Advice for New Teachers From a Teacher of the Year

Welcome to the profession! I’m so glad you’re here. This vocation has made me into a better version of myself, and I’m forever grateful. I hope your journey is just as transformative. 

Being a teacher is unlike anything else I can describe: It’s one of the most meaningful and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My first year, especially, was a tough one. In fact, my first day was a scene right out of a comedy.

Allow me to set the stage: I had five back-to-back hours of high school math classes. In each class, I decided I needed to do something really fun and engaging and also “math-y” to make sure my students left feeling like this was going to be the best math class they had ever taken.

I Didn’t Know What I Didn’t Know 

I had them make paper airplanes, and then we went out to the hallway to fly them (and measure their central tendencies, of course—mean, median, mode, all that good stuff).

That was when everything went wrong.

You can probably imagine what happens when you tell 35 high school students that they can start throwing paper airplanes. All of a sudden, there was a great cloud of college-ruled notebook paper thundering in a clash and then pouring down like hail. The planes’ owners laughed and kept launching planes… and not one intended math problem got done. 

At the time, I didn’t know how to pivot from my plans, so this chaos repeated four more times. I burst into tears the moment the last bell rang, feeling out of control in my own classroom. 

My Advice for New Teachers

Since that day, I’ve thought about what went wrong and why. On my good days, these are the dispositions I try to have.

1. Be reflective. Perhaps the single most impactful practice I’ve cultivated is daily reflection. I jot notes about what could’ve been better straight into my slide deck at the end of the day, like “This example was too cumbersome. Change next year.” Or “Allow a calculator for this question.” Or “Try groups of two to three instead of four.” Or, in the case of the airplanes, “Never again, Peterson.” (Let’s be honest—I didn’t need a note to remember that one.)

It’s been just as important for me to write about what went right and enjoy the small, ordinary moments. I’ve done this through the One Good Thing blog, documenting something good, beautiful, or funny every day that I’ve been with kids. If that’s not for you, think about finding a fellow educator whom you can text every day, or consider opening a social media account where you post a daily picture or video that highlights something good (with family permission if you include student pictures or names). 

While I haven’t gone back and read every single post I’ve ever written, there’s something about this intentional act that sears these memories into my heart. It sustains and liberates me. 

2. Be proactive. The longer you teach, the more you’ll anticipate where you’ll need to scaffold. You can cultivate this disposition by considering these questions: How will students respond to this task? How long will it take? If I give them 10 minutes, will some finish early? Will they start to distract the others?

As you begin your teaching journey, think through each procedure, task, prompt, and assignment you give. If students don’t respond the way you thought they would, go back to number one, Reflect: Why didn’t they? Did it go better or worse than anticipated? What part isn’t sitting right with me? How can I adjust to improve learning?

With Airplane Day, I had too large of a goal: Have fun! Slowly, I learned to have smaller—and clearer—goals. While I still took ideas from other teachers, I made them my own, so that I’d be comfortable in my own space. 

One of the best moves I made was chunking my lessons: I’d do some examples, then students would work together (while listening to instrumental pop covers because they’re peaceful and fun and signal that it’s time to collaborate), and then we’d repeat. No part lasted longer than 10–20 minutes. The more you teach, the more comfortable you’ll get expanding your teaching style. In the beginning, start small and clear. Before I attempted Airplane Day, I should have felt in control. Today, I’d be able to implement that activity with fidelity and success. Teaching is not a sprint; it’s a marathon. The goal is to continually improve, not to “land.”

3. Be collaborative. Find your people. These are the educators who teach like you want to teach, who speak to kids with joy, dignity, compassion, and humor. They’re the teachers who are excited to have you on their team. These are teachers who love what they do. Get close to them. Observe them during your plan time. Allow them to remind you that although this work is hard, it’s so worth it. This job isn’t sustainable if you try to do it alone. If you have a team that you can rely on and will share the workload and the emotional load, you’ll grow faster than you ever imagined. 

4. Be patient. A great teacher is patient with their students, and they’re patient with themselves. Honestly, my pace as a first-year teacher wasn’t sustainable. But here’s the good news: My first-year pace didn’t remain my normal. I certainly became faster at grading, lesson planning, and responding to emails. Yet, because I developed a reflective mindset, I also started making more time for the work I love and began to find ways to spend less time doing the things that drained me. Can I cut out grading altogether? No. Can I find ways for students to assess themselves or make my grading load lighter? Absolutely. Give yourself the gift of time. Be patient and stay curious. 

You’ll Grow Into The Teacher You Want to Be

I love who I am when I’m with my students, but it didn’t start that way. I had to cultivate these mindsets; I had to learn more about my students—and about myself. This is incredibly joyous, important, and hard work. There will be days you question if it’s worth the work.

May you find the people who will sustain you and remind you that this work matters. May you delight in your students—their brilliance and their quirks. May you find the good in your day, tuck it into your heart, and work to replicate it. May you always know: You are enough.