I have a student at Advent that is obsessed with all things fire alarm system related—fire extinguishers, fire alarm pulls, fire alarm sirens. He knows everything about them (serial numbers, model numbers, nuances to different systems). We try to make sure he gets to visit with the fire marshal when he comes to campus for his annual or bi annual checks. Every time I see this student, he asks me when the next fire drill is. Every. Time.
But today? Today that same child left me a handwritten note that one of the fire alarms (model number included) had not flashed during our most recent October fire drill. "I was in the gym and the sounds were going off so I can't confirm if it was making sound or not, but it was definitely not flashing and it should have been. We really need to have that checked out."
What's interesting is that this isn't coming from a place of anxiety. He's not worried about missing the fire alarm if it goes off. It's rooted in this deep fascination with the way something works and an act of giving to our community in his own specific way.
We have outside experts come in and provide audits and checks on what's working and what's not—everything from academics to electrical systems. We make plans and have checklists. And then sometimes what we need to know comes from the mouth of babes!
I love working in a school where those kids are celebrated. Their voices are heard. And that they feel comfortable coming straight up to the head of school with a handwritten note, a serious expression, and a request. I am proud to be a leader who listens. Who takes what they have to say seriously.
In a season where lots of people are talking, I am trying to do more listening. I can default into the "fix it" mode easily. There is great satisfaction in just getting it taken care of. But we miss something in those moments—or at least I know I do. This idea of accountable vs. capable. I think it applies here too.