Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Health’ Category

The Scrapbook

Posted in Health, SD45, tagged , on September 15, 2026| 2 Comments »

I still have the scrapbook.

It is filled with newspaper clippings about Terry Fox that I cut out of the Vancouver Sun, among other newspapers and magazines, as he made his way across Canada in 1980. I was an elementary school student, and like so many Canadians of my generation, I became captivated by this young man with an unusual running stride who was somehow trying to run all the way across the country.

At the time, I certainly didn’t understand that I was documenting Canadian history. I just knew there was something about Terry and his Marathon of Hope that mattered. Forty-six years later, it still does.

Terry Fox has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest elementary school memories are of Terry Fox Runs. I also remember his cancer and, eventually, his death in a way that I don’t remember other news from that time. I think Terry’s death was the first death of someone I had never met that really landed. When you are a kid, even famous people somehow seem permanent. Terry wasn’t.

It was also probably my first real encounter with cancer. Now, of course, cancer has touched almost every family in one way or another. But as a child it was new to me. I knew Terry was sick. I knew the whole country wanted him to get better. And then he didn’t. That was difficult to understand, and maybe that is part of why his story stayed with me.

Years later, I had the privilege of serving as principal of Riverside Secondary in Port Coquitlam, Terry’s hometown, and his story was different there. It wasn’t abstract history. The Fox family was part of the community. The streets were the streets Terry trained on for his journey. I remember the 25th anniversary of the Marathon of Hope particularly fondly, with thousands of people gathering in Port Coquitlam, members of the Fox family there, and this sense that the run still belonged to all of us.

The moment I remember most from those years was Bob McGill speaking to our students on Terry Fox Run day. Bob was an Assistant Superintendent in Coquitlam by then, but long before that he had been Terry’s Grade 8 teacher and basketball coach at Mary Hill Junior High.

He didn’t talk about the Marathon of Hope. He talked about a kid who was five feet tall, usually last picked in PE, who barely got off the bench that season and would not quit. That kid went on to play junior varsity basketball at Simon Fraser.

You could feel the room change. Our students had heard about Terry their whole lives. They had never heard anyone say, I taught him.

There are fewer and fewer chances for students to sit in a room with someone who can say that.

I have kept running too. Every September I make a point of finding a Terry Fox Run. It has become one of those markers in my year that I don’t really question, and increasingly I also feel a responsibility to bring someone with me.

Last year that meant one of the most memorable runs I have ever done. I joined two of my kids and thousands of others crossing the Confederation Bridge from Prince Edward Island to New Brunswick as part of the 45th anniversary of the Marathon of Hope.

The best part was looking around. There were people who remembered watching Terry in 1980 and people born years after he died. There were parents with children, grandparents, serious runners and people walking it. Thousands of us were moving across that enormous piece of Canada because of something a 21-year-old from Port Coquitlam decided to do 45 years earlier.

There is also something very Canadian about Terry that is hard to separate from the story. Maybe it is the combination of extraordinary ambition and almost no pretension. He wasn’t trying to become a national hero. He simply thought something needed to be better and decided he was going to do something about it. Somewhere along the way, that very personal decision became part of how Canadians came to understand him, and perhaps a little of how we understand ourselves. Maybe that is why, all these years later, Terry still feels like he belongs to all of us.

For much of my life, Terry Fox was someone I remembered. Now he is someone I feel responsible for helping others remember. For my generation, Terry is memory. We remember adults debating whether he would make it. We remember the hop-step. Many Canadians remember exactly where they were when they learned he had been forced to stop outside Thunder Bay.

I still follow along every year. The Terry Fox Foundation retraces the route through the spring and summer, and I find myself tracking it as though the ending might come out differently this time. The dates are fixed in me: April 12, the morning he dipped his leg into the Atlantic at St. John’s; September 1, the day outside Thunder Bay; June 28, the day he died.

Every year, there are fewer of us who remember it firsthand. For today’s students, Terry Fox is a story, and that changes what happens in our schools every September.

Here is a number that surprised me. Every year, 3.5 million Canadian students take part in the Terry Fox School Run, and the Foundation’s most recent report has them raising close to $14 million. The School Run is now the single largest fundraising program the Terry Fox Foundation has.

Our schools are not a supporting act in this. They are one of the main places where Terry’s story continues.

So the question I keep turning over is not whether we run. We always run. It is what a student actually knows about Terry by the time they cross the line.

That answer looks different in every school, and there is always more any of us could do with it. That isn’t a knock on anyone. It is what happens to any tradition that repeats for decades. It can quietly become the thing we do rather than the thing we mean.

We have been generous with monuments. Terry has schools, fields, statues, a mountain and a highway. I just read that he will be celebrated on the next version of Canada’s 5 dollar bill. All of that matters. But a monument can’t tell a student that Terry was five feet tall and last picked. Bob McGill did. And when people like Bob tell those stories, the rest of us have a responsibility to remember them and tell them again.

Schools don’t only teach history. Schools help decide which stories a society carries forward, and stories need people willing to tell them.

What I want students to understand is fairly simple. Terry saw something he thought should be better and decided to do something about it.

He wasn’t famous when he started out. He wasn’t a professional athlete. There wasn’t a massive campaign waiting for him, and he had no guarantee any of it would work. He was a young person who had been through cancer, had watched others suffer through treatment, and decided that raising money for research was something he could do.

So he started running.

The theme for this year’s Terry Fox Run is Finish It. The obvious meaning is about research. Earlier this year, the Terry Fox Foundation passed $1 billion raised for cancer research. Terry’s dream was never simply that Canadians would remember him. He wanted a cure. The running and the remembering only matter if they continue to serve that.

But Finish It means something else to me this year too. Terry began a story that now belongs to another generation to carry.

This fall, a new feature-length documentary, Run Terry Run, will bring his story back to theatres. It is built around footage and audio from 1980, some of it unseen for decades. I plan to be there opening weekend. For some of us it will be revisiting our own history. For others it will be meeting Terry for the first time.

Bryan Adams has also written a song for the film called The Ballad of Terry Fox. What struck me was where Adams was in 1980. He was 20 years old, a year younger than Terry, touring Canada and playing small clubs. When Terry stopped outside Thunder Bay, Adams had just played a show in Ottawa. He was following the Marathon of Hope the way the rest of us were, through the news.

I was following it with my scissors and the newspaper.

Now Bryan Adams is one of the people passing the story on.

That is how stories survive. Someone tells them to someone else. A parent brings a child to a run. A teacher explains to a Grade 3 class why everyone is heading outside. A principal tells students about growing up watching Terry on the news. A father talks his kids into running across a bridge with him. Eventually, those young people become the ones telling the story.

I still have that scrapbook. Back then, I was clipping Terry’s story out of the newspaper because, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to lose it.

Forty-six years later, I think that instinct still makes sense. I will keep showing up for the run, and I will keep trying to bring someone with me. Not because Terry needs another monument, but because stories like his only last when one generation makes the effort to tell the next.

A Few Resources

  • The Terry Fox School Run resource hub. Start here. Lesson plans from primary through secondary, assembly presentations, morning announcements, videos, playlists and classroom activities. If you only open one link, open this one.
  • Terry’s Timeline. The Marathon of Hope day by day, with Terry’s journal entries and audio woven through it. It ends on September 1 with his final journal entry: “21 miles. 3,339 miles total.”
  • Stories of Hope. First-hand memories from people who saw Terry run, heard him speak or encountered him along the way. For students who can no longer sit in a gym and hear someone say I was there, this may be the next best thing.
  • CBC Archives: Terry Fox’s Marathon of Hope. The primary-source video and audio are particularly useful for older students. Terry on television in 1980 is different from watching someone today explain Terry.
  • Hear from Fred Fox or a Terry Fox Ambassador. The School Run program offers free virtual presentations, including opportunities to hear Fred share memories of growing up with Terry and of the Marathon of Hope.
  • Two books worth having. Leslie Scrivener’s Terry Fox: His Story remains the essential biography. Scrivener was a journalist assigned to follow Terry during the Marathon of Hope and built the book from his diaries and interviews with Terry, his family and friends. Douglas Coupland’s Terry is something quite different, a collection of photographs, artifacts and family memorabilia assembled almost like a scrapbook.
  • And two new ways into the story referenced in my post earlier. Sean Menard’s Run Terry Run draws on 96 reels of previously unseen footage and unheard audio from the Fox family archives. Bryan Adams’ The Ballad of Terry Fox, written for the film, offers another entry point from one of Canada’s most famous musicians.

 

Note: AI tools were used for editorial feedback while refining the piece and with collecting the list of resources at the bottom of the post. The arguments and conclusions are my own.

Read Full Post »

Eleven Summers

Posted in Change, Health, tagged , , , , , on August 4, 2026| 4 Comments »

Regular readers know this space is usually about schools. This post is a little different.

It is summer, the pace is different, and I want to write about something work-adjacent that has been part of my life for more than a decade. Consider this my version of a summer read.

Yesterday, the girls’ side of BBall Nationals wrapped up in Langley. For nine of the last eleven years, this tournament has been how our VK Basketball season ends. After a spring and summer of travel across North America, there is something right about finishing at home, in front of family, watching how much these young women have grown since April.

This year the ending feels a little different.

Katie, our youngest daughter, has her Grade 12 year ahead of her, so there are still school seasons in front of us. But after four kids and so many years in so many sports, I can feel the beginning of the lasts. And this was the last summer of club basketball.

After eleven seasons connected to VK, I find myself wanting to write down what I have seen and what I think it means.

This is not a goodbye post. I hope to stay involved in some way. But chapters deserve endings, and endings deserve some reflection.

A Family Affair

VK Basketball played its first season in 2016. We have been there since the beginning.

Our older daughter Elizabeth played for four years, and then stayed involved helping with coaching. Katie, our youngest, has played for seven. Our two sons, sandwiched in between the girls, both worked for VK at different times while in university. Somewhere along the way this stopped being an activity our family did and became part of who our family is.

I was drawn in immediately by the mission.

Anyone who has spent time in youth sports knows the landscape. Club programs were becoming increasingly expensive, and too often they felt transactional, selling families promises about scholarships and exposure with invoices to match. VK was a response to that. It was built to give young women the best possible experience: high-quality basketball, top-level coaching, strong community, and the joy of travelling and experiencing places across North America together.

Not as a product to be purchased. As an opportunity to be shared.

The economics are worth pausing on, because they are the heart of what makes VK different. The true cost of this kind of experience, once you add up travel, gym rentals, tournament fees, coaching, and the many other pieces that make a spring and summer season possible, is significant. Families at VK pay a fraction of the true cost. The rest is covered by the generosity and vision of founder Anthony Beyrouti, the sponsors and donors he has brought alongside, and a community of parents and kids who volunteer, give back, and pay it forward so the next group can have the same chance.

Anthony would be uncomfortable with too much attention here, so I will simply say this: it takes a particular kind of vision to look at a broken marketplace and decide the answer is to build something better and give it away.

Kids notice that modelling. So do their parents.

The Miles and the Moments

Ask anyone connected to VK about their favourite memories and they will not start with a final score.

They will tell you about the van rides from San Francisco to Los Angeles, or Louisville to Chicago. About a bus trip that started in Montreal and wound through Ottawa and Niagara Falls before finishing in Chicago. About looking up in a tournament gym and realizing Shaq was there.

For me, the trips were made in the side quests.

A tour of Parliament in Ottawa. A scavenger hunt through Montreal. A day at Disneyland. A quick detour to the White House, which in hindsight was undersold as a quick detour.

And a recurring bit the girls came to dread: me, in front of some landmark, explaining a television show their parents watched growing up. Buckingham Fountain in Chicago, from the opening credits of Married with Children. The Full House house in San Francisco. The blank stares only teenagers can deliver, every single time.

Not every stop landed. The hike to the MASH filming site was, I was informed at some length, not what the group had in mind.

I have spent thirty years in education. I know a teachable moment when I see one, even when my audience does not.

This is the part of youth sports we undersell. The basketball is the reason everyone shows up, but the life memories happen on the way to the gym and after the buzzer. Eleven summers of North America, seen through hotel lobbies, team dinners, airport gates, long drives, and the occasional tourist stop squeezed between games.

Close to two hundred nights in hotels over eleven summers.

Our kids will carry those memories long after they forget the scores.

The Part That Surprised Me

If I am honest, there is a tension I did not fully anticipate when this started.

VK entered a space increasingly dominated by for-profit clubs. A new entrant with a completely different model, one that dramatically reduced cost as a barrier, was not just a novelty. It challenged some assumptions. And not everyone welcomed that.

Over the years I have heard comments about VK that simply were not true. That has been disappointing, but also instructive. New models are rarely welcomed by everyone, even in youth sports. Maybe especially in youth sports.

Some predicted VK would last a year.

Then came 2020, which tested every prediction about everything. That summer, we pivoted the entire program outdoors. I will always be thankful for the courts at Pitt River Middle School in Port Coquitlam, where a season that could have disappeared happened anyway, in the fresh air, with kids who were just happy to be playing.

Here it is, eleven seasons later.

What has kept it strong, I think, is the quality of people recruited into the program. I remember a conversation with coaches in the early years where we agreed on something that has stuck with me ever since: talent mattered, but fit mattered too. We wanted players and families who understood that this was not just about being seen. It was about being part of something.

When you are not driven by profit, you have a luxury most clubs do not. You can look for character with talent, not talent at any cost.

Eleven summers later, some of these coaches are among my closest friends. Anthony is one of them. We have coached together for four summers, and what started around the program became a friendship well beyond it. Danie Gardner and I got involved in the first summer, when our daughters played together. Her daughter Makenna graduated years ago. Danie never left. She has coached alongside me for five of these summers, and she is one of the best coaches, mentors, and friends I have found anywhere. One summer I shared a hotel room with Paul Langford for more than thirty nights. You do not do that with a colleague. You do that with a friend, or you do it once and never again. I did not expect any of this part. You sign up thinking it is about your kid, and somewhere along the way you find you have built something of your own.

That does not mean shying away from excellence. VK fields some of the very top teams in Canada, competes in the Nike EYBL Champions League as the only program in Western Canada to do so, and has helped dozens of young women continue playing at universities and colleges across Canada and the United States.

My daughter Elizabeth’s university basketball experience at StFX likely would not have happened without VK. There are many young women with their own version of that sentence.

The quest now is to be among the elite in North America, and there is still room to grow. Maybe it is doing different things at younger ages. Maybe it is seeing more top athletes choose basketball at a time when other sports are pulling them toward early specialization. Maybe it is continuing to build a wider pathway across the province so more girls see a place for themselves in the game.

It is a curious balance, and I have come to believe it is the right one. Unapologetic about wanting excellence, for the team and for each individual, but never solely driven by it.

The Quiet Months

VK’s season runs from April into early August. The rest of the year, the program is quiet.

That is a smaller thing than the mission or the coaching, but I have come to appreciate it. In a lot of clubs, across a lot of sports, the pull toward year-round commitment arrives early and rarely lets up. VK steps back and lets kids play school sports. Basketball, yes, but also everything else.

Both of my daughters played four or five high school sports while playing for VK. It mattered to our family that they did not have to choose one sport, one path, or one identity too early. It mattered that they could be serious about basketball and still be fully part of their school communities.

Much of the research on early specialization points in the same direction. For most kids, most of the time, more variety is better than less.

I do not think this is the most important thing about VK. But it is a design choice, and design choices tell you what an organization is actually for. When the model is not built around keeping kids enrolled year-round, you can make choices around what is actually good for them.

More Models, Please

There is a much bigger conversation happening right now about youth sports. Costs are out of control. Kids are dropping out. Families are stretched. The pressure to specialize keeps arriving earlier. The gap between who gets access to elite experiences and who does not keeps widening.

I want to make a smaller, closer-to-home argument. We tend to assume youth sports come in two flavours: traditional community programs and for-profit clubs.

VK is proof there is at least a third way.

Let me be clear about the limits. VK is not fully replicable in every sport at every level. It exists because a philanthropist was willing to fund it at a level most communities cannot count on. I understand the critique. But I have come to believe that is a reason to study it, not dismiss it.

One of the quiet lessons of these eleven years is how many successful people I have encountered, in my professional and personal life, who are genuinely willing, and often eager, to give back in support of young people. The generosity is out there. What is often missing is the model, and the people willing to build it.

VK has disrupted the assumptions in one sport, in one region, for one generation of girls. Every kid who got to play at a level that likely would not otherwise have been available to them is evidence that the assumptions were wrong.

And that is what connects this post back to schools.

For eleven years, I have watched a mission-driven organization try to hold two ideas at once: remove barriers and raise expectations. That is the work of every good school system too. We should never accept the false choice between access and excellence. We should be suspicious of any model that says only some kids get the best experiences. And we should keep looking for ways to build systems where young people can be challenged, supported, stretched, and known.

VK did not teach me those values. But it gave me another place to see them lived.

The Next Chapter

So this is where I land, at the end of eleven summers.

Our family’s playing chapter with VK is closing. The last summer club season. The last long travel stretch. The last time this particular rhythm will organize our family calendar.

For years, spring and summer meant flights, gyms, laundry, group chats, hotel breakfasts, rental vans, late dinners, early alarms, and figuring out which kid needed to be where. Then one day, the last game of that chapter ends.

I have coached a lot of these girls, including many of this year’s oldest players for more than two hundred games and Elizabeth’s team, years ago, for the better part of a hundred and fifty. Group after group, from the first practice to the last, one game at a time. Yesterday, one more of those chapters closed in Langley.

I will miss it more than I am letting on here.

But I am not leaving youth sports. I leave this chapter more convinced than ever that the next work in youth sport is to build better models. Models that never ask families to choose between what they can afford and what their kids get to experience. Models that let kids chase being great and still play everything. Models that let them see the continent, grow up alongside teammates, and be part of something that feels bigger than a season.

VK showed me it can be done.

Eleven seasons, and counting.

The girls’ tournament in Langley is over. Somewhere, a ten-year-old is picking up a basketball for the first time.

I hope someone is busy building something worthy of her.

 Note: The image at the top of this post was generated using AI. I also used AI tools for editorial feedback while refining the piece. The experiences, arguments, and conclusions are my own.

Read Full Post »

Still Running – A Long Read

Posted in Change, Health, tagged , , on July 9, 2026| 9 Comments »

My friends have a running theory about how this ends.

One is convinced it will be a torn Achilles. Another has placed his bet on a catastrophic flight delay, the kind that traps you in an airport in the middle of the night with no options and no miles left in your legs. Someone else has suggested a natural disaster. And at least one person, only half joking, has noted that the streak will end when I do.

When I wrote about hitting 1000 consecutive days of running back in October of 2023, I was not sure many people had been paying attention.

Turns out some had.

Now, on July 9, with 2000 days crossed, the streak has taken on a small but real presence in certain corners of my life. A loyal and generous group of friends follow along on Strava, leaving kudos (as we all do on Strava) on my daily runs. 

The day my friends keep predicting has not come yet.

I started this streak on January 17, 2021, without any intention of it becoming what it has become. The rules are simple and I am extremely particular about them. It has to be at least 5 kilometres. It has to be outdoors. It has to be some version of running — there is no minimum speed, but a brisk walk does not count. And for a run to count on a given day, it must start after midnight.

That last rule is the one that has occasionally made me a person who laces up at 12:01 in the morning. A few times a year, when the schedule of the next day looks genuinely impossible, I stay up and get the run done before I go to sleep. I had a 5 a.m. flight to Halifax not long ago. Technically, I could have landed and still had hours to find five kilometres before midnight. But that felt like gambling. So I ran after midnight, slept a few hours, and caught my flight.  My Fitbit has no judgment. I appreciate that about it.

My friends predicting the catastrophic delay are not entirely wrong about the vulnerability. I have just decided to eliminate as many variables as I can.

That is, in some ways, what this whole thing is about.

I thought I was building a habit. It turns out I was building a way to pay attention.

I wrote at 1000 days that I felt a bit like Forrest Gump: I just started running and had not decided to stop. That still holds. What has changed is that I can no longer pretend I am doing this without knowing I am doing this. At 2000 days, the streak is not a thing I maintain. It is part of how I understand myself.

That is not a comfortable thing to write, because it raises an obvious question: what exactly am I proving, and to whom?

I genuinely do not know. I have thought about that question across more kilometres than I can meaningfully picture, and I still do not have a clean answer. I am not training for anything. I am not trying to inspire anyone, at least not in any grand or polished way. There is simply something in me that finds deep satisfaction in doing one hard thing every single day. Maybe that is enough.

The second 1000 days felt different from the first. Not easier, not harder, but richer. Because the streak has taken me places.

At 1000 days, I had run in seven provinces, quietly working my way toward something I had not officially declared as a goal. By now I have run in all ten. Somewhere along the way, this became one of those small personal quests that mattered more to me than it probably should have. I will admit that one of the appeals of speaking at a conference in Saskatchewan was that it was the last province on my list. When I pictured completing all ten provinces, I had not imagined the setting would be a parking lot in Saskatoon at dawn.

That is one of the slightly ridiculous things about a streak like this. It begins to shape how you see opportunity. A work trip becomes a chance to run somewhere new. A family vacation becomes a chance to see a city before everyone else wakes up. A conference schedule becomes a puzzle to solve around five outdoor kilometres.

I have run in a handful of American states. I have run along the Seine in Paris, past the Eiffel Tower in the early morning quiet, through a city that was softer and more beautiful than I expected. I did not plan to run past the Eiffel Tower. I just turned a corner and there it was.

That is what the streak has given me that I could not have predicted: a way of seeing cities that I would otherwise have missed entirely. When I am at a conference, on a coaching trip, or on vacation, the run forces me out before the day has its way with me. I have seen waterfronts and neighbourhoods and early morning light in places I would never have found from a cab or a conference hotel breakfast.

The streak did not limit my life. It opened it up.

Of course, it has also made me ridiculous.

The closest the streak has come to ending was not some dramatic event. It was a silly volleyball injury. I rolled an ankle badly enough that it was swollen and bruised, and for a couple of weeks I hobbled through my daily five kilometres. I even started running extra early, in the dark, so nobody would see how ridiculous I looked. The streak had given me many things. Dignity was not always one of them.

Looking back, that probably should have been a clue that the streak had become something more than a habit.

Then there was Antigonish. We were visiting our kids at StFX when a storm shut the town down, and there I was, running in the middle of the street because there were no cars on the road and not many other reasonable options. It was probably the worst weather I have run in during the streak. It did not feel heroic. It felt strangely inevitable. The town was shut down. The streets were empty. And still, the day needed its five kilometres.

A daily commitment may belong to one person, but it is almost always made possible by others. By family members who wait a little longer, adjust a plan, roll their eyes kindly, or understand that before the day can fully begin, I may need to disappear for half an hour. I am grateful for that.

I feel my age now in ways I did not at 1000 days. I am 1000 days older, which sounds obvious but is also just true. Recovery takes longer. Some mornings I notice things I did not used to notice. I ran faster 5K and 10K times in the first 1000 days than I likely will again. This is not a complaint, just an honest accounting. You cannot run every day for nearly six years without the calendar catching up to you in small ways.

But that has become part of the point too.

Movement is its own argument. Every day I go out, I come back different. Not always better in a measurable sense. Sometimes just clearer. Sometimes just quieter. Sometimes just grateful to be someone who goes outside and moves through the world under his own power.

That is not nothing.

At this stage of my life, with the pace of work and the noise of everything, that daily reset is one of the more reliable things I have. It reminds me that I am not just thinking my way through life. I am living it in a body that needs air, motion, weather, effort, and occasionally a little humility.

The streak has also changed how I think about time.

When I started, running five days in a row felt like something. One hundred days felt almost unimaginable. Now, at 2000 days, I look out over the next hundred days the way I once looked at the next week. That is a strange sentence to write, but it is true. The streak has stretched my sense of what is possible, not because any single day is extraordinary, but because ordinary days accumulate.

That may be the lesson I feel most deeply now.

We overestimate what has to happen all at once and underestimate what can happen when we keep returning to something. Five kilometres is not very far. One run does not change much. But 2000 days changes your relationship with effort. It changes your relationship with place. It changes your relationship with time.

It feels right that this crosses 2000 days in the summer. This has been a year I have thought a lot about what it means to be alive, to be present in your own life, and to resist the pull toward simply getting through things.

The run streak is, among other things, a daily vote for that.

It is a small insistence that today will not pass completely unnoticed by my own body.

I ended the 1000-day post saying I assumed one day I would wake up and decide that was enough. I still believe that day is out there somewhere. I just do not know when it is.

Cal Ripken Jr. played 2,632 consecutive Major League Baseball games, a record so staggering it seemed untouchable until he chose to sit out in 1998. I am not comparing a daily shuffle through five kilometres to what Ripken did. That would be absurd. But 2,632 is a number I have quietly noticed, and by my calculation, I would reach it on April 1, 2028. I am not saying that is a goal. I am just saying I have done the math. The fact that it lands on April Fool’s Day is either the universe’s commentary on the whole enterprise, or a sign I should keep going just to prove a point.

I do not know if there will be 3000 days. I do not know if my friends will eventually be right about the Achilles, the airport, the storm, or something none of us has thought to predict.

And maybe that is why the streak still matters to me.

Not because I know where it is going, but because I know what tomorrow asks of me.

There is nothing to do but lace up, step outside, and find out.

My friends will just have to keep waiting.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers as I edited and refined my thinking.

Read Full Post »

My One Word for 2026: Alive

Posted in Change, Health, Technology, tagged , , on January 2, 2026| 5 Comments »

This marks the 11th year of my One Word tradition. Eleven years. When I started this practice back in 2016, I was 42 years old and hungry. Literally, that was my word. Hungry. I wanted to compete, to stay curious, to keep pushing. And here I am, a decade later, still hungry but now asking different questions about what that means.

Before I get to 2026, let me say this about 2025 and “Thrive.” It delivered. In a year where it would have been easy to retreat into cynicism or exhaustion, I chose to flourish instead. I wrote more than I have in years, and it never felt like a chore. I ran every single day. I spent my summer coaching basketball with young athletes who remind me why I do this work. I leaned into AI not as a threat but as an invitation to rethink learning. I found great satisfaction in work and with those I work with.   Thrive was about sustaining momentum and finding joy in that momentum. It worked.

So what comes next?

This word is not about doing more. It is about feeling more, without losing momentum.

My word for 2026 is Alive.

Why Alive?

I turn 53 this year. Regular readers know I feel my age more than ever (I keep bringing it up), and I mean that in both the best and most humbling ways. There are strands of grey in my hair that were not there five years ago. My recovery from long runs takes longer than it used to. I notice things now that I never noticed before: the way my knees feel on cold mornings, the reading glasses I now keep in three different places, the names that take an extra second (or sometimes minute) to retrieve.

And yet.

I am not checking out. My body may be changing, but my commitment to showing up has not. My run streak will cross 2,000 days in 2026. I will keep coaching. I will keep writing. I will keep appearing in classrooms and  conference rooms with intention and energy, even when generating that energy requires more deliberate effort than it used to.

A friend of mine, Anthony, texted me recently. He is not in education; he is a successful entrepreneur. His message was simple: “Call me.” He does that sometimes. When I did, he started right in. “You know what makes us different? No matter what happens today, we show up tomorrow and attack the day. We don’t get stuck in what happened. We just keep moving forward.”

That is what Alive means to me. Not ignoring the hard stuff. Not pretending the grey hair and the sore knees do not exist. But choosing, every single day, to show up and engage anyway.

Alive is my answer to a world that feels increasingly numb. In a time filled with cynics and critics, with doom-scrolling and disengagement, I am choosing to stay fully present. To feel things. To remain curious when it would be easier to become jaded. To stay optimistic when pessimism seems more sophisticated.

Being alive means more than existing. It means showing up with your whole self, not some protected, half version. It means being willing to be changed by what you encounter.

Building on a Decade of Words

When I look back at my words over the past decade, I see a story. Each word was right for its moment, and together they form something larger than any single year.

The early years were about drive: Hungry (2016), Hope (2017), Relevance (2018), Delight (2019).

The middle years were about resilience: Hustle (2020), Optimism (2021), Focus (2022), Coached (2023).

The recent years have been about integration: Accelerate (2024), Thrive (2025).

And now, 2026: Alive.

Alive feels like a synthesis of all of it. You cannot be truly alive without hunger and hope. You cannot be alive without relevance and delight. You cannot be alive without focus and the willingness to be coached. Being alive requires both acceleration and the wisdom to know what thriving actually looks like.

Alive in a Changing World

We are living through one of the most significant shifts in how humans learn and work. AI is not coming; it is here. And I want to be fully alive to what that means, not as a passive observer but as an active participant shaping how we integrate these tools in our schools.

But here is what I keep coming back to:

The more powerful the technology becomes, the more important the human elements are.

Connection. Curiosity. Creativity. Compassion. These are not things AI can replicate. They are the things that make us alive.

In 2026, I want to be alive to both realities. I want to keep exploring what AI can do for learning while never losing sight of what only humans can do for each other. I want to be in classrooms watching teachers and students navigate this new landscape together. I want to ask good questions and resist easy answers. I want to model what it looks like to embrace change without abandoning what matters most.

Alive in Body and Relationship

For me, being alive has always been connected to physical movement. My run streak is not about athletic achievement. It is about presence. Every morning when I lace up my shoes and step outside, I am choosing to be alive to that day. Rain or shine, tired or energized, home or traveling. The streak is a daily declaration: I am here. I am engaged.

In 2026, I will keep running. I will keep coaching basketball. I will keep prioritizing the habits that have carried me this far: 10,000 steps, daily movement, attention to what I put in my body (OK – this last one needs to be better).

But being alive is also about the people around me. My family. My colleagues. The educators I work alongside. Relationships require the same consistency as run streaks. You show up. You do the work. You stay curious about the people next to you, even when you think you know them completely.

Alive and Hopeful

I know the world can feel heavy right now. There is no shortage of reasons to disengage, to protect yourself, to lower your expectations. Cynicism is easy. Hope is harder.

But I keep choosing hope. Not naive hope that ignores reality, but stubborn hope that insists on possibility anyway. Hope that believes education can be better. Hope that trusts young people to rise to challenges we cannot yet imagine. Hope that sees AI as a tool for human flourishing rather than replacement.

Being alive means staying open to wonder. It means maintaining the curiosity that has driven my career and my writing. It means refusing to let age or experience calcify into certainty. The older I get, the more I realize how much I do not know. And that feels like a gift, not a limitation.

All In

So yes, I may be greyer. I may be slower in some ways. But I am all in on 2026.

All in on learning.
All in on family.
All in on health.
All in on this beautiful, complicated, rapidly changing world.

Alive is not a passive state. It is a choice, made daily, sometimes hourly. It is the choice to engage rather than withdraw. To feel rather than numb. To hope rather than despair. To keep saying yes.

That is the Culture of Yes I have been writing about for 16 years now. And it turns out, it has always been about being fully, stubbornly, joyfully alive.

What word will guide your 2026?

And want a second opinion on picking a word,  here is what Daniel Pink said this week about the power of the one word process.  

Previous One Word Posts:

2016: Hungry

2017: Hope

2018: Relevance

2019: Delight

2020: Hustle

2021: Optimism

2022: Focus

2023: Coached

2024: Accelerate

2025: Thrive

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.

Read Full Post »

When Gambling Starts to Look Like Camel Ads

Posted in Change, Health, tagged , , , , on September 8, 2025| 2 Comments »

You can’t watch sports these days without being hit by gambling ads. They are everywhere, plastered across hockey broadcasts, embedded in pre-game shows, sliding into social media feeds. And they’re not just ads; they are slick, fun and social, often fronted by relatable celebrities touting the thrill of gambling. It’s hard not to be reminded of those old Camel cigarette campaigns: technically “for adults only,” but with a wink and a smile, kids got the message all the same.

This past week, the McCreary Centre Society released From Loot Boxes to Lottery Tickets: Gaming & Gambling among BC Youth aged 12–18. The report draws on surveys from more than 38,000 students across the province, and the findings are striking. One in five youth reported gambling for money in the past year, up from 18% in 2018. Online sports betting, while still less common overall, has doubled since 2018 (4% compared to 2%) and is now the gambling activity young people are most likely to engage in regularly. The most popular monetized activity, however, wasn’t betting at all but buying in-game items like loot boxes, something 20% of youth had done. And 12% of youth said their gaming had reached a point where they needed help. For gambling, that number was 1%, with another 1% saying both had become problematic.

In the United States, the story is similar but amplified: studies suggest that up to 60–80% of high school students have gambled in the past year, with problem gambling rates among young men and college students significantly higher than the general population.

What is striking is how these activities overlap and reinforce each other. While the survey doesn’t track individuals across categories, the fact that both loot boxes and gambling each draw in 20% of youth suggests a generation being gradually acclimated to risk-based spending, first through the games they play, and then through the sports they watch.

The report also highlights the ripple effects: poorer sleep, disrupted eating and reduced school attendance. The risk factors look familiar, poverty, loneliness, bullying and a lack of close in-person friendships. The protective factors do too: adult support, healthy boundaries around screen use and strong connections to school and community.

Earlier this year, my colleague and friend Dean Shareski asked in his blog, When Will We Talk About Sports Gambling in Schools? He pointed out what feels obvious once you see it: gambling is no longer tucked away in casinos or shady corners of the internet. It has been woven directly into the sports culture that so many young people love. The Vancouver Sun recently echoed the same concern, noting that online betting is driving a new wave of youth addiction risk.

Educators don’t need another health and well-being issue to worry about. But this one is particularly tricky. Gambling doesn’t leave bottles in lockers or the smell of smoke on clothes. It is silent, digital and invisible, until it is not.

We can’t solve this alone, but we can’t ignore it either. If preparing students for the world they are growing up in means anything, it means naming the risks hiding in plain sight. Gambling isn’t just an “adult issue.” It is already in kids’ worlds, delivered through the games they play, the sports they watch, and the phones in their pockets.

The question is not if we should talk about it. The question is when. And perhaps the answer is sooner than we think, not as a crisis intervention, but as part of the conversations we are already having about digital citizenship, media literacy, and making informed choices in an increasingly complex world.

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.

Read Full Post »

Breaking News: Track and Field Without Running? A New Era Begins!

Posted in Change, Health, tagged , on April 1, 2025| 2 Comments »

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.

Read Full Post »

Why Is Everyone Talking About Longevity?

Posted in Change, Health, tagged , , , , , , on February 18, 2025| 4 Comments »

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.

Read Full Post »

Physical Literacy and Innovation: Building the Foundation for Lifelong Success

Posted in Health, tagged , , , on February 10, 2025| 2 Comments »

Over the past year, I’ve thought a lot about physical literacy. My earlier post, Embracing Physical Literacy: More Than Just Fitness, explored the concept of giving students the tools, confidence, and motivation to move—to make physical activity a lifelong pursuit. This picked up from a 2019 post, More Than Just Getting Moving, that shared the work of physical literacy mentors.  Yet as we move through this school year, I see physical literacy taking on new dimensions—from its role in mental health to its intersection with emerging technologies. It’s time to expand our understanding of how schools can make physical literacy a cornerstone of student success.

Why is physical literacy so important for young people today? For starters, it’s more than simply a “nice to have” complement to academic pursuits; it’s foundational. Recent studies like this one from 2019 on physical literacy and academic performance make a strong case for it. This conclusion was more broadly supported by a comprehensive review in the United States by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) that found incorporating brief physical activities in classroom settings positively affected cognitive skills, attitudes, and academic behaviours, with none of the studies reporting negative associations. Academic success and physical literacy are deeply interconnected, with research consistently showing that movement enhances cognitive function, focus, and overall learning. When students engage in physical activity—whether through structured sports, active play, or simple movement breaks—their brains release chemicals that boost memory, problem-solving skills, and concentration. Schools that prioritize physical literacy not only help students develop coordination and confidence in movement but also create environments where learning is more effective. By integrating physical activity into the school day, we aren’t just fostering healthier bodies; we are actively improving academic outcomes, engagement, and overall student well-being.

Yet, beyond the numbers, there is a simple truth: movement helps kids thrive. It builds resiliency, fosters belonging, and provides a mental health anchor in an increasingly fast-paced and complex world.

Consider the challenges our young people face. With the rise of screen time—now averaging over eight hours daily for teenagers—and increasingly sedentary lifestyles, many students don’t engage in the kind of unstructured, active play that was once a given. The annual study in Canada from ParticipACTION scored our country with a D+ for physical activity for children and youth in 2024. The grade resulted from youth having insufficient physical activity, excessive screen time, and declining active play and outdoor movement. By integrating movement into daily life—not just in PE but across subjects and schedules—we can help students build the habits they need for lifelong health and well-being and move us up from this unacceptable standing.

West Vancouver participated in a study released in 2023 of grade 2 students from all of district elementary schools.  The research  assessed 319 children, with an average age of 7.5 years, evaluating them across five domains: running, locomotor skills, upper and lower body control, and balance. Findings revealed that 79% of the children were at an emerging level of motor competency, while 21% were at a competent level. On average, children engaged in approximately 111 minutes of moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) daily, with those at the competent level participating in 15 minutes more MVPA per day than their emerging-level peers. The study highlighted the significant positive impact of parental support, especially logistical support, on children’s motor competencies. Additionally, the quality of school grounds played a role in enhancing motor competencies, with different aspects benefiting boys and girls uniquely. The research underscores the importance of both parental involvement and well-designed school environments in fostering children’s motor skill development.

The sum of all of this means that at the school and district level we need to stay committed on making physical literacy a deliberate focus.

I use this space a lot to write about innovation, and recently a lot about AI.  I do think there are some interesting linkages with both these areas related to physical literacy.  As I noted in a recent post, we are being explicit and strategic by identifying AI and physical literacy as our two key areas related to innovation in our district this year.  The intersection of AI and physical literacy represents a broader opportunity. In a world increasingly defined by technology, emphasizing physical literacy alongside digital innovation signals that we value the whole child. It says that while we prepare students for the future’s technological demands, we’re also committed to ensuring they have the tools to take care of their bodies and minds. One is not more important than the other; they’re two sides of the same coin. 

Looking ahead, we need to think bigger about physical literacy’s role in education. What if every student graduated not only with digital literacy but also with a foundational level of physical literacy? What if movement became as integral to our schools as math or reading? This isn’t just about preparing kids for gym class; it’s about equipping them with the skills to lead healthy, balanced lives in an increasingly digital world.  As we embrace innovation this year, let’s continue to make physical literacy a priority in our schools. We can build an education system that harnesses the power of technology while ensuring our students develop the physical literacy they need to thrive.

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.  

Read Full Post »

Could AI Reduce Student Technology Use?

Posted in Change, Health, SD45, tagged , , on January 21, 2025| 7 Comments »

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.

Read Full Post »

Some Digital Parenting Thoughts for 2025

Posted in Change, Health, Parenting, Technology, tagged , , on January 14, 2025| Leave a Comment »

I shared my “Word for 2025” last week, but I am still thinking about the year ahead.  I know in school-life the real new year starts in September, but January is a good time to reset and reassess. And just as we do that in school, I know it is happening in homes as well.

As we step into a new calendar year, it’s the perfect time for a refresh—a moment to reflect, reset, and renew our family routines. For parents navigating the complexities of raising children in today’s digital age, this moment feels particularly significant. And with the added layer of AI, this navigation is only getting more complex.

We live in a world where technology is seamlessly woven into the fabric of daily life. Devices offer connection, knowledge, and opportunities that previous generations could only dream of. Yet, they also pose challenges—especially for families trying to strike a balance between purposeful technology use and the very human need for physical activity, meaningful connections, and mindful living.

At school, we have been working hard to foster that balance. We’ve set limits on cell phone usage in schools across BC, not because we are anti-technology, but because we believe in purposeful use (Here is an infographic we have shared out this week in schools). What does this look like in practice? Students using computers to create digital portfolios of their work, collaborating on shared documents for group projects through Google Classroom, or using educational apps to practice math skills—all while maintaining dedicated time for physical activity, face-to-face discussions, and hands-on learning. These boundaries ensure our students’ well-being and physical literacy remain priorities. But this is not a task schools can do alone.  As I have written before, physical literacy and AI are side by side as key areas for innovation in West Vancouver.

Parents play a crucial role in shaping how their children navigate technology. As we rethink routines this January, let’s remember that our children are always watching. They notice when we set aside our phones during dinner, when we prioritize outdoor family activities, and when we engage in face-to-face conversations. Modeling thoughtful technology habits isn’t just important—it’s transformational.  At school events, it is often adults who demonstrate the poorest cell phone etiquette. 

Over the break a colleague of mine showed me an interesting iPhone feature.  Go to Settings, tap Screen Time>See All Activity. Scroll down to the area titled “pickups”.   This number is how many times you have picked up your phone that day.  It’s not just the kids who might be a little too attached to their screens.  Give it a try and be ready for a reality check!

This January reset calls for thoughtful conversations. Rather than banning or blindly embracing tech, engage your children with questions that promote intentional use: How does this app support your learning goals? What boundaries would help you balance screen time with other activities you enjoy? When do you feel most creative and focused while using technology? These conversations can help children develop critical thinking about their digital habits.

As a parent, this isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress—a commitment to staying engaged and aware as technology evolves. It’s about setting expectations that align with your family values, being open to learning from your kids, and creating a culture where tech is a tool, not a master. I know I used to HATE my kids playing video games, but now I realize they can often be a point of connection with friends out of school time.

In schools, we’ll continue to champion purposeful technology use while ensuring students’ physical and emotional development is front and centre. But as we know, what happens at home matters just as much. Together, we can guide our kids to be confident, capable, and thoughtful digital citizens.

Around our office, we have a walking club once a week at lunch and staff have started a run club to train for a race in March.  We are keenly aware that we need to model getting outside and modeling good practices with our own health. 

Here’s your January challenge: Choose one area of family technology use to reset. Maybe it’s establishing device-free dinner times, setting up a family charging station outside bedrooms, or planning weekly outdoor activities. Start small, stay consistent, and celebrate progress. This is the year to refresh, reset, and reimagine what it means to parent in the digital age.

I used both Chat GPT and Claude in the editing process and the image at the top of the post is also AI generated.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »