Rascal’s Reflections, Vol. 1, Issue 6

(You can find all the work of Rascal Zurfluh at https://zimplicity.org/.)

The story of the observations of a trusted confidant of a retired school leader.

January has a different feel than other months. The decorations are gone, the calendar is clean again, and everyone is supposed to feel refreshed and ready. Humans like to call it a “reset.” Dogs know better. January wasn’t about starting over—it was about figuring out how to keep going.

From my spot beside my master’s chair, I’ve learned that January is when leadership becomes quieter and more serious. The excitement of beginnings has faded, and the real work of sustaining a community settles in. This is especially true in international schools, where January often marks the moment when people decide—sometimes without saying it out loud—whether this place, this country, and this life will truly become home.

And this year, January finishes with more than its usual weight.

When the World Feels Loud—and Far Away

For international school leaders, political unrest can feel both distant and uncomfortably close. Headlines from the United States and around the world arrive daily, filled with images of division, conflict, and challenges to human rights and safety. For those living abroad, there’s a peculiar tension: being removed from the immediate noise while still feeling deeply connected to its consequences.

I’ve watched my master navigate this reality many times. Families stop him in the hallway, unsure how to talk to their children about what they’re seeing. Teachers wonder how to address current events without inflaming fear or misunderstanding. Students absorb far more than adults realize, quietly forming ideas about power, justice, and belonging.

January is when those questions come into sharper focus. The holidays have reminded people of home—of identity, culture, and values. Returning to school brings the realization that the world is not as simple or as kind as we wish it were.

This is when leadership matters most.

Renewal Without Naivety

The start of a new calendar year invites optimism, but seasoned leaders know that hope without understanding is fragile. Renewal must be grounded in reality. My master used to say that January wasn’t the time for grand declarations—it was the time for principled steadiness. Schools don’t need leaders who pretend everything is fine; they need leaders who can hold complexity without panic.

International schools, at their best, are places where discourse is not avoided but guided. Where difficult conversations are framed by curiosity rather than certainty. Where empathy is taught not as sentiment, but as discipline. This is not political work. It is human work.

The Courage to Teach Civility

In times of unrest, neutrality can quietly slip into complacency. I’ve seen how tempting it is for schools to say, “We don’t take positions,” when what they really mean is, “We don’t want conflict.”

But schools are already taking a position—every day—through what they allow, what they avoid, and what they model.

My master believed deeply that schools must pledge themselves to discourse. Not loud debate or ideological battles, but thoughtful dialogue rooted in listening. He encouraged students to ask why, to seek multiple perspectives, and to remember that disagreement does not cancel dignity.

In January, when the world feels fractured, schools have a rare opportunity: to teach young people that empathy is not weakness, that understanding does not equal endorsement, and that acceptance is not the same as agreement.

These lessons last far longer than any headline.

A Prayer for Leaders

There’s a quote attributed to St. Francis of Assisi that my master often returned to in difficult moments:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.”

You don’t need to be religious to understand the power of that sentiment. It is, at its core, a leadership stance. One that asks us not to amplify fear, but to counter it with steadiness. Not to match anger with anger, but to respond with humanity.

January leadership is not about fixing the world. It’s about choosing how we show up in it.

A Word to Heads of School

If you are leading an international school right now, here is Rascal’s January advice:

·      Be calm when others are anxious.

·      Create space for conversation, not conclusions.

·      Model civility even when it feels unfashionable.

·      Teach empathy as a skill, not a slogan.

And remember that young people are watching how you respond far more closely than what you say.

The relationships you strengthen now—across cultures, beliefs, and uncertainties—will shape not only your school year, but the kind of world your students believe is possible.

Closing Thoughts

Moving from January into February does not ask us to be perfect. It asks us to be present. To lead with integrity when answers are unclear. To recommit ourselves to understanding, even when it would be easier to retreat into certainty or silence.

From my perspective—low to the ground, but close to the heart—I can tell you this: communities don’t endure because they avoid difficult realities. They endure because leaders choose empathy over fear, discourse over division, and hope grounded in action.

That may not calm the world overnight. But it will shape the people who inherit it.

And that, I think, is reason enough to begin again.

Until next time,

Rascal

P. S. – A message from Rascal’s master – Sorry I won’t be able to join you in Toronto for Oasis 2026.  I’ve been pulled away by other family and Rascal related matters.  Even though not present, I’d like to float an idea that was inspired by David Cramer and Tom Shearer at a recent breakfast.  I’d like to volunteer to compile and publish for AISH an anthology of School Head stories.  If you would like to tell a story or offer a story to be included in what I envision will be an annual publication, please reach out to me.  I will serve as editor voluntarily, so you can submit or simply schedule a Zoom call with me to tell your story and I’ll put my best efforts into capturing the tale in a way that offers insight but also allows us to capture in the archives of AISH the important stories of school leaders from around the world.  I perceive this to be a worthy pursuit.  Please reach out to me if you are interested at jzurfluh@gmail.com.  I’ll respond and plan with you in due course.  Cheers from the Pacific Northwest!!

Rascal’s Reflections, Vol. 1, Issue 5

(You can find all the work of Rascal Zurfluh at https://zimplicity.org/.)

The story of the observations of a trusted confidant of a retired school leader.

The holidays are over. The decorations have been packed away, the suitcases unpacked (mostly), and the last of the celebratory treats have mysteriously disappeared. I know this because my master has returned to his familiar habit of reading school updates with a thoughtful expression—and because the house smells less like cinnamon and more like coffee again.

December, for schools, is often remembered fondly: concerts, celebrations, winter breaks, and the collective exhale that comes with reaching the midpoint of the year. But from my vantage point on the rug beside my master’s chair, I’ve learned that what happens after the holidays may matter even more than what came before.

January, you see, is not a fresh start for everyone. For some, it’s the most difficult stretch of the year.

The Quiet Challenge of “After”

New families and newly arrived staff often arrive buoyed by adrenaline. Everything feels possible in August. The adventure is exciting, the move feels bold, and the school year begins with optimism and goodwill.

Then comes the first long holiday.

I’ve watched this pattern repeat itself year after year. Families travel “home”—or try to. Staff members return to places that now feel familiar and foreign at the same time. Children see old friends, extended family, and the rooms they once called their own. And then, just as quickly, they are back on a plane, returning to a country that still doesn’t quite feel like theirs.

This is the moment when the weight of transition finally lands.

January is when the question quietly forms: Can we really do this?

The Pivot Point of International Life

In international schools, January is a pivot point. It’s the moment when short-term adventure either becomes long-term belonging—or quietly unravels.

I’ve seen it happen. Students who seemed confident in October suddenly struggle. Teachers who were energetic in the fall appear more withdrawn. Parents who smiled easily in September begin asking harder questions.

This isn’t failure. It’s reality.

The shine has worn off. The novelty has faded. And what remains is the need for connection.

My master understood this instinctively. He often said that January mattered more than August—not because of programs or planning, but because of people. This was the season when relationships either deepened or drifted.

And so, he paid attention.

Building What Lasts

January was when my master leaned into relationship-building with quiet intention. He checked in with new staff—not to evaluate, but to listen. He lingered longer in hallways. He noticed who hadn’t quite found their rhythm yet.

From a dog’s point of view, this made perfect sense. Bonds don’t form at the loudest moments; they form in the quiet ones. Trust grows not when everything is exciting, but when things feel ordinary—and sometimes hard.

International schools thrive when January becomes a month of reassurance rather than reinvention.

This is when leaders signal, “You are not alone. We are in this together. And yes—you belong here.”

The Myth of the January Reset

Humans love the idea of a “January reset.” New goals. New systems. New initiatives. But I watched my master resist that temptation. He knew that January wasn’t the time to introduce sweeping change; it was the time to stabilize what already existed.

For new families and staff, stability is kindness.

This doesn’t mean stagnation. It means intentional care. It means prioritizing relationships over reforms, presence over productivity. It means understanding that the most important work of January is often invisible.

A conversation.

A shared laugh.

A reassuring check-in.

A reminder that struggling doesn’t mean failing—it means adapting.

Belonging Is Built After the Break

Belonging is easy to talk about in September. It’s much harder—and far more meaningful—to cultivate in January.

I’ve learned that belonging isn’t confirmed when things are going well. It’s confirmed when people are tired, homesick, or unsure—and still feel seen.

My master used to say that January was when international schools quietly decide who stays. Not through contracts or policies, but through culture. Through whether people feel supported enough to keep going.

I saw students who nearly left find their footing because one adult noticed them at the right moment. I saw teachers decide to stay for years because they felt genuinely cared for during that difficult winter stretch. I saw families choose to put down roots because the school didn’t just educate their children—it held their humanity.

A Word for Leaders

If you’re a Head of School reading this in January, here’s Rascal’s advice:

  • Slow down when others expect you to speed up.
  • Listen when answers feel easier.
  • Stabilize before you innovate.
  • And remember that your presence matters more than your plans.

This is not the month to prove your leadership. It’s the month to practice it.

The relationships you nurture now will carry your community through the rest of the year—and often, through many years beyond.

Closing Thoughts

From my place beside my master, I’ve learned that the most important leadership moments rarely come with applause. They come quietly, after the holidays, when the excitement has faded and the work becomes real.

January asks a simple but profound question of every international school: Will we take care of one another when it’s hardest to do so?

If the answer is yes, everything else tends to follow.

And if you’re feeling a bit tired as you read this—well, that just means you’re human. Take a walk. Check in with someone new. Sit a little longer with someone who seems unsure.

Trust me. That’s how lasting communities are built.

Until next time,

Rascal

Rascal’s Reflections, Vol. 1, Issue 4

(You can find all the work of Rascal Zurfluh at https://zimplicity.org/.)

The story of the observations of a trusted confidant of a retired school leader.

November is done—the month when schools shift from sprinting to pacing, and when leaders finally begin to see their communities settle into recognizable rhythms. It’s also the month when I, Rascal, notice my master used to slow down just a little. Not much—he’s still human, after all—but enough that even a small dog with a good nose could smell the difference. November, for him, was the season of gratitude, grace, and gentle noticing.

This year, as he reads through school newsletters and messages from colleagues around the world, I’m reminded of one thing he always watched for: the student who still hadn’t found their place.

Most humans forget this, but in every school—no matter how warm, how welcoming, how beautifully mission-driven—there is at least one young person who is still looking for the path that feels like theirs. I remember how my master used to spot them. It might happen in the hallway, during recess, or just outside the cafeteria line. He’d slow his steps, tilt his head, and offer a word, a smile, or sometimes just a moment of presence. Those moments mattered. I could tell because the students would stand a little taller, breathe a little steadier, or sometimes seek him out again later—not for answers, but for assurance.

That, I think, is what this season’s leadership is all about: offering assurance.

The Power of the November Pause

November is famous for its complications—report cards, strategic planning, accreditation visits, concerts, sports travel, parent coffees, and the sudden sense that December is barreling toward everyone far too quickly.

Yet I watched my master intentionally walk slightly slower in November. Not a dramatic slowdown—nobody would have believed it—but enough to let him see what a leader can’t see when they’re rushing: who is thriving, who is surviving, and who is quietly struggling to belong.

Humans underestimate the importance of pace. Dogs don’t. Our entire worldview is calibrated to the walking speed of the person we love.

The best heads of school understand this instinctively: slowing down allows you to see more.

Gratitude as Leadership Practice

Another November ritual I observed: gratitude. My master never made a show of it, but it seeped into his leadership like warmth into a chilly room. Teachers received notes. Facilities teams received appreciation. Students received smiles and recognition for the thousand small things they did well. Even the parents (the species most likely to cause the need for long walks) received signals of appreciation.

I learned that gratitude isn’t a message—it’s a posture. It’s the difference between appearing available and being available. Between saying “my door is open” and opening the door.

Schools are remarkably sensitive organisms. They respond to the leader’s emotional weather. When gratitude is present, the air is more breathable.

Belonging: The Quiet Heartbeat of School Life

But the theme I want to lean into this month—the one my master modeled best—is belonging.

Not the poster-on-the-wall kind. Not the “we welcome everyone” messaging for open house. I’m talking about the lived, unmistakable experience of feeling like you matter here.

Belonging, I’ve learned, is rarely loud. It shows up in the student who sits with someone new. In the teacher who checks in a second time. In the counselor who doesn’t give up after the first closed door. In the principal who knows the name of every student they pass.

But most of all, it shows up in leaders who understand that schools can be overwhelming, complex, and occasionally bewildering places—and that children need adults who see them even when they are trying not to be seen.

I remember one student at the American School of Warsaw who spent an entire week wandering the halls between classes, pretending to look for something in his backpack. My master noticed. He didn’t call attention to it. He simply walked beside him, asked how he was settling in, and then—my favorite part—he adopted the student’s pace as they continued through their day.

You’d be amazed what happens when a leader adjusts their stride.

Grace in the Mid-Year Grind

November is also the month when leaders feel stretched. Tired. A little frayed at the edges. And yet, this is precisely when grace matters most.

In the dog world, we call this conserving energy: don’t use all your bark in the first half of the year.  Human leaders could learn something here. Grace isn’t softness—it’s steadiness. It’s knowing that a well-timed pause, a heartfelt thank you, or a brief, genuine connection can shift the culture of a school more powerfully than a dozen initiatives.

And yes, grace applies to yourselves too. Leaders often forget that they’re allowed to rest, to breathe, and to admit that the work is heavy. I spent thirteen years watching my master forget this truth and then rediscover it each November. Rest was never a retreat—it was a recalibration.

A Final Tail Wag

So, my November message is this:

Slow your steps.

Look for the student who still feels lost.

Notice the teacher who needs affirmation.

Express gratitude like it’s oxygen. Even my master would admit you will never do this enough.

Choose grace when fatigue nudges you toward frustration.

And remember that belonging isn’t a program—it’s a promise.

You make that promise real not through policies or assemblies, but through presence.

If you’re leading with your heart this month, trust me—you’re doing it right. Even a dog can see that.

Until next time,

Rascal

Rascal’s Reflections, Vol. 1, Issue 3

(You can find all the work of Rascal Zurfluh at https://zimplicity.org/.)

The story of the observations of a trusted confidant of a retired school leader.

We’re just finishing October, which means two things: my pumpkin treats are back in circulation, and schools around the world just celebrated United Nations Day. I know this because my master—ever the Head of School even in retirement—has been watching the celebrations pop up in his inbox: photos of flag parades, assemblies filled with national costumes, and earnest songs about peace that make even an old Shih Tzu like me wag his tail.

But as I sit here with him, watching from the quiet side of retirement, I can’t help but sense a certain wistfulness. These events have always been among his favorites—those days when the world feels united, if only for a morning. The gym filled with color, the laughter of children stumbling through greetings in dozens of languages, the smell of a hundred different home-cooked dishes at the international fair. If ever there was a day that captured the heart of international education, it’s that one.

Yet, as I tilt my head and watch the news flicker on the screen, the contrast feels sharp. The world outside seems louder, angrier, more divided. And I can sense my master wondering, as so many leaders must be: What does it mean to educate for peace in an age that so often forgets what peace looks like?

Flags, Food, and the Fear of Taking Sides

Over the years, I’ve heard many Heads of School wrestle with the same dilemma: how to honor diversity and difference without drifting into politics. It’s a noble aim—after all, schools must be sanctuaries of belonging. But sometimes, in our careful attempts to remain “non-political,” we accidentally become non-principled.

I remember the challenges my master faced during a global conflict that had everyone talking. The news was grim, and teachers wondered how to respond. Some schools chose silence, fearing controversy. Others opened space for dialogue and reflection, guided by the belief that empathy, understanding, and critical inquiry are not partisan values—they are human ones.

From my perspective at floor level, I’ve seen that the heads who navigate this best don’t pick sides in politics—they pick sides in humanity. They model curiosity instead of judgment, compassion instead of caution. They teach students that complexity isn’t something to fear; it’s something to explore.

Lessons from the Past Decade

Over my thirteen years at my master’s side, I’ve witnessed schools weather everything from global pandemics to political upheavals, from climate protests to AI revolutions. Each crisis brought new tests of courage and conviction. And yet, time and again, I’ve seen the same truth emerge — neutrality, when it comes to justice and dignity, is never neutral.

Schools shape not just knowledge but conscience. When they avoid difficult conversations—about inequity, identity, or human rights—they don’t preserve peace; they postpone progress. True internationalism doesn’t hide from tension; it learns how to hold it with grace. Every UN Day must have ambassadors and policy makers in attendance so that children can teach them what is important and how diversity can help to achieve broad goals.

The International Baccalaureate understood this long before it was fashionable to talk about “global citizenship.” The IB learner profile invites students to be inquirers, thinkers, communicators, caring, open-minded, principled, and reflective. That’s not a political platform—it’s a human one. But it takes courage for leaders to live it out when the winds of the world blow hard in opposing directions.

Inquiry, Insight, and Agency

The greatest gift of education isn’t the transmission of knowledge—it’s the cultivation of agency. Inquiry and insight are the tools that move young people from awareness to action. When students learn to ask why and how, they begin to see themselves not just as observers of the world, but as shapers of it.

And that’s where leadership matters most. Heads of School set the tone. They can encourage discourse instead of dogma, reflection instead of reaction. They can remind their communities that disagreement isn’t danger—it’s the raw material of democracy.

I’ve seen my master do this many times: guiding faculty to listen more deeply, nudging students to see the human story behind the headline, and helping parents remember that our schools are not just places of learning—they’re laboratories of empathy.  Not perfect because maybe there was insufficient action for some causes and more for others, either because of opportunity or timing.  But, the central idea was always there – what is the right thing to do?

A Call to the Courageous

So as UN Day flags find their way back to their usual places and students reflect on their performances of “We Are the World” or something similar, I hope every Head of School pauses to reflect: these celebrations aren’t just symbolic—they’re aspirational. They represent the world we wish to inhabit.

Now, more than ever, we need schools that don’t confuse neutrality with virtue. We need leaders who will take principled stands for respect, compassion, and truth. We need educators who will help young people practice the art of civil discourse—not by avoiding hard conversations, but by modeling how to have them with grace and humility.

Because peace is not the absence of politics—it’s the presence of empathy. And as one who has spent many years observing both the chaos and beauty of human leadership from under the desk, I can assure you: empathy always smells better than fear.

Closing Thoughts

Rascal’s reflection for this month is simple: the world doesn’t need schools to be neutral; it needs them to be nurturing. Not in the soft, sentimental sense—but in the active, courageous one. To nurture compassion. To nurture curiosity. To nurture the capacity to disagree without disdain.

As we celebrate the ideals of the United Nations, may we remember that peace begins not in policy, but in practice — in the questions we allow, the stories we tell, and the humanity we uphold.

And if that’s political—well, perhaps it’s the kind of politics the world could use a little more.

Until next time,

Rascal

Rascal’s Reflections, Vol. 1, Issue 2

(You can find all the work of Rascal Zurfluh at https://zimplicity.org/.)

The story of the observations of a trusted confidant of a retired school leader.

From my usual perch on my master’s lap, I’ve been watching something unfold that’s both heartwarming and a little bittersweet. Each year around this time, the Roll Call arrives — messages from Heads of School around the world, full of energy, purpose, and possibility. Normally, these messages mean we’re about to leap into another school year together. But this time, something is different. My master is reading them from home, coffee in hand, without the familiar scent of freshly waxed hallways or the flurry of opening-day excitement. For the first time in decades, we’re on the outside looking in.

I’ll admit, I felt a little forlorn. A dog gets used to certain rhythms — the late-night planning sessions, the early assemblies, the steady stream of students who wave at me as they walk to school passing my yard. But retirement, it seems, has a rhythm of its own. And as I listened to my master sigh and smile his way through each message, I realized that even from this vantage point, there is much to reflect upon.

A Global Chorus of Purpose

This year’s roll call sings with familiar refrains and fresh harmonies. Some heads are launching bold new initiatives — innovative programs, reimagined curricula, and spaces designed to spark creativity and belonging. Others speak with the hard-earned wisdom of experience, knowing that the heart of leadership lies in relationships, resilience, and renewal.

From Hanoi’s reflections on belonging and AI integration to Guangzhou’s deepened focus on social-emotional learning … from Maputo’s determination to rebuild after a challenging year to Luxembourg’s joy in welcoming students from 65 nations … each message is a window into a community striving toward its own vision of excellence. Even veteran leaders stepping away from headship shared words of gratitude, humility, and hope — reminders that while roles may change, purpose endures.

As I listened to all this, I was reminded that while each school’s story is unique, they are all part of a larger narrative — one of adaptation, collaboration, and an unwavering commitment to young people. And this year, that narrative includes a profound new chapter.

From Big Data to Big Picture

Some years ago — back when my fur was still mostly brown — my master spoke at an AISH gathering about “Big Data.” It was an exciting idea at the time: gathering more information from more sources to make better decisions – he referred to it as granularity at the time. Heads nodded, and schools began to track metrics and analyze patterns more deeply than ever before. The goal was to see beyond the anecdotal and into the systemic.

Today, that conversation feels almost quaint. Artificial intelligence has changed the game. Where once leaders wrestled with spreadsheets and surveys, now they’re beginning to engage with vast webs of interconnected information — not just data points, but dynamic patterns, relationships, and possibilities. It’s no longer about collecting more data. It’s about seeing more deeply into what that data means with an ardent partner helping behind the screen.

This shift matters for school leaders. A single concern from a parent, once viewed as an isolated data point, can now be understood within a larger cultural, historical, and emotional context. Patterns of student learning can be analyzed alongside community demographics, global trends, and even predictive modeling of future needs. AI allows us to step back from the narrow focus of individual trees and glimpse the shape and health of the forest.

Sage Advice from the Lap of Experience

Of course, even as the tools evolve, the heart of leadership remains the same. The roll call messages make that abundantly clear. The best leaders still begin with students in mind. They still pause to look beneath the surface of problems. They still build relationships as the foundation of their schools. And — as any dog worth his kibble knows — they still need to take care of themselves to have the strength to care for others.

What changes is the landscape in which they do this work. AI doesn’t replace the wisdom of experience; it enhances it. It doesn’t solve the puzzles of leadership for you; it offers you new ways to see the puzzle as a whole. It doesn’t wag the tail — but it might just help you understand why the tail is wagging in the first place.

Closing Thoughts

So here I sit, paws crossed and tail gently thumping, watching a new school year unfold from a different angle. My master may no longer be at the helm, but the work continues — richer, more complex, and more interconnected than ever. And I, Rascal, remain convinced that the heads who thrive in this era will be those who embrace the tools of the future without losing the timeless instincts that define great leadership.

Because whether you’re parsing big data or exploring big pictures, sniffing out the story behind the story is still the wisest move you can make.

Until next time — keep your noses to the ground and your eyes on the horizon and occasionally be a Rascal, like me and my best friend!

Rascal’s Reflections

Volume 1, Issue 1

The observations of a trusted confidant in the lap of a school leader.

Greetings, esteemed Heads of School. My name is Rascal. I am a Shih Tzu of distinguished fur and refined tastes, and for the last thirteen years I have loyally served at the side (and often on the lap) of my master, a school director. From my vantage point—whether curled beneath his desk, or lending moral support on those endless Zoom calls—I’ve picked up a thing or two about the art of headship. Consider me your four-legged leadership consultant. I may not have opposable thumbs, but I do have perspective.

As the school year kicks off, let me share a few reflections—gleaned from years of wagging through the ups and downs of international school leadership.

1. Start with the Students in Mind

I noticed something: my master’s mood always brightened when he greeted students. Whether it was a kindergartner proudly showing off new shoes or a senior stressing about university applications, those early encounters set the tone for the day—and, more importantly, the year.

My advice? Before you get lost in budgets, board reports, and inbox avalanches, remember that the first impressions students have of you and the school shape the entire year. Kneel, look them in the eye, and wag your proverbial tail. They’ll feel seen, and you’ll be reminded of why you’re there.

2. Pause and Look Deeper

Dogs are masters of sniffing beyond the obvious. That barking at the fence? It’s not really about the squirrel—it’s about protecting the yard. I watched my master learn this lesson often: the issue presented by a parent, teacher, or board member was seldom the real issue.

As a head, when a concern arises, resist the urge to pounce immediately. Pause. Reflect. Consider what lies beneath—past experiences, cultural perspectives, unspoken anxieties. In international schools, context is as layered as a well-stocked treat jar. Take time to find the real source, and you’ll often solve more than just the presenting problem.

3. Build Relationships Everywhere

I’ll let you in on a secret: I never cared who had the fancy title or the corner office. I wagged for everyone, from the facilities team to the finance director. And you know what? They all responded with warmth and trust.

Schools, much like dog parks, run on relationships. Build them intentionally—within your leadership team, across departments, and with students and families. A strong circle of trust will carry you through the inevitable storms. When people know you care, they’ll follow you anywhere (even if you smell faintly of wet dog).

4. Take Care of Yourself

Even I know when to curl up for a nap. My master sometimes forgot. Heads of school are expected to be endlessly resilient, but resilience is not an infinite resource. It’s replenished by sleep, health, laughter, humility, and yes, the occasional long walk.

Demonstrate to your community that well-being matters—not just for them, but for you, too. Your students and staff will see in you a model of balance: strong yet humble, resilient yet human. Trust me, nothing undermines authority faster than a leader who looks like they desperately need a biscuit and a nap.

Closing Thoughts

So, as you stride (or stumble) into the new school year, remember: start with students, sniff beneath the surface, build your circle of trust, and guard your own well-being. If a little Shih Tzu can figure this out from the corner of an office rug, I’m confident you can, too.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone in the kitchen opening a packet of treats. Until next time—stay pawsitive.

Recent Podcast I joined…

Many thanks to Kevin Fullbrook! Was a fun conversation on the cusp of my retirement.

Reflecting

On August 5, 2025, President Trump teased a new policy for migrant farm labor aimed at balancing his mass?deportation agenda with agriculture’s dependency on undocumented workers. He floated a “touch?back” proposal—where workers would leave the U.S. and re?enter legally—and suggested expanding the H?2A visa program even to dairy farming. He emphasized that farmers couldn’t easily replace migrant labor, calling these workers “very, very special” and sensitive to physical strain  .

To me, this is just bureaucratic nuance—another pawn move in the larger immigration chessboard. It’s not new, not dramatic, not gripping. It’s bland policy repositioning: neither full amnesty, nor full enforcement—a half?hearted compromise wrapped in talk of regulations. Boring.

It reads like a typical press conference sound bite designed to defuse criticism without solving anything. There’s no emotional charge, no scandal, no novel data—just more talk about rules and loopholes. If you ignore the underlying humanitarian crisis, it looks like a dry memo from a farm?labor working group. That’s the point: it feels un?interesting, until you zoom in.

I grew up in suburban Tacoma, WA, and for a time I the rural area outside of Port Angeles. My summers were spent helping with gardens—apples, plumbs, cucumbers, the occasional row of beans that all flourished if watered correctly. My neighbors’ small yards never needed migrant labor; my dad and I harvested in t-shirts and bare feet. But I spent my college years pulling weeds at my mom and dad’s house. I also participate as a youth in the summer berry harvesting and cucumber picking of the Puyallup valley like it was summer camp, but with a paycheck.

When I see Trump describing farmworkers as “irreplaceable,” I feel that memory. These people aren’t interchangeable units of labor—they have their own routines, camaraderie, and jokes between rows of raspberries. Without them, many farms wouldn’t just lose workers—it would lose rhythm, community, something human. And yet here’s another policy article that reduces all of that to numbers and programs.

I want to think about why this otherwise uninteresting story connects to something real: the raspberries we picked, the conversations across rows, the way we all made seasons feel full.

So yes, this story is uninteresting. No drama, no scandal. Just talk about “touch?back” rules and visa expansion. But I choose to pay attention, because behind that dry language is something vivid: a season of berries, the early chill on my arms, the sound of workers’ songs on the tractor ride back to the bus.

Trump’s statements feel like: limp compromise, vague legislative gestures. But from that tedium emerges a connection to memory—and to the humanity behind the headlines.

Sometimes the least interesting stories are the ones most worth noticing. Because behind the procedural words, there are people—not policies.

Related news on Trump & farmworker policy

Linking a few things…

Recent articles published on Medium…

Jon P. Zurfluh

May 28, 2025

Shifting the Window: Hope and Strategy for Inclusion and Diversity in Challenging Times

The Overton Window, a concept developed by Joseph Overton, describes how societal norms evolve, framing what ideas are considered politically acceptable and mainstream at any given moment (Lehman, ... More...

Jon P. Zurfluh

May 06, 2025

Beyond Tolerance: Defending Higher Values in an Open Society

At a weekly meeting of heads of schools at international schools around the world — one of the largest grids of a Zoom meeting you will ever attend — we discussed the latest in the battle of execut... More...

Jon P. Zurfluh

Apr 21, 2025

A Time for Resurrection: Leading with Conviction in the Face of Silence

Today, as news of Pope Francis’s passing reverberates around the world, I find myself reflecting on a life spent in service to inclusion, compassion, and the dignity of all people. Though I am not ... More...

Jon P. Zurfluh

Apr 21, 2025

Diversity is not a Dirty Word

Why Global-Minded Schools Must Push Back More...

Jon P. Zurfluh

Apr 08, 2025

The Myth of Done

Every one of us knows the relief and satisfaction that comes from checking off a task from our endless to-do list. Momentarily, the weight lifts, and we bask in the feeling of completion. Yet, almo... More...

Jon P. Zurfluh

Apr 08, 2025

When Belonging is Attacked, We Must Lead Boldly — Not Retreat

As a long-time international school leader and current Head of the American School of Warsaw, I have witnessed the transformative power of education to bridge cultures, challenge assumptions, and n... More...

Recapturing Zimplicity as my personal blog

Now that my school content has moved to the ASW School website, I’m transitioning Zimplicity back to my personal use for educational blogging. This is my moniker and I’m looking forward to sharing my thoughts and experiences here.

As a start, I had a unique experience using NotebookLM recently, the new AI testbed from Google. I started with a policy document and was amazed a the summary and the resulting podcast reflecting on it. Then I had a thought and on a lark uploaded my resume to the tool and below is both my resume and a link to the NotebookLM podcast summarizing the resume.

ZurfluhJ – updatedAugust2022Download

Zimplicity has Moved!!

We’ve moved Zimplicity to a new location on the aswarsaw.org website. Logistically, this works better for us from a publication point of view with eNotes. You can find new Zimplicity posts at this new location:

https://www.aswarsaw.org/about-us/news/directors-desk

We’ll keep this website here for historical purposes and to maintain the many links to the content herein. But, all new content will be directed to the new location. Thank you for being a Zimplicity reader! Please join us at the new place!!

Gala – Thank you!

Taking this brief and final opportunity to thank all involved in our First Annual Gala on Saturday and my appreciation to all in attendance on a stellar evening.  Many thanks to all the administration, staff, and students involved in making this such a special event.  We all walked away with our special memories and our actions for the future now on the giving tree that all will see in the future in the main lobby area.  We want to thank you for your support and for helping further the cause of our ASW4Ukraine project that continues unabated, due to many volunteers’ continuous efforts behind the scenes.  If you know one of these special people, give them an extra hug for all that they do.

Master Facility Design Process

We shared them with those in attendance at the Gala, but now have them displayed in the main hallways.  I should note that these are the first round of renderings and we are under a soft launch, but the more detailed presentations will come in the Fall.  Only minor preparatory projects this summer with much more detail in August and September on the scope and schedule of all of our plans.

Thoughts Before the Final Week

We will have our Final School Wide Assembly next week on Wednesday.  This will be open to all parents and you’ll see your areas to stand around the perimeter of students as we will again hold it outdoors on our back fields.  Everyone needs to think sun.  Please be advised that students will return to their classroom after the assembly to say a final goodbye to their teachers and school ends promptly at 11:30a.  Parking will be challenging and you should use exterior areas outside of the back gate if parking is not available in the main lot.  You may not leave your vehicle parked in any of our yellow zones.  Also, be reminded that we will not have a late start on Wednesday, June 15 and school starts at 8:30a due to the shortened week because of the holiday.

Looking forward to a strong closure and will offer a final message in next week’s final eNotes for the year.

Parent Annual Feedback Survey 2022

Coming to you tonight is this year’s feedback survey.  As usual, this is a familiar survey with 80% of the questions we ask each year plus some updates and additions to gather important information from you about our programs.  We use this as our primary tool for addressing program changes and improvements.  All prior surveys are presented in summary to the board each year in September and the most recent was included in the September 2021 board packet.

You’ll receive a personal invitation to this survey today (some may have already received it as you read this) and you should strive to complete it by July 15.  If you do not complete the survey, you will continue to receive reminders until we close the survey in July.

This survey is critical not only to our ongoing operational and strategic work but also to our upcoming accreditation renewal process.  Participation is critical in making sure that we keep our finger on the pulse of the school community as has been the case in years past. The survey will take about 40 minutes to complete and we recommend your children be near you for questions as you consider each response.  Automatic translation to multiple languages by Google is provided, but it may not always be fully accurate.

Thanks in advance for your continued support of this important annual tradition!!

Master Facility Design Process

We’re happy to report that we are finishing up the master facilities design process and will be moving now into project implementation.  We’ll have comprehensive information about this come fall as the early projects of upgrades and renovations commence with smaller projects at the beginning, including this summer.  Those attending the Gala this weekend will have a special treat as we share a peek at the completed renderings of the various projects.  We’ll have these up in August to share with the entire community, but for now, know that ASW has continued its strategic work throughout these recent years of hardship and we continue our work in earnest to stay at the front edge of a world class education.

Safety Reminder

Just a plea to please reduce your speeds between speed bumps in the parking lot.  I’ve monitored in recent days and have witnessed some excessive speeds from multiple vehicles that are very dangerous in a school parking lot. I would ask all to please consider maintaining very slow speeds throughout the parking lot at all times (under 10 km/h).  See our Parking Lot Guide for more information.