As I reflect on my time at The Bush School, after eleven years of making connections with families, students, and colleagues, and contemplate moving into a consultant role with the executive search firm
Educators Collaborative, I am nervous about not being affiliated with a school for the first time in over thirty years. On the first day of school, instead of putting the finishing touches on my Convocation remarks, I will log on to my computer to speak with a candidate or a school, check in with one of my search partners, or refine a presentation that I will use for a meeting with a Board chair. I will do so at my stand-up desk, in my home office, probably with sweatpants on, and, most importantly, alone.
On balance, this transition feels natural and I am eager to begin working with independent school Boards to hire and develop great leaders and put into place systems to support them. Still, I am not certain how to think about this new model for professional work and how working “remotely” will impact, over time, my relationships, sense of community, and even my relationship with the larger society. All of these musings were prompted by an article in the January issue of The Atlantic entitled,
The Anti-Social Century by Derek Thompson.
In the article, Thompson explains how over decades new technologies–in the twentieth century, the automobile and the television, in the twenty-first century, cellphones–have made Americans less mobile and more prone to spend time at home. Today’s conveniences allow us to entertain ourselves, to shop for groceries, clothes, or furniture, and to put in a full work week without leaving the house. In 2022, Princeton University sociologist Patrick Sharkey reported that Americans were spending on average 99 more minutes at home than they were in 2003. This type of isolation reduces in-person social interactions, and can stunt social development; something we noticed after the pandemic.
1 Frankly, I would never know because I am afraid of heights, risk-averse, and adrenaline avoidant.
By one measure, Sharkey found that children are far less likely now to go out with friends during the week than they were forty years ago. This cannot be blamed exclusively on phone usage, cars, or television. Overscheduled activities, school and club sports, and excessive homework loads share some of the blame as well. But, when children are not given the latitude or are not spending the time to develop friendships, they miss out on learning how to cope with, and possibly extricate oneself from, difficult relationships, resolve conflicts, and forgive. We are ushering them into adulthood without key lifeskills. As Thompson notes, “Socially underdeveloped childhood leads, almost inexorably, to socially stunted adulthood.”
There are ways that we can–if we choose to–mitigate some of the factors that lead to self-isolation. One way is to invest in something that is larger than ourselves that marries us to a larger community, sense of purpose, and shared beliefs. This type of interdependence is what Richard V. Reeves calls “neededness”. Reeves is the president of the American Institute for Boys and Men. He believes that this is what is lost when we “pursue a life of isolationist comforts”. He defines “neededness” as the way “we make ourselves essential to our families and community”. He explains, “we all need to feel like we’re a jigsaw piece that’s going to fit into a jigsaw somewhere”.
For me, that jigsaw was The Bush School. Whether it was participating in class retreats, faculty and committee meetings, classroom visits, Parent University, morning coffee on Bush’s Methow Campus with Board members, BushTalks, Simply Cultural, Friday Forums, MMMs and FMMs, Scooter Town, FA Presidents’ check-ins, proctoring exams, or even COVID-19 testing during those not-to-be discussed days, I felt that this community was pulling in the same direction and building a beautiful puzzle masterpiece. It is the sense of neededness that makes this community work, and the efforts and actions of the parents and guardians, students, faculty, and staff that keep the puzzle adhered.
Now, I will focus on the advantages this new professional journey brings with it like being able to control my own schedule (midday runs sound dreamy), traveling during non-peak times of the year, affording myself the mental space to write and be creative, and working in an emergency-free atmosphere. The work is important, but there are few emergencies. I will also miss feeling connected to and invested in helping to build and nurture a community. The puzzle pieces that make up this incredible mélange have a stickiness to them, and a part of this community will be with me on those remote calls to Boston, Portland, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Mexico City, each time I open my laptop that is still adorned with Bush stickers.
2 In 1980 77% of girls and 87% of boys went out with friends two or more times a week. By 2022, that number dropped to 57% and 58% respectively.
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DECEMBER ENTRYIn August, my wife and I experienced an emotion that we hadn't felt in over twenty years, collective boredom. Since we brought our daughter, Claudia ‘21, home from Cedars Sinai Hospital in 2003, our intentions, aspirations, anxieties, energy, and time have revolved around our children. Our younger son, Carlos ‘24, matriculated in college this fall, rendering us, at least for now, empty nesters. During their childhoods, we may have exhibited signs of dutiful, if not ardent, “intensive parenting”. Sociologists Melissa Milkie and Kei Nomaguchi describe intensive parenting as “painstakingly and methodically cultivating children’s talents, academics, and futures through everyday interactions and activities”.
The lack of activity in a house without children certainly has produced fewer laundry cycles, kitchen messes, dinner preparations, and anxious nights. It has also given way to more contemplation, reflection, and perhaps even some second-guessing. I cannot go back and eliminate the exhaustion or burnout, but I can apply the lessons learned to my adult children so as to avoid reflexively returning down a path towards loneliness or perpetually falling behind. My father used to admonish that the only thing worse than becoming old too soon was becoming smart too late.
At Bush, we have built a school community that encourages parent partnership, participation, and fellowship. Whether it is volunteering, celebrating with others, or availing oneself of parent education opportunities throughout the year, these activities help stave off the emotional discomforts described above.
It is hard to imagine parenting without stress, judgement, or some regret. It’s even harder to believe how much Nina and I appreciate the moments of collective boredom. They are fleeting, but precious. I highly encourage your family to reserve an abundance of unplanned, unstructured, low-stakes, untethered time over the break to explore what it feels like. It will be good practice for when your children eventually leave to explore the world on their own.