I make it mine. Learned that the hard way during my first year of teaching twenty-three years ago. And though many “lessons” come to mind, one in particular stands out. With no other resources at hand and a basket not full of tricks, I used the book tests that came from our text publisher. Why wouldn’t I? They were already made–with a key! And in my innocence, I just thought that’s what we did. It seemed all set up. I taught the section. I gave the test. I used the key. I entered the grade. This teaching stuff was gonna be easy. Silly Sy.

It was all cut and dried, until the kids took the tests. They performed terribly, even my “smart” kids. One smart kid in particular, Brynne, near tears, asked if she could talk to me about the test. “Sure,” I responded.

“We never talked about this stuff in class,” she said, pointing to a number of items that she had missed.

“Well,” I said, with nothing better to offer, “they were in the chapter.”

They were in the chapter...

And they were. But I didn’t teach them. I didn’t even mention them. But it was my only defense at the time, and just like that, only weeks into my career, I had come to rely on, if not gotcha-grading (I really wasn’t trying to get kids) then, at the very least, “what-the-hell grading.”

Some of us are ducks. We can let things roll off our backs. Some of us are sponges. We soak it up and carry it around. I am decidedly a sponge, and I carried this conversation around for a long time (still carrying it), and it ate at me. So, slowly, I began to do things differently. Hesitantly at first. I was worried I might be breaking some sacred rules by not testing everything in the chapter, but my instincts kept me going, and I began to learn the lesson of testing what I taught. So, with that, I became selective, about the book items I chose, making sure to only pick the ones emphasized in class, and things got better. I was more purposeful in my teaching, and the kids could be more successful with their learning. Eventually, I learned to ditch the book tests all together, coming to realize, second only to relationships, that making things fit us and our kids is vital to classroom success.

I came to eventually call it the “fit factor.” We can–should–beg, borrow, and steal, but we have to run things through our “fit filters” if we are going to make them work. They have to fit us and our kids.

Along the same lines, beyond putting our stamp on the teaching and learning components in our classrooms, we should also have our fingerprints all over the culture components, too. I believe, as best we can, we should strive to make kids’ experiences with us unique. And we do this by making it ours. That is not to say we shouldn’t continue borrowing, begging, and stealing. We’re teachers. It’s what we have to do. It is to say that we should make it our own.

I share a lot here and on Twitter. In doing that, I fully expect and accept that others may use some of my work. I want them to use it, and I try to share it freely and openly, but I don’t want folks to imitate; I want them to innovate, to make it theirs. Many folks have begun to use Smiles and Frowns. And I could not be happier. I am pleased that they have perhaps found some value that it may add to their own classroom cultures. I am flattered when people use Smiles and Frowns. I am honored when they adapt it to their needs. A firm believer in there is no one “way,” I encourage folks to find and follow their way.

Every year I seek to make things mine. Not for proprietary reasons, but for the experiential opportunities they bring to the kids in my room. What’s more, in doing things “my way,” I find that I am a better teacher for my kids, not a better teacher than my colleagues, but a better teacher for my kids. And so, from my Smiles and Frowns song, to my #MyRoomMessage, to my Sappy Sy Rhyme, to my Feedback-only approach, I am just trying to make and follow my way.

For all, I hope you find and make your way this year. For your kids. For you.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.