Her handshake told me all I needed to know. It was strong and firm, and she looked me directly in the eye. 

She will pick and choose her battles wisely, for she already has enough confidence to know that her worth doesn’t come from having the last word in an argument with a middle schooler. Her classroom will run like a well-oiled machine.

And to think that she was in high school during the pandemic.

His professional emails were short and to the point, and he was persistent without being pushy. We solved his curriculum integration problem in short order, for he needed access to his online textbook materials for planning purposes. A large, wooden cut-out of the profile of a mounted deer hangs in his classroom. The students will love him for it.

She reached out to me first about completing her alternative certificate application. I did not have to track her down. She came to me with a purpose in mind, and although I already had her on my list, her initiative is commendable. Good thing, too. She is a kindergarten teacher, and those babies’ needs will never wait.

New Teacher, you still have much to learn, but you’re going to be okay.

How do I know? There are lots of us still around who were new teachers not that many years ago, and if we had it to do over again, we’d make the same choice.

But we need you, new teachers. We need you to settle in and make this your life for the next few decades.

You see, there are so many of us at the end of our careers. It might not be tomorrow, but another year or two, or four or five, and that will be it.

Who will be left to carry on?

We call it sustainability in the world of educational planning, grant writing, and project development, usually regarding funding: how are we going to keep the fire going when and if the money runs out?

In this case, what will happen to education when the people with the “know-how” decide to take it to the house?

I look at the schools in my district, and a wave of retirement is coming. There are too many of us with 25 and more years of experience. Some of us are having grandchildren. Some have shifting priorities. Some have new opportunities.

All are getting older.

Some of us are also tired. Age and experience bring wisdom, but the empathy that the job requires is a daily drain to the mental and emotional lifeforce that keeps our souls going. So do the additional mandates; there are multiple new requirements each year, many of them with a legal component that make teachers and principals feel like they need a law degree to keep doing their job.

And it’s primarily the public schools that are affected. Don’t cut my tongue out for saying this. I’m not against private schools. I’m not against home schools. This is America, land of freedom and opportunity.

That’s the reason why we need to keep our public schools as strong as we possibly can, instead of bleeding them from a thousand tiny cuts. I’ve worked in public education for 28+ years, and my parents before me. I remember kitchen table conversations in the 1980s where I learned the terms “proration,” “pink slips,” “reduction in force,” and “Fob James,” the last of which was spoken with utter contempt.

Some things are good now. Teachers have $1000 in instructional funds to spend for the 2025-26 school year, but remember, everything is getting more expensive.

Still, I remember years when there was no instructional money for classroom materials. We sold doughnuts and T-shirts to pay the copy machine rental and to buy paper. I’ve mopped bathroom floors and scrubbed toilets when we went without custodial support. 

But we’re losing in other ways.

A recent observation: private schools don’t have to abide by the new cell phone and electronic device law, which happens to coincide with increased implementation of Alabama’s Choose Act, a plan to provide vouchers to families for their children’s tuition at private schools, for home school, and for other educational needs.

I wonder what’s going to happen during the first few weeks of school? How many parents and students will see greener pastures and less accountability on the other side of a cell phone battle?

I smell a rat. It might be the one that died over the summer in the school attic, but what’s worse is the proverbial Pied Piper at the State House leading droves of unsuspecting citizens to the point of no return, all in the name of the betterment of our children.

But you, New Teacher, you won’t know any different. And for that reason, I think we’re going to be okay. You will find a way to deal, just like the rest of us always have. Your new blood, new energy, and new ideas will keep us moving forward. We in education have always dealt with the shifting sands of public opinion, and you will learn to plant your stake and hang on. 

If that handshake is any indicator of the ability to persevere, then we’re in good shape.

It’s okay for some of us older ones to tap out. 

A few of us might even consider heading for the legislature. We know what we’re fighting for.

Not me, though. I’ve got enough stories to fill a library from my time working in the hallowed halls of learning.

New Teacher, one day, you will too.