I’ve survived my first term of my new job. More importantly, I survived my first school holidays without actually having a holiday. So how’s it going?

Corporate life is very different to being in a classroom – or indeed, a library, which is where I thought I’d be this year. I’m working longer hours in the office. I’m getting my head around all the additional requirements of being in a role with higher levels of scrutiny. I’m learning the joys of corporate writing – briefings are far less fun than poetry! But I’m loving it, and all the wonderful opportunities that come along with my new role are just blowing my book-loving mind.

Anxiety Monster

Take, for instance, last week. I spent a good chunk of the week at the Sydney Writer’s Festival events at Riverside Theatres Parramatta, where we’d organised some fantastic author interviews backstage with presenters who were part of the Primary and Secondary Schools Days during the week, and AllDayYA on the weekend. I love talking to authors, it’s one of my favourite things. But this experience had me in a maelstrom of anxiety-ridden agony – quite literally, I mean. Sitting on the train on my way in for my first interview, my stomach felt like some Alien-esque creature was trying to escape. I’m familiar with this phenomena – my old friend, come to try and remind me that I’m not good enough, that this is scary and terrifying and I should run away as fast as I can. I talked about it in relation to a conference presentation where it hit me so hard I thought I needed to go to hospital here. What I’m discovering is that my body doesn’t differentiate between good risk and scary risk. My Friendly Anxiety Monster sees risk, and sends my system into red alert. It was NOT a pretty sight. Messy, snotty tears on the train. Sorry, fellow Mountains line commuters on Friday morning.

But thankfully I was expecting it. I spent the train trip talking to my partner, who reminded me that my fear and my anxiety is one of my superpowers. And I reminded myself of the lessons learnt from a wonderful book by an author I was, in fact, heading to interview (see my review of the book here). So I breathed, in and out. I put one foot in front of the other. I spoke my truth – I told the fantastic authors I was chatting to that I was, in fact, dealing with tremendous anxiety, and I did not let it stop me nor define me.

So, that’s the anxiety part of my week. The authors? Well, that was far more pleasant. Throughout our time at SWF, we got to formally interview 10 wonderful authors, and chat to a great many more backstage. Particular highlights for me were Jesse Andrews, who was my first interview, and who helped me settle into the whole process with a minimal amount of stress; Shaun Tan, who was a joy to chat to, so insightful and willing to share; Kirsty Eagar, who I must confess to not having read before, but I’m rectifying that now – what a gem!; and Chris Riddell. Sigh. I’m still floating on a cloud of sheer delight from the experience of getting to chat to Chris on multiple occasions about his work, his views on why children’s books can change the world, what it’s like working with Neil, and a hundred and one other things that just made my soul happy. Oooh, and Nicki Greenberg! So inspiring to hear about her labour of love on some of my favourite graphic novels. I didn’t interview AF Harrold, but he was my favourite new discovery from SWF2018, both as a personality and a creator. Witnessing a wonderful interview with Morris Gleitzman, and getting to see my niece shine as she recorded a Q&A with her favourite authors, was another highlight. Ditto for Katrina Nannestad, whose work I was only passingly familiar with as I’m far more a YA girl than a middle school reader, but such a lovely soul with real insight into the writing process. Oooh, and Patrick Ness, who I mentioned earlier – to get to chat to him about how his book had made a real difference in my life, and who took the time to personalise the giant pile of books I took for him to sign. And, and … well, you get the idea. Lots of authors. Lots of fangirling. Lots of joy.

Chris Riddell draws me something pretty. I’m in heaven.

Katrina Nannestad

AF Harrold

Patrick Ness

Morris Gleitzman

Shaun Tan

Kirsty Eagar

Jesse Andrews

Nicki Greenberg

I love my job. I love the opportunities that it provides me to do what I love, and to help provide opportunities for students and schools to connect with authors and their work. And I love that, as I get more experienced at dealing with my Friendly Anxiety Monster, we get to go through these experiences together. I don’t know that I’ll ever get to a point where it doesn’t impact me, but I’m ok with that, I guess. Because, this is a lifetime journey. My Friendly Anxiety Monster and I will be spending a lot of time together. And like any relationship, you’ve got to learn how to live together. He’s not going anywhere, so we’ll figure this out. Because the alternative is that I don’t get to chat to Chris Riddell and others of his ilk. And that, dear reader, is completely unacceptable.

Happy reading,

P.S. If you’re interested in reading a much more eloquently written piece on living with anxiety, check out this article by Will Wheaton. I read it just after the above event. I wish I’d read it before. It’s great. It describes in all its glorious messiness the joys of living with “the tag team champions of the World Wrestling With Mental Illness Federation” Anxiety and Depression.

It’s been no secret that 2017 was a difficult year for me. I finished my masters, and then found myself a Teacher Librarian without a library. Many tears, many interviews, and many sleepless nights ensued, as I wondered what I was supposed to be doing with my life, and with each “thanks for your application but …” phone call, I became less sure about where I was headed.
Now, though, I know what 2018 holds for me. I’ll be surrounded by books, which is a scenario that thrills me no end. I’ll be working with teacher librarians and teachers to support them as they implement the Premier’s Reading Challenge in their schools. I’ll be working on projects to help support students develop their love of reading. And I’ll be learning the 1001 other things that this role entails that I have no idea about yet, but I’m sure I’ll pick up along the way.
My deepest thanks to those on my team who had my back through the hard times, who reminded me that we’re in this together, and that something better was coming. You know who you are, and I’m so grateful for you all. Much love.
Hi, I’m Tamara, and I’m the new NSW Premier’s Challenge Officer. I’ve got incredibly impressive shoes to fill, thanks to the wonderful work of Yvette Poshoglian over the past few years, but I’m so excited for the challenge. 

So, it’s been a rough year in Teacher Land for me. Since my last post, I’ve had 2 staffroom changes, multiple class changes, much stress, and many tears. But it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve gotten to do some great stuff with my year 7 tech class, playing … ahem … teaching them about robotics and going through the process of designing a maze and coding programs in order for their little robots to complete the labyrinth. I’ve taught Coraline – ALL THE GAIMAN!!! I’ve explored some fantastic new ways to engage students using technology, and played with Google Apps, O365, shared notebooks, and a whole lot of other great activities that have reminded me about why I love teaching. But I still missed the library.

People kept reassuring me it would be ok. “A library position will come up soon”, they’d say. “The right library for you will come along.” And for ages I just gritted my teeth and smiled. Because I’d found that one, and now it was someone else’s. Eventually though, the pain lessened. I started to get excited about the opportunity to make my mark on a new library, and spread my wings in a new school. The clincher was when one of my year 7 kids mentioned his birthday, and I realised that I’ve been at Evans for as long as he’s been alive. Perhaps everyone is right. It really -is- time for a change.

So I started keeping an eye out on the job ads. Some started to appear, but in the back of my head there was that niggly little annoying voice, questioning whether I’m as good as everyone seems to think I am. My confidence in my TL abilities had taken a bit of a beating. But I continued, because dammit I want to be in a library. It’s what I’m meant to be doing. It’s where I’m supposed to be.

I’ve always struggled with Imposter Syndrome. I frequently make excuses for my success, and I have always been fearful that someone will expose me for the fraud I assume I am. Not quite qualified enough. Not nearly experienced enough. Not -something- enough. It’s a fear that dogs me whenever I present at conferences and workshops, a crippling anxiety that has, in the past, seen me convinced that my appendix were about to burst and was seconds away from calling an ambulance … but no, once my keynote presentation was done, the anxiety diminished, and I realised that it was in fact just my terror tearing my insides apart.

So today, I faced something that I would have previously considered terrifying on a massive scale. I had a job interview. One for a position I really want, in a school I really really REALLY want to work in. My application was excellent, I was as prepared as I could possibly be for the interview, and I headed off this morning feeling a little anxious. But that was it. A few nerves. No crippling pain. No panic-stricken hyperventilation. No terror that they’d ask me something that I felt completely incapable of answering. Just some totally understandable nerves.

I’m not quite sure how that happened. How I got past my Imposter Syndrome. I think it was the combination of a few things, to be honest. The constant reassurances of my wonderful partner, who can tell when I’m getting inside my own head and knows just what to say to me to ease me through it. The opportunity to contribute to some wonderful professional dialogue at a conference recently and realise that my voice, my stories, my ideas were valued not because I was on stage so people had to listen to me, but because people actually respected my opinions and experiences. The colleagues who read my application, reassured me that it was good, and shared their confidence in me. The seemingly small but incredibly valuable pieces of advice from old friends and new that helped me recognise and embrace some of my own confidence, my belief in myself, and my belief in my own strength. If you haven’t watched it yet, check out the TED Talk below on how your body language can impact how you feel – Wonder Woman pose, y’all! Whatever it was, it felt good. To walk out the door after the interview feeling like I not only had done a great job articulating why I’m the best person for the job, but actually believing it.

I don’t know how it went yet. And it’ll be a couple of weeks before I can share the news on this position even if it’s mine. But in many ways, that won’t really be the celebratory outcome for this event. I’m celebrating a win over anxiety. I’m staking a claim to some freedom from fear. I’m sure it’ll rear its ugly head again – we’ve got a good relationship going on. But for today, my anxiety was my bitch. I’m no-one’s imposter. And it feels good. It feels really good.

I’m never really good at evaluating my own impact. Today in our Staff Development session, we looked at reflection and feedback, and as I was listening to different groups share their ideas, I was thinking about my year. I was thinking about the year I’ve had, and the the year I thought I would have 12 months ago. And I was wondering, how would I give myself feedback on the year that was?
I love Christmas … I’m such a fan of giving, of making people happy, and sharing joy. For me, the absolute bliss of receiving is never the gifts I get (although this year I got some super-cool presents from the wonderful people I work with!!) I LOVE reading what people have written in their cards to me. So for my “2012 Report Card” I’ve pulled my Christmas card comments from my wonderful colleagues. Their feedback about my role in their lives this year has been something of a revelation to me … I think I need to get a bit better at consciously reflecting on my impact, rather than just bouncing along day to day, trying to do the best I can and often feeling like I’m not quite getting there!!

So in the words of some wonderful people … My year.

– such and amazing person, professional and friend.
– an inspiration.
– dedicated professional and wonderful colleague.
– thankyou for your unwavering support and friendship. You always have my back, preempt my needs and just step in.
– an outstanding support and consummate professional.
– I watch with admiration the enormous work you have done – we need more teachers like you!
– an educator who strives to improve her practice and who sees the ‘big picture’. We are richer for having you with us!
– the most giving, sharing colleague it’s been my privilege to work with. I’m blown away by how generous you are with your time and talents, always focusing on what is in the best interests of our students.
– the most supportive teacher I’ve ever had. Can I be in your class next year? I’ll bring chocolates every day!
– because of you, I know I could do anything with my life. Because of you, I’m going to be a teacher.
– always act like you love me, even when I know that yesterday you probably wanted to choke me. I’m pretty naught sometimes, but you don’t make a big thing out of it – thanks for that miss! (well not love but you know … )
– you have inspired me to believe that I my influence is not defined by my title, but by my actions. Your actions reflect your passionate commitment to education, and I’m so grateful.
– Hey miss. I don’t hate english as much as I did and I’m even putting those things in my shorter words so you don’t have a meltdown and go off your head at me about why punctuation matters. Happy?

I’m humbled and overwhelmed by these lovely words, and the many that were spoken to me as well, as we said goodbye for another year. It’s a lovely way to end what has been a difficult year for me, both personally and professionally – to focus on the positive impacts I have had. To think about the many wonderful achievements I have made, and the difference that I make in the lives of other people. That’s why I love my job, and I wouldn’t do anything else!!

I’m pretty level-headed, usually. I get comments a lot, from one class in particular, that I always have a smile on my face. In fact, they will do a countdown if I’m not smiling, to see how many seconds I can last (usually, as soon as I realise what they are doing,I start laughing, so they rarely get above 3!!) The whole “don’t smile before Easter” thing doesn’t work in my classroom – let’s face it, I can’t even make it till the end of roll call most days! It’s one of the things I’m proud of about the way I interact with students in my classroom – I’m fair, I’m reasonable, and I don’t do the whole ‘teach by fear and intimidation’ thing that works for some people. I talk with them. I listen. Most days, we have a fairly positive and productive air of communication in my class.

Today was not one of those days. Well, not last period, especially. And it’s not because something big or dramatic happened. Not at all. It’s more the cumulative effect of lots of little things, both personally and professionally, that added up to me being on my last straw when I walked in to year 7 after lunch. I held it together for a few minutes, but then a particularly difficult kid, who I work really hard with, completely ignored me when I asked him to grab a book for reading. Then, he walked away. I know, tough right? No swearing, no fighting, no throwing of chairs …. Just a little mild ignorance. And I lost it. Yelled at them all to “sit down, stop talking, and just read already, for goodness sake we’ve only been doing this all year you think you’d have it by now!!” And I cried. Whilst they sat there reading totally silently, for probably the first time all year, I sobbed silent tears of frustration. Tears of disappointment in myself, of anguish that I’d let myself be one of those teachers I always said I NEVER wanted to be. In fact, I have tears streaming down my cheeks now as I’m writing about it.

As they read, or at least did a fantastic job of pretending they were, I could see the shock on some of their faces. I sat there, crying, breathing, and wondering how on earth I got to that point over something so relatively minor, when everyday events that are often much worse don’t seem to faze me. And I can only imagine what they were thinking. What they were feeling. What they were saying to themselves about that stranger who had just roared at them from the front of the room. And to be honest, that just made me cry a bit more. You know those people who look adorable when they cry? Dewy eyes, slightly rosy cheeks, sweet and lovely that you just want to hug? I’m not one of those. Bullfrog puffy eyes and blotchy skin, that’s me. Like the poor kids hadn’t suffered enough, they have 45 more minutes to put up with that.

So, I did the only thing I could think of. The only thing that seemed reasonable in the circumstance. I apologised. I apologised for taking out on them all the things that were not their fault. I apologised for letting whatever is stressing me outside our classroom impact on what is supposed to be a safe place for them. I apologised that I had ended their day with anger, and tears, and getting to see me at what is quite possibly my worst. I apologised unreservedly. No mention of the couple of little comments and actions from a couple of students that had pushed me over the edge. No justification as to why it was even just a little bit ok. I apologised, and then I cried a little more.

And then they smiled. Not because they were happy I was crying again, but because, I suspect, they had their safe place back. Their comments and actions over the rest of the lesson were telling.
“I’ve never seen you like that before Miss, you made 10 whole minutes without smiling. I wanted to cry for you.”
“Miss check out the dragon I’m doing in art. What do you think of the scales? Every cool story needs a good dragon huh.”
“Hey miss, want a tissue? You can keep it, I don’t want it back.”
The boy who just stood next to me, moved a bit of paper on the desk in front of me, said “hey”, then sat back down with a wistful grin on his face.
The girl who kept avoiding eye contact with me, but was constantly looking at me out of the corner of her eye, and then walked the whole way around the room just so she could walk past my desk and say “see you tomorrow Miss, hope you have a better afternoon.”
The notes written on my mini dry-erase boards … “English rocks” “Rodgers 😃” “We love you Miss!!!”

So, how am I feeling now? I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated and angry at myself, that I let things that really have no relation to what I do in my classroom impact on what I’ve worked really hard to establish as a positive, supportive and great space to be. All it took was about 13 seconds of a raised voice to undo all that. Thank goodness it wasn’t permanent, and I’m trying to console myself with the idea that perhaps my vulnerability, my apology, and my attempts to make amends may have been the modelling that some of them may have needed when they are dealing with some stressful and difficult situations of their own. But right now, that isn’t making me feel any better about it. I’m going to finish this post, then go and soak in a bath, and not look at anything at all work related for the rest of the night. Nope, not even my emails. I have a PD session tomorrow – I’m very glad I don’t have my yr7 class on my timetable, I’d hate for them to think that I didn’t come in because of what happened today. And when I go back on Thursday, to a fairly exhausting and stressful day, I’m going to remind myself to breathe. I’m going to remind myself of what is important to me, and what I value about what I do. I’m going to try and remember to be as kind to myself as I am to others. I don’t know that I deserve it, especially after today, but I think I need it … and maybe that’s the same thing?

This song is going to be my mantra … “Keep your head above water, and don’t forget to breathe.” I hope you are breathing ok too. Take care of you, you’re worth it.

I love my year group. My role as year advisor is one of the things I’m most proud of in my current position at my school. I’ve been working with these kids since they were in year 6, tiny little things by comparison to the almost-adults who tower over me now, visiting our school for taster lessons and orientation day, and they are such a huge part of my everyday experiences at Evans.

It’s the nature of every school that there are changes. Students leave. Students arrive. We have an Intensive English Centre at our school, which has a frequently changing student population, and pretty much every year our year group has gained new members from the IEC, as well as all the usual comings and goings. One of the challenges for any year advisor is to build a sense of connection amongst your student group. In a school like ours, that poses some extra challenges. This year in particular, as they face the prospect of HSC, Vocational training, figuring out where the future is likely to take them, and negotiating all the complexities of senior study, looming adulthood, driving, drinking, relationships … it’s a lot for them to get their heads around, and it’s a lot for ME to get my head around!

So, how can we support them? We are running a new program this year. Called Planning My Future, it’s 2 periods a week, working on social skills, study skills, drug and alcohol education, and a whole lot more stuff to support them in whatever they are dealing with, personally and academically. It’s going pretty well … some problems, as to be expected with a new program, but we are getting there, and we’ve made some solid progress on implementing a sustainable whole-school program to support our students.

As well as this, we have bigger picture events – like our camp, which I posted about a few weeks ago. One of the amazing outcomes for me from camp has been the increased connections between the kids since they’ve come back. They are really supporting each other, and I’m proud of the way they have each others’ backs.

We have the remainder of the term to keep working though our PMF program. This term, we developed a series of electives for the kids to be a part of. We have some participating in a mural project, where they are designing and painting an artwork to support out school’s PBL focus. Some are doing a mentoring program, and they will be working with one of our year 7 classes to build connections. We have a group who are working with teachers who are on Stage 5 sport, providing coaching and management support for the staff, and helping the stage 5 students get engaged in sport. And we have some who are doing a workshop on “Positive Thinking.” Varied topics, yes, but all with the same focus. We want all students, regardless of the group they are participating in, to have an increased sense of their own capacity to make a positive difference in their world.

I’m after a “Keynote” event to support all this. Someone, or something, to present at a year meeting, to tie it all together. To focus on the choices we make in our lives, and the importance of making positive ones. Any ideas? Hit me with your best speakers!! I know, it’s not a lot of notice … I want something that we can do before the end of the year. That’s the problem with working on a program that is flexible and meets the needs of your year group as they come up – it doesn’t always fit in with my OCD desire to forward plan, and know what is going on!!

If you’ve done something wonderful in this area, too, I’d love to hear about it. Thanks for stopping by!