A Glass Full of Water

‘Piano Man’ loved La La Land, a unique Raglan cafe. It’s next to an enormous pohutukawa tree. The cafe is small and filled with antique furniture and suitcases. The waffles are as divine as the coffee and it has the best hot chocolate ever.  I walked in this morning and Monika (the owner/ manager) greeted me with a warm smile and a playlist of piano music. Piano Man was an occasional visitor. He was a scruffy looking, 40 something, with holes in his T shirt, baggy pants and no shoes. He always asked to use the piano and Monika said he was kind, humble and considerate. She knew that when Piano Man started playing she would be drawn into an emotional experience and that it was like every key played was a tear from his soul.  Once Val and I experienced his artistry with the piano too. Playing by ear, fingers flying. Mesmerising music. The sort of music that goes straight to your heart. The feeling and beauty of it as we were transported to an ethereal place. Piano Man then stood ...

The teacher’s message.  I was one of those teachers doing much pouring. ie giving and making a difference in the lives of many, without being poured into. ie encouraged.  During a lesson, Emma placed an envelope on a table. I opened this taonga (treasure) only to burst out crying at the aroha (love) held within. She has certainly filled my cup to overflowing. Emma writes.  I realise I have shaped my (RTLB) role around acts of service. It is not an extra thing I do; it is how I do the job. I am conscious of kaiako (teacher) capacity, so I try to show care in practical, human ways: knowing their coffee order, checking in, keeping paracetamol handy or sending a quick note to say, I noticed that lesson. It was beautiful.  It means turning small deliberate acts of service into threads that hold our relationships together. It is about pouring into others, not to fix or add more to their load but to remind them that they are seen, valued and enough.  Sometimes the smal...

My niece Emma is an RTLB (Resource Teacher of Learning and Behaviour) in Auckland. RTLB’s are trained specialist teachers who work with schools and kura so they are able to meet a broad range of learning, wellbeing and behaviour related needs of their students.  She writes.  I saw a Facebook post that made me pause. It read: There’s a validation deficit in education. Teachers pour into others but rarely feel poured into. You’re told to be more, do more, fix more, but almost never told, ‘You’re enough’ (Dr Brad Johnson).  A few days later I was talking with my Dad, Chris, about teacher burnout and how simple acts of kindness, like a few encouraging words, can make a world of difference. I asked for one of his beautiful bird cards (beautifully created cards with Chris’ original artwork on the front) and I knew exactly who I wanted to give it to; a Kaiako (teacher) I had been observing.  She is an extraordinary teacher. Patient, creative and endlessly kind. Her classroo...

I was with my class of 20 students, five parent helpers and a baby in a stroller on a science field trip to a local reserve in the south Waikato. We were all busy with our various activities when a piercing scream and then another shattered the peace and calm. One of the boys ran into me and yelled, “Wasps! Wasps! They’re attacking us!” His terror-filled eyes and words implored me to do something.  I yelled, “Back to the cars!” We were all getting stung multiple times.  Terrified, we ran for our lives and into the safety of the cars where the parents were stripping clothes off the children and swatting the few wasps that had stuck to their clothing.  The baby! Where’s the baby?  I ran back into the bush to search the area where we were initially stung. Still plenty of wasps but no baby. Back to the cars and running between each one I attempted to count students and parents, still frantically searching.  Wild wasps were now attacking our picnic blankets...

Life can be extra tough at times, as we all know too well.  I remember talking with a friend a few years ago and he said, “You know Steve, we’re all a bit broken.” His insightful comment made me think that we need to stop pretending that things are ‘tickety-boo’ when they are not. Be real, ask for help and let people be kind to you.  I used to tell a story to audiences about a girl I knew who was hit by a runaway car and tragically died a few hours later. She was sitting next to me on a bank and I felt the wind of the car as it smashed into her. I was 10 years old and she was a similar age.  After the story telling I spoke with the audiences about life being precious and to spend all the time we possibly could with our children.  One year I told this story (titled ‘And the car came down’) to an audience of refugee teachers at a refugee centre in Cape Town, South Africa. For the first time ever, I had to stop speaking as warm tears filled the bottom edge of my gl...