(The Response) Open Letter from a Student to a Teacher

There you are. Standing in front of us all for what seems an endless amount of time. How long will this go on for? Do you truly believe that this lesson is THE LESSON? What chance do I have in the real world if I choose to listen to your words? What opportunities will await me if I decide to buy in to what you are saying? What skills are you providing that will allow me to succeed in a 21st century world?

Each time you ask me to complete yet another meaningless task, I wonder: do you know that your teaching can be irrelevant? Does it scare you to think that you may not have much to offer me today? What things have you done to keep your practice current and engaging?

If I choose to speak out, you will reprimand me. If I choose to leave the work where it is untouched, you will penalize me. If I choose to complete what you assign, you will not notice me. I will need to determine how to play the game. My actions will be of my own design.

Perhaps I will decide to comment in discussions. Maybe I will try to improve on my work. In case there is a chance for me; it might make sense to listen to your advice. But if I take this on – if I take you on and your teaching – you had better not let me down. Bring your best because my attention is up for grabs.

And if when this year is over, you ask me what I’ve learned, I will respond with confidence: the things that matter. Some of those things are yours to give and others are my lessons to learn. In the end, you will teach me things. The content of them is up to you, but their impact on my future is solely my decision.

Open Letter from a Teacher to a Student

I can see you. Sitting in that chair staring at the clock – and sensing what awaits you on the other side. Knowing the choices that lie ahead of you and coming to terms with the fact that you are solely responsible for your own actions. It’s your decision. I can speak to you or at you, but inevitably it is your choice to hear what it is I am saying. You can pretend not to listen, but deep down I know that you want to.

You await words that ignite your thoughts. You await activities that incite you to grow. You wait for moments that inspire you to change. The things placed in front of you to complete; the words written on the board to consider; the notes left in the margins of the last piece of work you submitted – these things build to a climax. The product of your effort will be knowledge. The direction of your journey is upon you.

What do you have to lose? Even if everything I have to say is boring, you have developed your critical listening skills. Even if every activity I assign is meaningless, you have considered your interests and adhered to them. Even if every mark you receive is disappointing, you have created goals and evaluated them. And when the time comes for you to understand your centrality in the future, what will you accept? Is it easier to sit there and watch the clock or should this be the moment of your awakening?

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I need to know that you are there. Your criticism can be my most powerful tool. My job is to prepare you. My role is in front of you. You cannot change me, but I will grow. All those things I learned are subject to your approval after all. You are my audience and I want that call-back. While it may not seem like a song and dance up here; it really is the same. My path may start in front of yours, but I hope that one day you will still see it in your rear-view.

I have signed up for this battle. My tools are laid out in front of you to use. Choose your weapon and draw. We can do this for as long as it takes. I will not back down in my resilience for your potential. I have seen with my own eyes what I can do for a student and I will not accept any less. You do not intimidate me. Your personality (however challenging) is what brings me back and drives my plans for tomorrow. You are my student; I am your teacher. You cannot let me down.

The Single Greatest Job in the World

I truly believe that I have chosen the single greatest job in the world (as an educator), but the climate and nature of the beast, indeed, challenges a person’s resolve and drive to do, not just what’s best for kids, but rather, what’s best for the future of our society.

Grandiose visions of perfect staffs and perfect supervisors are not only false – they are unrealistic. Change in schools – real, positive and lasting change – is only made possible through struggle and conflict. Inside ourselves, with our colleagues, with our supervisors, with our priorities – this change will bring us to our knees at some point and force us to choose action in the face of distress and uncertainty. If we were not the best choice for this esteemed position (teaching the future of our society), we wouldn't be faced with these kinds of personally-defining decisions – because we would have walked away and chose to do something else with our lives before it got real hard.

Being a leader is a lot like being on sale: you’re always in demand, people seem to think you’re never around when you’re needed, and you have the power to make others feel proud of themselves – heck, you could even make a difference in someone else’s life.

The context of being a principal has morphed dramatically from the manager of a staff to the manager of all things school. It’s not enough to be nice – you have to be accountable. It’s not enough to be smart – you have to be a visionary. It’s not enough to be consistent – you have to be progressive.

The system is in need of bold and ambitious goals. Those of us who indeed “go forward” shouldn’t just be accepting a new position – we are accepting a challenge. The middle doesn’t need holding – the top needs to be uncovered. Our students and communities will demand our best and settle for nothing less.