Since I began supervising I have always preached expectations. I want my students to be able to clearly explain their expectations that they have of me (their supervisor), of each other individually, of a staff as a whole, and of themselves. The expectations that are created at the beginning of the year set the tone, they put everyone in the staff on the same page and also help me mold my relationships with them as a supervisor. I get a better understanding of what they are looking for in each other but also in me.
I am slowly realizing that expectations is important to me in just about all aspects of life. I don't know if I have always used the term 'expectation' when my brain was wrapping my head around different situations, but taking a look back...that is definitely what it is.
In an sort of position/relationship I have some expectations in my head that I have to meet with the person/people that I am working with and I also have my own of those people. I would like to think I do a good job of verbalizing what those needs are because after all how can people meet my expectations if they do not know what they are?
Silent expectations can be a killer to any group that you are working in. You might not be meeting expectations and you have no idea! How do we handle this? How can you tell?
Let's eliminate the silent expectation. Let's communicate our needs effectively and reduce the guessing that has to happen on a day to day basis. I promise it will make everything a lot easier.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Amazing
So I pretty much had a top 5 day ever on Tuesday. Again, I've been pretty blessed in my lifetime that I have been able to have some incredible experiences but Tuesday definitely raised the bar.
The day started out pretty normal. It was cold and rainy, my office was roughly 22 degrees and my fingers were nearly frost bitten. I was going through the mundane Tuesday routine of meeting, meeting, lunch, 1 on 1, meeting, and finish the work day. As the day was winding I got a call from my sister who was on her way into Boston. Molly has worked at Fenway Park for the past 4 or 5 years and at the end of the year they conclude with a Staff Appreciation Day. They get to go on the field, take batting practice, shag fly balls, really just day to day baseball activities. She told me she could get me in, most likely I would just get to stand on the warning track or in the stands but that I could walk around Fenway and hang out. It was pretty nasty out and I had a night full of meetings but I figured it would be cool to hang out with Molly in Fenway and just get away from campus for an hour or so. As I'm walking to Fenway my sister shoots a text 'Bring a glove!' I take off in a sprint back to campus to get to my apartment to grab a glove. I haven't moved like that in a long time. I felt like a little kid running to a pick up game. I grabbed my glove and flew down to Fenway.
My sister greeted me at Gate D and just walked by security. Walking through Fenway when no one is there is an experience in itself. It seems so surreal when there's no hustle and bustle throughout the concourse, the concession stands are vacant, and no roar of the crowd. We walk out on the third base side right down to the wall. The gate is open right outside on deck circle and we so casually walk right onto the field. I'M STANDING ON THE FIELD. You could have stopped there and I still would be writing about this experience. Then we get in a line...I'm not sure what's going on at first because I am still taking everything in. It hits me! I am in line to take Batting Practice. 20 minutes feels like 3 hours as I anxiously await this once in a lifetime opportunity. Finally, my sister goes...and surprisingly ropes a couple line drives. I walk towards the plate, pick up a bat, and try to stay calm. I'm trying to hide this boyish smile that is plastered across my face. I keep saying, hit the first pitch hard then you can take it in. I zone in on the first pitch as it comes to the plate...and crush it up the middle. Probably a routine fly ball for whatever CF is out there but I at least smoked it to the Outfield. After that it is hard for me to focus on the ball without looking out at Fenway from the plate. I take about 20 or so swings making really good contact without 13 of them.
We then went out to the field and shagged balls for a bit. Unfortunately there were not many great hitters there so we didn't see much action...however, one of the coaches came out and just started hitting fly balls to the outfield. I have a new appreciation for those players trying to track balls in the lights...BRUTAL.
I found myself alone in Left Field at one point in those 2 hours. I'm not sure if I was praying, talking to myself, or what I was doing but I had this sincere appreciation on my face as to what was happening. So many times in life we take for granted our experiences and do not truly understand what was happening until it is over. I was lucky that day. For a few brief moments I zeroed in on what was happening and was so thankful. I must have said thanks to my sister about 300 times or so. She did not have to invite me that day but she thought of me and for that I will be forever grateful. Every young boy in New England grows up with a dream like that...whether you grew up in the 20s, 60s, or today...at one point in your life you thought it would be amazing to play ball at Fenway. I got to do that. It most likely will never happen again but on that Tuesday my little boy had an incredible time.
Thanks Molly
The day started out pretty normal. It was cold and rainy, my office was roughly 22 degrees and my fingers were nearly frost bitten. I was going through the mundane Tuesday routine of meeting, meeting, lunch, 1 on 1, meeting, and finish the work day. As the day was winding I got a call from my sister who was on her way into Boston. Molly has worked at Fenway Park for the past 4 or 5 years and at the end of the year they conclude with a Staff Appreciation Day. They get to go on the field, take batting practice, shag fly balls, really just day to day baseball activities. She told me she could get me in, most likely I would just get to stand on the warning track or in the stands but that I could walk around Fenway and hang out. It was pretty nasty out and I had a night full of meetings but I figured it would be cool to hang out with Molly in Fenway and just get away from campus for an hour or so. As I'm walking to Fenway my sister shoots a text 'Bring a glove!' I take off in a sprint back to campus to get to my apartment to grab a glove. I haven't moved like that in a long time. I felt like a little kid running to a pick up game. I grabbed my glove and flew down to Fenway.
My sister greeted me at Gate D and just walked by security. Walking through Fenway when no one is there is an experience in itself. It seems so surreal when there's no hustle and bustle throughout the concourse, the concession stands are vacant, and no roar of the crowd. We walk out on the third base side right down to the wall. The gate is open right outside on deck circle and we so casually walk right onto the field. I'M STANDING ON THE FIELD. You could have stopped there and I still would be writing about this experience. Then we get in a line...I'm not sure what's going on at first because I am still taking everything in. It hits me! I am in line to take Batting Practice. 20 minutes feels like 3 hours as I anxiously await this once in a lifetime opportunity. Finally, my sister goes...and surprisingly ropes a couple line drives. I walk towards the plate, pick up a bat, and try to stay calm. I'm trying to hide this boyish smile that is plastered across my face. I keep saying, hit the first pitch hard then you can take it in. I zone in on the first pitch as it comes to the plate...and crush it up the middle. Probably a routine fly ball for whatever CF is out there but I at least smoked it to the Outfield. After that it is hard for me to focus on the ball without looking out at Fenway from the plate. I take about 20 or so swings making really good contact without 13 of them.
We then went out to the field and shagged balls for a bit. Unfortunately there were not many great hitters there so we didn't see much action...however, one of the coaches came out and just started hitting fly balls to the outfield. I have a new appreciation for those players trying to track balls in the lights...BRUTAL.
I found myself alone in Left Field at one point in those 2 hours. I'm not sure if I was praying, talking to myself, or what I was doing but I had this sincere appreciation on my face as to what was happening. So many times in life we take for granted our experiences and do not truly understand what was happening until it is over. I was lucky that day. For a few brief moments I zeroed in on what was happening and was so thankful. I must have said thanks to my sister about 300 times or so. She did not have to invite me that day but she thought of me and for that I will be forever grateful. Every young boy in New England grows up with a dream like that...whether you grew up in the 20s, 60s, or today...at one point in your life you thought it would be amazing to play ball at Fenway. I got to do that. It most likely will never happen again but on that Tuesday my little boy had an incredible time.
Thanks Molly
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Better Days
Time is absolutely flying. It's been about a month and a half since that last uplifting blog post so I guess its time for some positive notes. Motivation is one of those things that comes and goes for me, it's not a constant feeling that I can control. It's here one minute and gone the next. Well, sometimes it hangs around for a month or so but then it can vanish for quite some time. I've been in one of those motivated mind frames for the past 5 weeks or so.
This new job has been absolutely life changing. It is hard to put into words the changes that have occurred over the last few months. New job, new home, new friends, new coworkers, friends that have left the world, experiences that change your outlook, and well just bad luck in a lot of instances. With all of those changes happening in a short time frame usually spells disaster. I have been fortunate in life to be surrounded by great friends, a supportive family, and a wonderful girlfriend that help through times like that. The bizarreness of it all is that I have not been this happy since I was in college. I don't know if the return of Emmanuel College has reminded me of what I use to love in life and why I wanted to work in Higher Education or really just being around people who want to be here, want to learn, and want to grow...but the change is real.
I use to dread Monday's. Hated going to work, avoided bosses, and did an average job. I now enjoy Monday's...well that might be going to far, but let's just say it's not what it use to be. Sure, I miss some of the people that I use to work with who I became close with but those relationships will remain. I get to keep the best of that wretched place and throw away the rest. What I have learned from that experience is there will be better days. If you don't like your job, if you're miserable...make the change.
This new job has been absolutely life changing. It is hard to put into words the changes that have occurred over the last few months. New job, new home, new friends, new coworkers, friends that have left the world, experiences that change your outlook, and well just bad luck in a lot of instances. With all of those changes happening in a short time frame usually spells disaster. I have been fortunate in life to be surrounded by great friends, a supportive family, and a wonderful girlfriend that help through times like that. The bizarreness of it all is that I have not been this happy since I was in college. I don't know if the return of Emmanuel College has reminded me of what I use to love in life and why I wanted to work in Higher Education or really just being around people who want to be here, want to learn, and want to grow...but the change is real.
I use to dread Monday's. Hated going to work, avoided bosses, and did an average job. I now enjoy Monday's...well that might be going to far, but let's just say it's not what it use to be. Sure, I miss some of the people that I use to work with who I became close with but those relationships will remain. I get to keep the best of that wretched place and throw away the rest. What I have learned from that experience is there will be better days. If you don't like your job, if you're miserable...make the change.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Never again.
I don't ever want to go through that again. I don't want any of you to ever have to go through that experience. I have been working in Residence Life since I was 19. Going on my seventh year. I am suppose to be prepared to deal with whatever comes my way and then after the fact be able to process it and move on.
I don't think any amount of training could have ever prepared me for the acts of Friday night. I am going to try and spare as many of the details as I can but unfortunately this is a selfish blog post. It is so I can try to find some clarity and peace...so if you just ate...are just about to eat...or have a weak stomach you might want to just wait until the next blog post comes your way.
I am the king of the Napoleon disease...for those of you non history majors the short man syndrome. I feel like I have to act bigger than I am...whether it's on the sports field, in the gym, or even during altercations. I like to think that I keep a cool head for 90% of the time but what I'm trying to say is I understand what's going on in peoples head when stuff goes down. Well, Friday night was a perfect example of someone acting tough. There was some sort of fight that was happening at the bar we were at...luckily we were 10 feet or so away from where it happened but close enough we knew what was going on. A glass was thrown. It shattered on a divider seperating the bar and seating area and splintered into pieces. Normally, not a big deal. This night however, it turned into a flying dagger...it struck two bystanders giving them minor wounds and would be ok but a bigger piece happened to slice this mans neck. It caught him at a point that it hit an artery (my assumption, not a doctor so I apologize if that is not the correct terminology). He was in shock, I don't even think he knew how severe it was nor did anyone else around him. He happened to stumble on in front of me. It looked like he might have been punched in the face and broke his nose...the way the blood was on his face. He then moved his hand from his neck and blood rushed out. I'm not talking about a bad cut where it quickly slides down his body. I'm talking about gushing. His neck turned into a geiser for the next 20 seconds which seemed to be hours. The second he moved his hand I reached for my phone and was on 911 and trying to grab towels from the bar. In the back of my head, I knew it was too late. We were able to get some help from some bartenders who were staring blankly at the blood that had poured onto the floor. I'm trying to describe the scene to 911 as calmly as possible. I'm not trained for this, I don't even know what I'm describing except I feel like I'm in one of 'Dexter's' Flashbacks. I felt like it was one of those dumb horror films that you kind of laugh at when you watch.
It seemed to take paramedics hours to get there (in actuality there response time was amazing, they were there in less than 4 minutes) but again with the situation the way that it was...it was too late. I see that EMS has made it to the man and I know that it is now time for me to get out of that place. I have been able to keep composure for the time being but I can feel myself losing that grip. My friend and I stand outside the bar staring...Eventually we see someone come out in cuffs. The bar that was once filled with live music, laughter, and a frustrated group of Sox fans had now turned into a crime scene. The yellow tape is being plastered across the entrance, cops are moving people away, sirens fill the air. We finally drag ourselves out of that place but we can't go home yet. Not like this. We end up making it to another bar on the way home, order double jack and cokes and just sit there. Not a word was said. I'm pretty sure there was a guy at the bar trying to be friendly and talk sports while he waited for his drink. I might have responded to him, I have no clue. We stayed there for about a half and hour and then force ourselves up and walk home.
Stunned doesn't even come close to describing what is going on in our heads. I feel like the guys at the end of a Mortal Kombat fight dazed, staggering back and forth, with the voice yelling out FINISH HIM. All we can do is pray the guy made it. Hope for a miracle, something that will make me sleep better. We try to sleep that night but know that's not happening. We throw in Entourage and just stare at it, trying to muster a laugh out here and there but what's the use? Everytime I close my eyes I just replay the images in my head. Watching the scene unfold over and over. Could we have done anything different? I don't think so. We did all we could. But the one image I can't shake is the color leaving that man's face...his body going limp and hitting the floor. That and on our way out the blood that soaked the bar room floor. It was like someone took a mop, soaked it with blood, and began washing the floor. Those images will be with me for my life.
We received news early that morning or maybe it was even later that night, I don't know that the man did not make it. He was pronounced dead.
Saturday now seems like a blur. I did not sleep the night before, my body is shaking throughout most of the day, and it is accompanied by a queasy stomach. I went to the movies to try and distract myself, that helped a little. I think it will be just one of those things that gets a little easier each day.
Which got me thinking...I almost don't want it to get easier. I do not want to be numbed by what happened. That should never be ok, right? I mean, obviously I want to be able to sleep and move on...I just don't want to become 'ok' with what happened.
I really hope no one has to go through this...it's a surreal experience that changes you forever. If anything, I hope people realize next time they're out (directed at guys) that it is not that serious. Nothing good is going to come out of popping someone with a right hook, talking trash, or firing a glass off a divider. I promise. I'm going to think you're just as cool for walking away...not that my opinion matters but trust me...the tough guy who fired the glass is facing 1 count of manslaughter and 2 for assault and battery...all because of a little scuffle.
I don't think any amount of training could have ever prepared me for the acts of Friday night. I am going to try and spare as many of the details as I can but unfortunately this is a selfish blog post. It is so I can try to find some clarity and peace...so if you just ate...are just about to eat...or have a weak stomach you might want to just wait until the next blog post comes your way.
I am the king of the Napoleon disease...for those of you non history majors the short man syndrome. I feel like I have to act bigger than I am...whether it's on the sports field, in the gym, or even during altercations. I like to think that I keep a cool head for 90% of the time but what I'm trying to say is I understand what's going on in peoples head when stuff goes down. Well, Friday night was a perfect example of someone acting tough. There was some sort of fight that was happening at the bar we were at...luckily we were 10 feet or so away from where it happened but close enough we knew what was going on. A glass was thrown. It shattered on a divider seperating the bar and seating area and splintered into pieces. Normally, not a big deal. This night however, it turned into a flying dagger...it struck two bystanders giving them minor wounds and would be ok but a bigger piece happened to slice this mans neck. It caught him at a point that it hit an artery (my assumption, not a doctor so I apologize if that is not the correct terminology). He was in shock, I don't even think he knew how severe it was nor did anyone else around him. He happened to stumble on in front of me. It looked like he might have been punched in the face and broke his nose...the way the blood was on his face. He then moved his hand from his neck and blood rushed out. I'm not talking about a bad cut where it quickly slides down his body. I'm talking about gushing. His neck turned into a geiser for the next 20 seconds which seemed to be hours. The second he moved his hand I reached for my phone and was on 911 and trying to grab towels from the bar. In the back of my head, I knew it was too late. We were able to get some help from some bartenders who were staring blankly at the blood that had poured onto the floor. I'm trying to describe the scene to 911 as calmly as possible. I'm not trained for this, I don't even know what I'm describing except I feel like I'm in one of 'Dexter's' Flashbacks. I felt like it was one of those dumb horror films that you kind of laugh at when you watch.
It seemed to take paramedics hours to get there (in actuality there response time was amazing, they were there in less than 4 minutes) but again with the situation the way that it was...it was too late. I see that EMS has made it to the man and I know that it is now time for me to get out of that place. I have been able to keep composure for the time being but I can feel myself losing that grip. My friend and I stand outside the bar staring...Eventually we see someone come out in cuffs. The bar that was once filled with live music, laughter, and a frustrated group of Sox fans had now turned into a crime scene. The yellow tape is being plastered across the entrance, cops are moving people away, sirens fill the air. We finally drag ourselves out of that place but we can't go home yet. Not like this. We end up making it to another bar on the way home, order double jack and cokes and just sit there. Not a word was said. I'm pretty sure there was a guy at the bar trying to be friendly and talk sports while he waited for his drink. I might have responded to him, I have no clue. We stayed there for about a half and hour and then force ourselves up and walk home.
Stunned doesn't even come close to describing what is going on in our heads. I feel like the guys at the end of a Mortal Kombat fight dazed, staggering back and forth, with the voice yelling out FINISH HIM. All we can do is pray the guy made it. Hope for a miracle, something that will make me sleep better. We try to sleep that night but know that's not happening. We throw in Entourage and just stare at it, trying to muster a laugh out here and there but what's the use? Everytime I close my eyes I just replay the images in my head. Watching the scene unfold over and over. Could we have done anything different? I don't think so. We did all we could. But the one image I can't shake is the color leaving that man's face...his body going limp and hitting the floor. That and on our way out the blood that soaked the bar room floor. It was like someone took a mop, soaked it with blood, and began washing the floor. Those images will be with me for my life.
We received news early that morning or maybe it was even later that night, I don't know that the man did not make it. He was pronounced dead.
Saturday now seems like a blur. I did not sleep the night before, my body is shaking throughout most of the day, and it is accompanied by a queasy stomach. I went to the movies to try and distract myself, that helped a little. I think it will be just one of those things that gets a little easier each day.
Which got me thinking...I almost don't want it to get easier. I do not want to be numbed by what happened. That should never be ok, right? I mean, obviously I want to be able to sleep and move on...I just don't want to become 'ok' with what happened.
I really hope no one has to go through this...it's a surreal experience that changes you forever. If anything, I hope people realize next time they're out (directed at guys) that it is not that serious. Nothing good is going to come out of popping someone with a right hook, talking trash, or firing a glass off a divider. I promise. I'm going to think you're just as cool for walking away...not that my opinion matters but trust me...the tough guy who fired the glass is facing 1 count of manslaughter and 2 for assault and battery...all because of a little scuffle.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
MASC: My best explanation.
I have been a part of this organization since my freshmen year of high school. 11 years ago! I'm old. In high school my involvement was more consuming, but as time goes on only about 2 weeks of the year are devoted to MASC (Massachusetts Association of Student Councils). The impact the organization has on me never changes. I continue every summer to pack my bags and head to Stonehill College to reunite with old friends and to continue the development of high school student leaders. For the past 11 years I fail at explaining what the camp is and how it changes lives. You have to be there to fully understand its purpose but I will take another shot at making sense of MASC.
It is a palce that takes young people and opens thier eyes to a new world. It teaches you a bunch of skills that some would deem intangible. It shows you strengths and areas for improvement. You network, make life long friendships, and discover all the potential that is inside. But the most important thing that this place does, is build confidence. High school can be a scary place, especially for freshmen...it can be hard to come out of that shell and it is easy to be put down and just decide "hey, maybe i won't do that...it's too risky." Camp throws all of those things aside and says it's ok to do what you want, what's best for you, what makes you happy. You see the importance in helping others and brining what you learned back to your schools. You laugh, you reflect, you learn, and you fall in love during your week at this place.
I was fortunate to become involved my freshmen year. Fortunate enough to have someone who tapped me on the shoulder and say, you know what you might be good at this, you should check it out. Everything happens for a reason and that teacher changed the course of my life. I went from a quiet jock, who was a below average student, and did his own thing...to someone who constantly tried to improve himself and the poeple around him. I know I'm not doing Camp justice, it sounds cultish and a bit like a disney movie. I hope every student gets an opportunity to experience this feeling, it doesn't have to be this particular camp. I know there are many other places that teach the same principles and have the same core values...but every person should get a chance at this experience.
For me personally, even though I am no longer a camper but a counselor...it is still a rewarding experience. I need this week every year as much as the students. It is my time rejuvenate and get my mind right. I always find peace and clarity while there, I get to escape the mundane work routine and be reminded of why I do what I do. It's a chance to light that fire once again. It is an opportunity for me to reconnect with the people who have helped change my life but who also have become some of my closest friends.
I know I will never fully be able to explain what this place does. But if you live in MA, you happen to have high school aged kids...make sure they attend this one week camp, it will only be a positive influcnce on their lives, that I can guarantee.
It is a palce that takes young people and opens thier eyes to a new world. It teaches you a bunch of skills that some would deem intangible. It shows you strengths and areas for improvement. You network, make life long friendships, and discover all the potential that is inside. But the most important thing that this place does, is build confidence. High school can be a scary place, especially for freshmen...it can be hard to come out of that shell and it is easy to be put down and just decide "hey, maybe i won't do that...it's too risky." Camp throws all of those things aside and says it's ok to do what you want, what's best for you, what makes you happy. You see the importance in helping others and brining what you learned back to your schools. You laugh, you reflect, you learn, and you fall in love during your week at this place.
I was fortunate to become involved my freshmen year. Fortunate enough to have someone who tapped me on the shoulder and say, you know what you might be good at this, you should check it out. Everything happens for a reason and that teacher changed the course of my life. I went from a quiet jock, who was a below average student, and did his own thing...to someone who constantly tried to improve himself and the poeple around him. I know I'm not doing Camp justice, it sounds cultish and a bit like a disney movie. I hope every student gets an opportunity to experience this feeling, it doesn't have to be this particular camp. I know there are many other places that teach the same principles and have the same core values...but every person should get a chance at this experience.
For me personally, even though I am no longer a camper but a counselor...it is still a rewarding experience. I need this week every year as much as the students. It is my time rejuvenate and get my mind right. I always find peace and clarity while there, I get to escape the mundane work routine and be reminded of why I do what I do. It's a chance to light that fire once again. It is an opportunity for me to reconnect with the people who have helped change my life but who also have become some of my closest friends.
I know I will never fully be able to explain what this place does. But if you live in MA, you happen to have high school aged kids...make sure they attend this one week camp, it will only be a positive influcnce on their lives, that I can guarantee.
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