Sat, 13 Jun 2026 04:41:26 -0500WeeblyWed, 13 May 2026 14:04:21 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-final-issue-of-this-newsletter-51826This is issue #160. Issue #1 came out on January 17, 2022 to a handful of people. Now it reaches over 7,000. I’ve covered a lot of topics over the years, and even wrote a book (see below) and created a 40-episode podcast ( Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or YouTube) that’s a sort of Greatest Hits for this rag.  But this is the last one. I’m retiring June 30.  I’m not quitting cold turkey. If you’d like me to keynote or workshop in-person for your school or event, let’s talk.

QUOTE:  "Savor the little moments, son, that's my advice.  They're what life is.  All the little things that happen while you're waiting for something else." (Joe Abercrombie, from Heroes)

MESSAGE:  A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I went to see Melissa Etheridge in concert. It was a fabulous show - heartfelt and genuine with no gimmicks. What struck me, however, was the number of people who were ‘watching’ the show through their phones. It also seemed like there was a direct relationship between the distance from the stage and the number of people on their phones: the closer people were, the more likely they were to be recording(?) the show.  

And so I wondered, were the people on their phones really savoring the moment?

Savoring, a concept developed by psychologist Fred Bryant and colleagues, refers to our ability to notice, appreciate, and enhance positive experiences (Bryant & Veroff, 2007). In other words, happiness doesn’t just come from what happens to us—it comes from how well we experience what happens. Two people can have the same summer, but the one who knows how to savor it will feel more restored, more present, and more fulfilled.

That matters for educators. Research shows that recovery from stress isn’t just about time off—it’s about psychological detachment, positive emotion, and intentional engagement with restorative experiences. Savoring helps you do all three.

I want you to savor your summer. Your students and colleagues NEED you to savor your summer so that you come back fully restored. Here are a few simple, practical ways to savor your Break:

1. Slow down the good moments
When something enjoyable is happening—a morning coffee on the porch, a walk without a bell schedule, a conversation that isn’t rushed—pause. Take 20–30 seconds to fully notice it. What do you see, hear, feel? This small act tells your brain: this matters. It strengthens memory and emotional impact.

2. Share the experience
Savoring is amplified when it’s social. Tell someone about a good moment. Relive it together. Even a quick text—“This sunset is incredible”—extends and deepens the experience.

3. Be intentional with anticipation
Savoring isn’t just about the present—it also lives in the future. Plan small things to look forward to: a day trip, a lunch, a quiet morning. Let yourself anticipate them. That anticipation is part of the benefit, not just the event itself.

4. Capture, but don’t replace, the moment
Photos, journaling, or quick notes can help you revisit positive experiences later. But be careful not to experience life only through documentation. The goal is to support the memory—not distract from the moment.

5. Protect your attention
Savoring requires presence, and presence requires boundaries. Limit the pull back into email, planning, or “just checking in.” Give yourself permission to be where you are.

As you step into summer, the goal isn’t to maximize productivity or even fill every day with something memorable. It’s to fully experience what’s already there. Savoring turns ordinary moments into restorative ones.

You don’t need a perfect summer to feel renewed. You just need to notice the one you have.

DAD JOKE:  My friend says his favorite Star Wars quote was, "Aargh, Luke, ye scurvy dog, I be yer father!"  I think he got a pirated copy.
]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 14:01:37 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-eat-what-you-want-day-51126QUOTE:  "Acceptance doesn't mean resignation.  It means understanding that something is what it is and there's got to be a way through it." (Michael J. Fox)

MESSAGE: By the final weeks of the school year, many educators find themselves running on fumes. The to-do list hasn’t shrunk—if anything, it’s grown—and the emotional load feels heavier. This is exactly the moment when a powerful, often misunderstood concept can help: radical acceptance.

Radical acceptance is a term most commonly associated with Marsha M. Linehan, who developed it as part of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). At its core, radical acceptance means fully acknowledging reality as it is—without denial, resistance, or judgment. It is not approval. It is not giving up. It is not saying, “This is fine.” Instead, it’s saying, “This is what is true right now.”

That distinction matters. Because much of our stress doesn’t come only from what’s happening, but from our internal fight against it. We think: This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t feel this way. They shouldn’t be acting like this. That resistance adds a second layer of suffering on top of an already difficult situation.

Radical acceptance removes that second layer.

While I didn’t have the language at the time to name what I was going through, I have experienced radical acceptance in regard to rain. Rain used to make me quite grouchy.  One summer when I was a counselor for HS students on a week-long canoe trip in Quetico, it rained.  Again. My canoe was bringing up the rear that morning, and so my canoe buddy and I had to wait out on the lake for all the other canoes to make it into the portage. This meant waiting or 14- to 16-year-old boys to get out of the canoe, unload it, and carry the canoe, paddles, life jackets, and packs down the trail to the next lake. Since this was the second day of our trip, the boys were NOT adept, so I was on the water in the rain and fully wet even in rain gear. I distinctly remember just letting go of my anger and frustration and just accepting that I was wet and would be for the rest of the day. I sat up straight, looked up into the pelting drops, smiled, and struck up a cheerful conversation with my canoe buddy. Ever since, rain hasn’t made me grouchy.

In late May, radical acceptance at school might sound like:

• I am exhausted, and that makes sense right now.
• My students are restless, and that’s part of this season.
• There is more to do than I can realistically finish—and I will prioritize what matters most.

Notice what’s missing: judgment, blame, and the illusion of control.

So how do we practice it?

First, name reality clearly. Strip away the “shoulds” and say what is actually true. This is a grounding exercise as much as a cognitive one. When we name reality, we stop arguing with it.

Second, separate acceptance from action. Acceptance doesn’t mean inaction. In fact, it often leads to better action. When you stop wasting energy resisting reality, you have more clarity to decide: Given this, what’s my next best step?

Third, watch your language. Shift from “This is unfair” to “This is difficult.” From “I can’t do this” to “This is hard, and I’m still here.” These subtle changes signal to your brain that you are facing reality, not fighting it.

Finally, anchor in what you can control. You may not be able to change the calendar, student energy levels, or systemic pressures—but you can choose your response. That’s where your agency lives.

Radical acceptance isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a practice—one you may return to dozens of times in a single day during this stretch of the school year. But each time you do, you lighten the emotional load just enough to keep going—steady, grounded, and just a little more whole.

DAD JOKE:  What's the difference between a bad joke and a dad joke?  The first letter.

]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:58:58 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-star-wars-day-5426QUOTE: "It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it." (Lou Holtz)

MESSAGE:  When I opened the program to write this email, I noticed that last week’s hadn’t been sent.  Whoops.  I left the house before it was supposed to come out, so didn’t check it that day.  I’m chalking the fact that no one said anything about not getting their weekly dad joke to the crazy weather a week ago, and the time of year.  It is that time of year when everything is, well, a lot.

By this point in the school year, most educators don’t just feel tired—they feel mentally tired. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. The kind where even small decisions feel heavy. That’s not a lack of motivation. It’s mental fatigue.

Mental fatigue happens when your brain has been in a constant state of processing—thinking, deciding, responding, and switching—for too long without real recovery. And in schools, that’s the norm, not the exception.

There are three common types of mental fatigue showing up right now:

1. Decision Fatigue
From instructional choices to behavior responses to emails, educators make hundreds of decisions each day. Over time, the quality of those decisions drops—not because you don’t care, but because your brain is overloaded.

2. Attention Fatigue
Every interruption—student needs, announcements, shifting priorities—forces your brain to switch tasks. That switching has a cost. Even when you return to the original task, part of your attention stays behind.

3. Emotional-Cognitive Fatigue
Teaching isn’t just thinking—it’s feeling. Managing student emotions, your own reactions, and the overall tone of the classroom requires both emotional and cognitive energy at the same time. That dual load is exhausting.

So what actually helps?

First, reduce the load—don’t just manage it. Mental fatigue isn’t solved by pushing through; it’s eased by carrying less.

Try these practical shifts:

• Decide Once: Create simple defaults for recurring situations. The fewer times you have to re-decide something, the more energy you preserve.
• Close Open Loops: Unfinished tasks take up mental space. When possible, define the next small step or write it down so your brain can let it go.
• Reduce Switching: Batch similar tasks together and protect even short windows of uninterrupted time. Ten focused minutes is more restorative than thirty scattered ones.
• Externalize Everything: If you’re holding it in your head, it’s draining you. Lists, notes, and systems aren’t just organizational—they’re protective.

Finally, rethink recovery. Scrolling, multitasking, or zoning out often keeps your brain “on.” Real recovery comes from brief moments of single focus, quiet transitions, or completing something small enough to feel finished.

If there’s one takeaway, it’s this: You don’t need more energy right now. You need fewer things draining it.

DAD JOKE:  There's a woman in the park selling batteries.  That's right!  She's selling C-sells by the see-saw. 
]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:56:15 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-storytelling-day-43026QUOTE:  "Curiosity and questoins will get your further than confidence and answers." (Maxime Lagace)

MESSAGE: Curiosity might be the most underrated skill in an educator’s toolkit, and also the most powerful. In a profession where decisions are constant and emotions run high, it’s easy to fall into mental shortcuts that feel efficient but ultimately lead us away from clarity. These are the psychological traps we all experience: assumption-making, jumping to conclusions, personalization, and more. The good news? Curiosity offers a simple, practical way out.

At its core, curiosity interrupts certainty. It creates space between what we think is true and what might actually be true. For example, when we assume we have all the information, we close the door to better understanding. But a simple shift--“What might I be missing?”—reopens that door. Similarly, when we jump to conclusions about a student’s behavior or a colleague’s intent, asking “What else could be true?” keeps us grounded in possibility instead of assumption.

Many of these traps are deeply human. Personalization leads us to believe that others’ actions are about us. Catastrophizing convinces us that the worst-case scenario is inevitable. Confirmation bias quietly filters information so we only see what supports our existing beliefs. None of these are signs of failure—they’re signs of a brain trying to make sense of complexity quickly. But in schools, where relationships matter most, these shortcuts can create disconnection.

Curiosity shifts help us trade reaction for reflection. Instead of judging behavior as “lazy” or “disrespectful,” we can ask, “What skill might be missing here?” Instead of feeling urgency to respond immediately, we can pause and consider, “Does this need a reaction—or a response?” These small language shifts are powerful because they change how we see the situation—and therefore how we act within it.

Over time, practicing curiosity builds better habits of mind. It nudges us away from fixed thinking toward growth, away from perfectionism toward progress, and away from negativity bias toward a more balanced view of reality. It doesn’t mean ignoring challenges—it means seeing them more clearly.

A practical next step is to identify the two traps you fall into most often. Then ask yourself two questions: What is a more accurate or complete way to see this situation? and Given what’s actually in my control, what is my next best response?

In the end, curiosity doesn’t just help us think better—it helps us lead, teach, and connect better. And in a profession built on relationships, that shift changes everything.

DAD JOKE:  I told my doctor I heard buzzing, but she said it's just a bug that's going around. 
]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:52:53 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-look-alike-day-42026QUOTE:  "We often repeat what we don't repair." (Christine Langley-Obaugh)

MESSAGE:  Today is the 27th anniversary of the Columbine School shooting. I started teaching that fall amid panic and new layers of security.  It was the first year of wearing school IDs, and a new trajectory of heightened security measures for schools.  Thank goodness I was hired into a small junior high transitioning into a true Middle School!  I became part of Team 7-White, and my colleagues were fantastic veteran teachers; I don’t think I’d be here today without the community and support they provided.

Big events that carry big emotions—whether national tragedies like Columbine, 9/11, or COVID, or local incidents such as the death of a student or school violence—require meaningful emotional processing in their aftermath.I’ve heard too many stories and witnessed too many schools where the goal was to ‘get back to normal ASAP’.  First of all, the old ‘normal’ is gone, replaced by a new one.  Second, there is no As Soon As Possible.  It’s more like Acknowledge, Self-Regulate, Apologize, and Partner.

Repair is the work of restoring connection after harm—big or small. It is not about perfection; it’s about responsibility, regulation, and reconnection. Imagine a common, all-school scenario: During passing period, a teacher publicly snaps at a student for being out of line. The tone is sharp. The student shuts down. Peers notice. The moment lingers. What happens next is where repair begins.

Acknowledge
Name what happened without minimizing or ignoring it.
“I want to talk about what happened earlier in the hallway.”
Acknowledgment signals awareness—it tells the student, I saw it too, and it matters.

Self-Regulate
Before stepping into the conversation, the adult pauses. A few breaths, a moment of reflection, a reset. Repair cannot come from escalation. Regulation is what allows us to respond instead of react.

Apologize
Take responsibility—clearly and without blame.
“I raised my voice, and that wasn’t okay. You didn’t deserve that.”
Notice what’s not included: “but you were…” or “if you hadn’t…” A true apology is not conditional.

Partner
Reconnection is the goal. Invite the student back into relationship.
“You matter to me, and I want us to be okay. How did that feel for you?”
Or simply: “Let’s reset. I’m here for you.”

Repair, at its best, is relational courage. It models for students that mistakes don’t define us—how we respond to them does.

In schools, we often emphasize instruction, curriculum, and outcomes. But the hidden curriculum—the one students carry with them long after they leave—is how adults handle conflict, accountability, and care. When we repair, we teach students that relationships can withstand tension, that harm can be addressed, and that being whole doesn’t mean never breaking—it means knowing how to come back together.

A common demoninator in all the positions I’ve held in eductation, through all the ups and downs, is that ASAP may be one of the most powerful leadership moves we can make.

DAD JOKE:  A man has collapsed on the ferris wheel at the local fair.  Paramedics on site way he's coming around. 

]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:50:17 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-plant-appreciation-day-41326QUOTE:  "Patience is not a virtue.  It is an achievement." (Vera Nazarian)

MESSAGE:  As the school year winds down, patience often feels like one of the first things to go. The small frustrations feel bigger. The repeated behaviors feel heavier. And the energy it takes to respond well can feel harder to access.

But here’s an important reframe: patience isn’t something you either have or don’t. It’s something you build—and like any skill, it can be strengthened with intention and practice.

One helpful way to understand patience is to break it into three types: interpersonal, short-term, and long-term.

Interpersonal patience is what we draw on in our interactions with others—students, colleagues, even ourselves. It’s the ability to respond to behavior without immediately jumping to judgment. One of the most powerful ways to build this type of patience is through perspective-taking and curiosity. When someone tests your patience, try this thought: What if I’m only seeing 10% of the story? That simple shift opens the door to more compassionate, productive responses. Interpersonal patience grows when we replace judgment with curiosity.

Short-term patience shows up in the moment—when something goes wrong, when a comment lands the wrong way, or when frustration spikes. This isn’t about never getting upset. It’s about how quickly you can return to a regulated state. Skills like noticing your physical cues, pausing before responding, and using simple reset strategies (like a slow breath or a grounding phrase such as “Let me think about that for a second”) can make a significant difference. Short-term patience isn’t about staying calm—it’s about returning to calm more quickly.

Long-term patience is about how we relate to time, growth, and expectations. In education, this is especially challenging because so much of the work we do produces results slowly—or invisibly. When we expect immediate change in areas that naturally take time, frustration builds. A helpful reflection is this: Where am I expecting outcomes on a timeline that doesn’t match how growth actually happens? Often, we are planting seeds but expecting a harvest. Long-term patience grows when we learn to trust the process and measure direction, not just speed.

At this point in the year, patience isn’t about enduring more. It’s about building the skills that allow you to respond with intention—in the moment, between people, and over time. And when we do that, we stay not just effective, but tethered to our purpose and whole in how we show up.

DAD JOKE: Whenever I think of the 80s, I think of a boom box.  It's just a stereo type.]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:46:52 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-caramel-popcorn-day-4626QUOTE:  "Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday." (Don Marquis)

MESSAGE:  Writing this JumpStart is the last thing on my list before Spring Break starts.

Procrastination has hit me pretty hard today, so I thought I’d do the big boy thing and do what I say, not what that silly roommate in my brain (sometimes called the Devil on my Shoulder) tells me to do. See, procrastination gets mislabeled as laziness, but in reality, it’s much more human—and much more complex. At its core, procrastination is a regulation problem, not a time problem. It’s what happens when the discomfort of a task outweighs our current ability to manage that discomfort. In other words, we don’t put things off because we don’t care—we put them off because, in the moment, something about the task feels too heavy, unclear, or emotionally charged.

Goodness knows that writing a JumpStart normally is rather fun - finding a topic that’s meaningful, researching, thinking, writing, editing, etc.  Why is it that today it’s… a lot?  

Probably because compared to what’s on the other side of it, writing seems heavy, and a lot of effort. I knew this feeling was coming, however, so I rearranged my list for today to do the least-wanted items first.

At school, procrastination shows up in familiar ways in all sorts of places: putting off grading, delaying difficult conversations, or avoiding planning when the week already feels full. The key is recognizing that procrastination is a signal, not a character flaw. It’s feedback that something needs to be adjusted—either in the task, the environment, or our internal state.

When you’re already in it, the goal isn’t to “power through” with sheer will. Instead, lower the barrier to entry. Start smaller than feels necessary. Commit to five minutes. Open the document. Write one sentence. Action reduces anxiety far more effectively than overthinking ever will.

Today, I started by finding a holiday, then a recipe, and then the momentum from the successes from those tasks propelled me further.  I know that momentum isn’t just for physics classes - it also works with motivation and finishing tasks.

As I sit and reflect on procrastination and self-reflect on the emotions buzzing around today, I think that to prevent procrastination before it starts, one can focus on clarity and energy. Break tasks into clearly defined next steps—not “plan unit,” but “outline lesson one.” Pair that with realistic scheduling that matches your energy, not just your calendar. Protect your highest-energy times for your most meaningful work. And reduce friction wherever possible: templates, routines, and systems make it easier to begin.

For example, this newsletter is built with a template, and I have a routine and a writing process.  All of that is helping me across the finish line.  When you’re next mired in a procrastinationspiral, just remember that procrastination isn’t a sign that something is wrong with you.  It’s a sign that something needs your attention, and a little more intention in order to get ‘er done.
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DAD JOKE:  A Spanish magician told his audience he would disappear on the count of three.  He wrapped his cape around himslef and counted. "Uno...Dos..." and then disappeared without a tres. ]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:44:01 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-donut-stick-day-33026QUOTE:  "We can't help everyone, but everyone can help someone." (Ronald Reagan)

MESSAGE: One year when I was teaching 7th grade life science, my colleague had a rough patch where there was a lot going on at home. After a day of her turn at frog dissections, I offered to clean up after school so she could head home. She got quiet and still for a second and then, “Would you really?  That would be great.  Thank you!”  I was in shock.  How many people *actually* take you up on your offer of help? The bonus is that I felt great about it afterward, and clearly it made an impression if I’m still remembering it years (decades?) later.

Here’s the thing: offering help seems straightforward. Accepting it? That’s where it gets complicated.

When we support someone who’s overwhelmed, our instinct is often to fix. But what most people need first isn’t a solution—it’s connection. They need to feel seen, not evaluated; understood, not managed. A calm presence, a listening ear, and a simple acknowledgment, like “That’s a lot.” can do more to lighten a load than a perfectly crafted plan.

From there, the most effective help is practical and specific. Not “Let me know if you need anything,” but “I can cover your duty tomorrow” or “Let me clean up so you can get home.” The goal isn’t to remove all struggle. It’s to reduce isolation and restore a sense of capacity.

But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: receiving help is a skill, too.

Many educators carry an unspoken belief--I should be able to handle this. It’s tied to identity. We’re helpers. We’re the steady ones. But when that belief goes unchecked, it turns support into something we resist rather than receive. We downplay the load. We say, “I’m fine.” We deflect offers, or we accept help and immediately try to repay it, canceling out the benefit.

Receiving help well starts with telling the truth. Not dramatically, not performatively—just honestly. “It’s a lot right now.” From there, it means being specific about what would actually help, accepting it without over-apologizing, and allowing it to be imperfect. It also means letting go of the idea that support must be earned or repaid immediately. Sometimes the most growth-centered thing we can do is simply say, “Thank you—that really helps,” and let it land.

At its core, this is about shifting from independence to interdependence.

Healthy systems—whether classrooms, teams, or entire schools—aren’t built on individuals carrying everything alone. They’re built on people who know when to step in and when to let others step in for them. Offering help builds connection. Receiving help sustains it.

So as you move through this week, consider both sides of the equation. Who around you might need a steady presence or a concrete offer of support? And just as importantly—where might you let someone lighten your load?

Because resilience doesn’t grow in isolation. It grows in connection.  

Thanks to the educator who recommended this topic as a Mindful Monday.  Here’s the resource I created for that session.

DAD JOKE:  What does an escalator say when it stops working?  Nothing.  It just stairs.

]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:39:57 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-national-puppy-day-32326QUOTE:  "Comparison is the thief of joy."  (Theodore Roosevelt)

MESSAGE:  In education—and in life—it’s almost impossible not to compare. We compare our classrooms to the one down the hall.  Looking back over my career and lived experience, it seems that I compare more when I’m unsure.  It’s time to update my wardrobe, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying to be 25.  I’m taking a watercolor class after not painting for 30 years, and I can’t help but compare my work to what’s on all the other easels (true story).

Part of this is simply human.

Psychologists have long understood comparison as a built-in process. Leon Festinger called it social comparison theory—the idea that we evaluate ourselves by looking at others when objective measures are unclear. In early human communities, this made sense. Comparing helped us understand where we stood, how to improve, and even how to stay safe within a group. Our brains are wired to scan, sort, and evaluate: Am I keeping up? Do I belong? Am I doing enough?

The problem is that the environment has changed—but our wiring hasn’t.

Today, we’re no longer comparing ourselves to a small, familiar group. We’re comparing ourselves to dozens, hundreds, even thousands of people—often through curated, filtered snapshots of their best moments. Our brain still treats this information as meaningful data, even when it’s incomplete or distorted.

At first glance, comparison feels useful. It can sharpen awareness and even inspire growth. But left unchecked, it becomes a trap.

The comparison trap happens when we shift from learning from others to measuring our worth against them. And the problem is, we’re rarely comparing accurately. We compare our behind-the-scenes to someone else’s curated performance. Our hardest day to their best moment. Our internal doubts to their external confidence.

That’s not a fair fight. Over time, this distorted lens erodes confidence, increases stress, and pulls us out of alignment with our own purpose. Instead of asking, “Am I growing?” we start asking, “Am I as good as them?” And that question rarely leads anywhere helpful.

How to Avoid the Trap

The goal isn’t to eliminate comparison—it’s to retrain it.

1. Shift from comparison to curiosity.
When you notice yourself comparing, ask: What can I learn here? Curiosity keeps your dignity intact while still allowing growth.

2. Anchor to your own metrics.
Define success based on your values: connection, consistency, growth, impact. When your scoreboard is internal, you’re less vulnerable to external noise.

3. Right-size your reference group.
Your brain evolved to compare within small circles. Be intentional about who you use as benchmarks—and make sure they reflect your context and goals.

How to Get Out When You’re Already Stuck

Sometimes you don’t catch it early. You’re already spiraling—questioning yourself, overthinking, maybe even pulling back from things you’re good at. Here’s the way out:

1. Name it.
“I’m in the comparison trap right now.” Naming it creates just enough distance to interrupt it.

2. Reality-check the story.
Ask: What am I assuming that I don’t actually know? Most comparisons are built on incomplete data.

3. Take one small, aligned action.
Action breaks rumination. Send the email. Plan the lesson. Go for the walk. Momentum restores clarity.

Comparison isn’t a flaw—it’s a feature of being human. But it was never meant to define your worth. Used well, it can inform. Left unchecked, it can consume. Think about the times you felt more insecure and increased your rate of comparison.  Then notice the people (of all ages/lived experiences) who are probably in the same boat you were.  Be nice.

 DAD JOKE:  If you're an American before you go into the bathroom, what are you while you're in the bathroom?  European.]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 13:36:41 GMThttp://www.roe40.com/sel-blog/jumpstart-artichoke-day-31626QUOTE:  Humans are social animals, highly susceptible to emotional contagion.  Training, logic, and intelligence are often no match for the power of groupthink." (Dr. Bruce Perry)

MESSAGE:  Flu season may be over, but there is one thing that will spread even faster than viruses in Pre-K, and that is emotions.  Schools are emotional ecosystems. Every hallway conversation, faculty meeting, classroom interaction, and email exchange carries more than just information—it carries emotion. Psychologists refer to this phenomenon as emotional contagion, the tendency for people to “catch” and mirror the emotions of those around them. In schools, where adults and students spend long hours together in close social environments, this effect can be especially powerful.


Research in psychology and organizational behavior shows that emotions spread through groups quickly and often unconsciously. Humans are wired with mirror neurons that help us read facial expressions, tone of voice, and body language. When a colleague walks into a meeting tense and frustrated, others begin to feel a subtle version of that same tension. When someone arrives energized and optimistic, the atmosphere lifts almost instantly. Over time, these micro-exchanges accumulate and shape the emotional climate of a school.


For educators, this matters more than we sometimes realize. A teacher’s emotional state does not stay contained behind their desk. Students are extraordinarily perceptive; they read mood faster than they process instructions. A teacher who greets the class with warmth and steadiness communicates safety and belonging. A teacher who enters hurried, irritated, or discouraged may unintentionally transmit that stress to students, who then mirror it in their behavior and engagement.


The same dynamic plays out among adults. Faculty lounges, team meetings, and leadership conversations can become amplifiers of either encouragement or discouragement. A single person’s cynicism can slowly influence an entire team. But the opposite is also true: calm, curiosity, and kindness spread just as easily. Emotional contagion does not only transmit negativity—it can transmit resilience.


This is where self-awareness becomes a professional skill. Educators cannot eliminate stress or difficult emotions; schools are complex places and the work is deeply human. What we can do is become more intentional about what we carry into shared spaces. Pausing before a meeting, taking a slow breath before greeting students, or choosing curiosity instead of frustration in a conversation are small acts that influence the emotional tone around us.


In this sense, every educator is a climate-setter. The emotional tone we model becomes part of the invisible curriculum students experience every day.


When educators practice steadiness, patience, and perspective, those qualities ripple outward—to colleagues, to classrooms, and ultimately to students. In a profession built on relationships, the emotions we carry are never ours alone. They move through the system.

DAD JOKE:  I just walked past a man who kept saying, "1,3,5,7,9...1,3,5,7,9..."  I though to myself, "How odd!"

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