What’s Your Expiration Date?
My wife Elizabeth is a wonderful woman — but in many ways, we’re the pure definition of opposites attract. She loves to stay up late and I’m an “early-to-bed” kind of guy. She’s reserved and polite, while I’m loud and obnoxious! She loves a clean and tidy bedroom, while my clothes are strewn from one corner to another.
One of our greatest differences surrounds our attitudes towards expiration dates on food. Like many guys, I’ll literally eat anything and rarely do expiration dates even cross my mind. My wife, on the other hand, looks over expiration dates religiously — and simply refuses to eat anything “past-its-prime.” We’ve had countless afternoon meals interrupted by emergency trips to the grocery store for new bottles of ketchup in the history of our marriage!
On a recent trip to replace some dinner rolls that were a bit crunchy around the edges, I got a call from an assistant principal friend of mine who has been urging me to move into a new role beyond the classroom for years now. “I heard that there’s an opening in central office,” Parry said, “Are you planning to apply?”
“Never!” I responded, “You leave the classroom only when you can’t hack it anymore — Those kinds of jobs are where teachers go to die!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Parry pushed back. “There’s tons of great work being done beyond the classroom. A new position might just allow you to see education from a broader perspective if you ever bothered to look. In many ways, you’ve limited your influence and your own professional growth by staying a teacher, Bill.”
Frustrated and starving, I hung up — but I haven’t stopped thinking about expiration dates ever since!
You see, much of what I think makes me unique as a teacher leader is that I haven’t left the classroom yet. Selfishly — and somewhat arrogantly — I cringe when professionals who haven’t worked directly with students for decades describe themselves as teacher leaders. “When was the last time they actually taught?” I sarcastically wonder. “They’re clearly beyond their expiration dates!”
But even though I’m somewhat hung up on the idea that being a practicing teacher brings a measure of freshness to my work as a leader, I also recognize that there are far more opportunities to be a difference-maker beyond my classroom than there are in it. Influential decisions affecting thousands of kids are made by those filling the instructional leadership roles that I’ve consistently turned away from.
So I guess what I’m left to wonder is when does distance from the classroom decrease a teacher’s credibility? Do your skills drift almost immediately? After one year? Five years? Ten years? Does your credibility with colleagues ever completely expire?
How can teachers extend their “shelf-life,” holding on to a legitimate understanding of what it means to be a classroom teacher after stepping into leadership roles beyond the classroom? What actions can accomplished educators take to remain master practitioners when they are no longer practicing?
My wife Elizabeth is a wonderful woman — but in many ways, we’re the pure definition of opposites attract. She loves to stay up late and I’m an “early-to-bed” kind of guy. She’s reserved and polite, while I’m loud and obnoxious! She loves a clean and tidy bedroom, while my clothes are strewn from one corner to another.
One of our greatest differences surrounds our attitudes towards expiration dates on food. Like many guys, I’ll literally eat anything and rarely do expiration dates even cross my mind. My wife, on the other hand, looks over expiration dates religiously — and simply refuses to eat anything “past-its-prime.” We’ve had countless afternoon meals interrupted by emergency trips to the grocery store for new bottles of ketchup in the history of our marriage!
On a recent trip to replace some dinner rolls that were a bit crunchy around the edges, I got a call from an assistant principal friend of mine who has been urging me to move into a new role beyond the classroom for years now. “I heard that there’s an opening in central office,” Parry said, “Are you planning to apply?”
“Never!” I responded, “You leave the classroom only when you can’t hack it anymore — Those kinds of jobs are where teachers go to die!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Parry pushed back. “There’s tons of great work being done beyond the classroom. A new position might just allow you to see education from a broader perspective if you ever bothered to look. In many ways, you’ve limited your influence and your own professional growth by staying a teacher, Bill.”
Frustrated and starving, I hung up — but I haven’t stopped thinking about expiration dates ever since!
You see, much of what I think makes me unique as a teacher leader is that I haven’t left the classroom yet. Selfishly — and somewhat arrogantly — I cringe when professionals who haven’t worked directly with students for decades describe themselves as teacher leaders. “When was the last time they actually taught?” I sarcastically wonder. “They’re clearly beyond their expiration dates!”
But even though I’m somewhat hung up on the idea that being a practicing teacher brings a measure of freshness to my work as a leader, I also recognize that there are far more opportunities to be a difference-maker beyond my classroom than there are in it. Influential decisions affecting thousands of kids are made by those filling the instructional leadership roles that I’ve consistently turned away from.
So I guess what I’m left to wonder is when does distance from the classroom decrease a teacher’s credibility? Do your skills drift almost immediately? After one year? Five years? Ten years? Does your credibility with colleagues ever completely expire?
How can teachers extend their “shelf-life,” holding on to a legitimate understanding of what it means to be a classroom teacher after stepping into leadership roles beyond the classroom? What actions can accomplished educators take to remain master practitioners when they are no longer practicing?
posted by Bill Ferriter at 10:42 AM
3 Comments:
Bill, thanks for your provocative article on 'teacher shelf-life' after leaving the classroom. I, too, felt justified in being a teacher trainer as long as I continued to teach my own classes. This past year, however, I could no longer continue teaching and travel for workshops, coaching, and conferences. Although I miss the regular interaction with students in the classroom, I try to stay 'fresh' by giving regular demonstration lesson in real classrooms with the teacher's curriculum (not a canned lesson). I continue to go to continuing education conferences and find that my expanded experience as a coach and teacher trainer has actually made me 'fresher'. I have so many NEW insights to share with other teachers because I'm not limited to just experiences from my own classroom. Thanks for initiating this discussion! Beth
Beth wrote:
I have so many NEW insights to share with other teachers because I'm not limited to just experiences from my own classroom. Thanks for initiating this discussion
This is definitely an interesting discussion, Beth...and one I'm wrestling with simply because I want influence---and that's something I can't find from the classroom.
Now, don't take me the wrong way here, but I find myself turning away from teacher trainers who come back from conferences with new insights only because they inevitably translate into more work for me!
It's always difficult to hear someone who doesn't grade papers, doesn't plan daily lessons, doesn't have parent conferences, doesn't deal with discipline and doesn't have to worry about their end of grade test scores make suggestions about how my instruction should change.
Does any of this make sense? I guess I'm just buckling under all of the new tasks I'm being asked to do as an educator while watching nothing really change about the work worlds of those beyond the classroom.
Is this "us v. them" mentality just a reality in the schools that I've worked in, or is it common in other buildings around America? What causes it? How can it be "fixed?"
Bill
Perhaps another question to ask is what role do you have in relation to the classroom teacher?
If it were a leadership role, then who else would be more qualified than an accomplished educator? If a coaching role who better suited to coach than the role model, the teacher leader, or the teacher who makes ordinary extraordinary?
Perhaps when the distance away from the classroom prevents you from supporting teachers and adding value to their professional development is it time to question your purpose.
In the sports profession when looking at a successful coach you usually find a former successful athlete. As experience and opportunity presented itself, these athletes moved into a different role in supporting the organization. Why is this different in education?
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