The Good Old Days

It’s been a very reflective fall so far. At the end of September, I shared a piece I wrote about the passing of UTA Director of Bands Dr. Douglas Stotter on what would have been his 65th birthday, and I shared some thoughts on the brevity of life. Last week, it was all about teaching and how rewarding I found the classroom experience to be. Then another friend and colleague departed this world last Friday after a 7-year battle with a rare form of cancer. So I guess I’m making this week’s post the conclusion of a philosophical trilogy highlighting just how much we should all appreciate the connections we make, especially if we’re educators.

I’m reminded of the TV show, “The Office.” In the series finale, Andy Bernard (Ed Helms) delivers one of the more poignant lines of dialogue on the show: “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days, before you’ve actually left them.” I honestly feel fortunate that, throughout my education career, I actually took time to look around and think “these ARE the good old days.” Maybe it was the fact that I happen to like 10,000 Maniacs’ “These Are Days,” and I’ve always cherished graduations and the conclusion of a given school year. Frankly, that was always one of my favorite things about teaching – a school year can be incredibly intense at times, but it ends. There’s a summer to look forward to. (Although it’s not truly a “summer off,” as some people assume – but that’s another post I’m working on.) There’s the ability to take stock of where you’ve been over the past year and plan on where you’d like to go in the coming one. Educators can thus compartmentalize each year and hopefully string together several good years while minimizing or even eliminating the worse years in-between. And looking back, I feel incredibly lucky that my career was, mostly, a collection of 5-year periods that were definitely more positive than negative. Full disclosure here: I usually avoid identifying where I worked because I want to keep my reflections more general, but I will break that guideline on the remainder of this post.

My career began in August 1994 at Mansfield High School. Those first 5 years were, in a word, rough. Not because of MHS – I actually enjoyed working there, taught some amazing students, had some incredible and supportive colleagues, and really learned a ton about this profession. What made it rough was just the nature of teaching itself. In your first year of teaching, you feel like, “ I suck. This sucks. Why am I doing this?” Teaching is a unique profession largely because there’s no amount of training that will adequately prepare you for what you will actually experience. Sure, your education professors will tell you things, some courses will allow you field experience, and you’ll actually be in a classroom doing the work during student teaching. Except student teaching is usually only 12 weeks, and they aren’t really your classes. You’re borrowing them, kind of like grandparents borrow the kids for an afternoon. You’ll eventually give them back, so the investment – or the sense of despair when it becomes difficult – never fully settles in. In your first year of teaching, when it’s your name on the class schedule and the gradebook, you’re mainly trying to stay afloat and avoid getting depressed. The good news is that it does get easier as you gain more experience, see what works and what doesn’t, and figure out how you want to do things. For me, the extra challenge also came from having a composite certificate in social studies. I got handed a class full of 100% special education students for economics and government (in the days before inclusion became the norm), then I got a world history class added to my schedule, then I got switched over to world geography at a different building. Then I was assigned to teach economics and government in one building before I traveled to a different building each day to teach world geography. All within my first 5 years. Fun times! But I persevered, I was learning, I was improving as an instructor, and I was in an environment that grew more supportive each year. By the end of year 5 in the Spring of 1999, I felt like I had arrived as an educator with a viable career ahead of me.

You might think what’s coming next is the old twist, “but behind the scenes, things were falling apart.” Yet reality was that the next 5 years were terrific. As I improved professionally, I settled into a more focused role in economics and government, and later AP Macroeconomics. I once had a student tell me, “you’ve really found your calling, because this class was very cool and defied my expectations.” Those were also the years where I got to create and teach “The Impact of Music on Society.” (Read last week’s post for more on that class.) Along the way, Mansfield ISD grew enough to >gasp< split into two high schools. (Trust me, people at the time thought it was the end times.) I opted to teach at the “new” school, which actually occupied the “old” building. (Yes, it was weird.) And Summit High School opened with a bang, with lots of achievement right out of the gate. And I remember looking around at both the MHS staff and the SHS staff during those times and thinking to myself, “This is awesome. Soak it in.” And I truly adore so many of my colleagues from those years.

By fall 2004, Summit High School was in its official third year, and I had completed a decade of teaching. Again, you might expect this next 5-year period to be a downturn, but it actually may have been the peak of my education career. It was during this time that I started splitting my time between teaching and campus assessment. I called myself a “TV teacher.” You know how, on TV shows, teachers appear to teach only one class filled with brilliant students? That was me – I taught one class of AP Macroeconomics for 90 minutes each day, plus I had a conference period, and 2 periods each day to work on campus assessment. It was during these years that I also began announcing varsity football games. I was kind of living the dream. It was a glorious time, even when I was occasionally asked to step into other classrooms if we were short on substitutes. My students were, as you might expect, top-tier. My colleagues were unbelievably good, and I often paused to recognize how great the atmosphere was. And the 2008-09 school year culminated with my selection as Teacher of the Year for Summit High School and Secondary Teacher of the Year for Mansfield ISD. Truth be told, the campus award mattered more to me because I was selected by my colleagues. The district award was obviously a huge honor, but it mainly involved a series of essays and an interview. The decision of my peers was a much bigger deal because of the caliber of competition within my own campus. There were literally dozens of other teachers who were deserving of the campus award, and any one of them would have also deserved the district honor. Had I been asked to make a speech as the winner, that’s exactly what I would have said. But alas, the district didn’t begin asking teacher-of-the-year winners to speak until the next year.

That following year was when things finally started cooling off, wasn’t it? As a matter of fact, it was. There wasn’t any dramatic drop-off, but the fall of 2009 saw the first perceptible decline, at least from my perspective. It’s the nature of the profession – one person is promoted, another one changes campuses or districts, someone else leaves the profession, and another person moves out of state because of a spouse’s job. There were still some stalwarts and past colleagues remaining, and the newer teachers were fine, but as you might expect, things just weren’t the same. Maybe it was me, because I was also considering the prospect of a move into central administration since I was excelling on the assessment side of my job. So these were the years when I ultimately transitioned from TV teacher to a job specializing in assessment and accountability. Would I consider these 5 years a “down time” in my career? Not really, but because it did not reach the heights of the previous decade, it might have seemed disappointing, mainly because I had been fortunate to work with such great people, and that group was slowly splintering. Change happens, and we don’t always view it positively.

The transition to central administration was successful, though, because the next 5 years were absolutely incredible. The Mansfield ISD Department of Research, Assessment, & Accountability was relatively small, but it was mighty, and I loved getting to do good work with great people. I learned so much about K-12 education from a broader perspective beyond the high school level, and it was immensely rewarding to assist campus and central administrators as they worked to navigate the challenges of 21st century assessment and accountability. Was it as rewarding as campus work? Honestly, comparing them isn’t fair. It was definitely different, and it was satisfying in its own way. More importantly, I was privileged to work with a team of people who were not just excellent colleagues; they were truly admirable people. And make no mistake, I sought to live in the moment and appreciate what I had while I had it.

Then I left Mansfield ISD, mainly because there were bigger changes afoot in the district on a political and bureaucratic level, and I believed that I would be marginalized sooner or later. Our little department wasn’t a complete afterthought, but neither were we a priority. It wasn’t exactly a “quit before you’re fired” situation because my job wasn’t really in jeopardy, but there was proverbial writing on the wall. So I went to Birdville ISD, drawn by a higher salary and what seemed to be greater potential. I’m sure there are quality educators in BISD, but I wasn’t around them or the district long enough to appreciate it. Instead, I worked for someone who I thoroughly believe was ill-prepared for a supervisory role, and things didn’t work out. I learned some tough lessons trying to overcome the adversity of the situation. Enough said.

Then I landed in Grand Prairie ISD, where I would conclude my career. And it ended up being a fitting bookend. My first 5 years in Mansfield were rough but grew increasingly easier. My last 5 years in Grand Prairie, were also rough, yet ironically, they grew increasingly more difficult. Against that backdrop, I got to work with some extraordinary colleagues who became as dear to me as my peers from the best years at Mansfield and Summit. But it was different this time. At Mansfield, we were a campus coming into our own, seeking to reach new heights. At Summit, we were a new school hungry to live up to the bold motto “A Tradition of Excellence.” The experience at both schools was fantastic with fabulous people. At Grand Prairie, we were a historically underachieving campus looking to reform the campus culture and overcome a decades-old inferiority complex. GP was definitely more challenging for many reasons, and the people I worked with there gave their absolute all toward that reform. Many still do, although some have moved on, as I did. But I am grateful that I worked with educators who truly “fought the good fight” against bureaucratic and political roadblocks from the state and even their own school district, all in service to a student population that most needs educators willing to fight for them. In some ways, I appreciate these colleagues more because of the setting.

So what’s the point of all this reflection on my career? In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” In other words, don’t get so caught up in the work that you don’t appreciate the people. Education can be a demanding profession, so it’s an easy trap to fall into. Sometimes you have to pause, disconnect from the planning, the grading, the testing, and the activities, and make an actual effort to escape the trap. I consider myself fortunate that I paused and acknowledged my good fortune as much as possible. I certainly hope I showed my appreciation for my colleagues appropriately. It’s not something that I planned as I entered the profession; it just became habitual for me. I suspect suffering through the roughness of my first 5 years gave me an outlook that made me more introspective, and therefore grateful for the good times. And I know the roughness of the final 6 years, with the wisdom I had gained over time, definitely helped me look for the proverbial lights among any darkness. The bottom line is, don’t take anything for granted. These may well be the good old days. Soak it in. Be grateful. It will not always be this way; change is always on the horizon. My friend and colleague David McDonald left this life on October 10, and while I am immensely sad, I have no regrets about my own interactions with him. He knew he had a friend in me who thoroughly admired him. He knew he had friends throughout his career at Summit High School who loved him and will love his family now in his absence. To you reading this, I offer more than just “hug your loved ones.” Obviously that’s true, and you should. But appreciate your colleagues, too. Maybe you’re a private person who doesn’t seek friends at work, and that’s fine. Everyone has their boundaries. At the same time, it costs nothing to be personable, appreciative, or kind. When it’s all said and done, no one will remember the work. No one will remember that bad student or that bad day. No one will remember a specific lesson, a faculty meeting, or certainly a test. Everyone will remember the people who brightened their days. Cherish them.