Some chapters in a career close the way they should, with time to say goodbye properly, to thank the people who made the work meaningful, and to mark the ending before the next beginning.
And some chapters close faster than you would like.
When I was hired as Assistant Superintendent of West Vancouver Schools in 2007, the timing meant a rushed departure from Riverside Secondary in Port Coquitlam, where I had spent five of my six years in the Coquitlam School District, first as VP and then as principal. There was a goodbye, but not the one I would have chosen. Not enough time to properly say what I wanted to say to the staff, students, and families who had given me so much.
This week, nineteen years later, I was inducted into the Riverside Wall of Excellence, a recognition for past staff and students who have made contributions to the school and community. I was asked to speak at the ceremony in the school theatre.
I did not think of it as an award night. I thought of it as a chance to finally close the loop. Nineteen years later, I finally got to.
Here is what I said (at the bottom of the post is the video of the speech):
“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”
That quote from The Office has stayed with me for years, because the truth is, most of us only realize how special a time was after it has passed.
And for me, Riverside Secondary became one of those places.
To be standing here tonight is honestly emotional, because Riverside was never just a school to me. It was a community that shaped who I became as a leader, as a person, and as someone who still deeply believes in the power of public education.
When I arrived at Riverside as a 27 year old vice principal, I was young enough that some people probably wondered if I was lost and looking for Mr. Lepore’s Social Studies 11 class. And the funny thing is, Mr. Lepore was teaching here then and is still teaching here now.
In fact, at one of my very first staff meetings, a teacher asked how old I was. When I said “27,” she looked at me and said, “I have underwear older than you.”
And honestly… Riverside always kept it real.
But what mattered most was this: people could have watched me struggle. They could have sat back and thought, “Well, let’s see if this kid can figure it out.”
But that is not what Riverside did.
The staff here did everything they could to help me succeed. They supported me, challenged me, guided me, laughed with me, and occasionally rescued me from situations I probably created myself.
This school was still young and still figuring out who it wanted to be. But there was this incredible energy here. Riverside embraced innovation, technology, school spirit, and excellence before those things became buzzwords. There were championship athletic teams, extraordinary arts performances, and every once in a while I would nervously pick up the latest edition of The Eddy to see what students were saying about us. Sometimes it was insightful. Sometimes it was brutally honest. Usually both.
People cared deeply about building something special together. And they did.
Now… I should also say that not every Riverside memory was inspirational.
Some of you may have heard stories of the Halloween assembly streaker incident. For those who haven’t, buckle up.
One year, during an October 31st school assembly, a streaker appeared and ran through the gym. And without really thinking this through, I chased him all the way out to Gates Park while dressed in a full Riddler costume.
To this day, I honestly do not know which one of us looked more alarming to the public.
But in many ways, that story captures Riverside perfectly. This was a school full of energy, unpredictability, joy, and people willing to jump in and help each other no matter what happened.
What Riverside taught me most was something bigger. It taught me how extraordinary public education really is.
Every single day, 1200 students and 100 staff members, supported by families who trusted this school with the thing they love most in the world, came together to create opportunity, belonging, care, and hope. To the parents in this room: that trust you place in schools like Riverside matters more than you know, and the staff here have always been worthy of it.
That is not ordinary. And sometimes I worry we forget how remarkable that actually is.
Nineteen years later, I still think about Riverside almost daily. The lessons I learned here still guide me as Superintendent in West Vancouver. And if I am being completely honest, even after all these years and all the schools I have worked with, Riverside still feels like home.
I was surrounded by so many wonderful people I learned from during my time here. There are far too many to name, but I want to acknowledge the admin partners who shaped both this school and me like: Bryan Evans, Michael Grice, Mary O’Neil, and Todd Clerkson. Their friendship and leadership meant everything.
So to the students sitting here tonight: I hope you understand something earlier than most of us do.
These might actually be the good old days.
Not because everything is perfect. Not because every moment is easy. But because you are surrounded by people building community together.
One day, years from now, you will remember teachers who believed in you, friends who carried you through hard times, and ordinary moments in hallways that somehow became unforgettable.
Trust me. Even the weird assembly stories stay with you.
Thank you to Riverside for shaping my life in ways I could never have understood at 27 years old. And thank you for this incredible honour.
The longer I work in education, the more convinced I become that schools are remembered less for their buildings and programs than for the people who fill them.
Walking back into Riverside reminded me that most of what matters in a career is not what you did but who you did it alongside. I was lucky to land in that community when I did, and luckier still to finally get the chance to say so properly.
Some chapters close faster than you would like. This one finally closed the way it should have.
