Joe Lynn: A compassionate letter to my first-year teaching self
I just finished my 66th, and last, semester of teaching high school English. A few years ago, as part of being a mentor to a new teacher, I wrote a letter to my first-year teaching self, then gave it to my mentee. I don't know if she found it helpful, but it turned out to be an invaluable gift to myself. It helped me realize what matters in teaching, how much I've grown and how I can better make a difference. On many days when I felt down, I revisited my letter; it never failed to put my day into perspective.
Whether you are in your first year of working or your 50th, I highly recommend you write a letter to your first-year self. Even if no one else sees it, it will be an enduring gift to yourself.
Maybe even write one every year, or every three years, as a measuring stick throughout your career.
Here's mine:
Joe,
You did a practicum and taught some students. It did not go well. You felt uncomfortable in front of students. So uncomfortable you thought you might not want to be a teacher. During student teaching, you worked your butt off, and it felt pretty good. Then, on your first day, your first classroom, your first class, you asked students to take out their notebooks. They all reached under their desks and into their backpacks and took out their notebooks. And you thought, 'Wow, I have so much power. I just say something and they do it.' Never forget the power you have as a teacher — the power to bring down, and the power to lift up.
As you go on, you will be more comfortable with your teacher self and your personal self. You will get more comfortable acting as an extrovert. It will be exhausting, but worth it. The students will teach you much about who you are. They will recommend movies to you, musicians, things to do and see, based on the way they see you. They will tell you how you come across. Listen. Pay attention. And learn.
For those who hate school, or dislike you, your first instinct will be to judge them in a negative way. You will expect them to fit the mold of the ideal student. School is not for everyone. English is not for everyone. Kids are vulnerable. Fight, really fight, your instincts. Do the opposite. Embrace with extra care those who do not like being there, or do not seem to like you. You will learn, years later, that those kids, the ones who you thought never liked you, who hated English and school, will be the ones who come back to visit and tell you how much of a difference you made in their lives because you embraced them and pushed them.
Try, try, try to be more positive. Your instinct will be to tell kids what to do in order to improve. This will come across as negative. First, explain this to kids. Second, write good stuff, encouraging words on their papers. Tell them when they do something good. Say, 'I don't criticize because I'm insecure; I challenge because I care.' Say, 'I am here to help you define you, but also to expand you and to help you see your possibilities.' At every opportunity, lift them up. And give them attention. They crave positive attention, and you have the ability to satisfy that craving in a powerful way. Smile and enthusiastically say hi to kids in the hallway, whether you know them or not. Both you and they will be far better off if you make them feel they matter.
You will come up with some cool lessons, some unique classroom procedures, and you will do them for a few years and then get bored of them and stop doing them. Revisit them from time to time and see if you want to bring them back. Those crazy, quirky, fun things will be memorable to kids. But way more than that, they will make kids feel good about your class, about you. And if they do, they will be much more likely to engage in your classroom, and hence, will learn more, grow more, and become more willing to embrace their authentic selves.
You will struggle with being yourself in front of the kids, but know someday you will say, 'I am more of my authentic self in front of kids than I am at any other time.' Give them who you are — it is the greatest gift you have to give.
You will make many mistakes, have many bad lessons. You will offend your colleagues, put down your students, get in trouble with administrators. You will argue with parents, argue with your boss. You will feel inadequate, like the teaching you is a fake, and you are just afraid of people finding out. You will be intimidated by your colleagues. You will feel stupid for not knowing things you should. You will find it hard to admit mistakes and to say, 'I don't know.' Some nights, you will find it hard to get any sleep because you feel you messed up so badly, but know it is almost never as bad as you think. You will work on these things. You will continue to struggle with these things. You will have your eyes open to things you were totally unaware of, and it will shock you how oblivious you were. Learn. You will tell your students to get out of their comfort zones: know, when you are getting out of yours, this is what is called learning. You are learning as a teacher every day, and that is scary and wonderful and humbling and awkward and joyful … all at once.
Make eye contact with every student every day. Call them after class and say good things to them. Greet them enthusiastically when they come in with a smile and a comment. Embrace the awkward — it is you. And if you are feeling uncomfortable, or hesitant, or shy, others probably are too. Be the one to reach out. People will like the attention and the care.
You will go through periods of being very collaborative and ones where you isolate yourself. Be open. Try to get to know people from other departments. You never know who might be your next best friend.
Embrace the struggle. See the good in others. Have the courage to be disliked. Be a hugger. Give people chocolate.
Make a great day.
Joe
P.S. Groundhog Day is every day. Every day, you choose whether it is a burden or an opportunity.
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Have the courage to be disliked. Be a hugger. Give people chocolate. Make a great day. Joe P.S. Groundhog Day is every day. Every day, you choose whether it is a burden or an opportunity.
