Editor’s Note: This is the first of a three-part series by Tch Laureate Emeritus Sarah Brown Wessling for new teachers wrapping up the school year.
“Every fear hides a wish.” — David Mamet
My first year of teaching was equal parts fear and wishing. In fact, they each pulled me from opposite directions, sometimes so tautly, everything seemed to bounce right off me, into the distance, uncatchable. That was my first year of teaching: lots of wishing for magical teaching moments and lots of hiding from my fears. I wished the kids would like me, but my fear meant I had some classroom management issues early on. I wished my colleagues would think I was doing a good job, but my fear meant I wouldn’t reach out to them with my own insecurities. I wished my lessons would all be inspired, but my fear meant that too often I would think about a “cool lesson” instead of a scope of learning.
My first year taught me that the rest of my years would be about shrinking the fictions of wishing and fear in order to opt for the beautiful and real mess of a teaching life. In case you’re finding yourself, at the end of this first year, needing a little less fiction and a little more beautiful mess, here are some common end-of-first-year struggles and how to use them to launch yourself into an even stronger year two. Read more
Editor’s Note: Join Sarah and Teaching Channel in our goal to reach One Million Teachers by referring your friends and colleagues while earning more ways to win great prizes!
Dear One Millionth Tcher,
I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. I’ve been wondering if you would show up and what you’d be like if you did. Would you be finishing your first year in the classroom or would you be nearing your last? Would you arrive by happenstance or because someone else led you here? Would you be passionate and confident or feeling alone and misunderstood? Would you be from this side of the globe or from another? No matter how you got here or what shape you’re in, let me tell you what it means to all of us to have you, our one more zero.
I’ve long been curious about what’s underneath. The back story of the author, the inspiration for the music, the influences that created the athlete. It’s not just the history or the origin story I’m interested in, it’s the story wrapped inside the story that grabs my attention and makes me want to keep uncovering. And I know I’m not the only one because so many of you reach out to me, stop me at a conference, or after a workshop, and ask for all the details. Did you really mess up that lesson or did you plan to? How do you grade all of that writing? Did your students only do that stuff for the camera? How do you come up with your ideas? What happens next?
For as long as I’ve been making videos with Teaching Channel, I’ve had this idea that there should be a version where I get to pull back the curtain and tell the story behind the story. Even though our medium is video and everything seems visible, it’s not. There’s so much invisible work in teaching: the ideation, the planning, the “fake left and go right,” the careful attention and revision. With this in mind, we’re launching our new series, Tcher’s Cut, to give you an insider’s look at all that invisible work, to help answer the questions you’re prompted to ask.
You, the Teaching Channel community, have watched millions of minutes of Teaching Channel videos. You have responded, commented, and annotated them hundreds of thousands of times. You have tried, shared, pinned, and tweeted too many times to count. It’s because of you that this community continues to grow and flourish. It’s because of you that the way we talk about teaching and learning is changing. Yet, in all of this multimedia motivation, we still need to listen. To hear. It’s the hard work Madeleine L’Engle talks about when she says, “Part of doing something is listening.”
Teaching Channel is excited to launch its newest endeavor in meeting you where you hear: the Tch Talks podcast. When you listen, you’ll hear teacher stories and learning stories; stories of improving practice and sparking imagination. Teaching Channel invites you to listen. To learn. To do what this community does so well: get better.
I’ve always been one of those people who has a tough time really wrapping my head around the new school year until the physical space of our classroom is ready. That may be the residue of years of Augusts in my mom’s 4th grade classroom, watching her think and craft and organize in the most enthusiastic ways. It could be a little of my penchant for tidy spaces. But, most likely, it’s because I know the actual work of teaching is so unpredictable, so kinetic, so messy, that having our classroom space ready gives me a sense of calm.
Space is important. It’s not everything. It doesn’t have to define us (I know so many of you teach in spaces that are difficult to work with), but the way we use the space we have can reflect what we believe about teaching and learning. In fact, it does reflect what we believe. It’s the first message anyone gets about what learning will look like in this classroom. And I know this matters to you. In a recent “Ask Sarah” column, I answered a reader’s question about what an ideal classroom can look like.
Editor’s Note: This blog marks the beginning of a new series at Teaching Channel, Youth Mic. Hear from the real experts: our learners.
I’m sure it’s happened to you, too. You’re at the grocery store or putting gas in your car or stopping to grab coffee from the local barista, and you hear it. Actually, before you hear it, you sense it. A glance, then someone looking more intently, double-checking to see if the recognition is right. Then a smile. And a question.
“Ms. Wessling, is that you? I don’t know if you remember me, but…” Then I break into a smile. “Of course I remember you, Sam. You sat in that desk by the window and you hated Holden Caulfield, and you wrote that amazing poem about your name.” And we talk and catch up and smile and nod and remember and plan and exchange sincerities and feel buoyant with reconnection.
There are lessons we teach and lessons that teach us. It’s especially wonderful when those two maxims intersect.
The request started simply enough: “Sarah, would you be willing to come to our school district and teach our students? We love watching you in your classroom, but our teachers want to see how those lessons would work with our kids.” I jumped. What an opportunity to think about teaching from such a unique vantage point. So, the partnership with Tulare County Schools began and we turned this request into an incredibly unique professional learning opportunity for their teachers.
To the Teaching Channel Community:
Several years ago, soon after I had been named the 2010 National Teacher of the Year, I found myself about to give a speech to a room of 300 educators, every one of them accomplished and many of them my own education heroes. Executive directors and lawmakers, researchers and visionaries, educators and non-profit creators.
As I found my place at a table in the front, I gazed around the room again, my legs suddenly feeling like boulders, and my stomach a tight mess of uncertainty. My own words kept getting louder: “They got the wrong person, Sarah. There is no way you’re supposed to be here.” My throat tightened as the introduction started and I thought, “I can’t do this. I just can’t.” I took a deep breath. Then another. I closed my eyes and grasped for any image that would propel me out of that chair. First, Megan’s face. Then Jennifer’s and Jamie’s. Teacher face after teacher face showed up in that space of fear and uncertainty, and replaced it with reassurance.
As the school year begins with laminating machines firing up, photocopy machines heating up, and all kinds of technology charging up, there’s this question teachers often ask each other in hushed tones: “Is your room ready yet?”
I’m sure you’ve heard every intonation of this question. There’s the energetic-excited-enthusiastic voice, just hoping you’ll ask her so she can tell you about every corner of her space. There’s the voice hoping for camaraderie and absolution in not having started yet. And there’s the common, but understated, “Well, it’s as ready as it’s going to be because the kids are coming tomorrow.” You know she’s exhausted every ounce of creativity and purposefulness with every name plate, every Pinterest organizational idea, every word wall and responsibility chart.
It was about this time last year when I had copies of the Common Core spread out across desks in my classroom. I was determined to see how I could resolve this overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t “hold” all the standards in my head while I was teaching. So, I set out to “skinny” them, and see if making them more manageable would also make them more usable to both me and my students.
Of course, figuring out how to get the Core into six buckets was only part of the challenge. The real challenge was figuring out how to implement this system into the fabric of my teaching.
A year later, I’ve learned a lot about what it takes to “live the buckets.” As I get ready to begin another school year, I’m looking to the lessons of last year to guide my foray into Paint Buckets 2.0.