Celebrating Teachers

I’ll take a short break from my Boxes and Bullets series of posts to celebrate the people I work with—people who have taught me so much.

When I first heard of Writer’s Workshop back in 2012, I felt like something had clicked in me. Until then, I did not have one thing I loved teaching; I just enjoyed being with children. But after that seed was planted in me, I knew it was my undiscovered passion, greeting me and inviting me to get my hands in the dirt to dig out so much more.

Nine years later, when I saw a chance to replant that same seed in others, I did so with generosity, respect, and gratitude. And that seed took roots faster than I ever imagined. The roots grew everywhere, into different classrooms and in the shape of teachers who took the essence of Writer’s Workshop with the same energy I did in 2012.

They wrote their own stories, became excited at the idea of calling their students writers, and filled an area of their classroom with writing tools. There were afternoon meetings, classroom visits, and many rich questions that showed how deep these roots were going. I know that fear, as a teacher, to take on something I’ve never done before, unsure of what to do precisely, knowing very well the risk of failing those souls sitting on a rug with their paper and pens, looking at me for guidance. I knew what these teachers were feeling, and they showed me that they were eager to learn regardless.

I love George Couros’s definition of risk: the act of moving from a well-known average to an unknown better. These writing teachers did just that.

Yesterday, we met in one of the Kindergarten classrooms to write together. I brought my favorite writing music, pens, and paper. I read a short entry and invited all teachers and administrators to think of a special person in their lives and free-write with that person in mind—no minilesson, just a simple idea. And they went with it, pen to paper, not stopping. It’s such an honor for me to watch adults write; I feel like I’ve been invited to witness their most vulnerable selves.

After ten minutes of writing, some of them shared how the experience felt. In their words, you could hear emotions, connection, and discovery. Some talked about their personal writing experiences; others wondered why words came out as poems. Honesty and magic permeated the air, and we all agreed that this powerful tool of writing was a gift we were giving our students.

Our writing session served as an exploration to think of our students and how they must feel when writing. I asked teachers to connect the dots looking back at their first month teaching Writer’s Workshop; I nudged them to see their progress. With every comment, these words kept repeating: confidence, growth, independence, joy, creativity, motivation—this is what teachers see in their writers today, after a semester navigating this new path.

Those initial roots planted in April have grown deep. Writing has become part of the school’s identity, and I am incredibly grateful to witness learning blossom.