Lucky!

In 1992 I fell hard.  I couldn’t sleep, I smiled so much, so big that others found it annoying, and no one could break the magic of the spell.  I was head over heels for my very first teaching job.  I loved everything about it.  My classroom was a brand new space as the building had just undergone a huge renovation.  My teaching colleagues were smart, brilliant really.  The students, overall, were adoring and excited to learn and, to top it all off, my principal was also a musician and had the heart of a poet.  He honored creative endeavors and thought I was “a natural.”  And because he did, I did, too.

Twenty seven years passed in the blink of an eye.  Now I sift through the years in my memory and marvel at my luck.  We were so fortunate to have had the opportunity to teach during those years of abundance and strong support for public education.  In the 1990’s, the progressive initiatives were many, and there was money to prepare teachers.  One summer, teachers in our middle school all attended a three-day seminar on brain research.  The event was held in a nearby beach town, and we enjoyed breaks, walking on the beach and dinners together after a full day of lectures and discussion. We left with a firm grasp of the brain and a sense of community.  We were ready to collaborate for the success of every child.

Another summer, we traveled to Boyne, Michigan and had training with the Coalition of Essential Schools on creating authentic assessment pieces.  By the week’s end, our team had planned a student assessment in which the kids wrote their own children’s picture books about our small, rural town of Vicksburg.  The books reflected their learning during the social studies unit on local history, the students’ memories from the Vicksburg Walking Tour we had taken in our village and our reading of a book written by a local historian titled, Water Over the Dam.  Instruction was integrated, rich, and relevant.  We created that, using the training our district provided and the expertise of our experience as teachers.  To top it off, I thrilled in knowing I’d get to put our creation into action with the students.  I’m so grateful for those years when we were trusted to write curriculum and we were heralded as the experts.

I wish someone would’ve whispered in my ear, “Enjoy this moment right here.  This is the good stuff.  This is the part you’ll miss the most.”  I was young and had no idea or appreciation for how the sands would shift, creating an entirely different landscape.  But that is just what happened.  One morning, I woke up, and it had all changed.  For awhile, I only wanted to lament everything I’d lost.  Gone were grade level teams, planning time set aside for student concerns,  authentic assessments, and so much more.  Multiple choice tests replaced all the grand projects we’d planned in those summer workshops.  We now only met with our department members, teachers who didn’t even have the same students.  In the English dept. we were all expected to be on the same page–no room for creative autonomy.  It was a tremendous loss, and I didn’t take it well.

It took a long time and a cerebral hemorrhage to get a clearer understanding of my purpose.  Fortunately, I think I’ve rounded a corner.  I want to stop grieving all the losses and, instead, relish my good fortune.  I did have many years during which I had creative license and was recognized for the artistry of my lessons.  Injustices along the way fade with time. Each year the students grow and many make tremendous gains.  And those who don’t, who need more time, heal in other ways under the safe protection of our classroom community.

I’m nearing the end of my years in the classroom, and you know what?  It’s been good.  If you look at the whole picture of my career, I’ve been lucky.  Early on, I had so many years of teaching just the way it should be, collaboratively with a team of teachers and with the unwavering support of my principal.  The take-away for me feels like this–there have been struggles and losses in this crazy job.  It’s been easy to lose sight of how lucky I am.  But I’m fortunate because I got a peek into what education can be when it’s done with the child at the center.

I was there.  I was a part of it.  It was magic.