Every May, teachers are enveloped in a wave of gratitude.
It comes in the form of hand-made trinkets from students, heartfelt notes from families, and iced lattes delivered to our desks. No doubt, these gestures are the keepsakes of our profession; they are the kind reminders that our people see us and value the care we pour into our schools.
As I look across the landscape of education this year, I’m struck not just by the sheer scale of that care, but by the expertise it takes to cultivate it.
There are 3.2 million school teachers in America. That’s 3.2 million people who have chosen to use their skillsets and talents to serve our students. 3.2 million colleagues deserving of appreciation.
I don’t have 3.2 million gift cards, but what I can offer is this: Teachers, I tell you, with no hesitations, no exceptions, you deserve to celebrate every contribution you have made to the blueprint of our nation. Because after spending this year talking to educators across our country, I know one thing more fervently than anything else — the heart of a teacher is fortified by the mind of a master craftsman.
We often describe the impact of educators with grandiose verbs: they “nurture,” they “transform,” they “change lives.” But beyond the inspiration the public sees is a complex, nuanced, delicate trade that is as much an art as it is a science.
Social stereotypes often depict teaching as a profession of rights and wrongs. The tests are multiple choice, the essays are written in formulas, the class activities are designed to lead to predetermined conclusions. But what I’ve seen in classrooms across the country is anything but automated: teachers are using their professional excellence to conduct symphonies composed of students’ authenticity and originality.
In our schools, students aren’t just sitting in rows and reciting mere facts. We aren’t guiding thirty brains toward single, universal truths. No; we are doing something much more difficult and much more vital. We are providing the structural integrity, the rhetorical tools, and the intellectual opportunities that enable thirty different young people to offer thirty different ideas to a world in need of every single one of them.
Teachers do not lead learners to a promised land that we’ve already constructed; we enable them to build their own.
Although this may seem like an optional use of creative license, it is, in reality, an essential act of public service. The planet our children are inheriting requires a diversity of concepts that we cannot possibly envision from where we stand. When we build the frameworks for their learning, we aren’t handing our students a GPS programmed with infallible directions — we are giving them a compass attuned to their True North.
The most profound examples of our craft often happen in the quietest moments. It’s that second when a teacher steps back and realizes the “vibe” of the room has shifted. The students are no longer looking to an adult for the answer; they are looking at the evidence, at each other, and at their own unfolding logic.
This year, while I’ve stepped out of the classroom myself, I’ve seen this shift in beautiful, unconventional ways. In a parking lot conversation about AI with two graduates now studying levels of science I can’t even comprehend. In a conference center ballroom, where a high school choir’s national anthem was worthy of the Super Bowl. In a group chat filled with the posters, projects, essays, and accolades of children from literally every state and territory in our nation.
Each of these examples is special and unique. But they demonstrate what every teacher already undoubtedly knows: the evolution of our students from learners to leaders isn’t magic. It is high-level engineering. It is the intentional result of teachers’ expertise, guidance, and discernment.
From the outside, a visitor might see a room full of energetic children and think it looks like chaos. But a fellow teacher sees the intentional design. They see kingdoms ruled by kids– where the fortresses are made of Legos, the laws are written on dry-erase boards, and the taxes are paid in sticks of gum and fidget spinners. They see that the flag raised each week is simply the most colorful sweatshirt left in the lost-and-found bin, but that it represents a community built from scratch.
Within those walls- no matter where they have been raised- learning is the national language. It’s spoken by every student, transcribed by every teacher. In crayon or glitter gel pen, in English or otherwise- it asks questions, it takes risks, it seeks help from friends and strangers, it dares to believe in itself and others.
There is no singular message I could write that adequately recognizes the work of our country’s teachers. But this week, I wholeheartedly acknowledge the sheer brilliance of our shared blueprint. Across our nation, we have dedicated our efforts to designing the most beautiful and essential spaces of growth and belonging.
To my colleagues: thank you for all that you do and for how hard you are working. This week is about honoring and appreciating the effort you bring to your classrooms because that effort, in turn, becomes so much more. Teachers, you are crafting our country; you are fortifying our future. And you are doing so by demonstrating one of the most important skills we ask of humankind — holding your own truth while letting your learners discover theirs. You are building a better world by letting others build it themselves.
You are the architects of the architects.
Happy Teacher Appreciation Week.
Writer’s Note: Thank you to so many members of our state teacher of the year network for sharing your classrooms as part of this post. I’m grateful not just for the incredible work you are doing for your communities, but to count you as part of my own community, too. Photos provided by: Lindsey Wilson (NB), Dawn Sievers (MT), Susan Harris Boring (DOWEA), Kurt Russell (OH), Rebecka Peterson (OK), Shauna Waters (MS), Holly Witcher (GA), Autumn Rivera (CO), Liz Anstine (KS), Chaselle McConnell (US Virgin Islands), Jennifer Montgomery (KY), Caitlin Macleod-Bluver (VT), Heidi Cornell (ID).