A heartfelt letter of recommendation is a gift. It’s words on a paper from someone you admire summarizing just how amazing they think you are. Everyone should have one in their back pocket just to pull out when they’re feeling the funk and stuck in the mulligrubs. It’s an adult paper equivalent of gazing upon all your Little League trophies.

I’ve recently had a mash-up of events: attending funerals, writing and receiving letters of recommendation. Professionally, I’m often asked to write letters of recommendation. Usually, it’s a student or an employee, which goes with the territory. Recently, I’ve been asked to write letters of recommendation for colleagues I adore, admire, respect and load of other chest puffing adjectives. It’s left me feeling sad and incredibly grateful to have worked with these friends that have changed my life. I feel the exact same way at funerals.

What if we put the adoration out there for everyone when they were still with us? Before they were ready to leave? Before the final goodbye? What if?

What would you say?

Who would you say it to?

I have witnessed first hand the vacuum suck of underperformance and watched some of the best people “check out”. We’re all familiar with “senior slide”. The students that check out after completing college applications, rest on their laurels and wait for graduation love to shine on them anyway.  I’ve also seen the slow decline of an extremely negative environment and the effect it has on industrious people. The workers start to check out long before they leave. You notice the little things that people don’t do anymore. The unwillingness to put in extra effort because you’ve lost the feeling that you’re aiming for the same shore and mutiny is whispered in the wind.

If you’re sick, and you know your time is limited, you start to focus on what really matters. The people that matter and how you want to spend your final weeks, days and hours. You withdraw from extraneous commitments and measure time as the valuable resource that is. We know the infallible truth that time is limited for everyone, but it’s not until the hourglass is forcibly shoved in your face do you truly acknowledge it. It’s regrettable that our best lessons are usually learned last, too late, and without do-overs.

There are some tangible ways you can turn things around. Tell the people now, today and without delay, how you feel about them, before they withdraw. Whether it’s a student, a colleague or family member. Letters of recommendation usually have a similar arc. It’s a pleasure, how you know them, what you respect and admire, sprinkled with some personal witty touches. They can be formulaic or they can be heartfelt. When you come from a place of truth and vulnerability, putting it all out there, it resonates. Good friends, great employees, and exceptional students are gifts to you and your community. Tell them how much you adore them today. Write it down and stick it in their back pocket.

Keep sharing moxie.

Dear Daughter…By the end of the week I will have a teenager in the house. You. Sigh. I know my love will have to come at a distance most days, perhaps through a telephoto lens. I can watch you, but not too closely. I can encourage you, but not directly. Any attempts at being too questioning, will result in a sigh, or worse, the dreaded eye roll.

Truth is, you got the eye roll from me. Anything that sends me through the roof, is something, on a good day, that I own and recognize within myself. On a bad day, clearly those things came from your father.

You are pulling away, which I knew would happen, but I miss you. Some days I want you to remain little, and on others I wish you would hurry up so I can like you again. Your dad looks at you like you have grown three heads when asking about unloading the dishwasher results in tears. He doesn’t deal with tears. I get it. You don’t think I do, but I really, really do.

I was once a sassy, silent, loud, artistic, anguished, angry teenager. I felt things from the tips of my toes, through every fiber of my being. Beethoven made me cry. Bryan Adams songs were poetic, and my friends were the best and worst on any given day. No one understood me and never, ever would. I was special. I was ugly. I was so many things at once, it made me want to vomit. I know you look at me and see a tired, middle-aged mom, but I didn’t start out this way.

For now, I will watch you from a distance and then I will swoop in on a days when I have chance. You are so lovely and don’t even know it. I love that. You take pictures of your brother and I will take pictures of you watching him. I see you playing with his toys after he has wandered away. Don’t stop playing. Ever. Don’t hide your intelligence. Own it. Please don’t dumb down. Nerd up. Love fiercely.

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”         e. e. cummings 

It takes courage and a hell of a lot of moxie to be you, bravely, and let the rest of you emerge, as time goes on. I know you’re up for the challenge. This mom will be waiting on the other side, but don’t worry, I won’t be far away. I’ll try to give you enough space to grow into the person you’re supposed to be. I can’t wait.

Love, Mom

Keep sharing moxie.

The school my daughter attends celebrates kindergarten graduation. A few years from now I will watch her walk across the stage at her high school graduation, but these will be the faces I will see. The frowners, the nervous one, the smirker, the cheesy grinner (hopefully no nose pickers at that point).

Pomp & Circumstance… You’re humming it, right? Daaaaaah, dum, dum, dum, daaaaaah dah. Now you are. Traditional ceremonies are a lovely way to usher in great changes. Baptisms, confirmation, bar mitzvahs, prom, and then graduation. Nearly half of a student’s life is spent with teachers. Those who can, do: those who can’t, teach?!? Bullshit. Teaching isn’t for sissies, it’s for warriors. You need someone strong enough to hold a classroom together, soft enough to comfort broken hearts, and smart enough to reach any kid that walks through the door. Brilliance is demanded is so many different forms, it makes my head spin.

There are many debates out there about testing strategies, effective teachers, the best schools, the most innovative curriculum, blah, blah, blah. Here’s what I know: good teachers, amazing teachers and crap teachers. Kids know the teachers that really have it and the ones that don’t. A great teacher is magic, pure and simple. How many great teachers did you have? Think about that for a minute. What teacher did you think of first? Some of you may be digging way back in the archives, and that in and of itself is telling. What teacher do you remember after 10 years? 30 years? 50 years?

My first grade teacher changed my entire life. She taught me to read, she showed me that I was smart, she helped me believe I was special. I will be forever indebted to Mrs. Jackson of Riverview Elementary. Who are you indebted to? Did you ever tell them? I’d like to believe that kind words don’t have a due date. It’s Pomp & Circumstance season. Thank a teacher.

Keep sharing moxie!

It’s been almost two years since we moved into our new house. Much like bringing home a newborn, it’s only now that I feel like we might be emerging from the other side of sleep depriva…

Source: It’s only a house…

My three year-old is a big fan of Marie Kondo. Admittedly, so am I. “Does it bring you joy?” was a common refrain in our family this summer. It’s my tween, interestingly enough, t…

Source: Does it bring you joy?