Confessions of a Reformed Administrator

Why I Ditched Spreadsheets for Spotlight and Bass Lines

I have a confession: I’ve returned to my first love—the arts. That glorious, chaotic, soul-expanding realm of light cues, brushstrokes, melody lines, and backstage caffeine crises. Yes, friends—I’ve thrown myself headfirst (and, let’s be honest, dramatically) into the visual and performing arts world of K-12 education as Glendale Unified’s new Administrator of Visual and Performing Arts.

This is not a pivot. It’s a full-circle pirouette—modern dance style, barefoot and raw—with the spotlight now cast on a part of my life that’s always been burning at center stage.

You see, before I was decoding LCAP goals and navigating the Byzantine catacombs of federal compliance, I was living the art life:

• Directing and designing plays in black box theaters across Southern California.

• Writing dialogue for a couple of plays (Just a Second, Geopetto’s Dream, Deknamen)

• Singing backup in local bands (imagine Geddy Lee crossed with a guy who knows his own vocal limits).

• Teaching modern dance (Movement for the Stage) at UCLA—two years, barefoot, proud.

• Publishing books (yes, The Secret at Mahone Bay is on Amazon, still waiting for its movie deal).

• And even producing a short film (The Coffee Club—DV only, now a mythic artifact stored next to Atlantis).

So when the opportunity came to lead arts education in Glendale Unified, I didn’t hesitate. It was like a call to arms… or rather, to easels, rehearsal rooms, and green rooms.

The Misconception: Arts Ed ≠ Glitter and Free Time

Here’s the thing: in K-5 education, we’ve inherited a tragically off-key idea that “art” means pulling out construction paper every other Friday while trying not to glue our elbows to the table. We treat art as enrichment, not education, as the side salad of schooling rather than the main course it deserves to be.

But the arts aren’t extra. They are essential.

What our students deserve is not just the chance to "make pretty things." They deserve the full arc of artistry: to create, to perform, to reflect, and to connect. And yes, this can and must start as early as kindergarten.

Let me break it down.

The Real Arts Experience: 11 Moves Every Kid Should Learn

1. Generate and Conceptualize Ideas
   Whether sketching, choreographing, or improvising, students should learn to dream. This is cognitive exercise at its finest—where math meets metaphor.

2. Organize and Develop Ideas
   Raw talent’s great, but learning to shape it into something coherent? That’s where art becomes skill.

3. Define and Complete Work
   Every artist needs to finish the thing. Learning to reflect, revise, and decide when a piece is “done” is pure discipline—and sound therapy.

4. Select, Analyze, and Interpret Work
   This is where kids decide what to perform and why. It’s curating. It’s intention. It’s becoming their own director.

5. Develop and Refine Techniques
   From posture in choir to lighting in film, this is rehearsal and iteration. Failure-friendly, mastery-bound.

6. Convey Meaning Through Presentation
   Because performing isn’t just “doing it”—it’s saying something through your doing. It’s message. It’s magic.

7. Perceive and Analyze Artistic Work
   Students need to see and hear art deeply. And then talk about it like it matters. Because it does.

8. Interpret Intent and Meaning
   Why did the dancer collapse center stage? What’s that shadow in the painting’s corner? Let's teach kids to ask—and answer—beautiful questions.

9. Evaluate with Criteria
   No, not “I like it.” Instead: “Let’s talk form, color, technique, expression.” This is academic art literacy. It’s Bloom’s, baby.

10. Relate Art to Life
    Students should see their own story in the art they make and study. This is where identity, imagination, and relevance collide.

11. Place Art in Societal, Cultural, and Historical Context
    Because Picasso didn’t invent abstraction in a vacuum. And no, TikTok didn’t invent dance. Context makes culture make sense.

So What Are We Really Teaching?

We’re not just handing out ukuleles and oil pastels. We’re teaching kids to shape ideas, take risks, refine expression, and reflect on meaning. We’re nurturing divergent thinkers, empathetic interpreters, and collaborative doers. We’re sculpting citizens of a vibrant, pluralistic democracy—and making sure they can sing in harmony.

As I dig into this role, I’m not just managing budgets or planning PD (though yes, that too, and yes, there will be spreadsheets). I’m advocating for a richer, deeper, more authentic arts education—especially in our elementary schools. Because by the time they get to high school, if all they've done is colored inside the lines and clapped on beat, we've failed them.

Let’s give every student, at every grade, the full toolkit of artistic literacy, not just the glitter glue.

And maybe, if we do it right, one of those students will grow up, write some weird plays, tour with a band for one weekend, teach barefoot at UCLA, and then—years later—return to lead the arts in their hometown school district.

Because full circles aren’t just poetic.

They’re inevitable.

If we make the space.