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Archive for the ‘Change’ Category

August 3rd was a day layered with meaning. It marked the final stop of Paul Simon’s A Quiet Celebration tour, my 25th wedding anniversary, and the 11th anniversary of my dad’s passing. My wife and I sat together in the audience. She has indulged my obsession and traveled with me to Seattle, Las Vegas, Billings and Missoula, San Francisco, Toronto, and New York for various shows over the years, supporting a passion that is mine more than hers. It was my 17th Paul Simon concert overall and the fourth time on this tour alone.

Paul Simon has been the soundtrack to my life for more than 40 years. My parents were both teachers. My mom was a music teacher, and my dad produced school musicals, so music and performance were woven into our family life. We had a huge record collection at home, filling our house with sounds from many artists and eras. But Paul Simon’s songs always held a special place, becoming the constant companion through decades of change, growth, loss, and celebration.

A week before that final concert on this tour, I had seen Paul perform in Vancouver with my mom, who is now 84, along with my wife and older daughter. Sharing that evening with three generations of my family brought the music full circle, deepening the connections between past and present, memory and hope.

Since my dad passed in 2014, I have seen Paul Simon 14 times. That is not a coincidence. These concerts have become a kind of ritual, a way to stay close to something I shared deeply with my dad. Each performance feels like a thread that ties me back to the past,  to our shared love of music, to those early records spinning in the house, to the soundtracks that shaped who we were. And each time, I have wondered if this might be the last. Then I have felt the unexpected joy when another tour is announced. At 83, Paul seems to be having his own trouble retiring, and I am grateful for it. These concerts are unexpected gifts. They are reminders that we never know which moments with those we admire  will be the last, making each encounter more precious.

It is remarkable how music can become a bridge across loss, time, and change. It is a thread that ties us to memory and family. When my dad was battling cancer, he often listened to Graceland, an album that has been my personal favorite for as long as I can remember. The rhythms, stories, and melodies from that album (controversial at the time) are more than songs. They are stories of connection between people, places, and generations.

Further back in his catalogue, there is a line from The Boxer that feels especially powerful given the state of our world. “A fighter still remains.” On this tour, Paul seemed to linger on the line a little longer. It landed differently. Music, like the best education, does not just entertain or inform. It becomes internalized. It becomes part of how we navigate life’s challenges. Just as Paul’s voice has accompanied me through different seasons of my life, the most meaningful teachers become part of their students’ internal soundtracks. Their encouragement, wisdom, and belief echo through students’ lives long after the classroom doors close, surfacing in moments of difficulty, discovery, and growth.

This connection between music and learning runs deep. Both great songs and great teaching become woven into who we are. They are not just external experiences but transform into internal resources we carry forward. A student might hear their teacher’s voice years later when tackling a difficult problem, just as I hear Paul’s melodies during life’s most significant moments.

I am grateful to my parents who taught me that education and music are both ways to connect deeply with the world and with each other. Seeing Paul Simon live again, with my wife on our anniversary, and earlier with my mom and daughter, felt like a celebration of those enduring connections. It was a reminder that the past lives on when we share stories and songs together.

We all have soundtracks to our lives. These voices and melodies accompany us through our stories. Music, like education, reminds us that what truly endures are the connections we make. To family. To history. To each other. And to the dreams and struggles that make us human.

So here is to Paul Simon, whose music continues to remind us that even when we are battered and worn, a fighter still remains. And here is to all the teachers and artists who become part of our soundtracks, helping us keep fighting, keep growing, and keep connecting, no matter what the world brings our way.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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For the past few years, I have ended each school year with a list post, one item for every year I’ve worked in education. It’s become a bit of a tradition, a way to pause, reflect and take stock before heading into summer.

In 2022, I wrote about 26 teachers and the 26 lessons they taught me.
In 2023, it was 27 ways schools are better now than when I started.
And in 2024, I shared 28 reasons I still love teaching.

This year marks my 29th in education, and I have found myself in a different space, one filled less with answers and more with questions.

Some are big and philosophical. Others are daily dilemmas. All of them keep me curious, grounded and sometimes even uncomfortable (in the best way).

After nearly three decades in classrooms and schools, I have discovered something unexpected: the more I learn, the more comfortable I am with not knowing.

Where I once rushed to have answers, I now find myself lingering in questions.

Experience has taught me that the best conversations that actually move us forward often begin not with someone declaring what is right, but with someone brave enough to wonder what is possible.

Asking questions keeps me curious, not certain and invites nuance over neat and tidy solutions. They are invitations for dialogue, not assertions disguised as inquiries. In a field where we are constantly pressed to have all the answers for our students, I am learning there is profound wisdom in modeling intellectual humility, in showing that the most important thing we can do is keep asking better questions.

So here they are: 29 questions I am still asking about education.

  1. What do students remember ten years after they leave us and how can we build more moments that stay with them ?

  2. How do we ensure we are preparing students for their rapidly changing future rather than the education system we experienced?

  3. How do we measure success in ways that actually matter to all students, not just those who fit traditional molds?

  4. What is the perfect balance between structure and freedom in a school day?

  5. How do we make professional learning as engaging as the best classroom lesson?

  6. How might we reframe ‘failure’ as a necessary part of learning and innovation in our schools?

  7. Can AI make education more human—or will it just keep writing emails  that are more diplomatic than we’d ever be?

  8. What is the role of joy in academic achievement?

  9. How do we create schools where every adult loves coming to work?

  10. Are we brave enough to stop doing things just because we have always done them?

  11. What should a report card really tell a parent?

  12. How can we build systems that support innovation without burning people out?

  13. What happens when students lead the learning?

  14. Why do some of our best students struggle after graduation and what can we do about it?

  15. What if extracurriculars were seen as essential, not extra?

  16. How can we get better at truly listening to students?

  17. What would it take to fully integrate physical literacy into our academic priorities?

  18. Is grading helping or hurting learning?

  19. How do we support staff to be both bold and well and not just surviving on caffeine, calendar invites and good intentions?

  20. What do families really want from schools and are we asking enough?

  21. What makes a school feel safe emotionally, not just physically?

  22. How do we teach digital citizenship without sounding like someone’s uncle trying to explain TikTok?

  23. What messages are our systems and structures sending to students, and how do they align with what we say we value?

  24. How do we honour our most experienced teachers while still challenging them to grow?

  25. How can we make educational leadership less lonely?

  26. What does it look like when we build systems where every student regardless of background, cultural identity or learning needs truly belongs and can succeed on their own terms?

  27. What is the role of wonder in learning and how do we protect it?

  28. When will conference organizers take me up on my suggestion to stop serving meals and just handout $15 gift cards for the local mall food court?

  29. How do we keep the humanity at the centre as education evolves through rapid technological and social change?

These questions don’t have easy answers, and that is exactly the point. In a world racing toward efficiency and automation, schools must remain gloriously, stubbornly human.

The questions that matter most aren’t about systems or standards, they’re about the people in front of us, the relationships we build, and the humanity we nurture together.

Here’s to year 30. Let’s keep wondering. Let’s keep being human.

In the creation of this post I used Chat GPT and Claude as work partners – helping refine my ideas and questions.  The image at the top of this post is also created by AI.

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Every spring in schools, one of the most anticipated emails arrives: our principal and vice-principal appointments for the fall. This post offers a window into how these important decisions are made—and why they matter so deeply to our school communities.

It is a tradition that always stirs interest. People read closely, scroll quickly to find their school, and immediately text colleagues: “Did you see the changes?” We have just shared our latest list in West Vancouver, with some leaders stepping into new schools, others taking on promotions and many continuing their important work right where they are.

These moves are never made lightly. There is both an art and a science to placing school leaders. It is one of the most important decisions we make each year—and probably the one we spend the most time thinking about.

Why Principals and Vice-Principals Move (or Stay)

We often hear, “Why are they moving? They just got here!” And other times, “They’ve been here forever—what’s next for them?” There’s no perfect formula. Some leaders stay in one school for over a decade. Others move after just a few years. Both can be the right call.

Yes, I’ve worked in a district before where all administrators were moved every five years. That’s one model. But considering I have been in the same district office chair for 15 years now, it might feel a little rich for me to set strict term limits for everyone else.

What I do believe in is fit, purpose and growth.

We want to place leaders where they will thrive—and equally as important, where they will help others thrive. We talk with them about what excites them, where they want to stretch and what kinds of communities might challenge and inspire them. For example, I have worked with administrators who specifically wanted to lead in schools with IB programs, French Immersion or particular cultural communities. These preferences matter. It is not just about filling roles—it is about building momentum and setting schools up for long-term success.

We Listen

Let me be clear: these decisions aren’t made in isolation. Our principals and vice-principals are actively involved in the process. We listen to where they feel they can grow, what new experiences they are seeking and where they feel most aligned.  Ongoing growth plan conversations often turn to discussions on opportunities for new experiences.

Sometimes they are ready for a new challenge. Sometimes they are in the middle of something they want to see through. And sometimes, they just love their school and aren’t ready to let go. I hear all of it—and it deeply shapes the decisions we make.

There have been times when a leader’s personal or family situation led us to delay a move or rethink a placement. These are real people—not just job titles—and we work hard to honour that. When a school leader is in the right place at the right time, you can feel it in the building. It shows up in the energy, the trust and the culture.

This year, one school community started a petition to convince their principal to delay retirement. At another, parents offered to fundraise so their principal might reconsider a job overseas. Neither plan came to life—but both speak volumes about the impact strong leadership has on a school.

What the Research Says

The evidence around school leadership placement is compelling. Studies from the Learning Policy Institute suggest principals (and vice-principals) typically need 5–7 years in a school to make a lasting impact. Anything less, and they may only just start to shape direction. Much longer, and the challenge becomes ensuring continued growth and relevance.

Research from the Wallace Foundation and others highlights that when leadership moves are done intentionally—and with input from the leaders themselves—they strengthen the entire system. Leaders carry forward lessons, ideas and a sense of continuity that benefits multiple communities over time.

This extensive body of research has helped shape our own approach in West Vancouver: balancing stability with strategic movement in a way that supports individual growth and system-wide impact.

And Yes—We Think About This a Lot

Whenever announcements come out, I hear the question: “Who decided this?”

Well—me. But never alone. These are collaborative conversations. This part of my work is deeply personal. It’s where people and strategy intersect. There is no algorithm for culture fit or team chemistry. It takes reflection, input and a lot of listening.

And I know how much it matters. Our principals and vice-principals aren’t just running schools—they’re building culture, guiding learning and shaping what school feels like for students, staff and families.

A Complicated Puzzle

Leadership placements are rarely straightforward. With so many voices, needs, and aspirations in the mix, we know there will be times when the outcome doesn’t match everyone’s hopes. That doesn’t mean people weren’t heard or valued—it simply reflects the complexity of balancing individual preferences with the broader needs of our schools and students. These decisions are never easy, and we approach them with care and humility.

And in the days immediately following these announcements, I often learn as much about our team as I do through any interview. The way people respond—whether they’re feeling excited, uncertain, disappointed, or all of the above—says a great deal. It’s not about masking emotion; it’s about how we carry ourselves through change. Those early reactions often reflect a leader’s sense of professionalism, perspective, and commitment to the bigger picture. I’ve come to really value that quiet strength and grace that so many of our leaders bring during these moments of transition.

Final Thought

I have been doing this long enough to know that leadership placements matter—to staff, to families and to communities. That’s a good thing. It means our leaders are making a difference.

Our goal remains the same: to put great people in the right places, support their growth and strengthen every school community in the process. At the end of the day, thoughtful leadership placements create the conditions where students can be successful —academically, socially, and emotionally—which is ultimately what all of this work is about.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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How do we equip young people for a world that might advance beyond our expectations?

Mat Balez is a local West Vancouver parent. We have had several great conversations in recent years — and just last week, we sat down to talk about Replit, the future of coding, and how fast the world is changing for our kids. I find myself wondering more and more: How do we prepare children for a world that is changing faster than our educational systems?

Mat is one of those people I really value in my professional orbit — someone outside the day-to-day education system who from time-to-time sends me articles and ideas that push my thinking.

Recently, he posted a tweet thread that’s been sitting with me. It starts with a bold premise: Let’s assume superintelligence is going to happen within the next decade.

Then comes the question that matters most to people like us: What does that mean for how we raise and educate our kids?

Of course, there are valid debates about the timeline for superintelligence. Some experts suggest it could be several decades away, while others point to the exponential progress we are seeing as evidence of a shorter horizon. Regardless of whether it arrives in ten years or thirty, the direction is clear —  the implications for education are worth considering now.

Mat outlines five big ideas:

Teach AI “super literacy”

Make independent thinkers

Invest in scarcity

Preserve human connection

Double down on the basics

It’s a strong list — one worth amplifying and building on. And as someone who thinks a lot about learning, change, and leadership, I see it as both a roadmap and an invitation.

1. Teach AI Super Literacy
Mat’s right: AI is fast becoming a foundational skill. Not just for those working in tech, but for all of us navigating modern life.

But AI literacy needs to go beyond technical fluency. It’s not enough to know how to use the tools — we also need to understand their implications. What’s trustworthy? What’s ethical? What’s human?

We are raising kids who won’t just use AI — they’ll live in it. And the goal isn’t to be better than other humans at AI. The goal is to be more human in an AI-saturated world.

In the classroom: In some schools, students are beginning to analyze AI-generated essays — for example, essays on climate change — using critical literacy frameworks. In small groups, they identify factual inaccuracies, spot potential biases, and discuss what the AI missed in terms of local context and human impact. These kinds of activities mark a shift: we are not just teaching kids to write, but to think critically about how ideas are generated — and by whom.

2. Make Independent Thinkers
This one hit especially hard. As AI gets better at producing answers, our job becomes helping students ask better questions.

Let’s teach them to think deeply, hold multiple ideas in tension, and resist the temptation to outsource all their thinking to machines. Let’s create learning environments where students develop the confidence — and the discipline — to work through ambiguity and challenge their own assumptions.

If the car can drive itself, we still need to remember (and learn!) how to steer.

In the classroom: Some teachers are experimenting with “first principles challenges” — problems students must tackle without digital tools. The goal isn’t to romanticize pre-digital learning, but to strengthen foundational reasoning and decision-making skills. These exercises help students better understand when to rely on AI — and when to trust themselves.

3. Invest in Scarcity
Mat uses this phrase to point us toward the qualities that remain uniquely human: creativity, emotional intelligence, trust and leadership.

It’s a powerful reminder that as automation rises, it’s not just what we do that will matter — it’s how we relate, how we empathize, how we build community.

We often talk about preparing students for the jobs of the future. What if we also prepared them for the relationships of the future?

That said, a small caution: I don’t think we should frame these traits as competitive advantages. Scarcity doesn’t need to become the next educational buzzword. These qualities matter not because they are rare, but because they make us whole.

4. Preserve Human Connection
There’s a quiet crisis unfolding in this generation — one of disconnection and loneliness. It is something I have written about before as I discussed Jonathan Haidt’s latest book, the Anxious Generation.

As educators, we are in a position to protect what’s most essential: belonging, relationship, connection. Whether through daily check-ins, deep collaboration, or simply being fully present, we can model and foster real human interaction.

Technology is accelerating, but connection still happens at a human pace.

5. Double Down on the Basics
This is a beautiful reminder not to lose the thread. Despite all the disruption, there’s a lot that still works — and still matters.

Reading, writing, listening, speaking, thinking, moving. Respect, responsibility, kindness. These aren’t nostalgic ideas. They’re timeless ones.

So yes, let’s bring in the new. But let’s not forget what got us here.

Aligning With Our Commitments
Looking at Mat’s framework through the lens of our West Vancouver Schools commitments, I see powerful alignment. His emphasis on AI literacy and independent thinking directly supports our commitment to fostering innovation. The focus on doubling down on the basics reinforces our pledge to ensure strong foundations in essential skills. And perhaps most importantly, his call to preserve human connection reminds us that “all means all” — in a technological world, we must ensure no student loses access to the human relationships that make learning and life meaningful.

What would happen if we approached AI not as a replacement for human teaching, but as a catalyst for reimagining what human teachers can focus on? And how might we create spaces where students learn to view technology not as an inevitable force to surrender to, but as a set of tools they have agency to shape?

Getting Started: First Steps for Schools and Districts
For school leaders wondering where to begin, I’d suggest starting with a community conversation. Bring together educators, parents, students, and use local tech professionals as resources to explore these ideas together. What does AI literacy mean in your context? What human capacities do you most want to nurture?

From there, consider forming a small innovation team — not just tech enthusiasts, but a diverse group across roles and with different comfort levels of these changes.  Their job isn’t to overhaul everything at once, but to identify meaningful, strategic entry points for these ideas.

Most importantly, create space for teacher learning. In my visits to schools, teachers and other staff are eager to engage with these shifts, but they need time, support and permission to experiment. 

So What Else?
Mat ends his thread with a call to continue the conversation — and I think that’s where the real opportunity lies.

The future will be shaped by those who are curious, grounded and willing to learn. But those voices won’t always come from inside our institutions. Sometimes the most important thinking is already happening — at the dinner table, in community conversations or in the inbox from a thoughtful parent like Mat.

We just have to keep listening. And keep showing up — ready to rethink, ready to collaborate and ready to lead with both head and heart.

I’m reminded that in education, we need to keep moving. To stay relevant, we must remain curious about the world changing so quickly around us. Whether we embrace all of these changes is open for discussion, but we should certainly be talking about them. One great piece of leadership advice I received long ago was that leaders in education need to see around corners so they can be the first to know what is coming next — conversations with people like Mat help me do exactly that.

Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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There’s a moment right now—an opening that Canada, and more specifically Canadian education, has an opportunity to seize.

As we watch political discourse in the United States grow increasingly polarized, with education often pulled backwards into culture wars and ideology-driven mandates, it’s hard not to reflect on the different tone we can set here in Canada. While we certainly have our challenges, we also have the chance to chart a distinctly Canadian path forward—especially when it comes to preparing our young people for the future they are entering.

To do this well, we must also recognize that any national conversation about education in Canada must begin with a commitment to truth, reconciliation, and partnership with Indigenous communities. Indigenous education—led by Indigenous voices—is not a “strand” of our system; it is foundational to the work of designing what comes next. It is through authentic collaboration that we can build a future that is not only innovative but also rooted in respect, reciprocity, and relationality.

And make no mistake: that future is arriving fast.

We are entering a world increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence, automation, shifting geopolitics, a changing climate and a labour market that demands not just knowledge, but adaptability, creativity and collaboration. For Canada to thrive, our education systems must evolve with intention—not reactively, but purposefully, and with our eyes wide open.

This isn’t about throwing out the basics. Literacy and numeracy are, and must remain, foundational. But how we teach them, and what we wrap around them, needs to shift. It’s not enough to equip students with the skills of the past. We need to prepare them to navigate complexity, to make ethical decisions in a data-driven world, and to work alongside technologies that didn’t exist when their own teachers graduated.

And here’s where the opportunity comes in.

We are also approaching a federal election—an event that always brings reflection, but this time, it feels different. Whomever forms the next government will inherit a country in need of fresh thinking about what unites us. Amid global uncertainty and domestic division, education can be a powerful force for cohesion. It can connect the regions, bridge generations, and build the kind of future we all want to live in.

Canada has long held that education is a provincial responsibility—and for good reason. Local control supports responsiveness, cultural relevance, and innovation at the grassroots. But maybe now is the time to consider how we add a layer of national vision—not control, but coherence. A Canadian strategy for educational innovation that aligns our strengths, helps us scale what works and positions us not just as followers of global trends, but as leaders.

Some may rightfully question whether a national approach risks undermining provincial jurisdiction or local responsiveness. This is a valid concern that deserves thoughtful consideration. The vision here is not about imposing federal standards or centralizing decision-making. It is about creating connective tissue between existing initiatives, facilitating knowledge sharing and identifying shared priorities where collective action makes sense. In a world where AI and technology are transforming education everywhere, we can maintain our provincial distinctiveness while also learning from each other’s successes and challenges.

Right now, every provincial ministry of education is grappling with similar questions about AI in classrooms. How do we teach students to work alongside AI tools? What ethical frameworks should guide AI use? How do we prepare young Canadians for a job market transformed by automation and for careers that don’t even exist yet? These shared challenges call for shared solutions.

A coordinated Canadian approach to AI education could become our international differentiator—setting us apart from the fractured approaches seen in the United States and elsewhere. We could develop a distinctly Canadian AI education model that balances innovation with equity, technological advancement with human values and economic opportunity with ethical responsibility. This isn’t just about educational coherence; it’s about economic competitiveness and social unity in a rapidly changing world.

Imagine a national commitment to AI literacy and digital citizenship that becomes our educational signature globally. A collaborative approach to  education that honours Indigenous knowledge alongside scientific understanding. A shared investment in modernizing curriculum and assessment—not to standardize, but to reimagine and humanize.

We have done it before. From peacekeeping to public healthcare, Canada has often been at its best when we have looked forward with bold humility and quiet confidence.

There is nothing more future-focused than education. If we get it right—rooted in the Canadian values of inclusion, equity, innovation and reconciliation—we give our young people the tools not just to survive what is coming, but to shape it.

Let’s not wait for someone else to show us the way. Let’s lead—together.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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Regular readings here know my love for high school sports and innovation.  This is why today is such a particularly exciting day for me.

Following rigorous analysis of 427 track meets, 217 scraped knees, and 2,341 cases of “excessive athletic enthusiasm,” schools across our district are implementing a groundbreaking “No Running Rule” in track and field events. This innovative approach, validated by the Club of Humans Indulging in Low-impact Living (CHILL), aims to revolutionize athletic competition while prioritizing what they call “mindful movement metrics.”

“Our longitudinal studies show that walking reduces adrenaline levels by 87% compared to running, leading to a 542% increase in pleasant conversation during events,” explains Loof Lipra, a doctor from Sweden who helped guide our research. As noted in the latest ISLA Journal of Deceleration Studies, “The correlation between decreased velocity and increased athletic satisfaction is statistically significant (p < 0.0001, n = very many).”  So what does this mean for us in West Vancouver? 

Event Modifications
The traditional track and field events have been reimagined with mandatory bubble wrap suits and mid-event hydration stations.

Power Walking Relays: Teams compete in synchronized power-walking, judged on both speed and style. Anti-perspiration zones featuring industrial fans ensure optimal comfort, with an emergency Axe Body Spray misting station on standby for those who take their strut a little too seriously. “The arm-swing technique is everything,” says Rockridge Principal and track coach Trevor Kolkea, demonstrating his signature “Pendulum Paradise” move, which has been likened to a metronome on a coffee high – though some say the lingering cloud of Axe gives it an extra aerodynamic boost.


Hurdle Hops: Athletes approach obstacles at a meditation-approved pace before executing a “mindful leap.” Each hurdle features a built-in relaxation chaise lounge for pre-jump contemplation, where athletes can meditate or safely adjust their bubble wrap suits.

Discus Dance-Off: Before gentle disc deployment, athletes perform a mandatory interpretive dance routine. Team Captain Meander Smith’s “Slow Motion Ocean” choreography has already gone viral on social media, inspiring a new wave of interpretive athletics.

Shot Put Plop: Replaced with aromatherapy beanbags, this event now includes a pre-throw breathing exercise and optional shoulder massage. Reports suggest that the scent of lavender has resulted in record-setting “plops” along with a pleasant night’s sleep.

Zen Javelin: Instead of running and throwing the javelin, competitors will gently place a foam pool noodle onto a plush target while whispering an inspirational quote. 

Safety Innovations
The district has invested heavily in new safety infrastructure:

1. Moving sidewalks installed around the track to prevent accidental jogging or sprinting
2. Recliners at 50-meter intervals for “motion meditation breaks”
3. Zero-gravity zones near the finish line to ensure absolutely no running occurs (though early trials reported athletes floating away if they moved too quickly)
4. Emergency cucumber water stations every 10 meters, chosen for their “hydration zen factor”
5. Mandatory pre-event naps in the district’s new “Velocity Recovery Pods” followed by rhythmic popping of the bubble wrap suits

Student Perspectives
“I used to feel pressured to move quickly,” says Sentinel grade 9 student Annie Stride. “Now I can finally express my true athletic identity through interpretive power walking.”

However, West Van Grade 12 runner, Dash Sprint, former 100-meter sprint district champion, seems less enthusiastic: “Next they’ll tell us the 3000 M needs nap checkpoints.” We have noted this suggestion for future implementation.

Future Developments
The newly formed Slow & Steady Conference is already planning additional innovations:

– Golf cart cross country, with competitors being driven in golf carts while politely discussing their athletic aspirations
– Replacing track surfaces with memory foam
– Installing hammocks in long jump pits
– Developing “anti-acceleration technology” to ensure perfect leisurely form

Similar initiatives are already being considered for other sports, including swimming (floating meditation), diving (before each dive, swimmers must communicate their intentions to a certified dolphin coach for feedback), basketball (stationary contemplation and defense by distraction: where no blocking or stealing will occur just soft spoken philosophical debates), soccer (seated ball appreciation) and hockey (players in the penalty box must journal about their feelings and recite a calming haiku about patience before returning to the game). Spectators are already lobbying for competitive shuffleboard on grass.

The historic first No-Running Track Meet debuts today. Spectators are encouraged to bring recliners, expect cucumber water stations, and enjoy a full day of extremely measured athletic achievement.

It is this time of year we regularly look to bold innovations.  

To catch you up on some of the other innovations I have shared in recent years, here is a list:

In 2012 I launched my FLOG.

In 2013 I made the announcement of Quadrennial Round Schooling.

In 2014 we formalized our System of Student Power Rankings.

In 2015 we created our Rock, Paper, Scissors Academy.

In 2016 we piloted the Drone Homework Delivery System.

In 2017 we introduced the Donald J. Trump Elementary School of Winning.

In 2018 we announced the construction of Soak City Elementary.

In 2019 we went back to the 80’s with the launch of the Belvedere Learning Academy.

In 2020 we embraced the latest in learning styles with our PBL (Pajama-Based Learning) Program.  

In 2021 we announced we were going out of this world with our Galaxy High Program.

In 2022 we modernized our schools with  New Nicknames for All of Our Schools.

In 2023 we embraced our expanded mandate with our Animal Kingdom Academy.

And just last year we pushed the technology boundaries with several key initiatives including time travel field trips with Technology and Innovation – Where Next?


Happy April Fools’ Day!

(Note: Any resemblance to actual track events is purely coincidental. Please continue running responsibly, preferably faster than your teacher.)

And finally, thanks to this CBC – This or That from more than a decade ago that I thought was hilarious and was the absolute inspiration for this post.

AI was used to create the image at the top of this post.

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The phrase “all means all” sounds like common sense—after all, who would argue against it? But for it to be more than just a slogan, we must ask: What does it truly mean? And how do we ensure it becomes a guiding principle rather than an empty phrase?

In West Vancouver Schools, we are guided by three key commitments: fostering innovation, ensuring a strong foundation in essential skills, and embracing the principle that all means all. While innovation and foundational learning provide the structure, inclusion is the heart of our work. It is not a goal we reach but an ongoing responsibility—one that challenges us to continually adapt, reflect, and improve. Innovation connects to our work in AI and physical literacy. Our commitment to core skills is evident in our focus on literacy and numeracy. But inclusion—’all means all’—is broader. And if we don’t return to it with intention, it risks becoming just another phrase.

While inclusion is sometimes viewed narrowly as the work of Student Support Services, all means all extends to every student in every classroom. It is about ensuring that learning is personalized, responsive, and flexible enough to meet the specific needs of each learner. In West Vancouver, we have evolved from focusing narrowly on targeted interventions for specific groups—such as ELL learners or students with designations—to a broader recognition that, inclusive of priority populations and vulnerable learners, every student deserves personalized support, regardless of labels. Inclusion is not simply about bringing students into the same physical space—it is about ensuring they are truly seen, supported, and challenged in meaningful ways.

The Journey of Continuous Growth

The work of inclusion is never finished. There is no single program, policy, or initiative that will allow us to say, we have arrived. Instead, all means all is a mindset—one that requires us to ask difficult questions, recognize barriers, and continuously refine our practices.

We must ask ourselves:
– Are we designing learning experiences that reflect the needs, strengths, and interests of all students? For instance, when planning a project-based learning unit, are we providing multiple entry points and ways to demonstrate understanding?
– Do our structures, assessments, and teaching practices allow for different pathways to success? Consider how our assessment practices have evolved to include student voice and choice in demonstrating their learning.
– Are we leveraging all available tools—technology, data, and human insight—to support each student effectively? This might mean using learning analytics to identify patterns in student engagement or implementing flexible scheduling to accommodate different learning paces.


This is not about lowering expectations or making learning easier. It is about ensuring that all students have the support they need to succeed at the highest levels. In fact, we recognize that our parent community holds high expectations for their children’s success, and we are committed to partnering with families to extend learning beyond our classroom walls. All means all means ensuring that students who need more—more time, more flexibility, more challenge—get what they need without stigma. It means recognizing that inclusion is not about fitting students into existing systems but about adapting our systems to serve them better.

Innovation Enhancing Inclusion

Innovation is not just about technology but about mindset. However, emerging tools, including AI, have the potential to help us take our commitment to all means all further. I was recently in an elementary classroom and saw an educational assistant using AI to adapt a piece of writing in real-time, ensuring the content matched both the learning goals and the student’s current level. In another classroom, a new student to Canada was actively participating in complex class discussions through an AI translation tool, allowing them to share their insights while developing their English skills.

AI offers opportunities to personalize learning in ways that were previously unimaginable. It can provide immediate feedback that adapts to each student’s pace, offer multiple pathways to understanding complex concepts, and help teachers identify patterns in student learning that might otherwise go unnoticed. For families, these tools can bridge the school-home connection, providing ways to support learning in their first language and helping parents engage more deeply with their children’s education.

At the same time, we must approach AI with intention and equity at the forefront. This means ensuring all students have access to these tools, not just those with resources at home. It means carefully selecting and implementing AI tools that support our inclusive practices rather than creating new barriers. It means working closely with provincial outreach partners to expand and maximize access to technology for those who need additional specialized supports.  Most importantly, it means using AI to enhance—not replace—the human connections that make learning meaningful. When thoughtfully integrated, AI becomes another tool in our toolkit for ensuring that all truly means all.

Building Our Inclusive Future—Together

Our commitment to all means all is not about checking a box or meeting a target. It is about ongoing reflection and continuous improvement. It is about every student, in every classroom, feeling seen, supported, and challenged. And it is about using every tool at our disposal—our expertise, our creativity, and yes, even AI—to meet our most ambitious goal: ensuring that every student, no matter their starting point, has the opportunity to flourish.

There is no finish line. There is only the ongoing work of making all means all more real every day, supported by a community of educators, families, and partners who share this vision of true inclusion. By ensuring that every student belongs and thrives, we are not just shaping better schools, we are shaping a more inclusive society. This is how ‘all means all’ moves from words to action, from slogan to substance.

The image at the top of this post was generated through Magic School AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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I was recently having a “walk and talk” with a West Vancouver colleague, and the first thing he said to me was “the next 20 years will be my best 20 years.”  It feels like I’ve joined a club – one where the admission requirement is reaching a stage in life where you start thinking seriously about the future, not just in terms of years but in terms of quality.

Lately, my group chats, social feeds, and casual conversations have been filled with book recommendations and podcast links—all on one topic: longevity. Peter Attia’s Outlive, Andrew Huberman’s deep dives into aging, Dan Buettner’s Blue Zones, and the latest from David Sinclair are making the rounds. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard someone say, “You have to listen to this episode on how to live to 100.”

And I am guilty.  I made sure all our district leadership team had a copy of Peter Diamandis’ latest book, Longevity Guidebook: How to Slow, Stop, and Reverse Aging – and NOT Die from Something Stupid.  

Is this just the latest intellectual trend, or is something deeper going on?

Is It Just Our Age?

Most of my friends and colleagues are in their 40s and 50s, a point in life where health isn’t just a background concern—it’s front and centre. We’ve started seeing parents and older mentors struggle with aging, some well and others not. We’re feeling the limits of bodies that used to bounce back more easily. And we’re realizing that the choices we make today will determine whether our later years are defined by energy and adventure or by decline and limitation.

Maybe we don’t just want to live longer—we want to live better. And in my role in education, I see parallels between this longevity movement and what we strive for in education: long-term thinking, sustainable systems, and a focus on well-being.

From Hustle to Health—In Life and in Schools

In our 30s, the dominant narrative was hustle. Build your career, raise your kids, achieve as much as you can. But at some point, the conversation shifts from success to sustainability (while still keeping a good dose of hustle). This shift isn’t just happening in our personal lives; it’s happening in education, too.

But now we’re starting to ask: How do we design schools where longevity isn’t just possible, but prioritized?

We talk about longevity in life, but what about longevity in leadership? In a profession where turnover is high, how do we help educators sustain their passion, energy, and well-being over decades? Just as I’m thinking about my own health, I’m also thinking about how we create schools where people can thrive for the long haul.

The Science of Longevity—and Learning

Many leading researchers predict we are just a few years away from major breakthroughs—anti-aging drugs, advanced diagnostics, and other innovations. The challenge? Taking steps now to ensure we’re around to benefit from them.

We are already seeing this shift in action—take literacy instruction in our primary grades, where new insights into cognitive development are transforming classroom practices.

Like health, education has moved beyond short-term thinking. It’s no longer about quick fixes or crash diets; it’s about systems that sustain well-being and performance over a lifetime.

A Shared Shift in Priorities

The longevity conversation isn’t just about physical health; it’s also about how we want to live. We are thinking more about meaning, relationships, and the kind of people we want to be as we age. The same questions apply to our schools:

  • How do we build school systems that prioritize well-being, not just academic achievement?
  • How do we create environments where students and staff can flourish for the long term?
  • How do we make decisions today that will set us up for success, not just in the next five years, but in the next fifty?

So yes, maybe we’re all talking about longevity because we’re at that stage of life. But maybe we’re also just getting smarter about what matters—both in our own lives and in the way we lead.

Like my colleague said, “the next 20 years will be my best 20 years.” And if we get this right – not just in our personal lives but in education – it could transform how we think about learning, leadership, and well-being for generations to come.

As we rethink longevity in our own lives, how can we reimagine it in education—ensuring that our schools, students, and staff don’t just endure, but thrive for the long haul?

The image at the top of this post was generated through Magic School AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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In an era increasingly influenced by data, one glaring blind spot in education that exists is understanding how our high school graduates perform in university and what that tells us about the effectiveness of our K-12 systems. When asked how our graduates are performing in university, I usually can offer only anecdotes rather than evidence—despite leading a district that prides itself on being data rich.  As a credit to our high school and career counsellors, we work hard to keep track of what all our students do after high school – in our case about 95% go to post-secondary within a year, but after that we don’t know much. As a school superintendent, I find this gap deeply frustrating, especially given the wealth of data universities already collect on everything from course grades and completion rates to student engagement metrics and academic support utilization and the great work of the BC Council on Admissions and Transfer to track students through their post-secondary journeys.

We know how students perform within the K-12 system. Graduation rates, student satisfaction surveys, FSA and Graduation Program exams, and course completions are tracked and analyzed. But once students leave our system, the data trail cools. Universities maintain detailed records on student performance across academic programs, tracking not just grades but also participation in support services, course progression patterns, and even early warning indicators of academic struggle. They can analyze how students from different regions, districts, and even countries perform. Some enrolment managers in higher education even track success rates based on the school district and school they came from. But what’s missing is an effort to bring this data together to create a clear picture of how K-12 systems influence university success.

Imagine if we had access to data showing how students from our district or our province fare in first-year university math compared to students from Alberta, or even students internationally. If Alberta students consistently outperform others, it prompts important questions: What are they doing in their high schools to set students up for success in math? Could we adapt some of their approaches? This isn’t about competition; it’s about collaboration and learning.  One example I have of this, that I still reference more than 20 years later is this study from UBC that is a version of what I am describing.  From 1995-2005 UBC posted this data in math and physics.  It was actually students from Alberta that outperformed all others in 2005 (humble brag – West Vancouver students were next). This kind of data opens a lot of other questions, and I don’t want to speak absolutely about what it really says – but at least it starts the conversation.

Of course, implementing such data integration faces legitimate challenges. Privacy concerns must be carefully addressed through robust anonymization protocols and clear data governance frameworks. Where small numbers exist, 5 year running averages can anonymize data while providing useful trend lines. The cost and complexity of building integrated data systems can be significant, but a lot of this work is already being done – there are potential efficiencies to be gained from greater collaboration between the K-12 and post-secondary sectors. Some will argue (rightly) that university success shouldn’t be our primary metric, given that many students choose different paths, and these efforts would imply K-12 is just intended to be university prep. And to be clear, having data from BCIT and other trades programs would be as valuable as from universities as we focus on success and not any particular endeavor.  An additional challenge we face in West Vancouver is that, while only 5% of students in BC attend university outside of the province, our figure stands at 50%, many heading internationally to Europe or the US. This substantial outbound migration of students further complicates our ability to track and analyze our post secondary trends. But even having just BC data is a useful start. These are valid concerns, but they’re not insurmountable obstacles—they’re design parameters for thoughtful solutions.

The benefits of such integration would extend far beyond district offices. Teachers could gain insights into which instructional approaches best prepare students for university success, refining their methods accordingly.  Students and families making college choices would have better information about which high school programs align with their post-secondary goals. Curriculum developers could identify gaps between high school preparation and university expectations. College readiness programs could target their support more effectively, using data to identify where students typically struggle in the transition.

Too often, we rely on gut feelings or isolated anecdotes to assess whether we are preparing students well. Teachers and parents share stories of graduates excelling (or struggling) in university, but these stories, while valuable, don’t provide the comprehensive insights we need to make systemic improvements.

The structures needed to bridge K-12 and university data systems could start simple: regular data-sharing meetings between district and university leadership, standardized reporting templates that align high school and university metrics, and shared research projects examining student transition patterns. Over time, these could evolve into more sophisticated systems that provide real-time insights while maintaining student privacy.

By building a bridge between the data collected in K-12 and the outcomes measured in university, we can better understand where we excel and where we need to improve. We’ll gain insights into which practices, curricula, and support systems genuinely prepare students for post-secondary success. More importantly, we can act on these insights to give all students a better chance to thrive, whether their path leads to university, college, trades, or the workforce.

It’s time to move beyond gut feelings. In this data-rich era, we owe it to our students to let evidence help guide our decisions, helping us thoughtfully and systematically get better. The technology exists and is only improving with advances in AI. The data is there. Now we need the will to connect them in service of student success.

Thanks to West Van teacher Stephen Price for his assistance with this post.

Chat GPT and Claude were used to support the editing and proofreading process.  The image at the top of the post was generated in AI.

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Ironically, by integrating generative AI tools in schools, we might empower ourselves to focus less on screens and more on human connection, simplifying tasks so that technology becomes a supporting player rather than the main act.

This idea has been rattling around in my head for a while now, partly because it feels so counterintuitive.  The image at the top of this post is a slide from presentations I have been giving lately on AI.   AI is often seen as another layer of technology that increases our dependence on devices, but what if it can actually do the opposite? What if AI’s ability to handle repetitive, time-consuming tasks allowed us to reallocate student time and focus on areas that emphasize creativity, connection, and collaboration?

Take the ubiquitous PowerPoint presentation as an example. Right now, students spend hours designing slides—choosing fonts, aligning images, and adjusting transitions—when the real value lies in the ideas they’re presenting. Imagine if AI could generate the slides for them in minutes, leaving more time for practicing their delivery, refining their arguments, or engaging in meaningful dialogue with peers and teachers about the topic. The focus shifts from the tool to the content, and from the screen to the human interaction.

Or consider note-taking. Today, students often type madly while their teacher is speaking, their eyes glued to their laptops or tablets, trying to capture every word. AI tools can now summarize lectures in real time or even generate notes automatically from audio recordings. With this burden lifted, students could engage more fully in discussions, ask thoughtful questions, or simply listen. This reallocation of attention—from typing to thinking—is where the potential lies.

And it doesn’t stop there. AI can analyze data for science projects, generate essay outlines, and create study guides tailored to individual needs. Each of these tasks, currently requiring significant screen time, could be offloaded to AI, allowing students to spend more time on hands-on experiments, peer reviews, or physical, collaborative activities like building prototypes or role-playing historical events.

 From Efficiency to Human Connection

Initially, it’s easy to think about these shifts in terms of efficiency—getting more done in less time. But I believe there’s a deeper opportunity here, one that’s more human. By removing some of the digital drudgery, we can refocus on the things that make education rich and meaningful: relationships, creativity, and shared experiences.

What if, instead of students individually creating digital flashcards for hours, they spent that time playing learning games together? What if the hours saved from not editing videos for a media project were spent brainstorming as a group or rehearsing for a live presentation? These shifts could bring back the human element that has sometimes felt crowded out by screens.

Even more intriguing is the potential for AI to free up teachers in similar ways. If AI can help with grading or lesson planning, teachers might have more time for one-on-one conversations with students or for designing experiential learning opportunities. The classroom could become less about sitting behind screens and more about shared exploration and growth.

Innovation in AI and Physical Literacy

In West Vancouver, we have been discussing innovation around two key areas: AI and physical literacy. This juxtaposition is intentional, as we begin to think about how these two seemingly opposite areas can work together. On one hand, AI has the potential to simplify and streamline tasks, freeing up time. On the other, physical literacy emphasizes movement, health, and engagement in the physical world. Together, they could create a more balanced and holistic approach to education, where technology supports human connection and physical activity rather than replacing it.

Earlier this month we did a session with school and parent leaders that looked at innovation in these areas and the linkages and it was met with a lot of interest.  My colleague, Assistant Superintendent Sandra-Lynn Shortall also wrote an excellent blog post on some of her thinking in this area earlier this month, Bots, Bodies & Balance: Embracing AI, Movement and Co-Regulation in Education.


A Work in Progress

Of course, I recognize that this vision might be naïve. Technology has a way of creeping into every corner of our lives, and the idea that AI will reduce overall screen time might be overly optimistic. It’s entirely possible that the efficiencies created by AI will simply lead to new tech-based activities filling the gaps, perpetuating the cycle rather than breaking it.

Moreover, this transition would require deliberate choices by educators and school leaders. AI won’t automatically shift the focus to human connection—we have to intentionally design learning environments that prioritize it. This involves rethinking instruction, supporting teachers, and ensuring that we use AI as a tool to enhance, not replace, the human elements of education.  

Embracing the Paradox

The idea that more advanced technology could lead to less reliance on technology feels paradoxical, but perhaps that’s where the real promise lies. If we can embrace AI as a means to simplify, streamline, and refocus, we might find ourselves in a world where technology truly supports learning rather than dominating it. It’s a shift from using tech for tech’s sake to using it as a tool to deepen our humanity.

This is still a work in progress for me—a mix of hope, curiosity, and skepticism. I’d love to hear from others: Do you think AI could lead to less technology use in schools? What would it take to make that happen? And how do we ensure that the efficiencies created by AI translate into richer, more connected learning experiences for our students?

For this post, I used several AI tools (Chat GPT, Claude, Magic School) as feedback helpers to refine my thinking and assist in the editing process.

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