Note: this piece was originally published in February 2020 on the Meemic blog.

This month I want to introduce you to some people I have come to love and admire in the “Twittersphere.” I’ve included lots of links you can see even if you aren’t on Twitter (or are skeptical of it). To be clear, these people are not my actual friends (well, except for one). They are people I follow and learn from. I don’t interact on a regular basis because it isn’t their job to teach me what I don’t know. I read, I listen, and I do my own research/work. I would encourage you all to do the same. Twitter is honestly the best place I’ve found for professional learning. Don’t be afraid to check it out! Here’s a primer if you’re ready but want some help.

@mochamomma (Kelly Wickham Hurst) has been one of my most favorite finds on Twitter. Kelly worked for 23 years in public education and is now the Founder and Executive Director of Being Black at School. I don’t think I can properly convey how much I continue to learn from following Kelly. She has helped me to reframe my thinking, acknowledge and reckon with my privilege, and then apply that to how I engage with kids, colleagues, and the world in general. I recently heard her (so cool to hear someone you follow!) on this episode of Powerful with Jeff Couillard, and she is just as dynamic and brilliant as I had believed her to be. This recent thread hit me especially hard because it calls out so much of what I see (and am guilty of) in my own work: we go to a workshop, love it, take notes, get excited, then…nothing happens. That is just a taste of @mochamomma’s work. She has made me better.

I mentioned the genius of @Maire_from_NJ (Maire Cervenak) in my January blog post, but I felt the need to expand. Maire is a former elementary teacher, now education consultant. She also hosts a podcast called The Faculty Room. Let me say this: Maire is not for the faint of heart. If you are prone to pearl clutching and bouts of the vapors over some swears (and some brutal honesty), she may not be for you. But if you—like me—want to see educational hypocrisy called out, and you think we should be pushing past simple kindness as a remedy for everything in schools, go meet Maire. You won’t regret it. Want just a taste? Check out the last 30 minutes of this episode of On Education. Bonus: she’s a killer make-up artist, devoted Baby Yoda fan, and lover of all cats.

@MrTomRad (Tom Rademacher) is an English teacher in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is also the 2014 Minnesota Teacher of the Year and wrote the book, IT WON’T BE EASY: An Exceedingly Honest (and Slightly Unprofessional) Love Letter to Teaching, which is on my list of absolute must-reads (that list has gotten quite long recently). Weirdly, though, this isn’t what brought me to him. @Maire_from_NJ (see above) brought him to my feed, but it was his Student Bill of Rights that helped me see how vital his voice would be to my learning. Check it out. Bonus: he also compiled some excellent advice for mentors working with student teachers.

@Jess5th (Jess Lifshitz) is—quite simply—brilliant. If you are an ELA teacher and/or an elementary teacher interested in introducing kids to equity and helping kids be more empathetic, justice-seeking citizens, Jess is for you. I mean, just LOOK at this. Her Twitter account is just a part of the work she shares—for free—on her blog, (bonus!) CrawlingOutOfTheClassroom.wordpress.com. Honestly, you’ll thank me.

@pgorski (Paul Gorski) is the founder of the Equity Literacy Institute. His work on avoiding what he calls “Racial Equity Detours” speaks to my soul as an educator. He explains his work on this episode of Powerful with Jeff Couillard, and writes about it here. He also takes so-called anti-bullying programs to task here, and starts an incredibly helpful thread here for administrators looking to hire people who are committed to anti-racism. Bonus: Social justice arithmetic. You’re welcome.

@sheathescholar (shea martin, lowercase intentional) is a literature teacher and researcher. They have taught me what it means to truly be an ally. I still have so much still to learn, but I need this work in my life to be a better teacher for all of my students. Kids need more allies and accomplices to become who they want to be. Bonus: sometimes they let us see a glimpse into their relationship with their wife, and it is beautiful and sweet and just so…marriage.

@JessycaMathews (Jes the Activist) is, I’m proud to say, one of my friends in real life. Jes is a high school ELA teacher in Flint, is the 2019-20 Region 5 Michigan Teacher of the Year, the 2018 Michigan Secondary English Teacher of the Year, AND a 2017 NEA Social Justice Activist of the Year finalist. She also has a comic book character designed after her (check out her profile pic) which is just about the coolest thing ever. Jes is the real deal—a true teacher activist, standing up for her community, and teaching her seniors to do the same. I recently had the pleasure of visiting Jes’s school, Carman-Ainsworth High School in Flint, where I saw her students preparing for “Activism Day.” Their work was inspiring, thought-provoking, and necessary. Scroll through her feed and I’m sure you’ll agree with me that this is the work more teachers need to be doing. Bonus: fabulous Halloween costumes with her equally incredible pal @CMattern21 (Carrie Mattern).

People I follow and love (to the point of idol worship), but can’t write too much about because then my blog post would go on forever:

·       @michaelharriot (Michael Harriot), a social justice and history expert who will teach you things you never knew (and most likely needed to know a long time ago). Bonus: he’s hilarious. One example.

·       @cmclymer (Charlotte Clymer), an Army veteran from Texas whose fierce advocacy for transgender rights is changing conversations and hearts everywhere.

·       @ValeriaBrownEDU (Val Brown) leads the #ClearTheAir chat. So. Much. Smart. It may hurt your brain.

·       @ShawnaCoppola (Shawna Coppola) wrote Writing Redefined…also on my list.

·       @MisterMinor (Cornelius Minor) is an inspiration every time I open my feed. Truly.

·       @Lyricalswordz (Scott Bayer) and @JoelRGarza (Joel Garza) run #TheBookChat and provide this incredible document for free.

There are SO MANY MORE, but I think if you follow some of these people, you will find all of the incredible people they are connected to and begin to see how to curate your own Twittersphere. Find me on Twitter @WonderTeach to let me know who else I should be following!

We can't do it all, so please stop expecting us to

Note: this piece was originally published in January 2020 on the Meemic blog.

To prepare for this month’s blog, I Googled “what should be taught in school?”

Woah.

Teachers—I don’t recommend it.

Apparently, we are supposed to be taking care of everything from “how to heal a broken heart” to “how to grow food,” as well as the tried and true, “how to study” and “what taxes are.” (Spoiler alert, we DO teach those last two—kids just sometimes turn into grown-ups who don’t remember.) Everyone has an opinion, with many making valid and important points about where we are failing students of color and students with disabilities.

Lately, though, the trend that has me most concerned is what teachers are being trained to do. Now, you may be thinking, “Cara, that’s not a new trend—we’ve been doing trainings forever!” And yes, you’re right. Over the years I’ve been trained on cross-curricular instruction, multiple intelligences, cooperative learning, standards-based grading, visible thinking, deep learning…the list goes on and on.

What has me concerned is the trend of training teachers in topics that are not directly related to curriculum and instruction, in lieu of giving them the actual supports they would need to help students. Specifically, topics like “social and emotional learning,” “trauma informed teaching,” and “positive behavioral interventions and supports (PBIS)” are popping up in schools all over right now—and for good reason. Our kids are coming to us with wounds and baggage we can’t see, and it affects their ability to listen, to learn, and to connect with us and their peers, as well as affects their behaviors and choices. It’s serious stuff, and it requires serious attention.

Recently one of my favorite people on Twitter, Maire Cervenak (@Maire_from_NJ) pointed out that motivational posters and kindness are not enough to help kids suffering from mental illness or trauma. It started a conversation about what a teacher’s role should be in the classroom, as opposed to the role of a trained therapist or counselor. Teachers want to help kids—it’s why we got into this profession in the first place—but there has to be a point where our help ends, and the students are given (yes, given, for free) access to whatever professional help they need. So therein lies the problem: which part(s) of teacher training helps us identify the things we should take on, which are relevant to classroom connection and instruction, and which things we must leave to another expert? Additionally, what do we DO when we come to the point where we realize a student is never going to get access to that expert because our school/district doesn’t have that resource (or the resource is spread too thin to be useful)?

To be clear: this isn’t a “that’s not my job, just let me teach” argument, although I do understand the sentiment and the frustration. This is a plea for realism and support. We know districts can’t always afford the social workers, psychologists, counselors, and other support staff needed to truly support students’ needs, so we rely on our teachers (and administrators) to fill these roles. It is in the nature of the teacher to want to know how to “fix” problems, but (well-intentioned) districts just cannot be expected to provide all of the answers. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, and in many cases it isn’t ethical to allow students to rely so heavily on people not certified or trained to truly help them. Additionally, the impact can be second-hand trauma for teachers, which only lessens our ability to help.

I have never been one to shy away from helping a young person in need. I have driven a young woman to a mental health facility when she didn’t think she could handle admitting herself alone. I met another and then waited outside while she went into therapy for the first time, just to make sure someone was there when she was done. I’ve comforted countless young people in tears in my classroom after school (as most teachers have). But each and every time I felt my limits. I sensed where my role ended, and the counselor, parent, therapist, or social worker’s began, and I didn’t feel guilty about that. My worry is that many teachers are either not given any real supports in knowing when to step back, and/or there is no one to refer a student TO.

This is an unsustainable model, and will continue to contribute to the ever worsening teacher shortages and teacher exodus across our state and the nation if not addressed seriously and quickly. Teachers can only do so much—and we’re being asked to do much more than is feasible, healthy, or good for students. Michigan needs to do better.

Why I'm not an Elementary Teacher (it's not why you think)

Note: this piece was originally published in December of 2019 on the Meemic blog.

When I was a senior in high school, my school district allowed seniors to drop their sixth hour if they had enough credits for graduation. I did, and so at the end of first semester, a few times a week, I started volunteering in some classrooms at a local elementary school. I had already made up my mind that teaching was probably for me, and that it would be elementary. Thinking back on it now, I probably assumed this because I couldn’t really envision myself teaching high school seeing as I was currently IN high school.

I can’t recall now which classes or teachers I helped. What I can say is that this was the beginning of my realization that teaching elementary students is much more complicated, intricate, and difficult than my limited experiences as a student had me believing.

Later on, after I had completed my coursework at Western Michigan University, I began substitute teaching. I needed money, so I basically said yes to any job. Again, I went into these elementary classrooms with all of my young teacher assumptions, only to realize the vast and varied amount of information these people had to know—about kids, and about ALL of the subjects. 

And now, 22 years later, as I visit schools, helping out however I can in mostly lower elementary classrooms, I am reminded of how completely inadequate I am for the task of teaching our youngest students. These are just a few of the interactions I’ve seen just over the last few months:

·       Watching an information literacy specialist calmly direct kindergarteners on just their third day of school

·       Listening to a 3rd grade teacher artfully explain directions for math rotations, while multiple adults flow in and out of the room for various reasons

·       Observing as a kindergarten teacher seamlessly flow through an entire morning routine, where students have roles to play in the business of their classroom

·       Overhearing a transitional kindergarten teacher quietly remind a student how to use words to convey his frustration with a classmate

Now don’t get me wrong, here. I am not one of those people who says things like, “Oh, I don’t know HOW you DO it! Being around little kids all day?!? You are a saint!” Nope. I do not believe teachers are saints (side note—we are also not martyrs or charity workers or angels). What I have come to understand and respect about my elementary colleagues is that they are highly skilled professionals who have worked to hone these specific skills over time, much as I have with my high school teaching skills. These are skills I do not have, and I’m ok with that. Just as I also have never learned to argue a case in court, complete a medical exam, maintain a computer network, or weld an engine blade.

I write all of this to really make one point: we all—teachers included—have to remember that this job is not only hard, but it requires practice and skill. We are not all the same, and the different levels, subjects and roles are equally valuable, but not interchangeable. I am so incredibly thankful for elementary teachers, not only because of what they do, but also because I cannot do it myself. 

So THANK YOU, elementary teachers, for doing the job so few are qualified to do. It has been a highlight of my experiences this year to see you in action, and I promise you that when those kids get to me, I won’t let you down. 

Thank you, Teachers

Note: this piece was originally published in November of 2019 on the Meemic blog.

Every month as I prepare to write this blog, I ask myself one question: What can I write that will enlighten people about my profession and be helpful to my dedicated colleagues?

A few weeks ago, during a lunch with the Regional Teachers of the Year, State Superintendent Dr. Michael Rice answered that question when he reminded us to celebrate and acknowledge the work of as many educators as we possibly could.

Given that this is the month of Thanksgiving, I am going to use my space here today to reflect on and thank some of the teachers that have helped me on my journey. For the sake of brevity, and because I am a high school teacher, I will focus on a few of my high school teachers in the space today.

I graduated from the old Troy High School that used to be housed on Livernois Road in Troy. My family moved there in the middle of my freshman year, and I was in the last class to graduate from there in 1992. I still get a little nostalgic whenever I hear Vanessa Williams’ “Save the Best for Last,” which was of course our senior class song.

There were three women in particular who had a lasting effect on me, to the point that I credit them with the type of teacher I am today.

Mary Ellen Larson was my sophomore biology teacher, but she was also much more to me than that. She treated every single student like they were interesting and funny and as if they belonged in biology—even if, like me—they weren’t exactly the best science student. Her energy wasn’t just positive, it was loving. I believed—and still believe—that she loved us. She trusted we could all learn, and she was excited to watch that happen. In a pretty cool turn of events, I ended up having her daughter, Katy, in one of my first classes as a new teacher at Rochester High School. They were both at my wedding. And today, Katy has now grown up to also be a teacher.

The book & flowers from Mrs. Larson

Last spring, I got a phone call from the office telling me that I had a visitor. It was Mrs. Larson, who had heard about my award. She gave me a book and flowers and a beautiful card. It was a miracle I didn’t break down sobbing in front of my entire class. She was so proud of me and still radiated that same unconditional love I remembered. I am so thankful to her.

Due to my dad’s job with General Motors, my family moved a lot, and it was often the teachers who made those moves easier for me, welcoming me, and never seeming irritated to have another child added to their endless list of things to do. Besides my family, teachers and school were a constant source of consistency and normalcy for “the new kid.”

Senior year I woke up right around this time of year to the news that my dad had gotten another promotion and we would be moving…again. I broke down sobbing. What kind of kid wants to move 2 months end to senior year? I cried all day at school (which was quite obviously uncomfortable for many of my male teachers). But two of my teachers —Elaine Shapiro, and Donna Guith— literally with almost no hesitation at all, offered to let me live with them.  I was only 17, so I didn’t really understand the magnitude of what they were offering, but looking back I almost start to cry all over again. These women both had families and children of their own, and yet they were willing to welcome me into their families just like they had welcomed me into their classrooms.  I ended up staying with some wonderful family friends, but that kind of all-encompassing love for students as human beings is what I strive for in my classroom, and what I see in the news and in the halls of my school every day.

Before that and since then I have encountered countless educators that have uplifted and inspired and encouraged me. The people that I work with right now at Stoney Creek High School and in Rochester Community Schools are some of the absolute best human beings I’ve ever known. Some things have certainly changed about our profession since I graduated, but one thing remains: the love a teacher shows her students has a lasting and deep effect. Our work matters.

So thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Larson, Mrs. Shapiro, and Mrs. Guith. And thank you to every educator out there working every day to let kids know you not only care about their learning, but that you care about them as unique and extraordinary human beings.

You have an Impressive Resume

Note: this piece was previously published in October of 2019 on the Meemic blog.

In my new role this year, I have had the strange experience of having someone talk ABOUT me while a stand to the side and wait. It’s necessary to be introduced in these settings, but it can be…awkward, to say the least.

The first time this happened over the summer, the person read my official bio (which I wrote) out loud to a roomful of non-educators. I sat there, smiling, trying to keep my smile natural, as the presenter called my résumé “impressive.” I gave my remarks, and afterwards, a couple of other folks said it, too: “you have an impressive résumé.”

Teachers—I know you feel this with me—umm...what? My “résumé” is...teaching. Lots of stuff to lots of kids over lots of years. How is that impressive? (One side note: we teachers are a pretty humble bunch, which is part endearing, part irritating to non-teaching people.)

I remember trying to actually create a resume a few years ago and thinking, “what in the world can I put on here that would in ANY WAY describe what I actually do?” Since then, I’ve had other teachers ask me the about that same overwhelming task. 

I did a little digging about résumés to try and narrow this down for us. A teacher résumé will look a little different from a business résumé. For example, be sure to highlight your awards, skills and technology acumen. Also, keep it short—two pages at the most. I found these tips pretty helpful. Use objective statements and bold headlines, like this piece recommends.

So I want to give all my educator friends a little advice. Take some time to write down all you’ve done—the classes and grades you’ve taught, the committees you’ve led or been a part of, the teams you’ve coached, clubs you’ve sponsored, concerts you’ve organized and conducted, mentorships you’ve taken on for little or no pay, professional development you’ve presented, conferences you’ve attended, school and/or community outreach projects you’ve coordinated, the awards you’ve received...ALL OF IT. Write it down. 

Most importantly, go for it. No matter if you’re applying to write for an online publication, applying for your first teaching position, expanding to be an instructional coach, or something in a different branch of education altogether, you are qualified, you are smart, and you should make it happen for yourself. You encourage your students to follow their dreams all the time—have the same excitement and belief in yourself.

Or better yet, type it and print it. Then have someone read it out loud in front of you, preferably someone who is not in education. 

You have an impressive résumé, my friend. Own it. 

The Joys and Frustrations of Back to School

Note: this was previously published in September of 2019 on the Meemic blog.

Well, we’re back! School has been in swing for a few weeks now. Our littlest learners have figured out where their cubbies are and how to use them. Our middle school kids have finally figured out that pesky locker combination, and our high school students have memorized their schedules (but are most likely ignoring they even have lockers). And we have set up our rooms/offices and are in full work mode, including lamenting over the daily “what should I bring for lunch?” query.

This month, I wanted to explore what “back to school” means for the people who work with kids every day. So I asked colleagues from around the state—including your Regional Teachers of the Year—these questions: What stresses you out most about the first days and weeks? What is the BEST part of back to school? What does your district or school do to help you feel welcomed and valued in your first days/weeks of school? What could they do more of or better to help you feel more welcomed and valued?

Often the things that stress us the most have to do with the mundane, but sometimes overwhelming, tasks associated with the beginning of a new year. For art teachers like Doug Duncan (Region 7 Teacher of the Year, Kalamazoo), “organizing seating charts, sketchbooks, and working out the specials schedule” take up so much time and can be “major stressors”, but ultimately do not detract from the “excitement, interest, and engagement” he sees in his students. Instructional coach and Region 6 TOY, Tricia Zeman (Holt) admits that while “growing new minds and relationships” is wonderful, “having to give students so many tests so early in the year” is less than enjoyable. One educator from Grand Rapids shared that “disorganization and lack of communication” from leaders is an unwanted distraction that adds stress.

Many schools and districts try hard to welcome teachers back, but it can be easy to miss the mark. Teachers don’t necessarily need (or want) lengthy welcome meetings or big assemblies to start the year. As Emily Sommer (Rochester) points out “unforced opportunities to catch up and “play” together” are appreciated. She shares that events like a potluck or a trivia game can go a long way to “remember why I like my coworkers so much, instead of being pressed into meetings.” Region 2 TOY Amanda Clemons (Manistee) praised her administrators for showing they value staff just by “checking in with us and doing frequent walk-throughs those first few days.” Overall, the common theme is best summed up by Heather Poirier (Rochester). What really makes us feel valued are “things like the veteran teachers checking on the new ones, a surprise in your mailbox from a friend, or even a hello in the hallway” and can go much further than a huge celebration or a bunch of new initiatives.

And ultimately, the one thing they ALL agreed on is not surprising: resoundingly, my colleagues from around the state agree that with Lesley Signorello (Rochester) that the “best part of back to school is greeting the smiling faces! I know it sounds cheesy, but it truly is.” Todd Bloch of Warren agrees that “seeing old students and meeting new students” makes back to school exciting every time, no matter how long you’ve been there. And Katie Farrell, Region 3 Michigan TOY (Hudsonville) says it best: “it is…the most exciting part of a new year. I have the opportunity to teach, guide, and mold them into amazing human beings over the course of the year. Knowing where we start and where we end is one of the biggest joys” of our profession.

Welcome back!

Note: a version of this was posted to Facebook in the fall of 2016, and again in August of 2019 on the Meemic blog.

Happy New School Year to all of you dedicated Michigan educators! Hopefully summer—or at least part of it—was a time for renewal, relaxation, and fun. As I prepare for the unknown, unique and somewhat intimidating year ahead of me, I have some thoughts to share with all of you. I've separated them into messages for teachers in different parts of this journey, but I hope you will read it all. (Movie & book references are an added bonus.)

Dear young/new teacher: It's hard, right? Maybe more than you bargained for? Bet you could fill a spiral notebook with all the things "they" didn't teach you in college, am I right? It's not only an incredible workload (that no one outside of your teacher friends gets), but you're always second-guessing yourself. Am I doing this right? What can I do better? Did I mess up on my evaluation? (I don't even understand my evaluation!) How do I follow this IEP? When will I have time to grade all of this? Are my students getting it...? How do I know who is getting it? And on and on and on. But you must stay focused on the kids. They matter most, and they need your energy and creativity (and knowledge of current dance moves & reality tv stars). So, as Aibileen says to Mae in Kathryn Stockett’s The Help: "You is smart. You is kind. You is important." We need you, and the kids need you. We need your energy (and possibly your help with Google Docs). The kids need you to make mistakes, own them, learn from them (laugh at them!) and grow as a professional. Stay with us. Don't give up. And—most importantly—ask for help. 

And you, middle-career teacher, how's that work-life balance going? Not enough hours in the day? Feeling 

too far in to switch schools (or careers!), but so overwhelmed it feels like every day brings a new challenge? Some days you still love (and I do mean LOVE) the job so much, you cannot fathom another path. Other days, you're spending lunch searching "alternate careers for teachers" on your phone. The pressure on you is different than it was way back when; not only are students relying on you, you are also a mentor to all of those young teachers, not to mention all of the “extras” administrators are asking you to do. We need your experience, your knowledge of the pitfalls, and your courage. You may not know it, but those younger teachers are looking to YOU for how to make this career work. They need you to show them how and where to draw those lines between teacher & student (so they won't get their hearts broken when those kids let them down—because they will—they are kids). So here is my—and Dory’s—very simple message for you: "Just keep swimming." Don't give in to bitterness or frustration. Don't give up on all of us. Don’t give up on yourself. Take time for your life outside of your classroom, and keep going. Keep growing. Help a young teacher—you are better at this than you know, and this is a career worth fighting for.

And you, veteran. Still working just as hard, but getting REALLY tired of people saying you're "burnt out" just because you don't want to chaperone every dance, club or sporting event or volunteer to head up six different committees. You have more knowledge, have seen more changes, have been around longer than most of the staff (and possibly your administrators), and still you are treated like a dinosaur because you don't

want to "tweet" your homework assignments. You've survived every "GREAT NEW IDEA!!" that has come along, and lived to come out the other side. We need your perspective, your willingness to speak truth to power, and to share your earned insights. The light at the end of the tunnel is SO bright now, but still there is a part of you that doesn't want to go. Because this isn't just a job, you know. This is a passion, a calling, a profession, and can be tough to give up. So until that day comes--and even after you retire (while I know I'm changing the wording in A Few Good Men a little), please know that "We want you on that wall. We NEED you on that wall." YOU are our history. You warn us when things don't look quite right. And even if (when!) we don't listen, keep it up. 

To close, this is my wish for 2019-20: Let’s—at all stages of our careers—spend a little time reaching out to each other, so we can all be better for kids. Let’s do less judging of and bickering with each other, and more

listening to other’s perspectives and experiences, so we can focus on banding together as one voice for our students and for our profession. You want change in your school? In your district? In your state? In your country? You have allies, and they are your colleagues. Remember, as The Three Musketeers (and Bryan Adams) remind us: "All for one, and one for all."

Let's make this the year we continue to support each other, no matter where we are in this exhilarating, confusing, challenging, surprising, crazy, scary ride we call TEACHING. 

Much love to all of you doing this job. I am so very proud to be a voice for Michigan’s teachers this year. You are warriors and champions for kids. Thanks for reading and may your school year be happy & healthy.