A Letter to Her

Dear Lena,

You don’t know me and yet, you know all of me. I write this nine years after you got off the plane from Italy to discover you finally had service again. In your email, news of your 2014/2015 school assignment finally comes through: K-8 Music in one of the largest school districts in your state. In a few days, you will have orientation and begin the first steps of being an official teacher in the district where your grandmother was a secretary. It’s exciting, it’s bittersweet, and it’s a bigger whirlwind than adapting to any time zone.

You’ll quickly come to learn, however, that no college course or orientation could properly prepare you for the daily routine of being an educator. And that’s okay- because we are all in the same boat, with no concrete destination at this point– just the goal of enriching other people’s lives, while learning more about yourself along the way. Super simple. ;)

You'll also learn that you stop wearing heels of any kind by the time year four rolls around. Because...well...why was that ever a good idea to you?

You cannot pass your final licensure test, so you’re offered a limited contract as a long-term substitute. You know you must prove yourself now more than ever. You’re bummed as you’ll see a “Fail” status twice. This is your first real struggle with passing an academic test, so you question yourself and your value. Not to worry– not only do you eventually pass in the middle of the school year, but those fears are lesser occurrences as the years pass, long after a paper confirmation of your skills comes your way. 

That paper, or how many times you saw an insufficient score, determine nothing about your career (other than the lovely ability to pay for licensure every few years). This initial failure will help you have a new understanding for your students, as they are tested now more than ever. 

While musical knowledge is very important for any music educator, you need to know that your job will quickly encompass so much more than singing, playing, and creating music. Music is beautiful: it transcends time, language, and other differences. However, so much of education is in the less-than-gorgeous or ideal. It’s in the nitty gritty: the cracks once beneath the surface that seem to grow larger as your years of experience grow. The breakthroughs that you feel fortunate enough to witness, but at times, take years to come to light. 

You stay for both the beautiful and the ugly. You stay for a chance to make a change.

That first year will provide you with a glance of how integral relationships with your colleagues are. You’re taken under the wing of some veteran teachers who help you learn all of the ins and outs. They had other options, like walking by you in the hallway with a quick “hi” and leaving it at that. You’re just a sub. However, they don’t and let the “rookie” tag along. You discover so much from that group of educators. 

Education takes you places. You end up in a small rural town teaching K-12 music for two years. You learn so much about community while you’re there. You meet more people who keep public education running, even as the car loses parts. You also learn that your job is not a crutch to dismiss coping with other things in your life. Staying later doesn’t mean that the work will magically disappear by morning. Staying later doesn’t mean your well-being isn’t impacted. We only have so many hours in a day, let alone in a lifetime. So, you learn to take some of yours back.

I need you to know that it doesn’t make you any less of an educator. I need to let anyone reading this know (particularly the under five years crowd) that drawing hard boundaries in the sand won’t be detrimental. You, burned out, is far more dangerous. Anyone in any field is so much more than their 9-5 job, certifications, and a paycheck. 

Finally, you end up back near your hometown in a school you were initially very apprehensive about. “Good luck there- I’ve heard it’s a tough place,” another colleague in education says in passing. You're nervous, but are ready to be in a more concentrated area closer to home.

That place changes your outlook on every part of your prior experience. It is where you grow the most in 10 years. You get your masters, join union leadership, and eat lunch every day in a small room in a 100 year old building, laughter bouncing off the walls. The sound of music echoes through the building when your choir sings. While each placement you’ve had so far has had colleagues that impacted your career, this place seems to have a higher concentrated number of them. You still call some of these coworkers when you need advice. These lifelines in education are more and more important with each year that passes. It helps you feel less alone on the bad days.

Things happen throughout these ten years that you could have never imagined. It sure does keep things interesting. Who knew that  a student would get a tattoo with the lyrics of a solo they sang in your class? Who would have guessed that a coworker would become your roommate for four years? At the core of it all is the reason you got into education in the first place: along the way, you had teachers that shaped your learning. Now, you get to work with people who have that effect constantly, hoping you are one along the way for someone.

Tomorrow, you have your first day with students after a decade's work of being in and out of different placements and districts. You get to that point where you can sketch out lesson plans on Post-It notes if you had to, like your college professors claimed you would be able to do someday. You've seen quite a bit: new buildings, old buildings. Reassignments, bidding. Kindergarteners, seniors. Choir, general music. Laughter, tears. 

AI actually plays a role now in your daily commute playlist. Today, you got a new song by Quality Used Cars with this lyric “if the moon were a mirror, would you like what you see?”

You really did aim for the moon when you got started. I think you would like the reflection staring back now. Though the job title stays the same each year, that reflection will keep changing. Don't be afraid of it- embrace it.