There once was a teacher who always tried to find that balance between a house clean enough to live in and a classroom organized enough to learn in. She didn’t believe in teaching from the textbook. She believed the world was the textbook. Every year, when pacing guides would be created, page numbers detailed, and basal reading stories required, she cringed. It all reminded her of school as she knew it. Mundane routine and filling things out for gold stars. Goals? They were supposed to be real. Authentic. Character. Growth through struggle, not completion. Questions so big there weren’t answers. It was so much more than what it was.
She didn’t want her classroom to be THAT place. The place that ‘covers stuff’ over and over. So, she worked at it. Creating projects based on the kids interests. Feeling okay with not having the answers. Designing learning challenges to engage kids. Integrating technology to amplify the learning. But, the divide grew. The divide between traditional learning, what was expected as the norm, and what she believed in. It started out as a crack. It widened. Soon, it felt like a Grand Canyon apart.
But it didn’t matter. There were moments. Kids’ excitement. The sparkle in their eye. The collaboration and seeing them learn to rely on each other. Seeing them learn to rely on themselves. The joy in the moments when they could overcome struggle. Learning was coming back to life. It was like watching Spring bloom in the dead of Winter.
I won’t say that this teacher is me, because this teacher is many of us. Out there, doing the daily work, trying hard to change things. Doing a dance of careful footwork not to get drawn into the swirling vacuum of negativity that resides in the education today. Because we all know that vacuum is powerful and it leads no where but down. No where besides complaining, negativity, and everything that is the opposite of what learning is and what school should be.
We need collaboration. Ideas need to be molded and kneaded, and the more hands the better. Thoughts need a space to bounce, evolve, and be discussed. Joining together keeps us from being drawn into the vacuum. Better together. It keeps us going. It’s not a competition, it’s about connections. It’s about my bad day is your good day and I see hope in it. It’s about the chocolate I leave for you on your bad day. We need each other. Across the Grand Canyon wide divide, there are people creating tests, arguing about Common Core, complaining about standards, and doing things that ultimately get in the way of learning. But over here? It’s about learning. Kids. Joy. Hands on. Resources shared freely. Not if you’ll pay me or give me something in return. Because I want you to be your best because it will help me be my best. People that will energize you. People that will support you. People here because their heart beats for learning the way yours does.
Some of us are lucky enough to have those kind of people and connections where we work. Lucky is an understatement. It’s more than luck, it’s like some kind of blessing you can’t even describe. I know I am. I’m surrounded by it every single day. But it wasn’t always this way. Some of us, any of us, we may feel alone. I’ve felt that way before. I’ve been the one doing things differently. It’s hard. Sometimes, it’s easier just to conform. After all, we used to get gold stars for fitting in as kids. But that’s not what you believe in. It’s a daily challenge. It can be exhausting. It can push you to the edge, but your passion? It can keep you going.
Many years ago, that’s when I found them. Others who had been left behind in their schools, organizations, and classrooms as the crack formed. They were the ones who teach differently. Who wanted more. Who wouldn’t sleep at night until every kid, in every school, in every city could experience the kind of education they believed it could be. They wanted to share, discuss, and grow together. They pushed my thinking. They lit a match that reignited my passion and I vowed to keep it burning. For myself. For my daughter. For every single kid in school. And for those I found. These people? They were always just a hashtag away. Down the hall, across the state, around the world.
That match that lit my passion? It was Edcamp. It’s not an exclusive club. Everyone is invited. you just have to be willing to take that risk. Make that change. Go spend a Saturday connecting. Step outside the box. Look hard at what you do. Blog honestly. Share relentlessly. Join in the battle, because what we all have to fight for is so important none of us can look away. Admit where you can change, then make it happen. If you are somewhere you can’t change, go find someplace that you can. Be there for others when they need it most. That make it happen part? It’s the part that matters most. Because I promise you that on the other side of the divide, far away from the vacuum that will try to suck the joy of learning from your soul, it’s that place you wanted to find when you decided you wanted to teach in the first place. It’s empowering. Its invigorating. It’s real.
There are people building something better. Not just reforming, but reimagining. There’s no bridge to get here, but there are people who will take your hand. They are waiting. And to think, all you have to do is sign up, and get started. And go.
