Welcome to 2024!

As I write this, about half of the last day of our school break is still ahead of me. In terms of a weekend, 60 Minutes has just come on, and I’ve just realized I haven’t done my homework. This afternoon I’ll do some planning for the odd period of school ahead of us. Spend a bit of time reading. Most likely take a nap at some point.

Tomorrow we return to school for nine days that include getting myself and my students back into a solid routine, conducting a couple rounds of testing that need to get done, and reestablishing behavioral expectations. Then the kids get four days off for MLK weekend.

The beginning of the new year is a weird time. I’ve never cared much for it. The vacation that ends one calendar year and ushers in another lulls me into a false send of hibernation, and when it’s time to get back into routines, I find my senses dulled and my thoughts covered in cold molasses.

(Sense memory: when I was a kid, we used to feed molasses to the calves and heifers during the winter. It was my job to gradually roll a 50-gallon drum of the sticky sweet stuff down one side of the manger and back up the other, letting the thick brown goo slowly flow onto the animals’ hay and corn silage. The molasses gave the young cattle nutrients missing from their warm-weather diet outside and made the aged winter feed easier to digest. It also filled the barn with an incredible smell that would hang heavy in the air as we cleaned out manure, put down fresh bedding, and fed the youngest calves their milk.)

Something I used to struggle with at the beginning of each new year was the idea of making resolutions. My take on resolutions is that they create a black-and-white, do-or-die scenario for goal setting that becomes self-defeating.

For example, I made a resolution to exercise every day this year, and I missed a couple days. Now my resolution is broken, and I’ve failed.

Some people, I’m sure, don’t approach resolutions this way, but like I said, it’s how my brain works. And I know enough other people who feel the same way to know that I’m one of many. So instead of setting resolutions each year, I use the start of the year to reaffirm what is basically my personal mission statement and mantra.

I’ve never shared this with anyone before, but what the heck, right? It’s nothing magical or original, but it helps me, so I’ll put it out in the world. 

Be good and do good. Then be better and do better.

See? Definitely not original. In fact, it’s derivative as all get out. 

It’s a variation on the quote, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, as long as ever you can.” People like to attribute this to John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, but scholars widely agree that he never said it. It’s also a variation on the popular rhyme, “Good. Better. Best. Never let it rest ’til your good is better and your better is best.”

Be good and do good. Then be better and do better is a daily reminder for me to not settle and become complacent. It’s not a make-or-break arrangement. If I have an off day, my mantra gently reminds me to get back at it tomorrow and try again. And if I have a fantastic day, the statement is there to gently spur me to push further into new territory tomorrow.

It’s an approach that’s helpful in all aspects of my life. As a father, a husband, an educator, a writer, or whatever other hat I happen to be wearing, I’m assessing, revising, and (hopefully) improving my practice. 

It’s also an approach that, as a teacher, knocks me down a few pegs. When I’m talking with my kiddos about the importance of a growth mindset, I’m also talking to myself. I’m not a flawless dispenser of wisdom, bequeathing the knowledge of the ages to students who don’t know any better. I’m learning this stuff with them, growing with them, and I let them know it. 

Be good and do good. Then be better and do better reminds me that “yet” is as important to me as it is to my 3rd graders. It advises me that if I absolutely nail a lesson about the double double double strategy in multiplication, there’s still room for improvement next time. And at its best, my mantra keeps me humble (hopefully). It allows me to approach each day with a fresh set of eyes, an openness to thoughtful criticism and feedback, and a willingness to try new things, in and out of the classroom.

Anyway, that’s where my head’s at as we begin a new calendar year. Wherever you happen to be in your life — physically, mentally, spiritually — I hope the days, weeks, and months ahead are gentle and kind. Seek joy, even (or maybe especially) on the hard days. And spend time with animals.

Be healthy. Be safe. Be happy.