Back to School

It’s that time of year again. The beginning of a new school year.

Like most of us, the end of summer brings a lot of emotions. We may find ourselves thinking we didn’t do enough. Not enough trips. Not enough fun. Maybe there should have been one more day trip, one more adventure, one more lazy afternoon before the calendar turned and the school year began.

But I think for many of us, we’re really avoiding what’s on our minds: the anxiety of starting a new school year.

I experience this in two very different ways—as a father and as an educator.

Some of you may already know that I’m an adjunct professor of communication and broadcasting at a university. It was an opportunity that came completely out of the blue. I initially accepted because the circumstances weren’t ideal for the university, and I wanted to help. They needed someone, and I thought I could help them and their students through a time of need.

Somehow, that temporary opportunity turned into something more.

This week, I begin my third year as a professor.

Obviously, if I’m still teaching, it must mean I enjoy it.

The answer is a little more complicated than that.

I enjoy teaching my profession.

I’ve been working in this industry for nearly 30 years—a milestone I realized this summer when I did the math and remembered that I graduated with my undergraduate degree in 1996.

As the kids would say today, that was the late 1900s.

The fact that I’m still working in the industry all these years later probably tells you something: I love what I do.

It isn’t always fun. It certainly isn’t always simple. Most days, it’s complicated, challenging, and occasionally frustrating. But I love this profession, and I enjoy sharing that passion with people who are just beginning their own journeys.

Teaching, however, isn’t easy.

Trust me, I’ve never thought it was.

I’ve never been the person who says, “Must be nice to have summers off,” or any of the other clichés that educators hear far too often. In fact, even though I teach four classes each semester, I’ve never really considered myself a teacher.

I have tremendous respect for the people who chose education as their career, and frankly, I still don't feel like I’m their peer.

Because it takes a lot to be a teacher.

You have to know the material, of course. But knowing something and knowing how to teach it are two very different things.

You have to find different ways to explain the same concept so that students with different backgrounds, experiences, learning styles, and abilities can understand it.

You need compassion.

You need grace.

You need patience. A lot of patience.

And you need the ability to show up every day, even when you're tired, frustrated, or wondering whether you're making a difference.

That last part is probably the most important.

Because educators aren't simply delivering information. They're investing in people.

And in a small way, I think we are all educators.

We train someone new in our workplace. We teach a coworker how to do something. We help a neighbor. We teach our children. We share something we know with someone who needs it.

Whenever we help someone learn, grow, or become a little more capable than they were before, we are teaching.

I think that’s a sacred responsibility, and it’s one I take extremely seriously.

So, as another school year begins, this post is simply my way of recognizing the educators, administrators, staff, parents, grandparents, caregivers, and families who work tirelessly to support the people in their care.

And to my fellow educators: I see you.

I see the preparation that happens long before students walk through the door. I see the late nights, the grading, the planning, the emails, the meetings, the constant adapting, and all the little things nobody else sees.

I see the sacrifices you make because you care about your students.

And to the families sending their children off to another year of school: I see you, too. The excitement, the nerves, the schedules, the early mornings, the homework, the activities, and everything else that comes with another school year.

There will be hills and valleys this year.

There will be days when everything seems to go exactly as planned, and days when absolutely nothing goes according to plan.

That's okay.

You aren't alone.

As I begin my third year in the classroom, I’m grateful for the opportunity to teach, humbled by the responsibility, and still learning every day.

Here’s to another school year.

To the educators who give so much.

To the families who support them.

To the students who are learning and growing.

And to all of us who, in one way or another, have the opportunity to help someone else become a little better than they were yesterday.

Have a great school year.

Sometimes the Best Edit Is Walking Away

Every creative project eventually hits a wall.

Maybe you don't know what the next step is. Maybe you're missing the perfect shot. Or maybe you've spent so much time staring at the timeline that you can't tell whether the project is getting better or worse.

When you get too close to your work, you lose perspective.

You start making changes because you can, not because you should. You add another music cue. Another graphic. Another transition. Another shot. Little by little, you drift away from the original goal—not because you're doing poor work, but because you're trying to make good work perfect.

I'm living that moment right now.

I'm up against a deadline. I'm stressed, anxious, and impatient. Not because I want this project off my desk, but because I genuinely want this series to be exceptional.

And that's when the questions start.

What if I had gone in a different direction?

What if I had incorporated more live sound? That idea sounds great now, except the scripts were never written for it.

What if I moved the interview to a completely different point in the video? It might improve the pacing... but it would also mean rebuilding the edit from the ground up.

The possibilities become endless, and that's the problem.

There usually isn't a perfect solution. More often than not, you're battling your own expectations.

I'll admit it—I'm a perfectionist.

In my mind, there's always a better shot. A smoother edit. A cleaner transition. A stronger opening. Something can always be improved.

The longer you work in this industry, the more experience you gain. You become faster, more efficient, and a better storyteller. Ironically, that same experience also makes it easier to spot every tiny flaw in your own work.

Perfection becomes a moving target.

If you're not careful, the pursuit of "better" becomes a vacuum that steals your time, your energy, and eventually your confidence.

That's when it's time to step away.

Go for a jog.

Grab a fresh cup of coffee.

Have lunch.

Talk to a friend.

Do something that has absolutely nothing to do with the project.

When you come back, you'll often discover the solution was sitting there the whole time. You just couldn't see it because you had been staring at it for too long.

So if you find yourself standing in front of a creative brick wall, stop trying to bash your way through it.

Take a break.

The project will still be there when you return.

And chances are, so will the answer.

As for me, my break today was writing this blog post.

I think it was exactly what I needed.