Dear Parents,
Indulge me for a moment and think back to your own childhood. What do you remember about school? Your teachers? Close friends? Riding the yellow bus?
For me — and I’ll bet many of you — some of my fondest school memories took place on the elementary school blacktop during recess. Sneakers scuffing against stark white hopscotch lines. Kickballs bouncing into open fields. Swings groaning as pointed toes stretched higher ... higher ... aiming for the clouds.
This email from November 2016 was opened more than 1,000 times — proof that, in a sea of crowded inboxes, a story with a compelling hook stands out.
Sharing on a Shoestring
I’ve always known how stories can touch people. When I took the reins of The Quaker School at Horsham (TQS) in July 2015, I was immediately inundated: Teachers told stories of student growth; parents told stories of lives changed and families renewed. At the time, TQS, too, was going through a metamorphosis — transforming from a small school for children with dyslexia focused on academics to one centered on children’s social and behavioral challenges. TQS has 70 students, a lean administration, and no communications personnel or budget. Like many small schools, we funnel as much of our $36,000 tuition into the program as possible. With these limitations, I wondered, “How are we going to tell our story?”
Climbing from 70 to 1,000 Subscribers
My first step to regular storytelling was to launch an e-newsletter, A Very Special Message From The Head of School. In November 2015, I sent my inaugural message via Constant Contact, focusing on the school’s new mission approved at the November board retreat. I described how the school’s transformation was connected to its founding purpose. The next two were about TQS’s new philosophy, that is: The underlying basis for all things at The Quaker School is the fundamental Quaker belief that there is the Light of God within every person, and that we are meant to share that Light through our efforts, our gifts, and our actions.
In these notes, I detailed the ways the students were living the new philosophy every day. The fourth was a thank-you to everyone coming together through our transformation, and the fifth was a celebration of summer. I sent messages every two months, each one delivering a new piece of our story.
As interest grew, I began sending e-newsletters more frequently, and today, I maintain a monthly schedule that I plan a year ahead. (I’ll admit to missing a deadline or three.)
Early on, people began emailing me, asking to join my mailing list. When I introduced myself at school events, people greeted me: “Oh! You’re the guy from the letters.” What I thought was a low-impact activity was turning out to be far more significant than I realized. TQS’s initial email list included about 70 school families and a few people working in local schools. A year and a half later, the list has more than 1,000 subscribers, and a parenting blog has published two of my letters.
Knowing Your Audience, Creating an Avatar
Telling compelling stories requires knowing your audience. As the singer Prince wisely stated, “Each audience is different.” At TQS, we did a little pretend play to figure this out. We created a family of a mom, dad, and kids, whose socioeconomic status, background, needs, and values are a match for our school. We deliberately did not assign the family a race because of our school’s diverse population. Mom “Leslie” is the director of marketing at a local credit union, and Dad “Jim” is a financial advisor. They have two children, ages 9 and 15. The 15-year-old loves baseball, and his younger brother suffers from ADHD and anxiety. Leslie struggles with how different her two boys are and how she can treat them fairly.
Leslie became our avatar because of her decision-making power in the family. She is based on interviews and surveys with parents and faculty. In delving into our admission data, we found that most inquiries came from mothers. We then drafted the 50 questions mothers most frequently asked us and the 10 questions we thought they should ask us. When we looked deeply into our pool, we saw our reflection. Leslie reflects key data points: 21 percent of families are of color, a majority of TQS families are upper middle class with two working parents, and 25 percent receive some financial aid to afford our tuition. (Financial aid makes up 13.5 percent of the operating budget — increasing our school’s accessibility while ensuring that we remain financially sustainable.)
Creating the Leslie avatar was akin to conducting prospect research with a board member before visiting a donor. We know a personal email cannot be a broadcast to hundreds or thousands of people. Pop-ups, junk email, banner ads, keyword ads, native advertising — we are bombarded with broadcasts and have learned to screen them out. However, we are naturally attuned to the intimacy of conversations and stories. As I compose my emails, I continually ask myself key questions:
- What story does Leslie want to hear?
- What will she retell?
- What will she remember about TQS when everything in her Facebook feed has been forgotten?
Each time Alex Brosowsky, head of school at The Quaker School at Horsham (PA), composes a story-filled message, he considers the needs of Leslie, an avatar his school created that reflects the typical background and values of TQS families.
Narrating a Father’s Compassion, My Yoga Mishaps
A traditional Native American storyteller, Dovie Thomason, once told my son that storytelling isn’t about creating. Rather, it is like stage managing, moving characters in and out of scenes as they unfold. In our case, the stage is the TQS campus, the characters are our students and staff, and the play is the life of our school.
Keeping that metaphor and our avatar in mind, I’ve described everything from my assistant head’s dislike of giraffes to the story of a father who drove 90 minutes to a birthday party because it was the first time his son had ever been invited to a party. My letters are thematic, personal, funny, self-deprecating, and encouraging — and crafted to relate to Leslie.
To get my creative juices flowing, I always begin by looking for a theme — and I find them all over. Just recently, I bumped into a friend at a rummage sale, who convinced me to buy an Ethiopian Jazz CD, something I never would have bought. Later that day, I wrote a note about the many ways friends enrich our lives, including introducing us to new things. I tied this back to how our school helps students create and maintain lasting friendships. This is something that Leslie, my made-up mom, would care about.
A few months ago, I sent a message about the importance of being a lifelong learner. My point: If children see adults learning new skills, they begin to understand that learning beyond school can give their lives greater meaning, and that failure can be an opportunity to grow. To demonstrate this, I wrote about my own struggle to learn yoga as an adult, and how terrible I was at it. Then, I encouraged parents to tell me how they were learning something new. I began my note:
Dear Parents,
I’m not very good at yoga.
It’s something totally new for me — and to be honest, it hurts. I had one of my finest moments the other night when my well-meaning instructor, Nathan, leaned over and said, “Keep trying, Alex. Don’t tell yourself you suck at yoga.”
Thanks Nathan, I thought. I wasn’t telling myself that, but now that you mention it…
Ok, I “suck” at yoga. So why am I starting to learn it in the first place? It’s simple:
Learning yoga is one of the many ways I can demonstrate to my own children, and our TQS students, what it means to be a lifelong learner.
Weeks later, I was still hearing about the antics of parents who took up new hobbies, and we all had a good laugh about my ongoing struggles with a Pigeon or Warrior pose. I enjoy the way telling stories has helped me connect with so many families.
Let’s Hear Your Stories
What story of yours will be remembered? And how do you tell your school’s story? Share comments here or email me at [email protected].
Alex on Air
Listen to Alex Brosowsky’s episode of the podcast NAIS Member Voices at www.nais.org/membervoices.
