What We Don't Know, Can Hurt Them

This time last year, one of my student's fathers was in the hospital dying. He had been in the hospital since Thanksgiving. A total of zero teachers had any idea this was happening--including me. Sometime in early December, I sat down during guidance period to review progress with each student. I noticed that her grades had taken quite a dive. She'd been absent a few times, like many other high school seniors in winter. I asked her point blank, what was up, and if she had a plan to get her grades up. She gave me a friendly, but "I want to avoid this conversation" answer. This was a girl who always smiled, always had perfect liquid eyeliner, and who never failed to ask me how I was doing. Something was off.

My next step was to go speak to the theatre and dance teachers who were in charge of our winter production--one in which this student was playing the lead. Together we figured something out: she was missing school, but attending rehearsal. She was spending the days and late nights visiting her father, and making it to rehearsal so she wouldn't let down the cast--- opening night was so close.

Fast forward to some hard conversations, and the revelation of some truths: her father was sick. He needed more than what doctors in Vegas could do for him, and was waiting to be air lifted to a specialist in California. He had Leukemia, and was in the hospital the same time last year. She was trying to handle it "like an adult" and do everything herself.  In the meantime, this 18-year-old senior was without her sole parent and provider. She wasn't eating, she needed a refill on her asthma inhaler, her grades were tanking. She needed support.

This isn't about how I was the only one who noticed. I noticed because I have her in my guidance class and was able to have a one-on-one sit down with her. Every teacher on my campus does this with 20-25 kids. It makes a difference. With class loads of up to 200 it isn't always easy to get time to talk to kids individually. What shocked me more than my colleagues and I letting her slip through the cracks this long, was the reaction to the situation once everyone became aware.

We had a couple of weeks until Winter Break and two weeks after break until finals and end of semester grades. This gave kids a window to catch up if needed. I took the lead, with her permission, and shared her situation with my colleagues. Responses were mixed. Some never replied to my email. Some were shocked, and ready to help her out. Some were glad to be in the loop. I had to take it a step further, and walk to everyone's classroom so we could talk face-to face about her situation and how, as educators, we could rally together to get her through this difficult time.

My decision for English was to excuse her missing work and let her start with a clean slate. She was a strong student with a great track-record. She had shown mastery of content, and could afford to let a few assignments go.  She was waiting for college admissions letters and hoping to qualify for a hefty amount of scholarship and financial aide. She needed some leniency right now in order to keep on track. That was my decision. I began thinking about this girl's "after." What would she do after high school? What would she do after her father passed away? What would she do after scholarship money ran out?

My colleagues were all over the map. Many made concessions, offered one-on-one remediation and time to make up work. Some did business as usual, despite her circumstances. When I checked in with her after the break, she had made up some work, and felt somewhat prepared for finals. She attempted to complete the packets she was given by some of her teachers. Her dad was still sick, she was still alone. Her dance teacher made sure she was with friends on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day--the entire cast of the winter production left her a gift under the tree at her friend's house. My English department and I pooled money and got her some small gifts and gift cards.

She made it through the semester. She made it through the year and onto graduation. She's still going strong, making it through all that life dishes out. Her dad is still fighting.

She made me think about the "afters" of all of my students. As educators, there's so much we don't know about our student's lives--past, present, future. We will never know everything, but we need to remember that the student with the wide smile and contagious laugh may be hurting just as badly, or even more than the one who wears it on the outside. We need to be compassionate, flexible, and empathetic to all of them, whether we are privy to their struggles or not. At the end of the day, education is important, but people come before papers.

The teacher I am today sees the world differently then I used to. Maybe it's the trauma I've seen my students endure, or my own life experience. I still believe that education is powerful, but I understand that sometimes, especially in the life of a child, it has to take a back seat when life is chucking lemons at you like a pitching machine. Lemonade isn't as easy to make as we all think.

What we don't know can hurt them, even if we don't mean it to. It's a delicate balance of juggling the buzzwords: rigor, proficiency, achievement, while standing on one leg, blindfolded by the unfair world that some of our students come from. All we can do is try our best.

I've made sure to send my student's home this semester knowing that they can reach out to me, that they are not selfish for practicing self-care, and that they are loved. It matters.

Got Questions? 15 Things You Should Know About Public Schools

I am a public school teacher married to a public school teacher with two kids in public school. I attended public school in California, Colorado, Texas, and Nevada.  I think I turned out ok. My mother-in-law was a public school teacher as were her mother and her father. Her sister was a public school teacher for some time. Many of my friends are public school teachers. Many of my friends send their kids to public school. If you ever have a question about what happens inside a school, just ask. I've spent the last 18 years with kids from all over the world, from poor homes and affluent homes, from Leave it To Beaver existences and the stuff of nightmares. I can tell you that teaching is tough, and for some kids school is tough. I can also tell you that teaching has made me more compassionate, more human, and more focused on the world around me.  Public schools get a bad wrap, and most of the time it's from people who don't go to them or work in them. Even if you are not in school, you know someone in your family or have a friend who is directly connected with a school.

I am by no means the expert on all things education, but I have been a teacher for almost 20 years, have worked in education policy, and have traveled the country visiting schools, speaking with teachers and students, and feel that I’ve learned a few things. With that said, here are 15 things I’d like to share or suggest:

1. Read what's happening at all levels: local, state, national. Pick up your phone or pen and speak up. The fate of kids and teachers isn't an us and them debate.
2. Don’t assume that because you went to school, that you know everything about how they work. Schools have evolved and will continue to do so. Technology, philosophy, funding, social climate can all affect the way schools function.
3. Teachers and school staff are top-notch multi-taskers. They are the master’s of not only keeping 25-45 ( or even 50+ in each period) students engaged and behaving but also tending to the 100’s of tasks that pop up on any given day. Don’t underestimate them.
4. Like in any profession, there are good and bad employees. Try not to let one bad story or bad experience taint the potential of the 3.5 million educators in our country.
5. Public school teachers pay for their advanced degrees, their recertification credits, their license renewals, their mandatory professional development credits, their classroom supplies. In most, if not all schools, they pay for lunch, coffee, a bottle of water, school shirts. This may be the norm in most professions, but the average yearly salary of a teacher is much less than let’s say an attorney or physician.
6. In any given classroom, there are 25-45 ( sometimes more, rarely less) who are all unique, diversely talented, from different backgrounds and experiences. This is what makes school great. It is, however the job of a single teacher, to meet the needs of all of those students, all at once. The most important part...most teachers can do it. Every. Day.
7. Teaching, or working anywhere in a school, can be exceptionally isolating. Children are wonderful, but spending 8+ hours a day without any adult interaction can take its toll. Teachers and staff need time to talk to other adults.
8. Teachers and school staff members are people too. They have families, pets, second jobs. They have to make dinner, go to soccer practice, attend worship services. They get sick like everyone else. Sometimes, educators act like they are invincible super-humans. They are people. Remember that.
9. Teachers are adults, not kids. This sounds like a simple, obvious statement. Often, the structures in place in schools are aimed at children, and there are no concessions for adults. They cannot use the restroom without permission, their internet access is filtered, they cannot make or receive phone calls during the instructional day, they often don’t have a choice about how they will use their lunch or prep time. Not a complaint, just an observation.
10. There would be no Academy Award winning actors, championship athletes, game changing scientists, or revolutionary leaders, without education. School is where children grow into themselves. They learn social skills, time management, consequences, how to take pride in a job well done, how to struggle, how to be empathetic, how to grapple with the confusion of the world. Schools need to be safe, supported, engaging, hospitable places. Support your local schools and educators. Nothing happens magically in schools. Schools need money, support, advocacy, legislation, and supplies to reach their potential.
11. Teaching is hard. Passing out papers and monitoring lunch duty is pretty basic stuff. Scaffolding lessons, differentiating instruction, creating authentic summative assessments, disaggregating data, providing social-emotional support--these are not easy. Teachers and school staff do this daily while teaching, mentoring, and loving kids. Teaching is hard.
12. Teachers want to be seen as professionals. Teachers are educated, motivated, and organized individuals, for the most part. A teacher’s skill set includes the duties of: parent, mentor, coach, counselor, friend, secretary, academic advisor, content specialists, artist, actor, and much more. Teachers and school staff wear many hats. See them for the skills that they have.
13. School shootings are terrifying. To see a school shooting on the news is surreal and scary and leaves a mark on our souls--even if they don’t happen at our own schools. To go to work every day wondering in the back of your mind what you would do in that situation can affect you in ways you can’t imagine. No matter how compassionate or selfless, no educator wants to die protecting their students, even if they would.
14. Schools are amazing places. Unless you spend 8 hours a day, 181 days a year on a campus, you’ll never truly see the dedication, compassion, creativity, energy and empathy that flows through a school. For all the negative press, there are 1000x more wonderful moments that go unshared. It is up to all of us to help shift the narrative.
15. You can help to reshape the narrative. Visit your child’s school, donate to the school, offer your time, money, support, voice. If you don’t have a child in school, you know someone who does. See what you can do to make their child’s school the best environment that it can be to provide the best education possible to that child and all their peers. Write your legislators, drop off pencils, send a cookie bouquet to the staff. The smallest thing on your end could make all the difference in the world to a school and the people within it.

School are special places. They are not broken, they just need their communities. #thisteachersjourney

This Opportunity Comes Once in a Lifetime, Yo

After 20 years in the classroom and 8 years in college studying English Literature, I have had the opportunity to read some of the greatest works ever written. There are lines from T.S. Eliot's poetry that float to the forefront of my memory on a daily basis. I have recalibrated my views on life, death, existence, and philosophy with every book, poem, and play that I have read. Yet, the catch-22 of being an "English Teacher" is that everyone expects you speak using only perfect grammar, to have read every book, to not necessarily be moved to tears over the lyrics of a rap song, or to include a quote from a pop-culture movie into your life philosophy. 


Well, despite my love of Shakespeare and Dante, Dickinson, and Hughes, the words of a modern day poet-philosopher are often what I turn to when I have to face hard decisions:

"...the moment,
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance...
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime..."

You own it, you better never let it go,

Eminem. A poet. A philosopher. A man who has embedded into his angst, unorthodox ideas, and even vitriol into solid, aphoristic advice. You don't have to like him. You don't have to agree with him. But let's not deny that putting a beat behind "Opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo" is a pure and straightforward way to tell us to seize the day. After twenty years in the classroom and eight years in college studying English Literature, I am not afraid to admit that I have made monumental life decisions with the words of Winona Ryder, Zach Braff, and Ethan Hawke at my back. I have replayed lyrics from the Beastie Boys and Bad Religion, along with Eminem in my head while combatting anxiety and fear. Words are powerful and underestimating them just because of where they come from can be tragic.

Call it what you will, I take inspiration from words, no matter where they come from. Words have enraged me, enlightened me, encouraged me. They inch their way into corners of my brain and make a home there, ready to emerge when I need them.

At this crossroad in my life, I have sailed past my 40th year, have welcomed thousands of students through my classroom door, and have denied myself opportunity more than once in the name of being a teacher. I love what I do. Teaching has been one of the most enriching experiences of my life, yet I know that my passion for education can still exist, even if I am not physically in a classroom every day. This by no means, means I'm turning in my white board markers and collecting my gold plated pencil, it just means, that when opportunity knocks, this time I will answer the door. 

So I sit here, "owning it", "not missing my chance",  trying not to miss this "once in a lifetime opportunity." What will it mean for me, my future, my happiness? Who really knows. Like a too often cryptic social media post, I will not divulge the who, the what, the when. I will simply state that #thisteachersjourney has been a winding road, sometimes with unexpected bumps, but I am finally starting to feel that I have both hands on the wheel.

It may have taken almost 20 years for me to figure out that I have spent the better portion of my life surrounded by words of wisdom urging me to move "against the grain"  to laugh at myself, or " life is going to seem a whole lot longer", that "I am not under any orders to make the world a better place." But if I don't , "Well, then, what good [am I]"? At just the right moment, I heard just the right song, just like the time I read Eliot and knew I would major in English, that gave me the sign that it might be time to explore my options and seize the moment when it presents itself. 

Thanks to the authors, the lyricists, the philosophers who have shaped my way of thinking, I'm ready to listen to Emerson--"He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety." I'm ready to listen to Eminem--" The moment, You own it, you better never let it go." I am ready to listen to myself, to take the words that have nested inside me for the past 40+ years, and let them guide me into my next 40 where I will " Get it together and see what's happening" and continue to welcome new opportunities to pepper my journey.

Seize the Day. 

525,600 Minutes

In the Broadway musical RENT, a year can be measured in a variety of ways: 525,600 minutes, in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. For many educators, however, a year can be measured in quarters, semesters, seasons, and thematic units.

As a veteran educator, I have seen many school years come and go, usually in what feels like the blink of an eye. August becomes September and then all of a sudden, we are ushering in a brand new calendar year. My years in the classroom have been measured by novels, and poems, essays, and class discussions, along with many other moments of wonder and surprise. Ironically, first-year-teacher me thought I'd never make it to the end of year one, and now, each spring I have to accept the fact that my kiddos are moving on and another year is almost over.

There tends to always be a theme or a story intertwined with each unit of 525,600 minutes. The year I got my master's, the year I got married, the year I had my first child, the year I served as a student council advisor, etc.  The themes vary, and there are many different moments of nostalgia that pepper each giant cluster of time. Out of all the years, one of the most surreal was between August 2016 to August 2017.

I was able to measure my 525, 600 minutes in airplane trips, metro rides, roundtables and documents. As I entered this new chapter of my educator life, I learned so much so fast ,and actually couldn't believe how quickly the minutes flew. My co-workers saw me in the halls and standing at the copier, in faculty meetings and on lunch duty. I was still your friendly neighborhood English teacher. Yet, like Clark Kent and his Superman alter-ego, a simple outfit change could transform me into a Federal Employee.

After living in the Las Vegas desert for 32 years, the opportunity to spend time in the humidity and hustle of Washington D.C. was quite the experience. Add to it that I wasn't jaunting off to the Nation's Capital just to tour museums and take in the cherry blossoms. For one year, I lived a double life as a full-time teacher and and a part-time employee of the Federal Government. As one of ten Teaching and Principal Ambassador Fellows with the U.S. Department of Education, my duality left a forever impression on not just my views on education and policy, but on my humanity, and my faith in educators.

The story of the nine amazing educators and the many, many career professionals at the Dept. will come at another time. For now, I just want to focus on how my 525,600 minutes as a Fellow impacted #thisteachersjourney.

From the application all the way to the interview,  I was honest from the get-go. I am a hardworking teacher with a slight addiction to professional development and challenge. I knew very little about educational policy. I'm a perfectionist and a quick learner, but had much to learn when it came to policies and titles and government ethics and federal buildings. I was ready to tackle whatever was thrown my way...if I was chosen to be a Fellow. The application and selection process was long. Months to be exact. It required essays, phone conferences, reference letters, writing samples, pages and pages of application documents, a flight to D.C. for an interview, and many hours of waiting. From December of 2015 to May of 2016, there were many, many hours of waiting. The glimmers of hope appeared in emails beginning with "Congratulations...". That was enough to advance to the next phase. When I was asked to come to Washington, it got real.

After stress, self-doubt, and some sleepless nights, I boarded a flight for Reagan National Airport for the face-to-face interview that would determine how my next school year would be measured. Fast-forward to meeting some wonderful educators from all over the country, and sharing nine hours of introductions, nerves, and fish bowl conversations. That day, just like a school year, flew by, and I was back on a plane headed home to fabulous Las Vegas.

The longest three weeks of my life began when I touched down at McCarran Airport. Three weeks of obsessively checking my cell phone. Three weeks of telling myself it was ok if I wasn't chosen, "it was an honor just to be nominated." Three weeks of knowing that the people I met at that interview were people who all deserved to serve as Fellows, and who would do right by educators, students, and their families. 30,240 minutes until I got a missed call from Washington D.C.

Before I called back, I engaged in a little self-talk. "It's ok to cry, Dallas." "It's ok if you didn't get selected, you can always reapply." "Hold it together Johnston, there's no crying in federal education policy." With the pep talk out of the way, I dialed. The voice on the other end belonged to a woman whom I admired from the moment I haphazardly walked into her office before the Fellowship was even in my sights. Gillian, whether she knew it or not, intimidated and inspired me all at once. Educated, confident, nurturing, and knowledgeable, her voice was the on the other end of the phone line, delivering the news that I would be the first teacher from the state of Nevada to be a Teaching Ambassador Fellow. I told her I wanted to hug her, then thanked her, and then thanked her a few more times before ending the call. I did cry. After hanging up, of course, and only for a nano-second, because I was at school and not crying at my desk is a lifelong goal.

There is so much more to this story, but for now, I will say that everyone of those 525,600 minutes gave me the chance to learn, to grow, to question, to advocate, and, most importantly, to discover my voice as a person who will no longer settle for closing my classroom door or my mouth, when I know that my ideas, and  my actions can move the needle of change.

My 525,600 minutes working in Washington, may have come to an end on paper, but the people, like Gillian, and my inspiring team will live with me forever. My skill set will continue to grow, my words will continue to become more precise, and my advocacy will swell so that I can say I've spent my minutes, those of my Fellowship year, and all the minutes that lie ahead, doing what I felt was right.

"Once a Fellow, always a Fellow", is more than a saying; it is truth. The Fellowship advanced this teacher's journey, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

Old School Meets New School

I graduated from high school in 1994. After moving to Henderson, Nevada, a suburb of Sin City itself, I spent my formative years in the Clark County School District public schools. From Nate Mack Elementary to Cannon Jr. High, to the brand new Green Valley High School, I ebbed and flowed through my education, always looking for a place to belong.

It took some time, but in the fall of 1993, I finally found my place. As one old school was shutting its doors, a new one was opening them. Ironically, the doors were attached to the same building. The Las Vegas Academy was reborn from the metaphoric ashes of Las Vegas High School. One of the oldest high schools emerged as the newest by planting the seed of the arts into the desert landscaping.

My experience at LVA, even if only nine months long, changed me. I was a theatrical kid with a creative mind who loved music and black tights and Doc Martens. When I arrived on LVA's campus in August of 1993, I knew I had found my people. This small, quirky arts school was buzzing with creative energy, and for the first time in all my years of school, I was able to focus on something other than being the black sheep who wore funny clothes. That didn't matter. All that mattered was embracing the arts.

Here we are in 2017. It's the second quarter of the school year and I am still here at Las Vegas Academy. No, I'm not still trying to graduate high school, I came back to LVA to teach. Since 2001, I've woken up at 5am to get ready for high school. Walking into the same building I took English class in, I now teach English and Creative Writing. This somewhat surreal experience of student becoming the teacher has filled me with joy, frustration, fear, and inspiration almost daily.

Twenty-five years later, The Las Vegas Academy is still a place, nestled in the neon chaos of Downtown Las Vegas, providing a place to belong for the wayward artist, the dedicated academic, the floundering philosopher, and the 41-year-old teacher who still wears black tights and Doc Martens.

Welcome to This Teacher's Journey

It's been a long time coming. A place to house all those thoughts, all those stories. Every day in a classroom is a brand new adventure, and I have had seventeen years of adventures. This Teacher's Journey has been spinning around in my mind for a while now, just waiting to be set free. I know that my life as a teacher has influenced my views, changed my thinking, and shaped me in numerous ways, and it is time for me not only share the stories of my own experience, but to share the stories of the educators, advocates, and others who have shaped me as a teacher. 

When I started teaching, we barely used computers in the classroom. I bubbled in attendance on a scantron form at the end of each day and calculated my grades by hand. No, it wasn't fifty years ago, it was 2001. Since I started my career as a teacher, so much has changed, including me. My first year teaching I was a naive twenty-something who thought I could work magic with a piece of chalk and an overhead projector. In reality, the most magical thing that happened that year was that I kept on teaching when it was over. 

My college education had equipped me with knowledge and philosophy. My student teaching had provided me with tricks of the trade and an insider look at systems and routines. Nothing prepared me to be in charge of 150 eleven-year-olds for seven hours a day.

Somehow, despite the tears, the self-doubt, and the trail and error, I did it. I finished a school year, and then another, and then another. Insert moving to a new school and teaching five different courses over the span of five years, and I slowly started to grow into my own skin. About five years in, I really hit my stride. I finally understood what it meant to have a "philosophy of education."

As five years turned to ten, and ten to fifteen, my eyes opened to the possibility that not only could I be a confident, masterful educator, but that I could use my voice to not only teach students about the world but to advocate for education, educators, and students. 

So, here it is. This Teacher's Journey. Thank you for joining me.