This little baby suddenly isn’t so little anymore: 13 ½ inches long, weighing a pound and a half, and the size of a rutabaga – according to the BabyCenter update that came to my iPhone yesterday. Neither is my uterus: 27 centimeters at Thursday evening’s midwifery appointment. I inhabit a world in which the fetus inhabiting me is compared to vegetables and measured in U.S. customary measurement, a world in which the organ that currently appears the most prominent grows in metric. Somehow, I’ve only just noticed the growth that has steadily evolved over the past 25 weeks.
Strangely, the same is true of my teaching. I’ve suddenly stumbled upon professional growth and expertise that’s been gradually building over 12 years.
Most teachers are naturally self-reflective and self-critical, always knowing there’s more to learn. I’m far from knowing all I can about teaching, but I’ve discovered a fantastic truth lately: I really do know a lot about this teaching stuff!
This year, the opportunity came to me to step into instructional coaching shoes. Coaching wasn’t a role I’d envisioned for my professional path. My principal brought the opportunity to me, though, and I believe in seizing opportunities when they come. I stepped away from direct work with students and toward direct work with fellow educators, supporting them in supporting their students.
And you know what? The shoes seem to fit. I’m wearing them in and finding that they feel pretty comfortable, despite wobbling unsteadily around in them a bit from time to time.
In a recent conversation, a colleague said of my co-coach and me, “You’re the instructional leaders in your school.” I was shocked by the reality of this. I’m no longer the fourth grade teacher who sits quietly in team meetings, intimidated by the loudness of veteran peers. I’ve learned to have courage to stand up for my educational beliefs and to stand behind students and their teachers.
Gathering my experiences across three countries, five schools, and nine principals, I’ve learned what to do – and what not to do. I’ve learned how to teach basic reading skills to struggling fifth graders, how to utilize the writing workshop model to instill passion in young writers, how to assess students’ individual needs to inform my instruction, how to challenge students to approach math problems from multiple angles, and how to be culturally responsive as I plan lessons.
This year, I’ve learned about Socratic Seminar and Number Talks. I’ve come to understand the shifts in Common Core Standards and teacher evaluation. I\’ve led professional development opportunities and facilitated professional learning communities. I’ve supported teachers in strengthening guided reading groups, using writing assessments to drive instruction, incorporating art and kinesthetic activities into math lessons, establishing literature circles, restructuring math and literacy blocks, and regularly progress monitoring student growth.
I know that I still have a tremendous amount to learn – and always will – but since absorbing my colleague’s comment, I’ve started to recognize signs that maybe I do know a thing or two.
In the world of pregnancy, iPhone app reminders and midwives’ measuring tapes measure growth. In the world of teaching, principal-directed evaluations measure growth. Sometimes we forget to internally measure our progress, reflecting on the beautiful growth that continuously unravels before our eyes when we pause and take a moment to look.
To Palimpsest 