vignettes, which were written by some of today’s leading educators, who have shared their stories of making their student experiences both personal and authentic. Most sections conclude with ways you can “Try This.” Written to support your work, whether in leading a classroom or a school, these examples offer practical and tangible ideas that you can implement immediately. Finally, you’ll have the opportunity to take “A Closer Look” at some behind-the-scenes video footage as well as many tools and resources that correlate with the ideas found inside each chapter.
Throughout these pages, as you reflect upon the work you do each day, I encourage you to share your thoughts using the hashtag #AuthenticEDU. Together, let’s amplify the many amazing things happening in classrooms and schools each day while continuing to take steps forward on our own unique journeys.
Chapter 1
Relationships: The Foundation of Personal & Authentic Learning
Every kid is one caring adult away from being a success story.
—Josh Shipp
Is it possible to recognize a life-changing moment as it’s happening? Or does the significance of those moments only become visible after the fact?
A life-changing moment happens in a blink. It’s that moment where faith overcomes fear. It’s the first step toward a new reality, a step that permanently alters your dreams and changes the way you think about your life—forever.
In my own life, I didn’t see that moment for what it was until it had put me on a course that changed who I was and how I viewed my purpose—and yours—as an educator. The spark of a single piece of advice created opportunities for many moments—moments that were personal and authentic, and yes, life changing.
I was twenty-one years old and fresh out of college in my first year of teaching, and I thought I had a clue as to what I was getting myself into. I had always wanted to work with kids, and finally, I was getting my opportunity to do so as a brand-new fourth-grade teacher.
I spent countless hours that summer setting up my first classroom. Then, ripe with anticipation, the day finally came. My first opportunity. My very own students.
Mark Wieder, my mentor and a veteran teacher, taught across the hall in room 303. He had twenty-six years of teaching experience and was the heart and soul of our school. He was brilliant. He was funny. His kids excelled. He was exactly the kind of teacher I wanted to become. He was the kind of teacher every kid wanted.
How do I know?
On my very first day teaching, it seemed as if every student walked into my classroom hanging his or her head and saying, “I really wish I had Mr. Wieder this year.”
Yes, really. And I couldn’t blame them.
From the moment I met Mark, I understood why. He was passionate. He was fun. His love for people and for learning radiated in all that he did.
Just before my first day began, Mark and I stood in the hallway and talked for a few minutes, and I can remember my excitement to this day. It about paralleled the nerves I felt at the time. Just before the bell rang, Mark put his arm around my shoulders, looked at me, and said, “Tom, as your mentor, if there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s that this work is about loving and caring about kids. Everything else, and I mean everything else, is secondary to that. It’s all about relationships. Tom, if you keep that core to all you do, you’ll have amazing success in your career. If you lose sight of that, as your mentor, I’ll give you two options: one, get out and go do something different, or two, refocus on it. The kids who are about to walk down this hallway need you. For some, you may be all that they have this year. Don’t you ever forget that. Relationships first, everything else comes second.”
The bell rang, and my first set of students walked down the hallway, ready for their first day of fourth grade. Little did I know, at that moment, what would happen over the course of the school year would fundamentally change who I was as an educator and who I was as a person. I’d learn more in that year about people, loving others, and what teaching was truly about than I had in any course, in any student-teaching experience, or in any previous life experience. My first school year would challenge me to my core and alter my mindset.
My first class of students was challenging. As much as I enjoyed working with them, they were a difficult group. Similar to previous years, many of them struggled with their behavior; albeit being brand new, I’m sure I also struggled as a teacher because I had so much to learn.
From across the hall, I’d watch Mark. His students laughed often, as did he. In the morning, kids would run to him. It seemed that every afternoon when the bell rang, people would come back to visit. Decades later, I still remember one particular Friday afternoon vividly.
A young couple, holding a baby, walked down the hallway toward Mark’s room. I glanced at them, assuming they were the parents of one of his students, but I’d soon learn that they weren’t.
“Mr. Wieder,” the man said as he waved from the back of Mark’s room. “I’m Sam. I was in your class twenty years ago. Do you remember me?”
Immediately, Mark responded, “Sam! Of course I do. Come on in.”
Sam looked at his wife, smiled, and said, “Honey, this is the teacher I’ve always told you about, Mr. Wieder. That’s him!” I watched in awe as Mark walked to the back of the room, gave Sam a huge hug, and then introduced himself to Sam’s bride.
Sam went on, “Mr. Wieder, this is our baby girl. She’s five months old now. We’re here visiting my parents for the weekend, so I wanted her to meet my favorite teacher.”
I was twenty-one years old. This man had been Mark’s student the year after I was born, and Mark remembered Sam and his class after two decades. I watched in awe. Would that ever be me? Would students remember me and my classroom as they did his years later? Would students want to come back and visit me? Would I leave that type of legacy? Would I be the kind of teacher they’d tell their children about decades later?
As those first few weeks went on, I watched Mark lead. When he’d walk into the faculty room, people would smile. He made people laugh. Never once did I hear Mark complain. He brought his best every single day—and it showed. Mark practiced what he preached to his students. His students loved him for it and so did the team around him.
Meanwhile, across the hall, I was simply trying to survive. Like any new teacher, I found just keeping my head above water was a challenge. I wasn’t concerned about long-term planning. I was more concerned about being ready for tomorrow (and sometimes just making it through the day). My students had a tremendous set of needs, and each day seemed to bring a different challenge. I was inexperienced, and I’m sure it really showed on more than one occasion.
I finally lost it in October of that first year. Having felt like I had exhausted every option and feeling deep down that I was failing, I exploded in the faculty room one day during lunch.
After a frustrating morning, I walked in, huffing and puffing, and threw myself into a chair, slamming my hand on the faculty room lunch table.
“He’s not getting it!” I blurted out. “He’s not changing. I call home almost every day. I hardly ever hear back. He’s disrespectful. He doesn’t listen. He does what he wants. I can’t take it anymore. I hold him in for recess almost every day. The mom never even calls me back. I can’t deal with this
