THE BRIDGE - AUGUST 24, 2025
My first year of teaching was nothing like I imagined. Fresh out of my credential program, I stepped into a 9th and 10th-grade English classroom in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City.
My students came from all five boroughs. Most had been sent to our school after struggling at their local ones—our program was seen as a “last resort” before more serious interventions.
The reality of my classroom, my school, and my students was so far from what I had pictured when I thought about being a teacher.
I wish I could go back and whisper to myself on that very first day: “These students need you just as you are.”
But in those first weeks, everything felt so out of control.
I was in a new city, in a demanding job, and I thought the only way to survive was to put up walls and run a tight, controlled ship.
What I didn’t realize was that my students didn’t need the “perfect” teacher version of me.
They needed my fresh perspective, my open heart, and my willingness to try new ideas.
One of the clearest examples of this came when I introduced Harry Potter as our class book. I divided my students into Hogwarts houses and created themed activities connected to the story.
Suddenly, there was excitement in the room. They leaned into the challenge, embraced the competition, and saw themselves reflected in something bigger than our classroom.
For once, school didn’t feel like a punishment or a last resort—it felt like belonging.
That first year taught me one of the hardest lessons of my career: I could not take my students’ struggles on as my own.
Many of them faced enormous challenges outside of school—challenges I couldn’t fix no matter how much I wanted to. The best I could do was create a classroom space that felt safe, positive, and supportive.
My role was not to erase their difficulties but to ensure that, for at least 45 minutes a day, they felt seen, heard, and valued.
Looking back, I see that one of my greatest strengths was my persistence in creativity.
Even when my lessons were interrupted by fights or derailed by behavior challenges, I kept designing engaging experiences.
- My 10th graders performed infomercials for a persuasive writing unit.
- We invited a Holocaust survivor into our classroom while reading Night.
- Students acted out scenes from Walter Dean Myers’ Monster to deepen their understanding of character development and plot.
No matter what was happening outside the classroom door, inside, I tried to make learning feel alive.
If a brand-new teacher came to me today feeling overwhelmed, I’d share a quote that has guided me for years.
“Be yourself so that the people looking for you can find you.” – Arlan Hamilton
That’s the advice I wish I had heard at the start. You don’t need to be anyone else’s version of a teacher.
Your students need you—your quirks, your ideas, your passion. They need the classroom you create when you lean into your strengths instead of hiding them.
When I look back at my first-year self, I see someone who was trying so hard to be in control that she almost missed the chance to truly connect.
If I could reach across time, I’d remind her that teaching isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence.
It’s about showing up fully as yourself so your students know they can, too.
