Slide 1:

This semester, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to a first year teacher on my team. We talk about a lot
of things, but in particular her feelings of frustration that her students were not as successful as
she’d hoped they’d be at this point. She’s talked about giving them accomodation after
accomodation, chance after chance, kindness after kindness, and exception after exception. I found
myself telling her it was time to stop. That you can lead the horse to water but cannot make it drink.
That it’s time to let the students scores sit where they are. That sometimes scores do not need to
reflect her effort, but their lack. She told me then that in her undergraduate teacher training, that she
had been told on more than one occasion, that if her students were failing, she was a failure. Period.
No exceptions.
That’s unbearable pressure to put on any one person. And it needs to change. The idea that new
teacher training programs could instilling this in people who are coming into the classroom for the
first time is gross negligence. And it has to stop. If we want to have teachers to fill the needs of our
students year after year, this kind of talk has to stop. We have to stop thinking of the teacher as this
weird, sub-human creature where the untold needs of the many supersede his or hers. Teacher
training programs need to support our teachers, help them understand that their physical and mental
health is as valuable as the students they are here to serve. That our value is not dependent on the
choices of teenagers and children.
Being a teacher is a weird, amoebic thing. It shifts and morphs. But lately it feels like being a teacher
requires an act of tremendous strength.
Strength to parent when parents don’t know how, to be full of grace and goodness and creativity.
To give chances. To give Love. Advice. Council. To be the sounding board for every opinion. To
give none of our own. To remain impartial always. To be a walking, talking sponge. To absorb
everything around us, but to never leave a trace. Never show the burden that is. To do so would be
failure. To show weakness is failure. To take care of our own needs is failure.

Slide 2:
When our students fail, we, as teachers, too, have failed.
I just think, at it’s core… this idea is toxic. It’s hurtful. And above all, it’s

Slide 3:
False.
I know it. I believe it with every bone in my body. But practicing it… is harder.
To demonstrate, I’m going to share a few experiences as told through my Instagram account. Every
word I wrote was true. But it didn’t tell the full story. And I feel like this sums up what it feels like
to be a teacher.

Slide 4:
I have the days when the kids and I connect, I feel like things were really clicking, I felt like they
were learning and growing. I feel like I’m accomplished and creative and like I’ve made this brilliant
choice to be a teacher.
And sometimes those days happen on the same day that parents collaborate and complain. That
small disconnections with administration breed distrust and a world of stress and trouble. Oh and
there was this election a couple years ago that inspired this sudden and dramatic change in our
students’ behavior. Where being decent wasn’t a thing anymore. And we weren’t allowed to talk
about it. It became a muzzle in the classroom. Where discussion once was, teaching critical
thinking was suddenly described by parents as forcing a “liberal agenda” on their children.
But I put a good face on. I “handled it”. I gave my all to my students. I was going to do for them.
And I did.
I worked and I gave and I tried. But it didn’t make me feel better – it filled me with doubt.

Slide 5:
Unsurprisingly, when we are surrounded by doubt – whether it is from the political climate, from
our students’ parents, our administration, or ourselves – it sucks the joy out of what we do. And I
felt that.
One of the biggest things I’ve been chewing on this semester is where does the doubt come from?
Why is it here? What’s the real fear that is coming across in doubt? Our students doubting
themselves, their parents who doubt their children and their teachers, the way we doubt ourselves?
And what can we do about it? I don’t have a lot of answers.
And yeah, it’s exhausting.
One thing I’ve come to recently is that doubt is dangerous. Because we don’t just doubt actions or
their motives – we doubt people’s value. We doubt their character. We doubt their humanity. And
that is some ugly business. Especially when we doubt ourselves. But we keep going. We cope.
Slide 6:
And we stress and we lose sleep. And we subsist on caffeine and mugs with witty, sometimes self-
deprecating quips that make us feel playful because that’s more important than admitting we’re
struggling.
After all, “That’s how to do it!”, right? #teacherbag #exhausted

Slide 7:
Last year during my school musical, I hit a wall I didn’t know I had. I was at school until 11:30 most
nights for a month and a half. In the car headed to school before 6:30 most mornings. I didn’t have
the help I needed. And despite asking and delegating, I felt I had to hold that burden alone. It was
incredibly lonely. And despite the fact that I was devoting my time to something I truly wanted to
do and loved… it nearly broke me.
#underpressure #cuethequeenanddavidbowie #jazzsoothesthesoul

Slide 8:
And when I left my keys in my apartment door overnight more than once, when I forgot food to eat
for breakfast or lunch and went days without eating anything until after 6pm. The little sleep I was
getting was riddled with nightmares and stress dreams. If I fell asleep at all. Most nights I would
wake up more than once, soaking wet from flop sweat. I forgot to take care of myself. But you
know.. “tis the season.” And after all, I’m a teacher. Gotta get up bright and early to entertain and
inspire the future minds of America. Never mind that I was barely holding onto the present.

Slide 9:
When I snapped at my cast one rehearsal, I felt the dam that was holding me together start to crack.
I cried. I shook. I couldn’t focus. But I taught all day. And I built that set all night. And after a
friend brought me dinner and flowers because she knew I wasn’t doing it for myself, and I nearly
cried apologizing to my students for being stressed and on the edge the next day. And they, by the
way, hadn’t really noticed anything had happened... Sitting in the theatre before rehearsal that next
afternoon I decided to post this. (read it) And people told me I was brave. So real. But it was only a
half truth. When I look at this picture and I can still feel the stress in my chest. It’s a visceral
reaction. But you know, yay flowers! And thank goodness the kids didn’t see how much it was
affecting me. But to be honest, it didn’t feel good. It made me angry. And it made me feel unseen.
On closing night, I took this photo.

Slide 10:
And in it I can see the genuine pride and joy I felt. Because all of the hard work paid off. It was
honest and real and true. And I think back on that time with so much pride. But as time goes on, I
mostly see the tension in my eyes. The deep exhaustion and the price of holding all of those truths
inside. I can see it all over my face.
Being authentic is really important to me. But being a teacher is really hard. And it means we have
to hide parts of ourselves sometimes to do the work in front of us.
I try my best to hide my frustration when kids are jerks. I try to hide my self-criticism when I
observe other teachers teaching lessons that I originally created and seeing them do it better. I try –
though not always successfully – to hide my criticism of other teachers when I observe them making
choices that I can barely follow as a fully formed adult, let alone a 12 year old. I try to hide the
jealousy that bubbles up when students flock to other teachers who also have great ideas that I’ve
tried to steal but that just. Don’t. work. For. Me.
I try to make sure all of my students leave my classroom with more knowledge than they came in
with - even though I know that doesn’t always happen. I try to not feel like a failure when my
teammates talk about that one kid that I truly can’t stand– to hear that that kid is awesome in Social
Studies… I try new techniques. I try to keep up with my emails and paperwork and grading… but
in my heart, it never really feels like enough.
I don’t use enough technology. I don’t teach enough basics. I didn’t spend enough time on this, I
spent too much time on that. Horton’s classes are way more independent and self-sustaining.
Sahak’s classes adore her so much more. Djernes’s kids volunteer and keep things ship-shape
without him asking. Carroll modifies everything. But I’m always late. And I’m garbage at grading
essays quickly – if at all. And I’m loud. And sometimes the parts of me that I’m most proud of –
that I’ve fought most to build are the things that other people dislike the most. And I’m probably
never going to meet my own standards.
But I’m starting to be more ok with that.
And coming to that realization feels important. And real. And at the heart - it’s a pretty simple
idea.
Slide 11:
It’s time to let that shit go.
All the shit that holds us back. That feeds the comparison monster. That makes us feel compelled
to sell half-truths as whole ones.
That feeling that someone else’s ideas of who or what or how we should be matters? That’s bullshit.
I’ve decided that it’s time to make choices that will represent me and my values well. Because I
believe that if I show up as a teacher in a manner and in an environment that feels comfortable and
real – students will respond. If I meet them human to human – they’re more likely to treat me as a
human, but hopefully also treat themselves a bit more humanely as well.
I don’t believe that their failures are my failures. That’s shit that needs to be let go.
And I don’t believe that watching other teachers means I should follow their footsteps. That their
specific strategies, or interactions, or methods are necessarily something I should strive to replicate.
That’s shit that needs to be let go.
I’ve watched lessons where students held each other accountable and who took ownership and care
of the space… and I want that. I want to work on that. I’ve been to classrooms where students feel
at home. And I want that. I’ve observed classes where students feel comfortable acknowledging
they don’t know something and it’s rewarded. Where rules and expectations are clear and
boundaries are firm, but there’s enough flexibility that students are able to be who they are. And I
want that.
I feel like I’m on the path – but letting go of how I interpret other people’s expectations of me?
That’s shit that needs to be let go.

Slide 12:
And after that – it’s time to bring the good in. A space that’s comfy and homy. Where theres space
for freedom and choice. This is my ideal classroom inspiration.
And I feel like I’m on the path.

Slide 13:
For me, it’s all about comfort. My classroom is my home away from home. And I want it to feel
that way to my students. The lights are always down – lots of lamps. Students can use pillows and
blankets to be comfortable, they can sit how and where they like.
Slide 14:
They are surrounded by art that is meaningful to me and that has been created by previous students

Slide 15:
And things that inspire me. A poster from my dad’s first classroom. A favorite chair. My middle
and high school show choir photos. Because I am a fully formed person, with a past and interests
outside of my room.
Chances to bring the real world in – to follow something I discovered in my outside book –
Montessori Madness. Which, while fairly scathing about public schools, made some really
compelling critiques. But it also offered solutions that I want to dig into more.

Slide 16:
A big part of the Montessori grand vision is to focus the teaching on encouraging students to be the
owners of their space and their own learning. To give them opportunities and to really focus in on
what gets them excited. I don’t want to become a Montessori teacher. I believe too much in public
education. But I do want to create an authentic experience for my students and place where they
can foster their own sense of confidence and maybe open their world views just a touch more. I
want to encourage them to teach each other more often, to share the things they are passionate that
hopefully can bridge the divide between enthusiastic real life learning, and the sometimes begrudging
book learning. This is how I plan to engage in meaningful reformation within my classroom walls.
To create a space that is comfortable, that is homey. That helps students feel at ease and to feel
ownership of their space.
Because that’s how we build authentic learners. That to me is how I can be a more authentic
teacher.
To make moves that feel real and true. My students will only truly fail if I fail myself. Not the other
way around. That idea of failure?

Slide 17:
It’s time to let that shit go.