This week, I return to California to join the 2026 State Teachers of the Year cohort for their program orientation.
I have looked forward to this trip for a whole year. Because over the past 12 months, one of the most tremendous gifts I have ever received in my career began in this moment.
To be clear, this is not a gift exclusive to STOYs, so reader keep reading, I promise, there’s a spot here for you, too. It’s not the title. It’s not the travel. It’s not the PD that any of us most value from our shared experience.
It’s the people.
Educators are masters of creating culture. Our classrooms are micro-communities; a school year is like its own brief blip on the timeline of human history. But as irony often has it, sometimes we become so focused on building belonging for our students that we fail to do so for ourselves. Like parents, we put aside our own needs and prioritize our kids’. When it’s a moment here or there, it’s sensible, feasible. But as the pressures of this profession continue to swell (I won’t bother listing what we already know), how swiftly that temporary backseat can become our permanent spot. And when we get there, how quickly we risk becoming forever friends with our sworn adversaries- Burnout, Cynicism, and Doubt.
No matter how many years you clock on this job, teaching is never going to be easy. But I believe it can get better— if you know where to look. Sometimes we search for Better in the latest ed tech, sometimes we find it for a fleeting moment in a splurge on Spring Break. On our most frustrating days, we wonder if perhaps Better has moved to the Principal’s Office or down the road to Central Admin. But I’ve found that Better holds a permanent residence in the most familiar of places; it makes its home where lifelong learning lives.
When teachers submit a conference proposal, sign up to be a volunteer coach, apply for a fellowship, or request a membership to their professional organizations, they aren’t looking the accolades or the resume boosters or the days off (who wants to do more subplans??). They’re looking for a place where they know they can grow, where they’ll build life-changing relationships, where they’ll seek challenges that redefine the limits of their success. They’re looking… for a classroom.
When educators are encouraged to be learners themselves, teachers reap the same benefits of the environments we create for our young people, and we once again feel the limitless potential that exists only in the privilege of being a student. When space is made for connection, and community is cultivated in earnest, open-minded optimism, we rediscover our sense of purpose and give ourselves permission to be wholly human — hopeful, eager, and hardworking. Proud, imperfect, and impassioned. Champions of one another, and works in forward progress, ourselves.
Over the past year, that’s exactly the space I’ve been lucky enough to live, work, and grow in as a member of the 2025 State Teachers of the Year cohort. The opportunity, freedom, and encouragement to redefine my role as an educator, to raise my voice, to listen with both ears, to ask hard questions, to sit at big tables… that’s what the STOY Class of 2025 gave to me… what we gave to one another…. and what I am so excited to pass on to another 56 incredible teachers.
In a profession where so much of your day and your decisions fall solely on your shoulders, you need a work-family, a group with shared visions and lived experiences that accepts you, that challenges you, that seeks your guidance and offers you wisdom. Community matters. Fellowship matters. Solidarity and safe havens matter. These systems, these people… they are the essential support we need to rise. to lead. to teach.
Like I said- this gift isn’t limited to this program. We can find it in national cohorts or just across the hall, in perfectly-choreographed plenaries and chaotic group chats. In the past, I’ve found it over cups of mint tea, in comedy clubs after long days at Teachers College. In Sunday grading sessions at the coffee shop and committee meetings in the main office.
Wherever the giant leaps become manageable steps, wherever the hard work feels more like heart work… those are the spaces that nurture our growth, that serve as our landing zones and our launching pads.
This year, my community has scheduled space missions and museum visits. It has included tuxes and gowns and meetings on Capitol Hill. It sounded like live brass bands and 6-word memoirs. And it gave us truth from our young people, and blessings from our elders. These are lessons I’m taking with me as this classroom welcomes in a new roster of eager students. These are the enduring understandings that have imprinted on who I am as an educator.
For every teacher everywhere, I hope you, too, have found your folks. I hope you are making room for yourself and for your learning. I hope you are building belonging with people who give you your flowers on your best days and help you to grow your garden on your hardest ones. Such self-investment is absolutely what teachers need, and more importantly, it is what we entirely deserve.
The 2025 State Teachers of the Year final gathering was held in Miami last month, where the College Football Playoff’s Extra Yard Foundation curated a weekend filled with joyful learning, gentle reflection, and epic celebration. In the days since, I have felt permanently flooded with appreciation, happiness, and pride for my own community of incredible educators, innovators, and advocates- for the journey we have taken and the camaraderie we have built.
As I reunite with our STOY alumni to invite the Class of 2026 into their cohort, I’m sending all my love and and gratitude to my fellow 2025s. You made this past year of Better my very best yet.
