Be A Lifeguard

 

A lifeguard’s head is always on a swivel. They are constantly scanning the water, looking for the small signs that might tell them someone is beginning to struggle. A swimmer who was laughing and playing a few minutes ago might suddenly be floating differently, moving more slowly, or looking exhausted. A good lifeguard notices those changes.  The goal is not to wait for someone to be in trouble and then jump into action. The real goal of lifeguarding is prevention—recognizing the warning signs early enough that a dangerous situation never develops.

What if we approached school the same way? What if each of us thought of ourselves as a lifeguard, constantly paying attention to the people around us? In a school, the signs of someone struggling may not be as obvious as someone waving for help at the beach. Maybe it is a student who normally talks to everyone but suddenly becomes quiet. Maybe it is someone sitting by themselves at lunch who usually has a group around them. Maybe a student who is usually energetic seems tired, disconnected, or unusually withdrawn. These small changes can be easy to overlook, but they can also be opportunities for us to notice that someone might need a little extra care.

Being a lifeguard at school does not mean that we must solve everyone’s problems. It means that we are willing to notice, care, and act. Sometimes lifeguarding might mean sitting next to someone who is alone. It might mean asking, “Are you okay?” or “Do you want to talk?” It might mean including someone in a conversation, inviting someone to sit with you, or letting a trusted adult know that you are concerned. Most importantly, it means leading with empathy. Instead of judging someone based on what we see, we pause and wonder what might be happening beneath the surface. Just as a lifeguard watch for signs of trouble before someone goes under, we can watch for the small changes that might tell us someone is beginning to struggle.

I often ask students a simple question: Would our school be better if everyone took the role of the lifeguard? The answer is almost always an immediate yes. Students understand the power of a community where people look out for one another. Imagine walking into school knowing that the people around you are paying attention—not in a way that feels invasive or judgmental, but in a way that says, “You matter here. If you are struggling, someone will notice.” That kind of culture does not happen because of one person or one program. It happens when caring becomes something we all take responsibility for.

The challenge is that lifeguarding requires us to look beyond ourselves. It requires us to slow down enough to notice the person who might otherwise be invisible. It asks us to recognize that the outgoing person can have a difficult day, that the student who always seems happy can still struggle, and that sometimes the person who needs help might even be the person who pushes us away. We do not have to know exactly what someone is going through. We simply must care enough to notice a change and take a small step toward them. A simple conversation or act of kindness may not solve everything, but it can remind someone that they are not alone.

A school where everyone acts like a lifeguard is a school where we look out for each other. We notice. We listen. We include. We care. And when we see someone beginning to struggle, we do not wait until they are completely overwhelmed before we reach out. We throw them a lifeline before they go under. The goal is not to become heroes who rescue people after they are in danger. The goal is to build a community where fewer people reach that point in the first place. So, the challenge for all of us is simple: Be the lifeguard.

Generous assumptions

 

School can be an exhausting place. Teachers are balancing lessons, students, paperwork, meetings, deadlines, and the countless unexpected things that happen during a school day. Administrators are balancing many of those same demands while also making decisions that affect an entire school community.

And yet, it can be surprisingly easy for us to assume the worst about one another.

Teachers may think, “Whatever the administrators do, they are going to get it wrong.” Administrators may look at a struggling teacher and think, “They are just not working hard enough.” Teachers may look at a student who is disengaged and think, “They are lazy.”

What if, instead, we practiced generous assumptions?

A generous assumption does not mean ignoring problems, excusing poor decisions, or pretending everything is okay. It simply means leaving room for the possibility that we don't have the whole story.

Maybe the administrator has information we don't have. Maybe there are constraints we aren't aware of. Maybe a decision that doesn't make sense from our perspective makes more sense when we understand everything that went into it.

That doesn't mean we have to agree. We can question decisions, advocate for ourselves, and have difficult conversations. But we can do those things while assuming that the person on the other side is trying to do their best with the information and circumstances they have.

The same is true for our students.

When a student doesn't complete an assignment, puts their head down in class, comes to school unprepared, or seems completely uninterested, it is easy to label that student as lazy. But we don't know what happened before they walked through the school doors.

Maybe they didn't sleep well. Maybe there are problems at home. Maybe they are struggling academically and are embarrassed to ask for help. Maybe they are overwhelmed, anxious, discouraged, or simply having a terrible day.

We don't have to know exactly what is happening to choose compassion over judgment.

And this applies to teachers, too.

Sometimes administrators see a teacher who isn't meeting expectations and quickly attach a label: lazy, unmotivated, resistant, or unwilling to change. But teachers are people, not robots. Their best effort may look different from day to day. A teacher who seems disengaged may be overwhelmed. A teacher who is resistant to a new initiative may be exhausted from years of initiatives that came and went. A teacher who isn't performing at their usual level may simply be struggling with something we cannot see.

Accountability still matters. Expectations still matter. But so does curiosity.

Instead of asking, “What's wrong with them?” perhaps we can ask, “I wonder what is going on?”

That small shift can change everything.

Generous assumptions also make our schools happier places to work and learn. When we assume positive intent, we are less likely to become defensive. We are more willing to listen. We are more likely to ask questions before making judgments. And when people feel that others are willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, they are often more willing to extend that same grace to others.

That doesn't mean everyone agrees.

It means we choose kindness alongside accountability.

We choose curiosity over assumptions.

Perhaps one of the simplest ways we can improve our schools is to pause before we judge and remind ourselves:

Maybe there is more to the story.

That is the heart of generous assumptions. It doesn't make us naive. It makes us human.

And if we can give one another a little more grace, a little more curiosity, and a little more kindness, we might discover that we can create schools where people feel not only accountable, but understood.

Sometimes, that is exactly what people need to do their best.

Make Stress Your Friend 2

 Stress gets a bad reputation. We talk about it like it’s the enemy—something to avoid, escape, or eliminate. But when you really think about what causes stress in your life—your job, school, friends, parents, and relationships, you realize something important: your life would feel empty without these things. Stress exists because something matters. You can’t live without stress, but you can learn to manage it and even use it to your advantage.

The first step in making stress your friend is to acknowledge it instead of fighting it. Feeling stressed means you care about the outcome. You wouldn’t feel anxious about a test if school didn’t matter, or worried about a relationship if the person wasn’t important to you. Stress is a signal that you are invested. Rather than seeing it as weakness, see it as a helper.

The second step is realizing that stress is not just unavoidable, it can actually be helpful. When you feel stressed, your body is preparing itself to perform. Your heart rate increases, your breathing changes, and more oxygen is sent to your brain. This isn’t your body panicking; it’s your body getting ready to rise to the challenge. Stress is often your body saying, “This matters. Let’s go.”

Researchers tested this idea in an experiment with college students before a final exam. One group, the control group, was told to relax and take deep breaths to reduce stress. The other group, the experimental group, was told that stress was a good thing: that it meant they were excited, focused, and receiving more oxygen to the brain. They were encouraged to view stress as a performance booster rather than a threat. The results were powerful. The students who were told stress was helpful,  outperformed the group that was told to calm down.

The lesson is clear: mindset matters. When you believe stress is harmful, it drains your confidence and energy. But when you believe stress is helpful, it can enhance your well-being, performance, and even your health. Stress doesn’t have to be your enemy. If you change how you think about it, stress can become one of your allies.