya. It is not a perfect tool, but I hope it might help school leaders who are looking for a practical way to approach instructional leadership, desire to pull all the pieces together, or looking for a way to organize their efforts.

The workbook is designed to be used, that’s why it’s available in Word. The hope is that you can type directly into it or print it and write into it as you plan. The formatting isn’t perfect and it potentially has errors, but I am not sharing it because I aim to be perfect. I am sharing it because I have a deep desire to help school leaders everywhere be their very best. That’s what Leadership With Latoya is all about, building community and supporting leaders, one leader at a time.

If you are willing to give it a look, I would love to hear from you. Let me know what parts work well for you and what is missing. My goal is to make this site a resource hub for leaders everywhere and your feedback will help me do that. You can send me your feedback directly at leadershipwithlatoya@gmail.com. Here’s to leading well!

Latoya

It’s not uncommon to chat about leadership with my sisters. While we all work in different fields, we all find how we work with others more effectively to be incredibly intriguing. We see many commonalities in our work with others because working with people, helping them reach their highest potential, supporting their efforts, and acknowledging their hard work isn’t all that different, regardless of the professional field. Over the years we’ve shared insights, challenges, successes, and of course…books. We all love to read and I’d go as far as saying we’ve been in our own exclusive book club for most of our lives.

This week I read Michael Fullan’s book Nuance: Why Some Leaders Succeed and Others Fail. It was an excellent read and I can’t recommend it strongly enough if you are a student of leadership and aspire to be an excellent leader. As I shared some of my learning with my sister over a phone call, I found myself coming back to what I have found to be one of the greatest challenges for leaders: courage. It’s no secret that leaders are charged with making hard decisions, conducting courageous conversations, and nudging folks beyond their comfort zones. This is incredibly difficult work, and making sure your nudge is seen as well intentioned and a result of your caring about the folks you serve as a person and professional can be tough.

Human nature is one that responds well to routine, predictability, and comfort. When we are pushed beyond this, it’s natural for us to resist-and that resistance can manifest in a variety of ways: explicit refusal, indirect avoidance, an uptick in anxiety, or paralysis. And we name this in different ways, feeling overwhelmed is a common one. For those of us who are leaders, our challenge is to not let these facets of human nature drive our efforts. When we are challenged with leading others to a new level of performance, shifting a culture, or achieving their highest potential, it’s not hard to succumb to a sense of empathy that alters our leadership. What we know we need to do gets tangled up with what others feel about what we are asking of them, and we lose the ownership of leading others through these tough and challenging places. Our challenge as leaders isn’t to disregard what others feel, but to help them move forward in spite of what they feel. We do this when we acknowledge the difficulty in something and accompany that acknowledgment with an affirming confidence in their ability to achieve it. It might sound something like this: “I know this is really hard and a big shift in the way we’ve always done things, but I also know you are more than capable of doing this. I believe in you and I am going to help you get through this. You can do it.”

But far too often I’ve watched leaders struggle with how to respond to the difficulty of change and people’s reactions to it. Their empathy turns into sympathy and they change their expectations or shift the need for change to those above them, losing all ownership of the very things they are trying to implement. One thing is for sure-when you don’t own the change you’re in charge of leading, neither will the folks you serve. Courageous leaders operate differently. They acknowledge feelings of others, but they are willing to endure the process of change, and understand that shifting anything-a culture, a practice, a perspective, is a process. It is a long and arduous process, and to shift anything you must stay with it long enough for it to move. Leaders who lack courage quit too soon, give in too early, or become inconsistent rather than persistent, because they lack the stamina that courage requires.

Courage is born in the moments when we decide to not give up or give in, even when things feel hard, difficult, or uncomfortable. It is our ability to “stay with it” that is the ultimate test of our leadership. This development of endurance takes practice. It isn’t something we acquire when given an opportunity to lead. Like a marathon runner, we must train, pushing ourselves for ourselves, so that when the time comes, we can continue without faltering. As leaders, having a strong sense of who we are and what we believe is instrumental in the development of courage. When we know what we believe and what we stand for, we can demonstrate a strength that supports us in moments of struggle. For in the end, it is not our intelligence, our charisma, or our abilities that get us to the victory line, but our steadfast courage that will carry us all the way there.

Until next time, be you. Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya

Accountability is important. We all need to take personal responsibility for our actions, for our work, and for our impact on others. We need to know how children are performing, how we can help and support them in improving their achievement, and opportunities to identify areas where they are gifted and strong and where students need to grow. It’s unfortunate, but the weaponizing of assessment in school reform has led to a number of assumptions about school accountability systems. In this blog, I am going to attempt to outline some of my concerns in this regard.

Assumption 1: Accountability scores are equivalent to school quality.

Far too often, school report card grades or scores are driving home values, community growth, and an assumption that the quality of what is happening in classrooms is far greater in those schools with high accountability scores versus those schools with low accountability scores. Quality and accountability should not be conflated, but seems to be regularly in discussions of school reform and improvement. We cannot assume that the score is a solid indication that quality instruction, quality relationships, and quality decisions are being made in a school with high accountability scores, and that the opposite is true for those schools that don’t perform so well in the accountability system.

Assumption 2: High accountability scores are an indication of high teacher quality.

We know, from scores of research, that our students from higher socio-economic families present an advantage in terms of their performance on achievement tests in comparison to their counterparts. The background knowledge and experiences they bring to school reduce the need for teachers to provide explicit direct instruction around academic vocabulary, to scaffold learning, or fill in content knowledge gaps. Simply put, we can surmise that students perform well on the achievement measures if the accountability scores are high, but we cannot assume that those scores are due to a higher degree of teacher quality in comparison to their low achieving counterparts.

Assumption 3: Schools that fare well in the accountability system are doing something dramatically different from those who do not score as well.

It pains me to hear folks talk about accountability scores in this regard. As educators, many of us have probably been privy to a conversation among our colleagues, where one asks, “What are y’all doing to get those scores?” This question is fatal flaw in school improvement efforts because it often leads to a desire to replicate a practice with no adaptation for the context and deficiencies under which a school’s students and teachers might be operating within. The “Simon Says” approach to school improvement does not work. Every school and its community is unique, and we must be certain to account for context in our efforts. Not doing so, in my opinion, is the equivalent of providing a Band-Aid for an infection rather than an antibiotic, and expecting the same healing the Band-Aid produced for a scrape for a bacterial infection.

Assumption 4: More effective and impactful leaders are in schools with high accountability scores versus those in schools with low or average accountability scores.

This one hits close to home. I’m biased and I know it, and it’s because I led a low-performing school, and did so with the highest degree of effort and instructional leadership. To support our students in the midst of a math teacher vacancy, I taught 8^th grade math for two periods each morning, and served as co-principal for the rest of the day. I can attest that the challenges we faced in our school were exacerbated and atypical, but we knew we would still be held to the same accountability measures as more affluent, resourced, and advantaged schools. Let me be clear, I have no problem with a standardized accountability expectation. I just want to be sure that the assumption that high performing schools are an indication of high leadership effectiveness is a dangerous one. It is simply not so. One should not assume that there is a phenomenal school leader in every “Excellent” rated school, and conversely, the assumption that there is a highly ineffective leader in every “Unsatisfactory” rated school should not be made. You have to see the work to know the impact and a report and statistical analysis of achievement data cannot provide us with conclusions about leader quality, teacher quality, or school quality.

What troubles me most is the impact these assumptions have on schools, but also on families. The family that assumes they are moving into a great area with a great school only to find that the culture is toxic, in spite of the achievement scores and accountability performance. Further, that the teacher quality is not exceptionally different than that of the previous school their child attended that had lower accountability scores. When folks lean into these four dangerous assumptions, it perpetuates the false narrative that are public schools are failing and that some schools are exceptionally worse or better than other schools. A deficit mindset sets in, schools and families begin an intense focus on what is wrong, and what is right, losing the balanced mindset that we all need that considers all factors when we think about how well or unwell a school is faring. Instead, we need to view accountability scores for what they are: a statistical analysis of student performance on high stakes assessment-not a report on teacher, leader, or school quality. Keeping accountability in the right perspective and communicating about it in a way that makes sense and is honest and transparent regarding what it is and what it isn’t is critically important in the current public education climate and teacher crisis. We can do better, and we should.

Until next time, be you. Be true! Be a hope builder!

Latoya