Recently, one of my sixth grade students said to me, “Ms. Scott, I just didn’t know if I could do middle school. I was so nervous about coming here, and I just want you to know that you’re the reason that I come to school.” I was having a tough day, and I paused to sit with what he’d said. I looked at him and said, “I want to let you know you’re the reason I come to school, too.” We shared a special moment – both sweet and affirming. As a teacher, it is powerful when someone articulates the importance of what we do. We need to allow ourselves to sit in the power of those moments when they occur. 

We may not receive such direct affirmation of the difference we make on a daily or weekly basis. Sometimes, we don’t see the results of the hard work we are pouring into our practice across an average of 173 instructional school days, because the seeds we’re planting will blossom much later. 

That is why I think it is important to look for little things within our agency to keep our perspective on the value of our work. There are little things I do that help me rise above the distractions and noise and remain grounded. I want to share some strategies that help me reflect on my purpose and remain connected to the real difference I’m making as a teacher. We must remain connected to the value of our work.

1. I invite students to reflect on their journey in my subject area. 

I teach the AVID elective, and I recently led an activity with my students in which they reflected on their AVID story. I asked them, “What is your AVID story, and why does it matter?” I gave them wide-open space to write about what the class meant to them. I was stunned when I read the responses because of how meaningful they felt to me as a teacher. I read things like, “I have found my voice.” There’s nothing better for my teacher heart than knowing I had a hand in helping a child find their voice.

An open invitation to reflect on our content and/or elective area will elicit responses that reflect the full range of students’ experiences – and if students share a struggle, that can help us connect to the difference we’re making, too. The content we teach is important, but kids don’t come to school for content entirely. They come to school for meaning. When they experience how much we love the content, it can translate to meaning for them, too. Allowing students space for their thoughts to just flow has been refreshing and ultimately inspiring to me. 

2. I maintain a smile file and revisit it.

Years ago, one of my principals suggested starting a “smile file,” and I took their advice. So every positive email, every card, every picture or note from a student goes into that file, and I revisit it when I just need a lift or a reminder of the meaning behind my work. I have been blessed with the support of students’ families and with students who have written letters or created construction paper cards for me. They cut and paste, and some of their words are misspelled, but you can always make out the message as a teacher. Those written expressions say more than the words on the card. They say, “We appreciate you. We notice.” 

3. I give myself permission to feel the struggle, and I show myself compassion.

If you’re struggling as a teacher right now, the first thing I want to say to you is that it’s okay to experience struggle. It is very normal. The work we do matters so much, and it’s entirely normal, acceptable, and expected for us to encounter struggle, because we are human. I want to humanize that experience and encourage you to show yourself compassion. Perhaps that might look like taking time for honest reflection and identifying some of the reasons you’re struggling, and consider whether it would help to reach out to a mentor or teacher friend. 

I also do believe that I have some agency over how long and how deeply I struggle. Even though there’s a lot going on in the profession and undeniable challenges, there are many things I do have control over, and there are many amazing people who are willing to help me. There are ebbs and flows, and I’ve learned that the feeling of struggle doesn’t last. In the tough moments, I try to show myself compassion and reach out to someone I trust who can encourage me along. 

By accepting the reality of struggle and being willing to learn along the way, we grow. Then one day, we look up, and we’re sitting across from someone who may be new to the profession, and we’re getting an opportunity to share our past struggles and how we navigated them. When we can listen to another teacher on a tough day and realize that we can now serve as a guide, that’s such an empowering moment.   

4. I lean on fellow teachers, and we lift each other up. 

There’s so much we can do for our fellow educators to lift each other up – and reaching out to others can fill us up, too. What I find helpful about the teacher friends that I’m close with is that we can express our genuine care and concern without expecting each other to fix everything. I do believe care is a vital currency right now – more than cookies and cakes and other fun treats. Those things are sweet, both literally and figuratively, but I believe that the real value is in showing each other care. 

That may look like asking someone how they’re doing and actually stopping in the hallway to listen to their answer. Pausing and connecting eye to eye and communicating care. Letting someone know, “I may not be able to fix everything that’s going wrong right now, but I can listen – and, what I can help with, I’m willing to.”

There’s nothing like those moments when someone expresses clear, heartfelt appreciation for us – like my sixth grade student did when he said I was his reason for coming to school. But I believe that we can hold onto so much joy as teachers when we build in regular practices like this that remind us: Our work DOES matter. Every single day.