Each year, as the final week of January rolls around, my thoughts turn to Rich Hill, my first boss and most valuable mentor in the field of large-scale testing.
Rich was born on January 23, 1944 – which I have always thought was one year too early, robbing him of the perfect birthdate for a quantitative man like Rich.
I joined his small testing company, Advanced Systems, in the fall of 1989 as employee #24. When I set out on my own in 1995, the little testing company that could had over 500 full- and part-time employees with offices in New Hampshire and Kentucky. I reconnected with Rich in 2002, joining the eclectic team of eight which he and Brian Gong had assembled at his new organization, the Center for Assessment.
From my first interview with him in the summer of 1989, to his gradual retirement to Florida in the 2010s, and every day in between, Rich was the embodiment of my favorite quote:
Some men see things as they are, and say why.
I dream of things that never were, and say why not.
- Why not add constructed-response items to state tests?
- Why not a state test consisting solely of constructed-response items?
- Why not holistic scoring of essays?
- Why not curriculum-embedded portfolios and performance tasks?
- Why not an electronic system to record scores of essays?
- Why not a system for digitizing and distributing hand-scoring?
- Why not define growth in terms of reaching proficiency milestones?
- Why not limit your federal accountability system to identifying schools at the extremes rather than choosing between validity or reliability?
Why not dream things that never were and empower your staff to make them a reality?
Were all of his “why not” ideas successful? Hell no.
Were we always willing to jump in with both feet on the next one? Hell yeah!!
An infectious entrepreneur and consummate statistician, Rich doesn’t get nearly enough credit for his contributions to our field; but that’s not what I want to write about today.
When I think about Rich these days, what comes to mind is lunch.
Take a Break
Between Advanced Systems and the Center, I worked for Rich in five different office spaces – Rich loved to design office spaces even more than designing tests. But beyond the nooks and crannies, exposed beams and hidden wires, dropped ceilings and raised floors, the one constant, the heart of each one of those offices, was a lunchroom.
There had to be a lunchroom. When I joined the Center in 2002, I’m pretty sure that they had to convert the lunch/conference room into my office, so Rich acquired another room in the office building we occupied to serve as a lunchroom.
There had to be a lunchroom because Rich ate his lunch in the lunchroom.
I don’t ever recall seeing him eat lunch at his desk, or at the table in his office, or even sitting on the couch or rocking chair that graced his various offices. Lunch required setting work aside for 30 minutes or an hour and moving to a different location.
One of the first things made clear to a new employee joining Advanced Systems was that the workday consisted of 8 hours plus a break for lunch.
And Rich, always the frugal New Englander (by way of NY, VA, and CA) didn’t go out for lunch.
No. Lunch, often leftovers from dinner the night before, was eaten in the lunchroom.
And when Rich ate in the lunchroom, others joined him. Not always the same people and not every day necessarily, but it became a habit to join him.
The topic of conversation varied. Sometimes family. Other times the Red Sox or music or a new gadget or downloading music to a new gadget. Sometimes a recap of a recent trip or plans for the next one. Sometimes sharing a new idea or revisiting and reworking an old one.
It wasn’t demanded, expected, or even announced.
It was organic and refreshing.
It happened every day at noon. And it was good.
After Rich retired, the table and chairs in the lunchroom at the Center fell into disuse.
Grab my yogurt out of the freezer, my sandwich from the refrigerator, fill up a bottle with water or a glass with ice, and return to my office to eat lunch sitting at my desk in front of my computer.
Something important was lost.
Breakfast may be the most important meal of the day for personal health and fitness.
And dinner is the most important meal of the day for the well-being of a family.
But lunch is the most important meal of day for the healthy functioning of an organization and its people.
While I worked at the Massachusetts DOE, lunch often found the MCAS team crowded around a table in a tiny, bustling Vietnamese restaurant – our refuge from the constant chaos and cacophony – quiet and calm are relative, right.
As a beginning mathematics teacher, fresh out of college, so much was learned during lunch with colleagues in the smoke-filled converted restroom that served as the math department office.
These days, it’s lunch with my wife.
I take a break from my writing. She takes a break from doing everything that she does. I grab my yogurt from the freezer, make my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, fill my glass with water, and we meet in the dining room. She turns off NPR, the oldies station provides the background music for our conversation and we consider it a great day if lunchtime includes a song from Billy Joel and Elton John.
But even if the best we get is Rod Stewart, Rupert Holmes, and the Steve Miller Band, taking a break to have lunch together still makes it a really good day.
Thanks, Rich.
Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay
Embrace the Absurd 