Knock, Knock…I Regret This!

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This week on Vice Principal on Office, Join me, your host, Lisa Hill, as I share some of my school home visit adventures. You know, those well intentioned relationship building meet families where they are moments where I knocked on the door and instantly thought knock, knock. I regret this. Now settle in and let's get laughing and learning. Attention, students, I mean listeners. The stories in this podcast are told from the host personal and parcical point of view. All names and identifiers have been omitted or altered to protect identities. Now get to class and enjoy the show. Hello, folks, I hope everyone is doing well. As for me, I'm officially three days away from spring break, and to be honest, it cannot get here fast enough. Why because I'm tired. Now. If you've listened to any of my recent episodes, you know that I really do love my current job, but the daily grind of school life can wear a person down after a while. The good news is I still laugh every day, and I think laughing at work is important for a couple of reasons. First, you work in a school, You're working with kids. Then kids can be incredibly entertaining. Sometimes they don't even mean to be funny, but somehow they still make you laugh. Second, if you don't laugh at least once every day, you'll burn out long before retirement ever comes knocking on your door. And third, if you can't find any humor in your day at all, well, I'm a little worried about you. Life is short, and more often than not, it's pretty entertaining, which brings me to this episode's very entertaining topic, school home visits. The thing you should know about home visits is that at one time they were a great way to connect with families whose child was having a hard time in school were sometimes families who were having a hard time In general. Life happens, and sometimes life gets complicated. A visit from school staff who were calm, supportive, and non threatening could make a real difference with families. Over the years, I worked with different teams who join me on these home visits. We help families with clothing, food, connections to community resources, and whatever else they might need at the time. Most families appreciated the support. I also noticed that parents and guardians often seemed more comfortable meeting when we came to them. That makes sense. Some parents avoided coming into a school building because their own experiences as students weren't exactly positive. Walking back into a place tied to those bad school memories wasn't something they wanted to do unless it was absolutely necessary. Meeting families where they lived helped remove some of that pressure, and while the purpose of these visits was always support and connections, they also created some unforgettable moments. People are interesting enough in everyday life, but when you step into someone else's space, things can take an unexpected turn. More than once, I walked away from a home visit thinking you can't make this shit up. Oh, Lisa, And there it is right on Cuma, Thank you, But seriously, you can't make up the school home visit stories I'm about to share. I think it was episode twenty two. I told you about a home visit where I walked into a house and found a mom on a hide to bed with a man in the middle of the day. I was there for a completely legitimate school reason, heard out her head head lice, and because the girl was pregnant, I needed to explain how to treat the lice safely without using chemicals. So there I am standing in the living room trying to deliver important health information. Now the funny part of this story, well, there are several. First, the mom never actually got off the hide to bed. She did pull the blanket up, but only enough to cover most of herself. One shoulder remained fully on display. Second, the man on the height of bed solved the situation by pulling the blanket completely over his head, which left his bare feet sticking out the bottom. And the best part, the walart hanging directly above the heide of bed said will work for weed? I kid you not. That was the scene while I was trying to explain life's treatment. Needless to say, I laughed the entire way back to school. See what I mean about home business being entertaining. Want to hear some more? Okay, here's the infamous Easter egg hunt story. I worked with a team of wonderful educators who once decided we wanted to do something nice for struggling families who lived in a trailer court. Our big idea an Easter egg hunt for the kids who lived there. By that time, we had gotten to know many of the families pretty well. They were very appreciative of the support we provided and often invited us to things like graduation parties, birthday parties, outdoor barbecues, basically anything that involved food, so organizing an Easter egg hunt seemed like a perfectly harmless idea. We picked a grassy area at the very end of the trailer court that looked like it would work well for hiding eggs. The only issue was the area needed a little preparation, and by a little preparation, I mean it looked like the Lost and Found for junk. So one early Saturday morning, our team showed up to clean up the area. We picked up broken glass, rolled old tires out of the way, and hauled bags of garbage out of the grass so kids wouldn't accidentally find something other than Easter eggs. While we were doing this, some of the kids and eventually a few parents started wandering down toward us, which was already funny. There we were doing all the work while the audience watched like we were the pre show entertainment before the Easter eggs arrived. But the real entertainment started when we suddenly heard police sirens. Naturally, we looked up from our cleaning duties, and flying down the trailer court road at what felt like about ninety miles an hour, came a cop car. Then from another direction came another car, followed closely by another cop car. My team froze, partly because this was a completely new experience for us, but mostly because none of us wanted to become part of the accident report. Within seconds, all three vehicles flew past us. We stood there for a moment, looked at each other, and then slowly scanned the area to make sure the excitement had officially moved somewhere else. The coast was clear, but something else had changed. All of the kids and parents who had been watching us clean gone. Apparently the second though sirens started, they disappeared faster than teachers leaving the building on the first day of spring break. Eventually we convinced people it was safe to come back out, and the Easter egg hunt went on just fine. But apparently we didn't learn our lesson because we came back the next year and luckily there were no police sirens, no high speed traffic, just kids, candy, and very appreciative parents, which, as it turns out, is exactly how an Easter egg hunt is supposed to go. So as you can guess, home visits can be unpredictable. One day, a colleague and I pulled up to a house and got out of the car. As we started walking up the driveway, an older gentleman came bouncing toward us from the yard. Big smile, open arms, very confident, the kind of confident where you assume, oh, he must know us. Before I could even say hello, he walked right up to me, leaned in, and puckered up like he was about to give me a big kiss. I instantly blurted out no, no, no, and started backing toward the car, quickly reconsidering every life choice that had brought me to that driveway. He kept smiling and stepping forward like this was a perfectly normal family greeting. Meanwhile, the person I was with just stood there laughing, not helping, not intervening, just laughing like they had a front row seat to the whole situation. I finally made it back to the car and shut the door. My co worker was now doubled over, laughing so hard they could hardly get in the car. I just pointed at them and said, next time, you're getting out first. We later learned that the old man had Alzheimer's and thought I was his niece, which explained the attempted kiss. But in that moment, all I knew was that I had just rejected a kiss from a complete stranger and executed the fastest backward exit of my life. Now, before you think all home visits are just awkward encounters and emergency retreats to the car, there's actually some research behind why schools do them. Researchers at John Hopkins University studied what happens when teachers visit families at home, not to lecture them, not to solve problems, but simply to build relationships, and the results were pretty interesting. Students whose families received home visits had significantly better attendance. In fact, they missed about twenty four percent fewer days of school than similar students whose families didn't receive visits. Now think about that for a second. If students are in school more often, they're getting more instruction. More instruction usually leads to better learning, and that's exactly what the research found. Students connected to home visit programs were more likely to be reading at or above grade level by the end of the year. The visits helped build trust between teachers and families. Parents felt more comfortable communicating with the school teachers, understood students' situations a little better, and kids saw that their teachers and families were actually on the same team. So yes, home visits can absolutely help students succeed, But as you've probably gathered from these stories, they also come with some very unexpected moments. One afternoon, my principal and I showed up for a home visit. Outside it was a bright, sunny day, but inside the home it was completely dark. Not dim life, I mean pitch black, every window covered, no lamps on, nothing. It was the type of dark where your eyes go from daylight to that kind of darkness and your brain immediately says, this seems like a bad idea. So we just stood there for a second, waiting for our eyes to adjust. They didn't. It stayed so dark we couldn't see the floor, the furniture, or any living thing inside that house, but we could hear a man's voice, calmly giving us directions to walk further into the room. At that point, my heart started racing, wondering what in the hell we had actually just stepped into. My principal didn't think twice and followed the man's directions by taking a step forward, not wanting to fall into some super massive portal the hell. Reached out to grab my principal, but he was a lot taller than me, so I did the next best thing and grabbed the belt loops on the back of his pants and held on for dear life. So there we were slowly walking through this pitch black house, him leading the way and me hanging onto his belt loops like we were exploring a cave. Meanwhile, the guy who lived there is just standing or maybe sitting somewhere in the darkness watching us, completely calm, like having two educators blindly wandering through your living room is perfectly normal. Eventually we got close enough, well, I assume we got close enough to have a very brief conversation about the man's son in total darkness while I'm still holding on to the back of the principal's pants, because at that point I had committed to this strategy, our conversation was shorter than the time it took us to navigate our way through that damn house. When we finally were back outside in daylight, my principal turned around and said, you can let go now, Lisa. Apparently, at some point during that home visit, I forgot that letting go was even an option. Of course, there are some home visits you just know the second the door opens that you've entered a completely different situation than the one you pictured in your head. While driving over one afternoon, a colleague and I pulled up to a house, jumped out of the car, and knocked on the door. The door opened, and a woman greeted us, looking like she had just rolled out of bed or possibly off the couch, hair, a little wild, oversized T shirt, and absolutely no evidence that a bra had been part of her morning routine, though it should have been anyway. She was thrilled that we were there. But before we even made it from the front door to the living room, three things became immediately clear. One the smell, two the television, and three the coffee table. The smell came rolling out of that house like it had been waiting by the door all day. Meanwhile, The Price Is Right was blasting on the TV. It was the kind of loud where you could hear Bob Barker judging everyone in the room. And right there on the coffee table was a bottle of whiskey sitting next to an overflowing ash tray that looked like it had been working double shifts. As for the woman, she welcomed us into her home like we were old friends stopping by for a visit. Behind her, on the wall hung a big picture of Jesus looking down over the living room like he also wasn't expecting company today. As we followed the woman in, she eagerly said, come on in and sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Now? At this point, my colleague and I both did the exact same thing. We glanced down at the floor and over to the kitchen, because when a house smells like that, you start wondering, besides humans, what else might be living in the house. So, while declining the offer of the drink, though a shot of whiskey from that bottle would have been nice, we both casually slid our hands into our pockets and very discreetly started pulling our pant legs up just enough to get the cuffs of our pants off the floor, while at the same time having this very polite conversation about the woman's child. While the price is Right played it full volume in the background, and the bottle of whiskey and the ashtray on the coffee table stared at us like they had survived several rounds of bad decisions. Oh and Jesus oversaw the whole situation. But the best part the woman never thought to turn down the TV, not even a little. But when Bob Barker announced someone want a brand new car, she clapped her hands together, cheering on the contestant. It's hard to compete for attention when Bob Barker's on TV. Hopefully this is the part of the episode in which you understand why I titled it Knock Knock. I regret this, of course, after reliving some of my home visit stories, I really wanted to call this episode knock knock. Who's there? Me? Me? Who? Me? That crazy lady clearly entertained by the chaotic, unbelievable moments they happen during your home visit, and also make me say, see why you can't make this shit up? Because it's true, you can't make this shit up, Lisa Anne. I did not teach you to speak like this. Oh you're still here? Well, you know, mom, you just can't. And sadly, there was a point in my career I simply quit doing home visits. And it's not because I don't believe in them. I absolutely do. Some of the best connections I ever made with families happened sitting in living rooms, standing in kitchens, or having some conversation on a front porch. But the truth is, the world feels different now part of its safety. I knew of an educator who was trying to help a student who was struggling. He went out of his way to support that kid and his family, and what happened during one of his home visits. The student shot and killed him right there on the front steps of the house. When you hear something like that, it changes how you think about walking up to someone's door. But there's another reason too. People assumed the worst now. Years ago, when we knocked on a door, families might have been surprised, but most of the time they were welcoming. They assumed you were there because you cared about their kid. But now, when someone knocks on a door, people immediately think something is wrong, or someone's in trouble, or that the school is just there to judge them. The whole atmosphere is different. I missed the days when people assumed the best about each other. When a teacher or a principal showing up at your house meant one simple thing, someone cared enough about your kid to come talk to you face to face. And honestly, that's why those home visit stories still matter to me, because as strange and sometimes downright ridiculous as some of those visits were, they were also moments where schools and families actually connected, and that's something worth remembering. So that's the thing about home visits. You never knew what you were walking into. Sometimes it was a heartfelt conversation about a kid who needed support. Sometimes it was a pitch black living room where you couldn't see the floor. Sometimes it was a house where the price is right was louder than the actual conversation you were trying to have. Sometimes it's an Easter egg hunt, and sometimes it was all of those things at the same time. Home visits were unpredictable, they were awkward, they were occasionally terrifying, But they were also the kind of moments that remind you that K twelfth school doesn't just happen inside a building. Kids have whole lives outside those hallways. Families have stories, and sometimes educators ended up right in the middle of them. Now, looking back, I realize those visits were never really about having the perfect conversation. They were about showing up and showing up met navigating dark houses, loud televisions, suspicious carpets, and the occasional belt loop survival strategy. But they also gave me stories I'll be telling for the rest of my life, and honestly, I wouldn't trade those stories for anything, even the ones where I ran from a kiss, hung onto the principal's belt loops and started making eye contact with Jesus like we were both concerned. Will kids. The dismissal bell is ringing, So until next time, on Vice Principal on Office, Push in your chair, put your name on your paper, be kind to your classmates, put your phone away and use your indoor voice or not. Thanks for listening, and I hope you enjoyed the tales from Vice Principal on Office as much as I enjoyed sharing them. And it is also my hope that you were not only entertained by this episode, but they walked away with the little nugget of knowledge that gave you some insight on how working in a school is not for the faint of heart. And as I've said before, life is short, so you got to do the best you can to leave the world in a better place than when you got here. And of course, for the love of God, see the humor in life. It's a lot more fun and a little easier to get through the ick in life with a smile on your face. Catch you next time on Vice Principle on Office. Next time on Vice Principal on Office, Join me your host Lisa Hill as I explore the strange world of school purchases, where every item is supposed to be track tagged and accounted for in theory, but somehow things get bought that nobody remembers ordering, items disappear, and occasionally someone treats the school budget like it's their personal Amazon Prime account. So tune in March twenty fourth for Wait that came out of the school budget. Until then, keep you laughing and learning, students, I mean listeners. Thanks again for tuning in, and if you've enjoyed today's show, please leave me a review. It really helps grow the show. And don't forget to hit the follow button so you don't miss an episode. Trust me, you don't want to be late for this Detention and listeners, if you've got a school story of your own that you think would fit Vice Principal on Office, I'd love to hear it. Just head to my podcast website and send me your story, and who knows, your story might even get a shout out in a future episode. Thanks so much for listening and for your support. Vice Principle on Office is an independent podcast with everything you hear done by me, Lisa Hill, and support it through buz Sprout. Any information from today's show, along with any links and resources, are available in the show's notes, So if you want to do a little homework and dive deeper into anything I've mentioned, head over to my podcast website and check it out. And a big thank you to Matthew Chaiam with Pixibay for the show's marvelous theme music, and of course a huge shout out to my mother. This podcast is for the purpose of entertainment only, like the recess of your day, and not a platform for debates about public education. Now you never know you can learn something, And just a reminder that the stories shared in this podcast represent one lens, which is based on my personal experiences and interpretations and also reflect my unique perspective through humor, names, dates, and places have been changed or omitted to protect identities, and should not be considered universally applicable until next time, Keep laughing and learning.