I have been reading two books in pursuit of some professional growth lately: Fostering Resilient Learners: Strategies for Creating a Trauma-Sensitive Classroom by Kristin Souers and Pete Hall as well as Teach Like Yourself: How Authentic Teaching Transforms Our Students and Ourselves by Gravity Goldberg. And when they both, as if in some conspiratorial cahoots, albeit for different reasons, encourage the writing of a teacher mission statement… well, then, ok! I give!
And it’s a good thing. I do feel I’ve lost my teacher way a bit lately.
Not only that, but the knowledge that we will be starting the school year digitally has me all up in arms about all the nots and can’ts and the things that aren’t the same or right or best or normal or in my wheelhouse.
I’m already starting the year in a deficit model.
Which means, consequently, my students will be, too.
Ugh.
And, so, to get up out of the murky pit of deficit and into the expansive field of assets, here is my WHY. In some of these, I’ve been doing well. To some of these, I proclaim a renewed dedication. But all of them will ground and guide the manner in which I begin this new and scary school year.
And beyond.
This I Believe (My Teacher-Why Creed)
I teach students. Not statistics or data points or standards. I teach beating hearts who have their own pains and pleasures, drives and demons, growth spurts and gallant missteps.
This I believe.
I teach humans. People, who at their core, just like me, crave love. People who, though it looks differently for each, crave meaningful relationship. People who both want the chance to be authentic as well as the authentic presence of others around them.
This I believe.
I teach stories. Words woven together as threads that have sustained man since man has been. Explorations and declarations of our own hiSTORIES. Themes that, unlike our polished updates and filtered selfies and perfect feeds, unlock something true and deep… nourish something true and deep.
This I believe.
I teach power. Power through literacy. Power through knowledge. Early in my career, that was the power to rebel against the constant knock of oppressive systems. Now, it is the power to be humble enough and brave enough to see that system within and dismantle it for others.
This I believe.
I teach mystery. An approach that honors the question above the answer. A path that celebrates the process more than the product. A philosophy that is critical but not bitter, deconstructive but not destructive. A confession that I, myself, though the teacher, am not the expert.
This I believe.
I teach reflection. A pursuit of life’s most important questions: who I am? how do I live a meaningful life? how do I be whole? how do I respond when I am down and salute when I am standing? what does it even mean for me to be down versus standing?
This I believe.
I teach community. The realization that life’s most important questions cannot be untied from other: who are we? what is your story? how do I give you space to be and feel and struggle and blossom?
This I believe.
I teach mindfulness. The constant, kind mental work of returning to this present moment. The intentional bowing of the heart to this moment as the only moment. The freedom and courage and strength that this moment spawns.
This I believe.
I teach joy. Light hearts and belly laughs. Nonacademic moments of connection. Insightful tangents. Familial chaos.
This I believe.