When I'm not working, you'll very likely find me in my garden. Working in the soil with no sound but the birds and the running hose gives me a chance to pause and reflect on how our actions can set beautiful things in motion. I fell in love with learning how to make things grow from watching my mother. While it was technically hard work, she always seemed at peace when she worked in her garden. I’d like to think that this was because she was always thinking about how she would be able to feed her children while also being able to look out of her window to see the beautiful changes every garden goes through. Sometimes, work doesn’t feel so much like work when we know how sweet the rewards are. When you’ve tended a garden for years and years, you know that no matter what weather or critters get thrown into the life cycle of your plants, you’ll be prepared. To me, this is a lot like how I see the impact that educators can have on our students. For those of us who have made the transition from student to teacher or even teacher to administrator, we have the years of experience that gives us confidence and competence to know how to make an impact. Though, this makes me curious about what our blind spots are. Imagine planting the seeds and watering them for the first few weeks, but then getting frustrated when they aren’t growing independently as quickly as we would like them to. What would it be like if we harvested tomatoes and threw away any that weren’t perfect spheres. We all start our careers with the best of intentions. But what happens when the stress and imperfections of our unmet expectations for our students begin to wear us down? For me, I find that my natural curiosity and creative problem solving get blocked when I get tied up in taking things personally. Like my garden, if a hungry rabbit eats up all my snap peas, I know it isn’t personal. When a student comes to your classroom and is falling asleep or not eager to participate due to having to skip breakfast, it isn’t personal either. Ultimately, none of us are perfect. Last year, when the crows picked apart my herb garden, I certainly didn’t feel or act zen. I thew a fit, but the birds were just doing what they were meant to do. All I can do is replant and maybe put in a scarecrow or two. What can you set out to plant and water every single day with each of your students? What can your leadership tend to with you to help with this growth? Are you certain where the weeds are vs. the plants you want to grow?