Elementary teachers have a solid reputation as pack rats. And for good reason. The sheer amount of STUFF it takes to teach elementary school is mind-boggling. Here’s the tip of the iceberg:
-books for reading
-games, puzzles, activities, art supplies, writing supplies, room decor…
…and that’s only for one grade level. Those of us who have bounced around from grade to grade are well aware that the unit on earthquakes isn’t what our kids need NOW, but may be next year when we have to take on a completely different assignment.
This year, I begin my twenty-fifth year of teaching. It surprises me to say it, and it REALLY surprised my mom to hear it (no, she hasn’t gotten any older since I left college – why do you ask?).
Just imagine the incredible amount of teacher stuff I’ve amassed in the last two and a half decades. Just take a peek:
…not quite what you expected? I figured. To be fair, this is exactly half of my stuff. I have a duplicate set of these materials at my second school. But no. I don’t have much stuff.
Perhaps it would help you to know that this year, in my twenty-fifth year of education, I will have tallied more instructional spaces than I have years of teaching.
Which means that I’ve moved. A lot. So now I’m trained. Each August and June signals my twice-yearly ritual to de-clutter, to lighten my load so that my footprint remains small.
Some of my spaces have been generous, open, well-lit, welcoming. Others have been glorified closets, or hallways, or hastily-devised spaces, or meeting spaces, or repurposed storage areas that were never meant to be places for instruction.
I generally don’t mind moving, sharing space, or being asked to foster learning and development in the strangest of places. Ten years ago? I took it personally. Now? I don’t mind as much. And I think it’s because getting lean with my belongings has taught me:
-It’s not me. It’s easy to equate space with power, or priority.* It’s easy to think that I’m pushed out of one spot or another because I – or even worse, my students! – am not valued. But that’s generally not the case.
-Community is community. It doesn’t matter what’s on the walls. Or where I keep my books. As long as my loveys have the space and the materials they truly need, we can create a place where they can explore and thrive. And that’s what matters.
Granted, if you came to me with a space that’s generous, open, well-lit or welcoming, I would take it in a heartbeat. But now I also know that that’s not everything. I’m happy to be where I am. I’m happy to be doing what I’m doing. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Now if you need me, I’ll be packing. Or unpacking. Or maybe packing again…
*Ahhh….the power dynamic within elementary schools. This is a BIG idea. One I should explore in a future blog post. Stay tuned.
©Lainie Levin, 2019