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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.

I Read a Book

This summer, I read a book.

Not a blog post. Not a podcast transcript. Not a long-form article on Substack. A real book. A paper one. With pages. About a hundred of them.

It’s the first book I’ve finished in longer than I care to admit. Somewhere along the way, my attention span got swept up in an endless stream of digital content—quick hits, hot takes, clever clips, and smart commentary that rarely lasts more than a few minutes. And I’ve told myself it’s the same. That reading a dozen thought-provoking pieces online is just as good as reading one book cover to cover.

But this was different. And, honestly, it was hard.

I had to put my phone in another room. I had to sit in silence. I had to fight the urge to check notifications or Chat GPT a passing reference. It felt almost foreign. But also… refreshing. Grounding. Satisfying.

The book was about education and artificial intelligence, written by a colleague whose thinking I admire. I have been meaning to read it for a while. I picked it up partly out of curiosity, partly out of professional obligation. But as I worked to stay focused on pages discussing how AI is reshaping schools, student agency and even our attention spans, the irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, struggling to sustain focus, something the book suggests may be eroding in the digital age.

Is that a bad thing? I’m still not sure. Maybe our brains are adapting to new ways of thinking. But there was something undeniably satisfying about the deep, slow engagement that a book demands. A different kind of thinking. A different kind of learning.

And, perhaps most importantly, a different kind of accomplishment.

I know some may say I’m showing my age still believing books matter. But if that’s the case, I’ll own it. Because this experience reminded me there’s still something powerful in sitting still, slowing down and immersing yourself in one sustained idea.

And here’s the twist: I think I might read another.

The joys of summer.

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.

I love graduation season. 

I did a quick tally the other day and realized I have been to nearly 50 graduation ceremonies since I arrived in West Vancouver 18 years ago. Most years, I make it to at least three events. Grad ceremonies are fascinating—they’re like time capsules, reflecting the mood of the moment, the spirit of the school and the culture of the community.

And let’s be honest: if anyone is still talking about the superintendent’s speech a week later, something probably went horribly wrong. I know nobody shows up to graduation eagerly anticipating the superintendent’s address. That said, I do try to tailor each speech to the school, the students and the moment we are in. While I tend to carry a few themes across schools, each one gets its own personal touches.

So with that, I wanted to share my words to the Class of 2025. Below is the speech I gave at West Vancouver Secondary, and I’ve also posted the versions I delivered at Rockridge and Sentinel (Sentinel’s grad is actually this coming weekend so at this point, this is really just my draft speech for their grad).

To all our graduates—congratulations!


Good evening,

Staff, proud parents, and most importantly the West Vancouver Secondary’s graduating class of 2025.

Tonight is a moment — a celebration, a transition, a threshold. As Superintendent of West Vancouver Schools, I am honoured to bring greetings on behalf of our entire educational community;  the 7,500 students and over 1,000 staff across our district. And I am proud to be here tonight with so many of the key adults in your school lives. It is great to be with Mr. Rauh, who reminds me often of what a remarkable group you are.

Graduation is a milestone, but also a mirror. It reflects the late nights and early mornings, the exams and the performances, the setbacks and the successes. And more than that it reflects how far you’ve come, and the kind of people you’ve become.

Over the past thirteen years, your generation has lived through global pandemics, climate emergencies, and massive technological transformation. This past year, AI stopped being something out of science fiction and started showing up in your classrooms and maybe even your homework folders. The world you’re entering is fast-moving, complex, and yes, uncertain. But you are not unprepared.

You’ve learned to adapt, to speak up, to think critically and care deeply. You’ve challenged systems. You’ve advocated for equity, climate action, mental health, and reconciliation — not as optional topics, but as urgent responsibilities. You’ve pushed us, the adults, to do better.

At WVSS, you’ve also been part of a school that doesn’t just teach content — it builds character. You’ve learned from teachers who saw education not as a job, but as a calling. From the stage at Kay Meek to the gym, the robotics room to the home ec classes, the IB classroom to the cafeteria, your education has been rooted in connection.

Because while the details of quadratic equations and historical treaties may fade, how you felt in this place, and how you made others feel that endures.

Let me say this clearly: public education matters. It is the great equalizer, the foundation of democracy, and the beating heart of our communities. I want to thank your parents for choosing public schools and thank you for making this one better.

No pressure but West Van Secondary grads tend to make a mark. Whether it’s in medicine or media, business or the arts, advocacy or science  you are difference-makers. And the world is ready for your difference.

So as you graduate this June and move out into the world, here’s what I hope you’ll carry:

– Stay curious. Curiosity is the antidote to fear and the spark behind every breakthrough.
– Stay kind. The world doesn’t need more noise — it needs more empathy.
– Stay grounded. Your values are your compass — don’t trade them for convenience.

And remember: you are not alone. You are part of a legacy, a community, and a future still being written.

Congratulations, Class of 2025. We believe in you. We’re cheering for you. And we can’t wait to see what you do next.

Thank you.

The image at the top of this post was created through a Chat GPT prompt.

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.


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.

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.

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.

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.

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.