Call Me Old School, But I Miss the Happy Halloween

 

I walked into a Spirit Halloween store the other day with my 18-year-old son, and for a moment, I thought I’d accidentally wandered into the set of a horror movie. Chainsaws buzzing, clowns with dripping teeth, bloodied dolls that scream when you pass by. It was like a haunted house had exploded and someone decided to sell tickets.

Now don’t get me wrong, I understand that Halloween has always had its spooky side. A good jump scare, a creepy decoration, or a clever costume that makes you look twice? That’s all part of the fun. But something feels different lately. Darker. Gorier. Louder. It’s as if the entire holiday has shifted from “boo!” to “blood!”

I looked around at the costumes, rows and rows of zombies, slashers, and vampires with missing faces. I realized that more and more, Halloween seems aimed at adults trying to outdo each other in shock value. What used to be playful is now often extreme. It’s no longer about pretending, it’s about pushing limits. And standing there between the fake severed limbs and fog machines, I couldn’t help but think, When did we lose the happy in Halloween? 

I get it. We live in a world of constant competition. Every social media post has to be “next level.” Every event has to “top” the last one. Halloween has become another stage for that competitive creativity. It all has to be bigger, darker, scarier. Add in decades of horror films, survival video games, and streaming marathons of fear, and our cultural tolerance for the gruesome has gone way up. What once would have sent us running for the light switch is now considered “cute.”

I can appreciate the artistry, truly. Some of those special effects are impressive. But I miss when Halloween was more about imagination than intimidation. When creativity didn’t require carnage. I remember my Mom using a white sheet, cutting eye holes, and calling me a ghost. That was once good enough, but not anymore. 

Call me old school, but I remember simpler times. The excitement of carving pumpkins, lighting the candle inside, and watching it glow through the jagged grin. The smell of popcorn balls and caramel apples. The thrill of walking the neighborhood in a homemade costume with a pillowcase for candy. Those were the days! We didn’t have 12-foot skeletons or laser fog machines. We maybe had flashlights, some creativity, and the occasional sheet that tripped us up when the eye holes didn’t line up. And yet, those nights felt magical.

I understand the world has changed. Safety and hygiene matter, and the days of dunking our heads into a communal tub of apples are long gone, probably for good reason. So maybe we switch the “bobbing” to apples hung on strings. Maybe we keep the sealed candy instead of the homemade treats. Fine. But the spirit (no pun intended) doesn’t have to disappear. Halloween doesn’t have to be sanitized of fun or overrun with gore. It just needs a little recalibration. So here’s my plea: less ghosts and more Ghostbusters. Less Jason and Michael Myers, more Mary Poppins and Scooby-Doo. Let’s bring back the laughter, the cleverness, the joy.

There’s something beautiful about watching a little kid proudly wear a costume made out of cardboard and duct tape. Or a family that coordinates costumes and walks through the neighborhood together. Or a teacher who shows up to school dressed as Ms. Frizzle, The Cat in the Hat, or Waldo. That’s the kind of creativity that connects, not repels. Halloween doesn’t have to make us flinch to make it fun. It just has to make us feel.

Here’s what I think: Halloween, like anything else in life, reflects what we choose to see. If we focus on the fear, that’s what we’ll find. But if we focus on the community, the laughter, the imagination, it becomes something worth celebrating. It’s the same idea I talked about in my “Yellow Car Syndrome” reflection a week ago. What you look for, you see more of. If you look for darkness, you’ll find it everywhere. If you look for light, you’ll start to notice it in the smallest glow sticks and pumpkin lights on porches. The good old-fashioned Halloween I miss isn’t gone. It’s just waiting to be noticed again. It is in the joy of a child shouting “trick or treat!”, in the neighbors gathered at the end of the driveway, in the shared smiles behind every silly costume. So yes, call me old school. I’ll own it proudly. I like my Halloween with laughter instead of screams. I’ll take the Ghostbusters over the gory ghosts any day. And maybe this year, that’s what we can all aim for. Turn down the volume on the horror. Turn up the creativity, the nostalgia, the connection. It’s not about being naïve, it’s about remembering that joy and fright don’t have to be on opposite sides. Kenny Chesney was right in another way: Happy is as happy does. And maybe, just maybe, Halloween can be that too.

Because if life is 10% what happens and 90% how we react, then Halloween is the same. We can react with fear, or we can choose fun. We can decorate with doom, or with delight. So this year, I’m choosing happy. I’m choosing candy corn and cardboard ghosts. I’m choosing to smile when the porch light flicks on and to remember the simple magic that started it all. Happy Halloween, and may your night be more treat than trick. (cue Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers - Monster Mash). 

Until next time...

Redefining Assessment: Evaluating Student Learning in an AI-Enhanced Environment

In today’s classrooms, the moment a student whispers, “Could you check if ChatGPT wrote that?” signals something bigger than curiosity. It represents a turning point in education. We are no longer in a world where pencil and paper alone define learning or achievement. Artificial intelligence can now generate essays, solve complex problems, and even mimic human creativity. The traditional ways we measure learning are being challenged at their core. Tests, quizzes, and essays have served us well, but the time has come to evolve.

Why Change Is Needed

There was a time when success in school meant memorizing facts and recalling them on command. That was enough because knowledge lived in books, and students were rewarded for retrieving it. Today, knowledge is everywhere, instantly accessible. If ChatGPT can produce a polished five paragraph essay in seconds, what does an essay really measure anymore? One educator described it best when they said that AI exposes the flaws of a system built around recall instead of creativity.

We now face an opportunity to reshape assessment into something that reveals not only what students know but how they think. Instead of assessing only the product, we must assess the process. True learning happens when students can explain their reasoning, make connections, and apply understanding in new situations.

Rethinking Assessment Design

Educators are beginning to create what some researchers call AI resistant assessments. These are tasks that cannot be completed by a machine alone because they require personal insight, critical thinking, and creativity.

Capstone projects and portfolios are powerful examples. They allow students to craft a research project or creative artifact over time, showing how their thinking evolves through reflection and revision. Oral defenses, or what universities call a viva voce, invite students to explain their work in person, demonstrating that their understanding matches their written product. When students articulate what they know, learning becomes authentic and alive.

Assessment in an AI world must value both the journey and the destination. In practice, this means evaluating the drafts, notes, and reflections that lead to a final piece. It is not enough to submit a finished essay. Students should show their brainstorming steps, edits, and choices along the way.

Teachers can use rubrics that capture how thinking develops. Some schools even explore digital tools that analyze depth of reasoning within student work. The goal is not to catch students using AI but to encourage them to think deeply about how they use it. When students document their process, they learn that learning itself has value.

Making Learning Real

One of the best ways to make assessment meaningful is through authentic, real world tasks. When students write persuasive letters about environmental issues in their community, design math models to solve real problems, or create digital media projects, they move beyond memorization. These activities require critical thinking, analysis, and creativity. AI might assist in some parts, but it cannot replace the personal expression that comes from lived experience.

In these moments, assessment becomes more than a grade. It becomes a mirror that shows students what they are capable of when they take ownership of their learning.

Assessment should never feel like a one time event. It should feel like an ongoing conversation between teacher and student. AI tools can provide instant feedback on writing clarity or problem solving, but they should complement, not replace, teacher insight. Conferences, peer reviews, and reflective check ins add the human touch that deepens understanding.

Formative assessment builds confidence and direction. When students receive regular feedback, they begin to see learning as growth instead of judgment. That shift in mindset might be the most important change of all.

Integrity and Equity

The question of academic integrity will always matter. Some schools are experimenting with dual track systems that separate AI free assessments from open AI exploration. For our TK through 8 settings, this could look like a combination of in class writing tasks alongside creative projects where AI use is allowed but must be declared.

Clear policies matter. Students need to know when AI can be used, how to document it, and why transparency builds trust. Families also need to understand these expectations so that learning remains authentic and equitable for everyone.

Supporting Teachers and Students

Change takes support. Teachers need professional learning opportunities that help them design assessments for this new environment. Workshops on AI resistant assignments, tools to collect drafts and reflections, and guidance for facilitating oral presentations or project exhibitions will make a difference.

Students, too, must learn how to use AI responsibly. They should practice reflecting on the prompts they write, evaluating the responses they receive, and recognizing when AI helps them grow versus when it replaces their own effort. These lessons teach digital responsibility as much as academic skill.

The Vision Ahead

Reimagining assessment is not a burden. It is an opportunity. Instead of discouraging AI, we can embrace it as a partner in deeper learning. The focus shifts from asking whether a student knows information to exploring how that student can use it creatively and meaningfully. That is the kind of learning that prepares students for the world beyond school. It celebrates curiosity, application, and authentic voice.

Generative AI is not the enemy of education. It is a mirror reflecting what we value most about learning. If we design assessments that reveal understanding, originality, and reflection, we reclaim what assessment was always meant to be. It becomes a window into a student’s mind and heart, not just a record of their output.

With thoughtful design and human connection, assessment no longer asks, “Did AI do it?” Instead, it asks, “What did you learn while doing it?” And that is the classroom where real growth happens.

Until next time...

AI and Equity: Bridging the Digital Divide in Education

Think about our classrooms as bridges. They are not only bridges over gaps in knowledge, but also bridges over gaps in opportunity. Artificial intelligence has incredible potential to close those gaps. Yet that potential will only be realized if every student, regardless of zip code, has both access and support. Without that commitment, the bridge may collapse into a deeper divide rather than unite learners across it.

In every district, there are students who go home to high speed internet, quiet study spaces, and personal devices that connect them instantly to the world. Yet others return to crowded homes where Wi Fi struggles to connect, devices are shared, and even basic access is uncertain. That difference is not just inconvenient. It is unjust. It shapes who gets to explore the possibilities of AI and who does not.

Researchers have called this the second digital divide. The first divide was access to technology itself. The second divide is about digital literacy and connectivity. And now, we face what many are calling the third digital divide. It is the divide between those who have access to AI tools and those who do not. This divide will determine who can harness AI to learn faster, think deeper, and create more freely. We cannot allow the benefits of this new technology to be reserved only for those who already have advantage.

Thankfully, there are efforts taking place that give reason for hope. Here in California, the Closing the Digital Divide Initiative is working to bring both devices and training to underserved districts. The State education department has begun introducing professional learning focused on AI so that teachers and students alike can learn how to use it responsibly and creatively.

Beyond California, international programs like the EDISON Alliance and grants from the European Commission are supporting similar efforts around the world. They are providing affordable broadband, teacher training, and modern devices to communities that need them most.

Closer to home, partnerships such as the ConnectEd Initiative are working with Apple, AT&T, and Microsoft to bring high speed internet and instructional support directly to schools. These collaborations matter. They show what can happen when the public and private sectors work together toward a shared goal.

To truly bridge the AI divide in our TK through 8 schools, we need a strategy that covers four essential areas.

Infrastructure First

Access to reliable broadband must be the foundation. Schools and homes alike need dependable connections. This means tapping into state and federal grants, forming partnerships with local internet providers, and ensuring that connectivity is no longer a barrier to learning.

Affordability and Devices

Every learner deserves a working device and a quiet place to use it. This can be achieved through district programs, grants, and creative partnerships that refurbish used technology. It should not depend on chance or charity. It should be part of a sustainable plan.

AI Literacy for All

Once access is achieved, we must make sure that teachers and students understand how to use AI thoughtfully. Through workshops, digital literacy frameworks, and districtwide training, educators can learn how to embed AI into their lessons while guarding against bias and protecting student privacy. The goal is not to turn every student into a coder, but to help them become critical thinkers in an AI world.

Community Engagement and Trust

Equity is not only about hardware and software. It is about relationships. Hosting family nights, sharing clear information about how student data is protected, and showing how AI supports learning builds understanding and trust. When families feel included, true equity follows.

What This Looks Like in Action

At one of our partner districts, a fourth grade classroom began using an AI reading companion that adjusted story difficulty to match each child’s reading level. Yet the real success came from what surrounded the technology. The teacher worked closely with a volunteer mentor to provide individual feedback and encouragement. The technology did not replace human connection. It enhanced it.

In another situation, teachers began using AI to help design project based lessons. Students explored local agricultural data and used AI tools to brainstorm solutions for water conservation. Because the teachers had clear protocols and training, AI became a coach that extended their creativity, not a shortcut that replaced it.

These are not stories about technology alone. They are stories about people who chose to use technology in service of learning and inclusion.

There will be challenges ahead. Some areas still lack broadband. Some families still cannot afford devices. Some teachers still feel unprepared to integrate AI effectively. The road to equity is never smooth, but it is worth traveling. Digital Promise reminds us that equity is not a single project or product. It is a comprehensive approach built on leadership, resources, access, and ongoing support. We must keep checking where gaps remain and continue refining our strategies as technology evolves.

Our vision for the future is clear. We want every student, from the foothills to the cities, to have equal access to AI enhanced learning. We will achieve that by building partnerships with local organizations, nonprofit foundations, and technology companies that share our commitment. Together, we can provide reliable infrastructure, continuous AI literacy training, and community based digital navigation programs.

When AI is truly equitably integrated, it becomes more than a privilege. It becomes a right. And when that happens, every student can step confidently onto that bridge of opportunity. The beauty of education is that it gives us all a chance to cross together.

Until next time...

Listen to the Educator Forever Podcast

I enjoyed being a guest on the Educator Forever Podcast. It is always enjoyable to share about our profession and my book Impact Mentoring.  Listen here:

Educator Forever Podcast 

Student Perspectives on AI: Navigating the New Learning Landscape

When I walked into one of our classrooms and overhear a student saying, “I used ChatGPT to help brainstorm,” I  was immediately intrigued. That short sentence held   a ton of meaning. It carries curiosity, empowerment, and perhaps a little uncertainty too. Students today are not only using artificial intelligence in their learning, they are also wrestling with what it means. They are shaping the future of how we use these tools before most adults have even finished forming an opinion.

Every generation of students has grown up with a new learning technology that changed the way they think. For my generation, it was the arrival of the internet and search engines that replaced encyclopedias. For this generation, it is AI. Their classroom experiences are being transformed by tools that can generate text, answer questions, and summarize complex topics in seconds. The change is not just technical. It is cultural. It is changing what it means to learn, think, and create.

According to a recent Pew Research Center study, about one in four teens in the United States reports using ChatGPT for schoolwork. That number has doubled in a single year. AI is no longer a niche tool used by a few. It has entered the mainstream, becoming part of the modern student toolkit. When I ask students how they use it, the answers vary widely. Some say they use it to check their writing. Others use it to get ideas or to organize their thoughts. A few admit that they use it to finish assignments faster.

There is no single pattern that fits all. What stands out is how quickly they adapt. The technology does not intimidate them. They approach it with a mixture of curiosity and caution, aware that it can help but also aware that it can blur the line between their effort and the computer’s help. Students are not blind to the concerns surrounding AI. Surveys show that most teens see value in using ChatGPT for research or brainstorming ideas, but fewer believe it should be used to write essays or solve math problems. One study found that while more than half of students believe AI enhances learning, nearly a quarter feel uneasy or unsure about it.

Those mixed feelings make sense. Many of them know that using AI the wrong way could mean skipping the hard work that leads to real understanding. I have had students tell me, “I like it for ideas, but I do not want it to write for me.” That statement captures a lot of wisdom. They are already setting their own boundaries, recognizing that using AI to learn is different from using it to avoid learning.

In universities, the same tension exists. Studies show that more than two thirds of college students have tried ChatGPT. Most use it for brainstorming, summarizing readings, or organizing their thoughts. Yet when asked about using it for writing full essays, the majority say no. They worry about plagiarism, accuracy, and losing their own voice. One university study found that students are open to AI for daily tasks like note-taking or researching, but they grow cautious when it comes to deeper thinking and assessments. They want balance. They want the freedom to use the tool without losing the authenticity of their own work.

When you listen to students talk about AI, a pattern emerges. They are not asking for permission to use it freely. They are asking for guidance. More than half of K–12 students say they want teachers to show them when and how to use AI responsibly. College students echo this desire. They prefer clear policies that explain what is acceptable and what is not. Some even bring up ethical questions. They ask about the environmental cost of running AI systems. They talk about fairness, honesty, and the risk of bias in AI-generated information. These are not questions we would expect from middle schoolers a few years ago, yet they are now part of everyday classroom conversations.

Students are aware that technology is powerful, but they do not see it as neutral. They want to understand its impact on their world and their values. The message from students is clear. They want to use AI, but they want adults to help them do it the right way. That is our invitation as educators. Rather than banning it or pretending it does not exist, we can teach students how to engage with it thoughtfully.

We can start by creating classroom AI agreements. Invite students to help define what is appropriate and what is not. They will surprise you with their insight. We can also teach AI literacy, not just in computer science classes but across subjects. Imagine a short lesson where students compare their own paragraph to one written by AI and then discuss the differences. That single exercise teaches voice, structure, and reflection.

We can design “AI-reflect” zones where students use the tool to gather ideas, then pause to decide what they will keep, modify, or reject. It turns technology into a mirror for their thinking rather than a replacement for it. And perhaps most important, we can keep listening. Their understanding of AI will evolve quickly, and so should our approach.

Our students do not see AI as a threat or as a miracle. They see it as a companion in their learning journey, one that requires trust, guidance, and curiosity. They are ready to explore it with us, not instead of us. The best thing we can do is listen to their questions, shape their curiosity, and model how to think critically in a world where information can be generated instantly. That is how we ensure AI becomes a tool for growth rather than a shortcut that steals it.

Real learning will always depend on human thought, creativity, and care. If we can keep those at the center, then AI becomes not the end of learning, but a new beginning.

Until next time...

Happy Is As Happy Does

There is a song by Kenny Chesney titled “Happy Is as Happy Does.” I absolutely love it. It’s simple, upbeat, and packed with truth. The idea is that happiness isn’t something that just happens, it’s something we do. It’s not a prize handed out to the lucky few, but a mindset we choose and cultivate every day.

That message echoes through history. Aristotle is credited in 350bc as saying, “Happiness depends upon ourselves.” Voltaire added, “I have chosen to be happy because it is good for my health.” Abraham Lincoln then said, “Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” And Charles Swindoll famously reminded us that “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” Well over 2000 years of wisdom provides the roadmap for living. Happiness doesn’t come from what we have or what happens, it comes from how we respond.

Have you ever noticed how once you buy a yellow car, you suddenly see them everywhere? It’s not that the world suddenly filled up with yellow cars, it’s that your awareness changed. I call this the Yellow Car Syndrome. When something becomes important to us, we start to see it more often. Happiness works the same way. The more we look for it, the more we see it. If you wake up determined to find small moments of joy, a student’s smile, a kind gesture, a peaceful morning drive, you’ll notice them everywhere. But if your attention is fixed on frustrations, delays, or disappointments, that’s what will fill your view. The world gives us both, but our focus decides which one wins the day.

Picture yourself walking down a long sidewalk. Most of it is smooth and easy to travel, but every once in a while, a tree root has pushed up the concrete and left a crack. You could walk the whole length of that sidewalk staring only at the cracks, muttering about the flaws and tripping over what’s wrong, or you could look up, take in the view, and appreciate the miles of stable surface beneath your feet. That’s the secret of a happy mindset. It’s not about ignoring the cracks. It’s about seeing the whole picture. 

Another way to look at it is with planes. On a single day around the world, around 130,000 flights take off and land without incident, according to the International Air Transport Association. Commercial crashes are extremely rare, averaging about 3 crashes with fatalities per year globally. Compared to car crashes globally, there are approximately 3,500 to 3,700 road traffic fatalities per day, that is one death every 26 seconds on average. Yet, there are people that still think car travel is safer than a plan. It could be simply a fear of heights or, more plausibly, it is about the focus.    

Back to my point, there are always going to be things that don’t go our way, projects that don’t finish on time, plans that get interrupted, and days that start sideways before we even pour our first cup of coffee. But those cracks don’t define the journey. What defines it is how we react, how we adjust, and whether we keep looking for the beauty around us. We need to choose our filter. Happiness is a lens. It doesn’t erase the challenges, but it reshapes how we experience them. That’s where Lincoln’s insight lands so powerfully: “Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” It’s a decision. It’s not about pretending everything is fine, it’s about deciding to approach life with gratitude instead of grumbling, optimism instead of outrage, and curiosity instead of complaint.

Voltaire’s perspective adds another layer: “I have chosen to be happy because it is good for my health.” Science clearly backs that up. Positive emotions reduce stress, improve focus, and even strengthen immunity. But before science, the wisdom was clear. Choosing happy isn’t denial, it’s discipline. It’s tending to your mindset the way you’d tend to a garden. What you water grows.

Swindoll ties it all together with the ultimate reminder of, “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” That 90% is ours to determine, the space where we decide whether to dwell on the crack or just step over it. That brings me back to Kenny Chesney’s song, “Happy Is as Happy Does.” The title alone feels like an anthem for anyone who wants to live with purpose. Happiness isn’t a mood, it’s a practice. It’s not just feeling good, but doing good. It’s helping others, showing gratitude, finding humor, or choosing grace when frustration would be easier.

Each of us wakes up with a choice, to look for yellow cars or to overlook them. To see the cracks or the miles of smooth sidewalk. To react with joy or resentment. To do happy or to wait for it to arrive. The truth is, happy people aren’t the ones who have fewer problems. They’re the ones who focus more on what’s right than what’s wrong. They’ve made up their minds to walk with appreciation and respond with heart. So I invite you to join me in my challenge, to myself and my family, to make that choice. Let’s find the yellow cars, step over the cracks, and remember that happiness isn’t out there in some unreachable place somewhere. It’s inside each of us. It’s in how we choose to see and live each day. Because in the end, happy is as happy does. (cue Kenny Chesney - Happy Is As Happy Does). 

Until next time...

Incremental Change

My entry today is a bit longer than usual and if you can stick with me, the message should resonate. Today marks a milestone for me. One thousand days ago, I set out to create a simple streak. The goal was not grand or complicated. It was simply to run, jog, or walk at least two miles in a single workout each day. That was it. Nothing more. And yet this small commitment has carried me through one thousand consecutive days without a break.

When I think about the meaning of this streak, it is not about speed, distance, or competition. It is about consistency. It is about showing up. There were days when I felt strong and energetic, and there were days when I felt tired or overwhelmed. There were days of sunshine and days of rain. There were days when I had little time and had to squeeze in the bare minimum. Yet in every circumstance, I honored the streak.

This streak has taught me that improvement rarely comes in a single giant leap. It comes in steady, almost invisible steps. One day does not look like much. Two miles is not a marathon. Yet when you add up those small steps, when you stay faithful to the process, the result becomes something powerful. That lesson does not belong only to fitness. It belongs to every part of our lives, including the work we do together in education. Imagine what would happen if we each started a streak of our own. It does not have to be about running or walking. It could be a teaching streak. Maybe it is reading aloud to your class every single day, even if only for ten minutes. Maybe it is greeting every student at the door with a smile. Maybe it is sending one encouraging note a week to a colleague. It could be something outside the classroom altogether. A fitness streak. A reading streak. A family dinner streak. The point is not what the streak is, but what it builds inside of us. When we create streaks, we create momentum. Momentum keeps us moving even when motivation feels low. Momentum builds habits, and habits shape culture. As teachers and leaders, the culture we shape is contagious. Students see it. They feel it. They mirror it. When we model consistency and dedication, they learn that goals are reached not by luck but by steady effort.

I have also discovered that streaks are deeply personal. Better is not defined by someone else. Better is defined by each of us. My streak is not about being the fastest runner or covering the greatest distance. It is about keeping a promise I made to myself. For you, better might mean something entirely different. And that is the beauty of it. Better belongs to you. I do not want you to hear this and think that a streak is only about numbers. It is about meaning. It is about proving to yourself that you can take small steps every day toward something that matters. Over time, those steps add up. They add up in fitness. They add up in reading. They add up in relationships. They add up in classrooms.

One thousand days ago, I had no idea what this streak would become. I only knew that I needed to take that day’s step. Today, looking back, I see how those simple daily choices built something significant. The streak now runs my day. I have to move forward. I no longer have to find motivation because with my streak, the motivation found me. So I want to encourage you to consider your own streak. Choose something that matters to you. Start small. Stay consistent. Share it with your students if you want them to join in. Or keep it as a personal reminder of your own capacity to grow. Whatever you choose, let it be your steady path toward becoming better.

Better is not about perfection. It is about progress. It is about the courage to take one more step today, and then another tomorrow, and then another after that. Before long, those steps become a journey. And that journey will be worth celebrating. Though I have known this my whole life, I lived it when I was recovering from a life-threatening bout with the original COVID-19 (The Beast as I called it). As I recounted in my book ‘Upright’, due to the massive damage to my lungs and the significant scar tissue present, my oxygen uptake often expressed as VO2 max, was limited at best. My diminished lung capacity impaired my ability to perform basic daily activities, including walking around the house. I would often have to stop to catch my breath just walking to the kitchen. Walk up the stairs? Forget it. Over a 6 month period, I improved to a point that I could walk around the grocery store at a slow pace, but that simple activity expended energy resources.  

I have come a long way since then but I can remember the feeling. I used to coach myself with every step. I would tell myself, “baby steps”. Move incrementally toward the goal. Get better every day. Some days are better than others, but try everyday to move toward the goal. Incremental change works. It is a proven strategy for sustainable progress over time. I’ll take that any day. 

Until next time...