I drove by the building that housed my dream job today.
Long ago, as a young girl, age 7, I wanted to work there.
I imagined being part of the change.
Making decisions that made things better.
And I daydreamed, even then, schools that were different.
And I thought that meant that it was about the leaders.
That was my plan. Boy, was it a good one.
When I first taught in the classroom.
The bar was moved, and it focused on me.
From Madeline Hunter to new content.
Through climate and teaching skills and relationships and PLCs.
Again, the plan was to make things better.
But instead, it was just different.
I still didn’t know what was missing.
I became a teacher leader.
Not at once, but gradually.
Patience and time wear down the roughness of new leaders.
And give us grace to reflect on what works.
Or doesn’t, with colleagues or leaders-of-the-pack.
I even took time to administrate, thinking that would help.
Now I’m back in the classroom.
Still a teacher leader.
And I thought about that first childhood dream.
I used to think that wisdom came from above.
But now I know that changes comes right where I am.
And that making a difference comes from letting go of the plan.
And just working for the change by gathering voice.
Which is absolutely what I wanted.
To make a difference.