Dear New Teacher,
Twenty years ago, I was standing where you are right now:
On the edge of uncertainty, full of good intentions, hope and the fervent desire to make a change in the world. If you are an elementary school teacher like I was, you are most likely surrounded by piles of materials left by the ghosts of teachers past and all the new purchases you made, inspired no doubt by the countless teachers who have shared their Instagram worthy classrooms with the rest of the world.
What those beautiful classroom pictures on Instagram do not reveal are the hours, days and years of the invisible work those amazing teachers did to get to the end product that came across your algorithm. And really those pictures only reveal a slither of the knowledge and skills they have acquired over time.
If you are anything like I was then, this is the moment the doubt begins to creep in. Like you might be doing now, I began comparing myself to other teachers within my school as we set up our classrooms and within just those first few days of classes.
One of the most singular moments of my life is when my first class of fifth graders were lined up outside of my barely organized classroom. Twenty-one expectant faces were boring straight into my soul. I remember thinking, "Jesus Christ, I am the adult in charge. It's just me. Who thought this was a good idea?"
My first year of teaching was challenging and like all first year teachers, I went through all the Phases of the New Teacher Rollercoaster numerous times. In the twenty years since then, I have evolved so much as an educator. My practices, skills and philosophy have changed in ways I never imagined possible when that first group of fifth graders stepped into my life. My evolution is the result of the many extraordinary mentors I have been privileged to know, careful reflection of my mistakes and thousands of hours of invisible work. However, one thing that has never left me is that bit of Imposter Syndrome that took root twenty years ago as I looked back at my first group of students.
In some of my recent speaking engagements, I have talked a lot about Imposter Syndrome and how as a profession we are uncomfortable with the spotlight. I think that is mainly because those that stay in education tend to see it as a profession of service and have a calling to empower our students and families. When our successes are highlighted as professionals, it can feel inappropriate because our students and families are our center. It's not about us; it's about the communities we serve. However, I think my own Imposter Syndrome tends to surface most when the future seems uncertain.
I was definitely feeling doubtful twenty years ago when I started down this path. I was a very successful student and researcher, but that did not mean I was going to be a successful educator. When I went home after my first day of teaching, I couldn't help but think I was crazy for choosing to go right into the classroom after just getting my undergraduate degree. It would have been far more comfortable to continue on with my graduate degree before going into the classroom. Why upset the apple cart?
Of course, now I know that all of those doubts would have been there whether I waited or not. And truthfully, I never would have considered getting a Masters Degree in Special Education had I not spent some time in the classroom first. That decision would have put me on a very different path than the one I am very grateful to be walking right now.
This letter may be evoking some of the sentiment Robert Frost had in his poem, "The Road Not Taken," but like the speaker in that poem I have been reflecting a lot on the past and who I was when I was a new teacher. I have been thinking about what I wish other teachers had shared with me, advice that I took and advice I ignored. I don't know if I am reflecting in this way because twenty years in one profession feels like a milestone or if it's because I am transitioning to a new position this year: STEAM educator.
For twenty years, I have always focused on one class of fourth or fifth graders. It's not like I have always had exactly the same position; I have transitioned before. I was a General Practitioner and then I became part of an Integrated Co-Teaching Team. However, for fourteen of those years I have been a Special Educator of our fourth and fifth grade self-contained classes. This is a change I advocated for and I am very excited for the learning opportunities that come along with being a STEAM educator and cluster teacher. However, once again the future feels uncertain and just like when I started teaching, this was something I sought out.
In the movie, "You've Got Mail," the character Birdie shares one of my favorite quotes about change and it has been grounding some of my unrest and doubt over the last few days.
"You're doing the bravest thing possible. You are daring to imagine you could have a different life."
Because in some ways I feel very close to that new teacher outside room 307 twenty years ago, I want to share some advice that I wish I could give to her; the advice that no one shared with her at the time. Perhaps this advice will help you as you begin your journey in education. Moreover, maybe this advice will help me as I imagine a different professional life for myself.
Do not be afraid of your mistakes. You are going to make many mistakes and that is okay. Yes, our practices have a direct impact on communities and we should be thoughtful and careful as we teach, but mistakes are quite valuable. Take time to reflect on those mistakes and be open to feedback from all community stakeholders. Growth only happens when we take risks, persevere through challenges and respond to feedback.
Classroom space should grow and change with you and your students. You do not need to have an "Instagram worthy" classroom on day one. Take the pressure off yourself. Just make sure your space is safe and accepting for all students.
Surround yourself with supportive colleagues. The writer, Jennifer Gonzalez, calls this "finding your marigolds." She defines marigolds as colleagues who are positive, supportive and encourage each other to thrive. Depending on your system, teaching can be very isolating and lonely. You are going to need a support network to lean on when your doubt and uncertainty creeps in. This group is also going to be where you find your first mentors. These "marigolds" may come from your school but they may also come from professional learning networks outside your school.
Prioritize building relationships with students and families. Yes, the standards and content are important and I would never advocate for poor lesson planning. However, progress in any subject area will be much slower if you do not have rapport with your students and families.
"Be Curious, Not Judgmental." This is one of my favorite lines from the Ted Lasso series on Apple TV+. In education, there are always more questions than answers and there is a limit to what is within the circle of control of any educator. When you do come across a challenge, whether that is related to the content you teach or the students and families you serve, you will gain more through the act of curiosity than you will through judgement. Seek Professional Learning to help address those questions. Talk to your mentors, students and families. You may not always find succinct answers to your questions, but on that journey your perspective will change.
There are going to be some challenging days ahead. At times, you are going to feel completely overwhelmed with the information, tips and strategies you need to know as a professional. I hope though that among all that information, these five tips take root in your heart and practice. I also hope that when uncertainty creeps into your professional life, you embrace it.
"If uncertainty is unacceptable to you, it turns into fear. If it is perfectly acceptable, it turns into increased aliveness, alertness, and creativity." -Eckhart Tolle
In closing, I would like to share a story that may give you hope on those days when you feel completely disillusioned about your choice to become an educator. Last September, one of those fifth graders from my very first class joined our school staff as an Educational Associate. I remembered who he was from the moment our Principal introduced him to our staff during our in-service training. He approached me later as I was speaking with his new co-teacher and asked, "Excuse me, Ms. Mesk, how long have you been teaching at PS 1?"
I replied, "Since Fall 2004. And yes, I was your fifth grade teacher."
He was really excited I remembered him! But I was incredibly uncomfortable and I said to him, "I need to apologize because I was a first year teacher and I didn't know anything. I know that it was a dumpster fire of a year and I am so sorry."
He didn't miss a beat and said, "But Ms. Mesk you are the reason I studied literature in college. You read us "The Great Gilly Hopkins" and it made me fall in love with literature. Both you and my third grade teacher, were the reasons I went into education. You were both so kind and I wanted to be just like the both of you. I shared that in my interview for this position."
I had no response. His words took all the air out of the room.
I didn't even remember reading "The Great Gilly Hopkins" to that class until he said those words aloud.
For almost twenty years, I had been hoarding only the difficult and challenging memories of my first year of teaching. I had been looking back at that new teacher version of me with such disdain.
His words taught me that I should be kinder to the memory of that new teacher. Without her and her initial steps into this career, I would not be the educator I am now. His words also reminded me that in education, even on our worst days, we can still have a positive impact on the communities we choose to serve.
It is my hope that both of us will be able to hold onto the joy amongst all the uncertainty in this new part of our journey as educators.
Sincerely,
Ms. Mesk
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