Now I feel compelled to talk about what we’ve tried before, what worked and what didn’t, while defending my colleagues against accusations of not wanting to change – of being stuck in our ways. After a mid-year professional development session, I was debriefing with the leadership team when fellow veterans asked about the whys and wherefores of what we were doing, the school’s commitment to change, cost and trade-offs, and where else the ideas had worked. The team interpreted much of this questioning as hostility and fear. “Teachers here are afraid of change,” a new colleague suggested, and I felt a wave of frustration as my mind raced through the history of past reforms and initiatives that failed over the years.

While new colleagues hear hostility and fear, I hear my veteran colleagues asking healthy questions, because I know they want and expect to have a voice in our direction. Our worries come from the fact that we have already tried things that did not work and that we want so badly to find something that will work. We carry the scars of those past experiences and I’ve spent more time than I ever wanted trying to explain how we got here. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t also acknowledge that I’m afraid we’re comfortable and want it to stay that way. Change is hard and we find many ways to resist it, even when it can lead us to what we want. Since I started teaching, we have struggled to make a meaningful dent in our most persistent issues.

As a seasoned teacher, I am part of the system. I have been complicit in producing inequitable outcomes throughout my career, even as I have worked to change it. Looking at our school’s report card, the disparities in our ELA scores between black and white students have worsened over the past 12 years. Obviously, the responsibility for these results does not lie solely with me. Nevertheless, I cannot hide the fact that I was part of it.

I have devoted a lot of energy over the years to different reforms and ideas that would make the school more inclusive, more engaging, more relevant, more successful and more equitable. We explored project-based learning, character education, and lengthening the school day. Looking at the same results, what should we show for this?

We tried this

I desperately I want schools to change, but the kinds of change I hear about sound so familiar to me that I don’t see them leading anywhere else. Attending a recent reform pitch from an organization we partnered with to make our results fairer, I could see many of our old practices reflected in what they were offering. I watched as my new co-workers gazed excitedly at an innovative future, and all I remembered were our attempts to get to a similar place in the past. But saying it out loud seemed pointless, like I was just another old teacher saying it couldn’t be done.

Sometimes a part of me wishes I could sit around that table, forget what I’ve been through, and cling to that fresh new job with the excitement I used to feel for the next big thing. It was a big energy that helped fuel change in my building before, and schools will need it if we’re going to evolve. Remembering this part of my identity as a teacher is important, but I have to associate it with what I learned.

My institutional knowledge helps me see where we went wrong so we can improve our chances of success next time. It is useful as long as we are committed to learning from it. Our past experiences won’t show us exactly where we need to go, but they can help us find effective ways to get there. In a time of heavy turnover, learning from those who have been there, especially those who have stayed, can teach us what is possible.

I wish that over the past decade new leaders and colleagues had spent more time learning what our school had tried and what we thought worked. Bridging the gap between newcomers to school and those already there is key to creating a strong culture and the foundation for growth. Creating a habit of dialogue and listening where new and experienced staff talk about their experiences, goals, and motivations—so that experienced teachers who say “we tried this” aren’t heard as saying “it can’t be done”—can help us avoid pitfalls and pitfalls that have occurred in the past and help us succeed in the future.

Tinker around the edges

Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that when turnover and constant change is a feature of the system, and not a bug or a problem, it can lead to a false sense of progress. New initiatives make us feel like we’re making a difference – feeling like we’re doing something – when we’re just tinkering around the edges. My experience tells me that we need to talk more about bigger ideas than tweaking an old system, which may even seem impossible if we limit our thinking to what schools are like right now. I want to help newcomers to my school to understand that our efforts and our energy to change must go further. We need new energy to propel us forward, aiming at knowing what we have done before.

As I return to the conference table this fall, I wonder if I have the energy to keep trying new ideas, or if I’ve seen it all and been overcome by the insurmountable challenge. I know that the experiences shared over the past year have formed a common understanding that will help us grow. I still believe the job can be done and that we can create schools that produce equitable outcomes and prepare students to live in a diverse democracy with the skills they will need to navigate an uncertain future. To achieve this goal, I must continue to tell the story of what we have tried and encourage those around me to dream bigger. Schools go through many changes, and how they adapt to that change – learning from the past and incorporating new ideas and energy – is key to creating viable schools of the future.