At my house there are eight apple trees. I love my apple trees, but I have a favorite...

 On the corner of my property is an average-sized tree, about twenty feet tall, lush with emerald green leaves and bursting with a heavy crop of the best tasting sweet/tart pale-green-mixed-with-bright-red Jonathan apples you've ever tasted. In the spring it comes to life from a long winter nap with an explosion of light pink flowers and from that time until the first mouth-puckering bite in September I weekly check on that tree and the crop of apples it's preparing for me.

But there's something about that tree that isn't obvious to passers-by on the gravel road only twenty feet away. It isn't even obvious to people admiring its over-sized fruit as they pluck fresh apples from its branches. In fact, I didn't even notice it for months after buying the property.

If you duck under the low-hanging branches and get right up against the trunk of the tree you'll notice a huge hole, probably eight inches in diameter, that runs all the way through the tree. And if you reach your hand inside you'll feel the soft, pithy remains of the inside of the trunk. A person can reach their hand in and with little effort scoop out handfuls of composted apple wood going feet down into the trunk.

If this tree had a heart, it was gone.

When I first discovered this I was blown away. How could such a beautiful, healthy-looking tree have such serious and critical problems, yet continue to produce bumper crops of apples year after year?

We know people like this. We just don't know it yet.

 Those of us who work in schools are in the people business. There are students, parents, faculty, staff, and community stakeholders with whom we interact on a daily basis. Often these exchanges are short and business like. In the hustle to get things done, it's easy for us to interact with people only at a surface level. Too often there are students in our classrooms who are easily overlooked. In fact, they have probably worked pretty hard to ensure no one notices them. They're compliant, they perform well academically, they don't draw attention to themselves, and they blend in.

What we fail to see, because we haven't taken the time, is the huge hole right through the heart of them.

As we start gearing up for the new school year, take some time to reflect on why you chose this profession to begin with. It wasn't the pay. It wasn't standardized tests. It wasn't summers off (although that's awesome). It was because you wanted to make a difference.

Make a promise to yourself - and to your students - this school year that you will focus your time on what really matters most. Take time to connect with people. You won't regret it.