This article is adapted from Ted's Smart Thinking podcast Episode 386: Reminders for New and Experienced Teachers & Student Teachers.
This one is for the teachers. New teachers, veteran teachers, and every student teacher about to walk into a classroom for the first time.
My daughter Grace is a senior in college this year, and she starts student teaching in Chicago in just a few weeks. Thinking about her journey sent me straight back to my own, back to a Saturday in December, a booth at Culver’s, and a man named Chuck Fick who changed the way I think about this profession forever.
I met Chuck at a district softball game the summer before my student teaching year. I was in my early twenties, playing shortstop as a ringer for the elementary staff team. I played well enough that the middle school principal pulled me aside, pointed to a white haired man sitting with a beer, and told me to go introduce myself and ask about student teaching.
That man was Chuck Fick, a thirty year veteran eighth grade social studies teacher who had never taken on a student teacher before and never really wanted one. But something about that afternoon changed his mind.
Winter came, and Chuck called me to meet him at a Culver’s on a Saturday. Over Butterburgers, fries, and a root beer, he laid out his expectations. Then, as we stood in the lobby getting ready to leave, he shook my hand. Not a crushing grip, but firm and intentional, held a beat longer than a normal handshake.
He looked me in the eye and said, "In my classroom, we matter. And don’t you forget it."
I drove home that night unable to shake those words. I have never let them go.
A few weeks into student teaching, Chuck asked me if I had figured out yet why we matter. He did not wait for an answer. He just started listing reasons, and I have carried this list with me for over thirty years.
We matter because we provide structure. We matter because we make the room safe for everyone in it. We matter because when we flip the light switch, our energy and enthusiasm set the tone. We matter because they are learning in here. We matter because our predictability helps them feel seen and secure. We matter because they are watching us all day, deciding whether to be like us or not.
Then he hit me with the one that kept me up that night. We matter because some of them will want to be like us, and they will want to feel loved by us, because they might not have a role model anywhere else in their lives. And they have chosen us to be that person.
A few weeks later, Chuck had started leaving me alone in the classroom for full days at a time. I thought I was doing great. Then one Monday, a student flagged Chuck down in the hallway and told him he might want to come watch my class.
Chuck watched the whole lesson. Afterward, he sat across from me at my little table in the back of the room, stared at me, and asked what the hell that lesson was supposed to be. He said it looked lazy. He said he expected more, and told me to fix it before the afternoon.
I sat there stunned, with thirteen minutes before the next class walked in. Then Chuck came back in, smiling, flicking the lights on and off. "They’re coming," he said, "and you need to remember that the lights are on and your energy needs to be up."
That was Chuck. Firm and loving, sometimes in the very same breath.
A year later, that classroom became mine. When Chuck was offered a promotion, he told the superintendent he would take it on one condition, that the job be given to me.
As you start this school year, here are the reminders I keep coming back to, the ones Chuck taught me and the ones I have learned since.
There is power in paying attention. So many kids move through their day without feeling seen. Notice them. Be a t shirt reader. Be a Walmart greeter and a heart seeder. When we notice, we build trust. When we build trust, we build respect. When we build respect, we create impact.
Don’t sell your mental real estate to a bad tenant. Do not let one comment from a student, one email from a parent, or one hard class period define your whole day. You are allowed to recover quickly. One moment cannot be allowed to clip your wings.
Find a ride or die. Find a person who will listen first, process with you second, coach you third, and hold you accountable fourth. Silently suffering is a weakening habit. Asking for help is a strength.
Stay curious instead of judgmental. As the year goes on, we tend to gain understanding of our students but lose patience with them. When you feel that happening, pause and get curious instead. Why are they acting this way? What am I missing? Curiosity solves more conflicts than certainty ever will.
Don’t hang around with Richards. Your mindset is shaped by who you spend time with. Surround yourself with people who fill your battery, root for you, and celebrate you. If your circle is draining you instead, it is time to find a new circle.
Take feedback and own it. Do not get defensive. Ask what you can do differently, and then go do it. Feedback almost always comes from a place of care.
Have clear expectations, and become a cliche. Chuck repeated his expectations constantly, to the point where I used to think he thought we were not that bright. But he was never frustrated with his class, because his expectations were never a mystery. When something goes wrong in your room, ask what process failed, not who failed.
Get out of your room. Teaching is about thieving, in the best sense. Go watch a colleague teach. Learn how they open class, how they manage transitions, how they build relationships. Schools are like supermarkets full of great ideas. Go shopping.
You represent hope, love, knowledge, security, kindness, grace, forgiveness, wisdom, and a path forward. That is a heavy list to carry, but it is also the reason this job matters more than almost any other.
When my daughter Grace finished her last day as a camp counselor this summer, I slipped a note into her lunch bag before she left. It said, "Never forget that every day someone is looking forward to being with you." There will be challenges, setbacks, and heartbreaks in this career, but there will also always be one person whose entire day gets bigger and brighter because you were in it.
Before I wrote this, I texted forty six educators, each with more than twenty years of experience, and asked what advice they would give to a first year teacher. A few of their answers stuck with me the most.
Build a positive classroom culture first. Learning will come later. Find a marigold, someone who nurtures and lifts others up, and stay away from the oak trees of negativity that only bring you down. Trust your gut, and lean on your team. Press pause, get curious instead of furious, and lean into your colleagues instead of trying to do it all alone.
One more, from a longtime friend, sums it up best. You entered the most rewarding professional career there is. Take the time to enjoy it.
I did not talk today about assessments, curriculum, data, or politics. Those things matter, but we cannot control most of them. What we can control is our impact on the people in front of us.
So as you start this year, whether it is your first or your thirtieth, remember what Chuck told me over thirty years ago and never let go of it yourself.
We matter. And don’t you forget it.