These Flats Were Made for Climbin

I was the first in my family to go to college. I worked two jobs and along with a student loan, paid my way through college. It took five years to get my undergraduate degree. I floundered a bit, not really knowing what path to choose, and honestly, felt a little bit like a fish out of water. But I did it. In December of 2000, I walked across the stage in a black cap and gown, and became a college graduate.

I did well in high school, but only because I wanted to. I had parents that expected good grades and good behavior at school, but it was more of a “do what I say, not as I do” scenario. As the  only child of parents who most often worked 6 days a week, I flew a solo mission all through my K-12 experience. When I graduated from college, it was also because I wanted to. I paid my way, paid my own bills, and worked more hours in any given day than anyone should.

Applying to and attending college was a bit of a blur, honestly. It probably took about a year and a half until I really felt like I knew what I was doing. By that point, I had found a major, seen an academic adviser, and set my sights on graduating as some point or another. Having been involved in the arts most of my life, thanks to the opportunities afforded by school-based programs,I entered college thinking that maybe I'd stay on that path and explore theater. Then it hit me--like a freight train--when I eventually graduated from college, I was going to need a career.

At 20-years-old, I spiraled into an existential crisis. How could I be the first to go to college and graduate with no career plans? I came from a family that struggled financially, how could I go into student debt and not have a stable job as a result? This is when I decided the arts had to be a passion and a hobby, but that was it. With the naivety of youth at my back, I decided what I was going to be when I grew up: a lawyer. I would study English as an undergraduate and then go to law school because being a lawyer was a good career, and I would make money. Good, it was settled. I would have a career as a lawyer.

But then, something magical happened. I started taking upper-level English classes, and loved them. I took a semester long class just on J.D. Salinger, and we didn't justy read The Catcher in the Rye. I loved the discussion, the inquiry, the philosophy, the way literature was metaphoric, symbolic, inspiring, and real. Insert existential crisis #2. I loved English, and law school wasn’t literature. Insert change of major---Secondary Education, concentration on comprehensive English. I would have a career as a teacher.

Twelve days before my 25th birthday, I graduated with a college degree. I January of 2001, I started my career as an English teacher. Blinded by the possibilities of living life as a career woman, I felt like I have really made it. I had broken the cycle of hourly wages and no job advancement. The sky was the limit and the ladder was propped up right in front of me.

What I know now, that I did not know then, was that beating the odds, both personally and financially, to attend college and secure that career, was only the equivalent to taking one step on a ladder whose top rung was out of sight. I was proud to have earned a degree, and I was proud to be a teacher, but $25,000 a year was not going to set me up for life.

I have sacrificed blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly, time away from my family, to be the type of teacher that makes an impact on the lives of kids. From day one, I was all in. Yes, I’ll teach early bird. Yes, I’ll advise the after school drama club. Yes, whatever it is, yes. I paid no mind to the physical exhaustion that came with teaching. I paid no mind to the overwhelming reality of having 150+ kids looking to me to educate them. I was a teacher and I was proud. The view from my ladder was great.

Fast forward to today. Today, where I have taught for 18 years, been a department chair, served on a variety of school and district committees. Today, where I gave graduated from the Teacher Leadership Initiative, the Teacher Leader Academy, graduate school, and  a public policy cohort. Today, where I have institutionalized programs at the school level, served a year as a U.S. Department of Education Fellow, and currently serve as the Teacher Leader in Residence at the Nevada Department of Education. With all of this shaping not only my career goals, but my personal philosophy of education, I feel like I have taken only about two or three steps on that proverbial ladder. I’m still proud to be an educator, but I am at the same time a bit dismayed that graduating from college, not once, but twice, and giving my heart and soul to public education has only allowed me to remain on the bottom of the ladder, sometimes even boosting others up and over me.

Instead feeling like I’ve been dealt a bad hand, I am at the point in my life and  in my career where I am focused on being proactive. Not to say I never spent any time being reactive--I felt at one point like I had made bad life choices. Chose the wrong major, picked the wrong career.  But, looking back on those decisions, they were the right ones, the right ones at the time. Taking one class at a time, often on a rotating schedule, my husband and I both went back to school. By the time I graduated with my master’s we had two children. It was challenging, but it was the right choice at the time. We furthered our education, both earned salary advancement, and I was able to feel the inner pride of having graduated yet again.

About four years ago, I started thinking that it was time to try something new. Maybe work at a college or university, maybe try my hand in non-profit work, maybe become an educational advocate. What I quickly learned was that fifteen years of classroom experience and two degrees, didn’t translate to many as experience enough to do anything more than teach in the K-12 classroom. Challenge accepted.

Bound and determined to gain a rung or two or five on that ladder, I started researching and applying for opportunities to expand my skill set, grow my resume, and hopefully, just hopefully, shoot me up the ladder a bit. I’m happy to report that these opportunities do exist. I hustled and applied and got rejected and applied some more until I found the people and places that transformed me.

Ironically, though, despite experience in D.C., a portfolio of successful projects, and hours of learning and doing, I’m still working on finding the next step on the career ladder. I’m facing the harrowing reality that I might have to go back to school again. I am currently relentlessly trying to convince a graduate school, any graduate school for that matter, that I would make an outstanding addition to their program, with one exception… I need a scholarship. Not a small or medium one, a full ride. I’m at that juncture in my life where putting my 15-year-old through college in 3 years has to take precedence over mom getting her 3rd degree.

So, here’s another first in a long line---Will I be the first in my family to earn a second master’s or a Ph.D? We’ll see.

#thisteachersjourney

You've Got a Friend in Me

Just over a week ago, I sat with two elementary school teachers all day on a Saturday and half a day on Sunday as we worked on an action plan to revamp the culture of their current school. The work was hard. It was emotional work, visceral and exhausting. Change is not just difficult, sometimes it darn near impossible. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they were ready.

These were two very passionate and creative teachers who, even if they had to go it alone, were focused on seeing some changes. They were tired of their students facing, sometimes daily, negative reinforcement. They shared how their school uses a digital tool that flashes a giant red circle across the screen to indicate that the child has failed an assessment. They frustratingly brainstormed how to create ways to showcase what their students were doing well to counteract the struggles they faced with language acquisition and skill building.

They wanted to do something about the blank, white walls of the school. There were few, if any bulletin boards. The kids were measured mostly on their performance on assessments. Their opportunity to share and celebrate their other abilities, the ones that can’t be measured by an online assessment, were few and far between.

There are over twenty different languages being spoken at this particular school. There is a high refugee population, and many, if not all of the students, live in impoverished conditions. According to the National Association of School Psychologists, “These students bring their unique individual cultures and backgrounds while bearing some of the challenges and stresses of the refugee experience”. This is a school that housed many levels of trauma, and somehow, someone thought that blank white walls, stern rules, and flashing red dots were going to be effective methods of encouraging these children to succeed. The teachers I spent the weekend with disagreed.

Saturday started, as many think tank sessions do, with us just throwing a million ideas against the wall. There were laughs, stories, tears, outbursts. The emotional roller coaster had three large drops and five triple loops. You see, I was not there because I was from their school or even their state--I was serving as their Critical Friend. My role was to provide objective feedback, collaborate with them, ask tough questions, urge them to focus on an action plan that was realistic and viable. When our day started with breakfast and introductions, my teammates were friendly and excited. Heads held high, smiles on faces, they were ready to tackle the impossible. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they were ready.

By lunchtime, shoulders were hunched, tears had been shed, and defeat was mounting. They may as well have had a giant red circle flashing before them. However, we still had a long ride until we would get off the roller coaster. Not only was there no action plan, they still needed to uncover the root of the issue that they were trying to solve. As much as they would have liked to pull the plug on the assessment software with the evil red dots, that wasn’t their decision to make. They needed to refocus and think of how they could return home with a way to change the culture of the school and the mindsets of the educators within.

It took a few hours, but finally it surfaced. They figured out what they could do to make a small, but meaningful shift in the existing culture that would ultimately give their students an environment that they could not only feel safe in but proud of. They needed to be the catalysts for shaping their school into a place of visible learning.

Easy enough, right? Not so much. Honestly, it probably would have been easier to change the assessment model than people’s ways of thinking. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they were ready.

A plan emerged thanks to the coaching, tools and support of Teach to Lead, Teach Plus, and ASCD, as well as those serving as critical friends and of course, the work of these dedicated educators. My new friends returned to their home state on Sunday, ready to introduce their plan to their school on Monday morning. Will it work? Maybe, maybe not, but I applaud them for taking the leap. They were not going to sit back any longer and watch students get caught in the cross-fire of negative culture and poor decision making. They came to San Jose to not only form a plan, but I believe, to sharpen their voices and find their inner advocates.

The kids at their school are lucky to have them and hopefully, the kids will begin to see their potential and embrace their ability to learn one decorated wall at a time. They have warriors on their side--teachers who are willing to sacrifice their time, money, and much more, to show them that they are smart, and capable, and loved. Just in case you forgot, that’s what great teachers do.

#thisteachersjourney