Last week I realized that instead of clicking at least 5 times through different parts of GoogleClassroom to check a studentâs work, I can just search for their name in my Drive and see all the assignments they have and choose the one I want. This saves a lot of time and clicks.
I felt like a goddam genius.
And then I thought, âI wish I had realized this super obvious thing in September.â
And then I thought, â(insert names of first year teachers here) probably already do this because they are actual goddam geniuses.â
Every year Iâve been a teacher, something happens each year that defines it. First year is just the year of survival because teachers are just overwhelmed by the amount theyâre learning every day. You donât know what you donât know. Second year, you know what you donât know, which means you improve a lot, but you still have a long list of things you want to do better. Third year, you hit your stride and start becoming the teacher you really, authentically are. Fourth year is the fine-tuning year. You feel confident, youâre good at it, and you can start weeding out the fluff and focus on the high-leverage things that matter.
This yearâs defining experience for me is not being the youngest one anymore, and working with teachers who are younger, quicker, and savvier. I LOVE IT.
The first and second year teachers in my department are kick ass. They know more about equity than I did when I started. They know more about fair grading practices than I did. They are more willing to try new things and are less afraid of losing their jobs. They actually learned about quality instructional technology and know what to do with these devices that were thrust upon our students without much warning and definitely without any training. They are starting where I was my third year of teaching in some respects, and I love working with them. And I think this is the first year Iâve experienced genuine collaboration, not just superficial collaboration where I say that we need to do a thing, and everyone says OK, and then I explain how to do the thing. This year, I can ask how we should do the thing, and we all make suggestions and ask questions and decide together what to do. And I can go to them and say that I donât have the answers and they try to help instead of look at me with blank, lost stares. So, I can genuinely rely on them. And, honestly, Iâve needed that this year.
In addition to not being the youngest and savviest, I also felt my first rumblings of âthings were fine before (insert new thing here), get off my back about integrating (new thing), will ya?â
My students learned just fine last year without these devices, so telling me that now the only way to engage my students this year is by incorporating that device will result in my most dramatic eye roll. Yes, I will use them when it makes something easier and better for my students. No, they will not replace everything else. Receiving this message from the tech lead at my school is the first time I felt disrespected in this way, as if my previous years of teaching somehow wasnât effective. And for the first time I really felt that resentment. I had cerebrally understood it before, but I had never really felt it. And now I get it. And it sucks.
So, that is my year 5. The year I wasnât the quickest with technology, the year I didnât know the most about anything, and the year I learned what it means to authentically collaborate. I have arrived.
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