Expectations.

With the start of school approaching WAY TOO SOON quickly for most of us, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has started thinking about this year. I'm prepping my new room, designing curriculum, planning projects, making Picasso-esque bulletin boards, and getting back in the mindset of 'Ok. I have to teach little people today'.

As I'm preparing to start a new job in a new school, one thing that is heavy on my mind is expectation. What are my expectations at this school versus my last school? What are the expectations of me as a teacher? What am I expected to teach? How am I expected to be accessible to parents and students? When am I expected to be at work? :)

I'm big on knowing what people expect from me. One thing I hate is to let someone down, and so by having clear expectations I find that it's easier for me to work and be successful at my job. I like to know what I need to do to be successful, and being successful means meeting those expectations.

As teachers, most of the time we turn to our administrators, principals, heads of school, and school boards to set our expectations. They help to write the guidelines and rules that direct our instruction, so it is the norm that they set the expectations within our classrooms and schools.

As I throw myself further and further into the rabbit hole that is Design Thinking, I find that more and more I try to focus on my direct users when it comes to setting norms in my classroom. And who is more directly affected in my classroom than my students?

Think about it. Yes, you are responsible to your boss. Yes, you are responsible to your school board. But you are also responsible to your students. It is their future you influence. It is their lives you could change. So it only makes sense that as teachers, we HAVE to know what our students expect of us.

So I went to the experts. I asked students,

 "If you could tell the teacher you're about to have in the Fall what you expect of them, what would you tell them?"

Here's what some of my favorite not-quite-adults had to say.

"I want my future teachers to be relatable."

"One of my problems with teachers is that they forget that we are still young. As we mature we often make mistakes, whether it's in our assignments or in our behavior. We have to learn from our mistakes and keep moving forward. I feel that teachers should help students in that learning process. I would want my future teacher to teach me school lessons as well as life lessons."

"I expect my teacher to treat all students differently, because we are all different. It shouldn't be about having favorite students but finding qualities you like in each student."

"Can we have class discussions connecting (school) to real life and real problems?"

"Provide room for personal growth challenges so that we grow as humans."

"I want a teacher who isn't afraid to push my boundaries, but will also help me if I fall behind."

"I just want my teacher to know I expect them to be hard on us because sometimes we need it. But I also expect them to have fun with us, and not be uptight all the time."

Pretty insightful stuff, huh? 

I know that there is always tons of stuff to do on the first day of school, but maybe consider ditching the lame icebreaker and ASK your students to jot down their expectations of you and for their time in your class.

Post them in a place you can see them. Have your students keep you accountable.

Know your expectations so you can rise above them this school year.

No one prepared me for this.

There are parts of my job that no one told me about.

There are parts of my job that I wasn't adequately trained for.

There are parts of my job that I don't even know are my job yet.

But one part of my job that no one told me about is probably one of the biggest burdens of my career.

Kids will look up to you.

I suppose no one had to tell me that. I really should have known it from experience. I was the sort of student who put my teachers on a pedestal. They could do no wrong. I studied their interactions with students. I attempted (poorly) to copy their humor. I internalized their passion for education.

But it's totally different when you realize a kid looks up to you.

I got a text message from a former student who is now in the military. He was the kid who from day one of his senior year was the class clown. He loved to make people laugh, and was so good at doing it. He especially loved to make people laugh at teachers' expenses. He and I went multiple rounds until we had a 'come to Jesus' meeting and found a common understanding. He needed to graduate, and therefore needed my class. After we sort of leveled with each other, he spent more time in my classroom than anywhere else. He spent time in my room when he was supposed to be in other classes. He bought me lunch when I forgot my lunch money. He would correct other students if they'd curse in front of me and tell them, "Watch your mouth. Don't disrespect my teacher." We took pictures together at his prom. When he graduated, I got the biggest hug. I heard from him a few months after graduation and he told me he was in the Army. They were training him to become a dental hygenist. The same kid that no one thought would pass my class, and some even laughed at me for supporting. I was so proud.

He texted me not too long ago, though, just to say hi and check-in. He said he was starting college classes in the Fall and that he may need my help. I told him that I'd do whatever I could to help him. And then the bombs dropped.

"I'm pretty sure I may run into some questions thru out college so I wont hesitate to ask you, b/c it seems like you have the answer to everything."

Wait.

What?

I am 26 years old. 8 years older than he is. I have debt. I have baggage. I have made make mistakes. I let people down. I don't always keep my promises.

And this kid thinks that I know what's up.

No one prepared me for the weight that hit my shoulders the instant I read that text message. I mean, yeah, I sort of always understood it;  there is responsibility that comes with teaching. Don't post stupid pictures on the internet. Don't curse in front of the children.  Don't let the kids see you stumble. 'Fake it 'til you make it' was/is a common phrase in my vocabulary. But this....this was different. I don't teach this kid anymore. He has no responsibility to me. But he looks up to me.

Me...who sometimes barely holds it together with dental floss. Me.

No one prepared me for this....not really. In school they talk about the importance of relationships with students and how they are so wonderful, but no one talks about how they REALLY change your life. Forever. There is such a sweet bliss in having a great connection with a student like this, but there is also such a burden. I was told once not to take too much of my job home, because I could not fix my students and their problems. While I do agree there is some substance to that, this burden is not one that leaves my shoulders at 3:45 every day and from June-August.

As a new school year rolls around and we start to envision how we want this year to be, I hope that I am able to remember the weight of my burden and that I grow stronger because of it. I hope you pick up the yolk and realize that, wanted or not, students will look up to you. Broken, ragged, incapable, unorganized, unqualified you.

How lucky are you to be that person for them?

No one told me it would be like this, and I'm sort of glad they didn't.

I wouldn't have believed them anyway.

I Quit.

I don't want to be just a teacher anymore.

I have wanted to be a teacher my whole life. Except for the brief period at age 9 when I wanted to be a Disney Imagineer, I have always dreamt of being a teacher. I was that girl who played teacher with my brothers over the summer, even making up and grading worksheets I made them fully expected them to complete. I was that student who begged my former teachers to let me help them set up their classrooms in those early August workdays. To me, there was something reverent about walking the halls before any other students arrived. I volunteered in classrooms during lunch. I mentored younger students before school. I loved everything about being a teacher. So, I graduated high school, went to college, and became a teacher. I got a teaching job at a relatively inner-city middle school with a challenging group of students, and loved them. But what I realized, just like many first year teachers, was that I wasn't prepared to teach my students the way I thought I was. Sure, I had the degree to prove I knew my stuff, but my on-the-job training was just beginning. I went to my district-approved PD, attended the 'mandatory' workshops,  and still felt like I wasn't gaining anything useful.

When I switched jobs and moved to the high school level, I became part of a new program that focused on design thinking and project based learning. I had the same demographic of students, but now, I had a whole new set of tools with which to team them. I felt like I had discovered my passion for teaching all over again.  I had found my niche in education. While it's only been two years since I found that niche, I'm incredibly excited about the journey I have taken since discovering my 'thing'. But, I quickly learned that if I wanted to become better at what I did I was going to have to take it upon myself to seek that information out. I was fortunate enough to be in a district that regularly offered professional development, but it wasn't what I needed or was looking for. So, like any Millennial would, I turned to Google.

I began to research anyone and everyone I could who practiced design thinking and project based learning, not just in my region of the country but world-wide. This research has led me to ever-deepening pools of resources on Twitter, Google+, and blogs written by people around the globe. I spend multiple hours a week talking to people who are better at what I do than I am, people who have done things I could only dream of, and those who have failed epically just like I have. I network with these people like I work at Cisco. My excitement for this wealth of information grew and I wanted to share it. I brought it to co-workers, administration, and there were some who were just as excited as I was. There were some who jumped right off the deep end and joined me. However, as the song goes, every party needs a pooper.

I expected that. I was fully prepared for people to be disengaged or disinterested. I expected to hear grumbles from the same people who complain every time they are asked to do anything outside the four walls of their classroom. (And to be fair, we can all be that way sometimes, right?) I didn't expect or prepare for people to look down on me for what I was doing, like I was shaming the family for rising above my station.  I wasn't hurting anyone else; I hadn't preached the 'repent or die' speech you hear sometimes from those with an academic agenda to spread. All I did was find something that I thought could make me a better teacher, and pass on what I had learned.

I heard things like "Why do you want to be more than a classroom teacher? Isn't that enough?" or "I'm content just to be a teacher and teach my content. That's what we went to school for, right?", and even "You're doing way too much. We don't get paid for that." I've never been one to let the haters get to me, too much. A good friend of mine always says, "Haters gonna' hate, potatoes gonna' potate." However, the idea that in my profession, it was frowned upon for me to say "I want more" really struck a nerve.

I was angry. I still sort of am. As teachers, we constantly fight the battle (whether we know/admit/like it or not) against the age old saying "Those who can't do, teach." I am as smart as my friends who are attorneys, medical students, veterinarians, and engineers. I could do anything I want to do, and what I want to do is teach. But there is this stigma that teachers JUST teach. There is so much power in that four letter word.

Just: adverb; barely; by a little; simply; only; no more than.

The phrase 'just a teacher' implies that there is a level of comfort in what you do and you look no further than that comfort zone. And yeah I get it. I mean, who doesn't love to be comfortable? But think of it this way, when was the last time you encouraged your students to be comfortable? When was the last time you longed for your students to be comfortable in their academic journey, because that is what will benefit them when they get out into that proverbial 'real world'? Comfortable is the kryptonite to growth, and I feel my job as a teacher is to push, pull, shove, drag, guide my students towards growth. If I don't practice what I preach, what kind of example am I setting? I strive to constantly challenge myself at my job and know that if I fail, it's not the end of the world. I try to model for my students what I ask them to do, and in an age where '21st Century Skills' rule the vocabulary, by seeking out experts, engaging in first hand research, and using technology as a tool I know that I'm doing just that.

To those who don't know where the edge of their comfort zone lies, to those who ask why I feel the need to be more than just a teacher, or to who are content never to seek out new material whether from comfort, lack of knowledge, or fear, I want to pose a question. When was the last time you told your students that the bare minimum was acceptable? If you want to JUST  be a teacher, what does that mean? And more importantly, are you truly serving your students if JUST what you do now is all you ever do?

I am resigning from being just a teacher.

It's not that I want to be more than a teacher. I want to be a teacher who does more.