After a discussion about one of those things in education that sometimes feels like it’s never going to change, I asked myself, “Why me?”

Who am I to think that I can change things?  Things have been this way for YEARS, so why should I expect that I’m going to do something and things are going to change.  The eternal optimist in me believes that anything possible.  The reality is, sometimes I doubt the possibilities. Even worse, I doubt myself.

I think a billion times a day, “Maybe I’ll try that next year.” Having a plan for later feels safe.  Talking about the plan even makes you feel good, because you are definitely going to do something. Definitely. Later on. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week.  Maybe in a year.

Or, there’s always today.

A few days ago, I came across this note on Twitter.  It was posted by an Apple employee.  It’s a simple note they receive on their first day of work.   It’s about not just doing “work” but doing your “life’s work.”  I think most of us, as teachers, can completely understand it… our fingerprints, sacrificing weekends, and swimming in the deep end.  That’s just what it feels like when you are doing what you love, no matter what field you are in.

We can show our students how to love learning like that.  I hope Apple doesn’t mind, but I borrowed their inspirational words and mixed in “Learning.”  This is going on my classroom door next year.  Because THIS is what our classrooms should be all about.  Thanks you, Apple, for the inspiration.

Sometimes I know exactly what I want to write.  Some days, I know just what to say.  Some moments, I am left speechless. Sometimes I can focus on what matters with absolute ease.  Some days I get caught up in the “stuff” that doesn’t even truly make a difference. But, in one moment of clarity, everything makes perfect sense.

The world will never “get” what happens in our classroom.  The things we do won’t show up on a rating scale.  Congress can’t make a “law” to ensure that what we have in our classroom continues.  What we do has nothing to do with how much money I am paid, nor with what kind of textbooks we have or don’t have.   We aren’t even defined by a curriculum or a workbook.  We are not about facts or information.

We are a family that learns together. We share. We grow. We support each other.  It cannot be measured.  It cannot even truly be explained.  But, it can be appreciated. In one note from a student, everything makes sense.

When we try to make teaching all about our minds, we completely forget that it’s just as much, if not more, about our hearts.

So…. do you want to have an extraordinary day in the classroom? Don’t wait for it to happen to you. Make it happen.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.”

Have you ever said that? It’s only true if you believe it.

Last week I asked my class to write down what they wanted to be in the future and hold it up in front of them.  I stood there, snapping photos, until a student came up with her sign.  It said “World Changer.”  I looked through my lens and realized what I was seeing.  I hit the focus button and the words “World Changer” became crystal clear.

Have I been so caught up in the negativity and the problems in education that I was failing to really see what was through my lens?  This past year, working hard on my doctorate, getting lost in making plans, listening to a stream of voices, including those in my head, that try to drown out what learning is all about.  Maybe.  But, I won’t make that mistake again.

Because her sign? It was a bold reminder of what every day in the classroom is about.  Next week I will say goodbye to this group of kids and I hope they know that I’m so proud of the amazing people I’ve watched them become over the last several years.

I also hope they know I am so grateful for the daily reminders to not only live an extraordinary life as a teacher, but to be sure to focus on it, enjoy it, and recognize it.

“Never say you ‘just teach” was a message in Adam Bellow‘s keynote at METC 12 this past February.  Never believe that. Or it will become true.

Classroom environment.  It’s the little thing that makes  a BIG difference.

Less flourescent lighting, more lamps and cozy corners.

Less rows of desks, more scattered low “coffee tables” painted in bright colors with floor pillows to sit on.

Less hard tile floor, more scattered carpet remnants.

Less wide open spaces, more fabric hung to divide the room into learning nooks.

Less sterile color schemes, more bright colors that say “Happy to be here.”

Less “Rules” posted, more inspirational quotes all over the place.

Less quiet, more engaging soft background music behind the conversations.

Less computers in rows, more small tech stations, with stools, and conversation areas, and tablets to move around.

Less desks, more clipboards, beanbags, and places to move.

Less control, more freedom.

Less teacher lecture, more student questions.

Less half-tos, more choices.

Because with learning, less is sometimes more.

You know when you try something new in your classroom and it flops?  Like the kind of flop where you just scrap the entire project and move on?  It’s a failure.  But, what happens?  You learn from it.  We have this preconceived notion as teachers that we are supposed to know everything, make sure every lesson is perfect for our students, and avoid failure at all costs.  What happens if we embraced failure instead?

Our students would see that it’s okay to fail.  We’d be taking more risks.  We’d all be learning.  We’d be growing as teachers because we’d be figuring out new ways to do things, based on foundations of ways that just didn’t work.  That tech tool that turned out to be horrible?  That project that just never got off the ground?   Isn’t that better than 100 days of mundane safe, sameness?  It’s not really about failing, it’s about growing.

Failure.

It’s the new success.

Whatever you do today in your classroom, find laughter.  You probably don’t have to look far.  Kids are hilarious. Creative. Witty. Fun.

As we prepared to write our historical figure project paragraphs, I said “Okay guys, put your real first and last name at the top, not your historical figure.”   He took me seriously. Because he knew it was funny.  It was funny.  So meet Mr. Your Real First and Last Name.

Like I said, whatever you do today, find laughter in your classroom.