By Cheryl Schenk, Director of Enrollment Management

Interested in getting to know the new Head of School better? I recently interviewed Sam Uzwack to learn more about his origins, experiences, and inspirations.

UZWACK IS U-NIQUE. WHAT’S THE STORY OF YOUR NAME?

I have been mercilessly teased about my last name for my entire life. The name is Ukranian, and was anglicized when my grandparents came through Ellis Island. The story of their arrival to the United States is unclear, but after immigrating they owned a house-painting business in Connecticut, where my dad was born. We know the name was originally pronounced “ooze-vahk,” but was changed to “use-wack,” though it’s often mispronounced as “ooze-wack.” There aren’t many of us. Me, my dad, my brother. A few scattered cousins.

My given name was either going to be Sam or Max. A few familiar people call me Sammy. When I was little, there were two Sams on the Little League team, so my dad took the opportunity to differentiate us by applying a nickname, “Boomer,” and he still calls me that. Although I was not ultimately good at baseball, he will still sign my cards, “Happy birthday, Boomer.”

OKAY, BOOMER, BUT YOU’RE A MEMBER OF GENERATION X, CORRECT?

Oh, proudly. Fiercely proud. For me it’s about connection to time and place in terms of music and pop culture. My wife, Nicole, and I met in high school and then went to college at James Madison University, where we worked for our college radio station, WXJM, and helped create an independent music festival (MACROCK) that’s still going strong. At the first festival in 1996, Elliott Smith played for $50. We gave out free Twinkies (laughs). Now THAT is an authentic education in which you are putting together a grassroots effort.

In addition to curating those experiences through WXJM, there are the different phases in life and what music I was discovering—and some peak concert experiences. High School: Metallica. My ears rang for a month. College: a college radio conference in NYC. The thrill of new music in smaller venues. Archers of Loaf playing in downtown Harrisonburg. Sleater-Kinney at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland. And then Olympia. Going to shows at The Showbox, The Crocodile, both great Seattle venues. Seeing Death Cab for Cutie in 1998, I thought “I am adopting my first PNW indie rock band.” Most recently, seeing The National at the Paramount pre-COVID.

IT SOUNDS LIKE MUSIC HAS BEEN IMPORTANT TO YOU FROM A YOUNG AGE; WHAT ELSE CAN YOU SHARE ABOUT YOUR OWN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCES? HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF AS A STUDENT?

I was the kid who could not sit still. If my teachers had been Eastside Prep educators, I would have been in much better shape. I recall receiving a punishment one time that entailed having to keep my hand raised, and my teacher told me to “enjoy the effects of atmospheric pressure.” The only reason I survived elementary school is because I was a voracious reader, and I could survive through that strength when asked spontaneous questions in class. In the early ’80s, learning differences carried much more of a stigma. I appreciate that at Eastside Prep, we intentionally create opportunities for movement, and recognize where kids are.

I was a very successful student in some ways, not in others. In my large public high school, sophomore year was a real big struggle, but I remember “the lightbulb coming on” junior year. The executive functioning pieces had finally clicked for me, and the material got more interesting as a result.

I never felt like I was in the popular crowd, but I did lots of different things, including playing on the football team. We took an entire afternoon of school to have a pep rally to introduce the team to the student body, but there was never a pep rally for the theatre crew, for example. When I moved 3,000 miles for graduate school at the University of Washington and did my student teaching at a local public high school here, I found the environment and priorities strikingly similar to mine in Simsbury, Connecticut. I asked myself, what is this model of “success” that we keep holding up for students? How can we change it?

FOLLOWING YOUR OWN TIME LEARNING AND TEACHING AT PUBLIC SCHOOLS, HOW DID YOU ARRIVE AT INDEPENDENT SCHOOLS?

When I went to public school, I didn’t realize that all public schools are not the same. My home district was resourced; folks would move to our town just for the schools, which also had affirmative bussing practices. I didn’t learn about the differences until after college, when I was in a band down in North Carolina with someone who was a teacher at a poorly funded public school. He opened my eyes. Flash forward to 2002, when I was heading back to Seattle from my first teaching job. While I intended to teach at a large public high school, my wife Nicole told me about a job she found teaching seventh grade Pacific Northwest humanities at The Northwest School in Seattle. In Alaska, I had fallen in love with teaching middle schoolers, and had become a Northwest history addict after moving out here. So, I switched gears and went with the content and the age, and that’s how I discovered the unique culture of Pacific Northwest independent schools. Our schools collaborate instead of competing. We talk about best practices and leverage our skills.

WHAT WAS EPS LIKE WHEN YOU ARRIVED IN 2009?

EPS was elemental then. It felt like a breath of fresh air, being able to try new stuff. The place was scrappy. I recall how during my two-day interview, there happened to be a giant blue tarp on the floor of the cafeteria and the students were conducting a garbage audit, determining how skilled our community was at recycling. You could see how tight the faculty and staff were. You could feel regard for students.

It’s still about authentic experiences. Our teachers work so hard to build relevance—wanting students to care, to understand, to be involved. Educators can guide a kid to say the right answer, but that’s not the point here. Instead, it’s messy. School should be messy.

WHILE WE TYPICALLY EXPERIENCE YOU PARTICIPATING IN MEETINGS AND ADDRESSING LARGE GROUPS OF PEOPLE AS HEAD OF SCHOOL, WHAT DO STUDENTS STAY ABOUT YOU WHEN YOU ARE TEACHING IN THE CLASSROOM?

“He’s really loud” and “he doesn’t mind a tangent or two” might be a couple of the ideas students would share, but hopefully also, “he’s gonna get you to think about something in a way you haven’t thought about it before.”

You will experience a teacher who doesn’t always have the answer. I try to approach it with humility, because I think teaching and schools are reverent places. The act of pursuing education is sacred to me. It’s not transactional. There is faith in youth, and there’s respect for our teachers because our students can feel that we believe in them. Sometimes that’s about having the hard conversation over the “nice” one. But by giving students a say in what they do, and by having that choice, they will learn more. For example, I use a structure of “Seattle coffeehouses” in the Seattle history class I have taught at EPS and plan to occasionally teach again the future. I want students to develop that lens of appreciating complexity, to say “there’s more going on here than I realized.” I also think it’s important for school leaders to keep teaching in some capacity. For example, I had a first-hand appreciation for the challenges of remote teaching during COVID being in the virtual classroom.

THERE’S A LOT OF DEMAND ON THE TIME OF A HEAD OF SCHOOL. WHAT’S A WAY THAT YOU LIKE TO RECHARGE AND FIND BALANCE?

Time with my family. I realize how privileged I am to find that stability and ability to recharge at home because I know that’s not everyone’s experience. Home will soothe. COVID reminded me of that. And at my peak best, I am taking time in the outdoors. That’s hard with family obligations and professional responsibilities, but you lean in, and you lean out, depending upon the season of life. Last year I made it a priority to be outside, but this year I have prioritized learning how to be a head of school. But when I do go to the woods, everything slows down and everything opens up.

DO YOU HAVE A PARTICULAR PLACE WHERE YOU FEEL THAT QUALITY OF ‘OPENING UP’?

Tahoma, Mt. Rainier. I have climbed it, backpacked around it. It’s complex, big, beautiful, and it’s this humming, steady yet indifferent presence. The other place is the Olympic coast. It’s so elemental and rugged compared to the East Coast where I grew up.

AS YOU LOOK TO THE METAPHORICAL MOUNTAIN TO CLIMB AS OUR NEW HEAD OF SCHOOL, TELL US ABOUT AN AREA IN WHICH YOU ARE READY TO BLAZE A NEW TRAIL.

One of my biggest insecurities is to be perceived as simply resting on Terry’s legacy. But you’d be foolish not to build upon it. I’m excited to build upon her legacy as a springboard, because she and I see so eye-toeye on what a school can and should be: a true process of learning. At EPS we try new things, we learn from the results of our efforts, and that process makes the education ever-better for our students.

The first twenty years were about building a school. Eastside Prep is not typical of a twenty-year-old school—and that’s a testament to Terry’s unceasing focus on building this place. That foundation needs to be tended to, because if we take it for granted or rest on our laurels, it’s gone. Because of that foundation, though, I am able to share EPS with the greater community—peer schools in the Northwest Association of Independent Schools and businesses in the Puget Sound region. I get to share the “why,” to tell our students’ stories and also to bring partnerships together to help students to leverage their dreams.

I want to balance my presence on campus with getting out connecting with others, including our alumni, because we are here for them throughout their lives. Additionally, I think we need to think more about sustainability of student experience and institutional practice.

Finally and most importantly, we are addressing belonging in our school. So many factors contribute to a sense of belonging, but at the end of the day, it’s about being a full community comprised of individuals. When decision-making is widely shared, there is a sense of people contributing, from faculty and staff to student agency and student voice. I want to continue connecting with students on their ideas on what would be great. When they have authorship, they take up the mantle of responsibility. They defend the culture—and they are the best defenders of the culture.