It Really Does Take A Village

I started my teaching career as a volunteer in a program called Inner-City Teaching Corps. The idea was simple: take recent college graduates, put them in a house together, train them, and assign them to classrooms in Chicago. The idea came from other models like Teach for America and the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. This program was different in that it was only based in Chicago, it was only teaching, and it was a two-year commitment.

During those two years, while learning on the fly how to teach in a school where the Free & Reduced Lunch rate hovered between 99 - 100%, I ate, slept, and breathed for that school and my community of fellow volunteer teachers. I often was one of the first ones in the door and one of the last ones out. The front doors to the school were chained every night to prevent people from breaking in, and at some point in my second year, I asked the principal if I could have the padlock key for it. I coached some of the athletic teams and wanted to stay working in my classroom beyond when the last person left. 

Since I had the key to the padlock, I could then also be the first one in. There was so much I could get done in a quiet building, and since I was still desperately learning how to teach on the near Westside of Chicago, I had a lot of work to do. 

During one of my many conversations with my principal, I mentioned something about the amount of time the volunteers were spending in the school. Given my age, my lack of real-world experience, and my privilege, I'm confident I was a little full of myself and my fellow volunteers. While I don't remember what she said to me word-for-word, the message put me in my place, and it is something that stays with me to this day. 

She told me that the amount of time we spend, as volunteers, is precisely what we are supposed to be doing. We have no family, we have no children, we have no other commitments outside of this building. My principal then went on to tell me about a teacher that had a spouse in the hospital and had to leave with her students. She told me there was a paraprofessional whose son had moved back in after struggling with drugs. She shared that we had an administrative assistant who had not been feeling well for several weeks, who was also out of sick time because she was caring for her daughter's children, and could not afford to take any unpaid days for herself. 

And that was just what my twenty-three-year-old rookie teacher self needed. I was put squarely in my place. Yes, I was a volunteer. Yes, I spent almost every waking hour at my school, including on the weekends. Yes, I was the first one in the building, and the last one to leave. And that was precisely what I was supposed to be doing. I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else.

I still put my pants on one leg at a time, even as the Superintendent of Schools. Simply because I am at the top of the organizational chart does not give me any "superpowers," beyond that of any other member of the St. Johnsbury School District. I am, however, privileged to hear about people's stories when it comes to their work and their need for time away from their jobs.

So I get to know who needs time away for pregnancies and for funerals. I listen to the stories of people who need Family Medical Leave for themselves, and for their family members. I have sat with people who have cried tears of joy in my office, as well as consoled them when they've cried tears of sorrow and sadness. One of the most humbling parts of leadership is that we walk with people on their life journey, and they share their stories with us.

My twenty-three-year-old self would want to remind us of this: Everyone we serve with is doing everything they can, at that time in their life, for their students. I firmly believe that to cultivate and maintain a healthy and vibrant school culture, we must start there. We have faculty and staff that are first in and last out. We have faculty and staff that need to arrive right on time and leave right with our students. We have faculty and staff that can coach and moderate co-curricular activities. We have faculty and staff that have no spare time.

The bottom line is this: we all need each other, at our best. Our school district does not function to the best of its ability without all the people in it. Every single adult makes a difference in the lives of our students and our colleagues. Every single adult has a story that brought them to our building and has a story waiting for them every time they leave our building.

I am proud to be a part of the St. Johnsbury Village.

Photo Courtesy of S.T.R.E.E.T.S Youth Center

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