The Opportunities Before Us: A Letter to My Friends in Education

Dear Educators, 

This time last year, I was excited about meeting my new students, little arms hugging my waist, and building those unshakable bonds that are forged by being together. I’m known to be an eternal optimist, and try to bring that sunshine to every situation I’m in, but this year, that positivity is harder to find. We are all starting again; some of us in the classroom, and some of us from a distance. There are going to be lots of beginnings this year, in a space where there’s so much we can’t control.  

We are trying to provide our students with some semblance of normalcy, all while fearing for our own health and safety, and that of our families. Educators want, more than anything, for this pandemic to be over, to be able to see our students in our classrooms, and to provide them with every service and experience they deserve. But no matter how much we try, we can’t make a pandemic go away with our positivity.  

But here’s what we can do.  

Through conflict and hardship often comes new opportunities. 

You have the opportunity to REFLECT on what works and to say goodbye to what doesn’t. You have the opportunity to REEVALUATE your purpose as school employees to truly serve the needs of your students.  You also have the opportunity to RAISE YOUR VOICE. 

As we reflect on the temporary closing of school buildings in the spring, we can learn a lot about what worked and what didn’t in an emergency situation. Those are the reflections we should be taking into the new school year.  Some of us learned that less is more, that we must temper our expectations of our students’ time at home, and that even though we had the best intentions, all of our systems were not equitable. It’s time to say goodbye to outdated practices that don’t serve our students or the goals for our communities (I’m looking at you, state testing).  

When we understand which practices don’t work for us anymore, we are able to evaluate the purpose we serve in our communities. Public schools were founded on the belief that education was the key to bridging social gaps and creating equity in our communities. Though founded on those core beliefs, all schools have, through the decades, come face to face with inequities of their own making. This pandemic is forcing us to take another long look at what we are missing, and giving us the opportunity to make it better. I often tell people, “You can love something an awful lot, and still want it to change and grow.” Educators love our schools and our jobs, but we want them to continue to evolve into institutions that are responsive to the needs of our students.  

So often, we look to our heroes to help us through times like these, but wouldn’t you know, none of mine ever survived a global pandemic. So I realized that WE, as educators…as school employees…as community members, are going to be the heroes of this story. Our students will look back on this and remember, not the academic content that they learned, but how we treated one another, and how we kept them safe. Our actions shape their actions.  Our hearts shape their memories, and if ever faced with hardship, we want them to know how to make it through. They need so much, but most of all, they need us to help create a world where they have the opportunity to live, long after we are gone, and to speak life into the children that they will leave this world to.   

It is now more important than ever that we use our voices to represent the needs of our students, our coworkers, and our profession.  Our schools are in the spotlight right now, for better or for worse, and we have the opportunity to shout from the rooftops the things we’ve known all along, because people are listening. You know the nuances of your profession better than anyone, and you dedicate your lives to serving the students and families in your care. As National Teacher of the Year, I will make elevating your voices a priority, and we will be heard. I encourage you to do the same in your communities. Whether you’re speaking your truth in the hallways, at the school board meeting, to your students at the bus stop, or on a Zoom call with families, your voice has the power to be heroic.  

You are supporting your community through a global pandemic, and you will be able to look back on this time and know that you took the opportunities afforded to you. Courage doesn’t have to look like compliance or commitment to what always has been. Sometimes courage looks like the resolve to begin again. And again. 

During the coming year, may you stay safe while reflecting on your practices, reevaluating your purpose, raising your voice for those who need it most, and summoning the courage to start over.  

Your Friend in Education,  

Tabatha Rosproy 
2020 National Teacher of the Year