Summary: I was listening to an interview between Daniel Bauer and Jethro Jones the other day on Daniel’s <a href="http://betterleadersbetterschools.com/jethro-jones-helped-better-today/" target="_blank">Better Leaders, Better Schools podcast</a>. <br> Daniel asked Jethro, an Alaska principal, “What is one of your regrets from your time at your school?” I really liked Jethro’s response because he focused on how relationships were such an important part of his work, and he wished he had been able to better bridge the gap with some of his colleagues. <br> As important as it is to celebrate our wins with students, it is also a good reality check at times to reflect on where we wish we could improve. <br> Unfortunately, when I think of most of my biggest regrets in school leadership, they are usually the ones I can’t talk about because of confidentiality. Having spent eleven years in the classroom, and nine years as an assistant principal before serving the last four years as a high school principal, the bulk of my conflicts also seem to be ones that involve relationships. <br> When I think about my teaching, I don’t think back with a lot of regret about my curriculum decisions—although I always had room for improvement. And I don’t feel regret for the duties or responsibilities I have managed in school administration—although I always have room for improvement there too. But when I think about regrets in my work, they almost always center on time when differing perspectives caused conflict, misunderstanding, disagreement or let-downs.<br> Here’s a small example: One time when I was still in the classroom, I held a parent conference with a mother who told me that her son came home upset when I refused to give him credit for a test question he said he had marked correctly on a test. <br> When he had brought the test to me, it appeared he had erased and rewritten the answer after I had passed back the test. I told him I couldn’t give him credit at that point because it was too late for me to know whether had corrected it or I had marked it incorrectly after I had passed it back. She said my assumption that he had practiced academic dishonesty was crushing for him; he had great respect for me, and it hurt him that think I did not trust him. <br> This was a situation I can reflect back on now and see both sides. One the hand, this mom had not seen the interactions I had observed where students would attempt to hide notes under desks during assessments, or others who had tried to share copies of tests with classmates via their phones.<br> At the same time, I was young teacher. And I had gone over the answers with students after I passed back the test. This was a good instructional practice, but I didn’t think about asking them to put away writing utensils while we reviewed their answers so that we wouldn’t have any questions about whether or not answers were changed during review. <br> Also, I’m sure I didn’t think about how to address the situation without seeming dismissive. This was likely a twenty-second interaction with a student that frankly I never thought about afterwards until the mother brought it up. And as she explained it to me very politely—not because she wanted his points corrected but because she wanted me to know how much my opinion of her son mattered to him—I began to think I probably missed it with that student.<br> When I think back to that situation now twenty years later, I don’t regret that I made a judgment call with the best information I had at the time. But I do regret that I was unaware of how powerful a 20-second interaction could be with a student. <br> The good news is that I took the mother’s story to heart so that I became more mindful in my interactions with students. The bad news is that I may have made the same mistake a thousand times and not even noticed it.<br> The Power of our Words<br> Last night I was attending a principal advocacy meeting in Washington, D.C.
