You can imagine the monumental moment of a baby’s first steps. Shaky, uncertain, confused. Adults cheering around you. Furniture at eye level. The house cat eyeing you. But you’re just a baby and you don’t understand the impact of your first step. Not yet.
I took my first steps as Head Teacher last year. Just as shaky, just as uncertain, and just as confused.
First week on the job, I was told that all Mini students go on a week-long overnight trip to Strathcona, all one hundred thirty something of them. Oh okay. Wait. Am I going too? Yes, you’re the head teacher. Oh okay. Wait. Where exactly is Strathcona? I open Google Maps.
There are three busses coming, here is the bus drivers’ contact information. They will be here at 6:30 am, set up the cones outside. You will need to pay for the ferry fares of 135 students and 10 adults, then get reimbursed later. Don’t forget all the students’ medical forms. Don’t forget the first aid kits. Which kid gets on which bus? Doesn’t matter. Someone take attendance. Who? Oh it’s me. Did everyone get on the ferry? I hope so. I mean, I know so, because we counted. I lean on the other teachers for support, and they extend their care graciously. My first overnight field trip with students. Baby steps.
This is a district enrichment program for bright kids from all wakes of life. Before my interview, I did my preliminary research. Okay. So, they’re athletes, musicians, academics, good people in the community, emerging leaders. Got it. Their math curriculum is accelerated. There’s a Science Fair. They’re in cohorts. They go on trips. Wow. So, the incoming grade eights and I will all be new here. At least we’ll have each other.
In my first week, every face is new. While many of the students know everyone else, for me they’re all new. New teachers, new students, new classrooms, new responsibilities. I get an office that says "Head Teacher” above it. Cool, my first office. I begin organizing the classroom in a way that makes the most sense to me. Extra supplies on the side. Organized cupboards. A quote I like on the board. The date at the top. Cards from students near me to remind me that I can do this. Breathe. I do all of this with the upcoming overnight trip looming above my head. Staff meetings today. Classroom checklists. MyEd. Microsoft Teams. Emails (you have two now: your teacher one and the Mini School one). Oh and, there’s a website. Make sure you keep that updated. And every Mini parent will be here on Thursday to meet you, no pressure.
“Ms. I, do you like moon cakes? I brought you one.” Oh okay. Later in the staff room I say, one of the students brought me a moon cake. Which one? The thoughtful sleepy one. Oh. Must’ve been Jerry.
Next month, there’s a fundraiser. They’re selling poinsettias, it’s kind of a big deal. Profit for the Mini School, this is a significant source of funding for this program. I don’t think I’ve ever bought a poinsettia before. I wonder how big they are. Oh wait. I found old order forms. Small and extra-large. Red, white, and pink. Except the pink is not really pink. But sometimes it is. We meet every Wednesday. The meetings have treats. Remember to book the gyms. Remember to tell the students. The grade 12s came up with a jingle. Oh okay.
“Ms. I today is my birthday, and I have an extra Mello donut, would you like it?” The one remaining is the cereal milk crunch flavour, my favourite. I try to hide my excitement, for I am the adult in the room. Wait, who was that? That must’ve been Ann. She’s the one with the Science Fairs.
The photo wall looks like it hasn’t been updated in a while. Hmm. Printing photos can’t be that expensive, can it? I place my first order at London Drugs and pick it up in Kerrisdale the next day. Strathcona photos, compiled from all the chaperones. I hope the kids like it.
The next day they’re crowding around the board. Hey, look it’s you! Here’s a photo of me! Wait I look so bad in this photo! Did you see? Did you see you’re on the photo wall? Music to my ears.
“Attention everyone,” I say at the start of my science class. They lean in. “I… got a new lunch box." They stare. I hold up my new Baggu lunch box ceremoniously. The room erupts in applause. These kids love getting excited about the mundane and that gives me hope.
Mid-class, a student asks me, “Ms. I who in this class do you think pulls the most girls?" Oh… okay. We’re here already. Ludacris plays in my ear: “Get back (get back) you don’t know me like that!” Reminder to self: I’m the teacher still. Reminder to students: I’m the teacher still. The head teacher actually. I need to think of my response carefully. Processing, processing, processing. I stare at the student. A blank stare. No answer from me today.
We’re going skiing this year. Except not to Whistler like we used to… this time we’re going to Manning Park. Except we’ve never been there before. Well sort of. We almost went last year. But no snow. So, okay, we haven’t been there. Please plan it if you believe in it. Oh, okay. Arrange the kids into ski groups. Arrange the kids into cabins. How many kids can each cabin hold? Check the floor plans. How many instructors does Manning offer? Call Brent at Group Sales. What are the district rules around skiing? Check the Field Studies portal. Check check check. WAIT. I forgot to book the UHaul!!!! Emergency. Call UHaul. All of the 15’ trucks are booked in Metro Vancouver. Panic. Screaming crying throwing up.
(Don’t worry, I was able to book the UHaul. By some stroke of luck, one became available in Marpole when I called the next day. The universe smiles down upon me.)
“All I care about is bubble tea and super conductors." Overheard from a student in another science class. Who are these kids?
Come Mini School admissions, hundreds of applications enter my door through various boxes around the school. It reminds me of all those Hogwarts letters trying to reach Harry in the Dursleys house in the first Harry Potter book. There’s my mailbox in the Main Office where applications arrive via snail mail. There’s the box outside of that office, too. There’s also the box in the Mini Office. And some parents even bring their application in person and hand it to me directly (they don’t trust the boxes). The grand total this year was just under three hundred applications. Three hundred kids hoping to join this program. Three hundred personal statements. Three hundred records of community service. Six hundred report cards (grade 6 and 7). Hundreds and hundreds of teacher comments. Each application in a different envelope, folder, or duotang. Even the paperclips are different. Each of these three hundred kids want to be here and we can only choose twenty-eight. Yikes.
On interview day, these excited kids come through our doors in winter boots and puffer jackets. Of course there was a snowstorm the night before so our school is surrounded by icy roads, fluffy snow, and traffic. Our senior students greet them with joy. I wore what some might call a Canadian tuxedo, denim on denim. A red sweater over my shoulders for a lil pizzazz. Maybe when these kids see how silly I am, they won’t feel so nervous.
Twelve-hour days at the school. Inflatable Snoopy suit. Info night. A four-hundred-person potluck. It’s tradition for the grade 12s to ask the grade 8s to the winter formal. Arts Night. Question of the week. “Ms. I how much can you bench?” Senior shenanigans. A chocolate cake with lit candles that says “We love you Ms. I", brought into the classroom to the tune of Happy Birthday. Paperwork to the district. Paperwork to the office. Paperwork for the students. Reams and reams of paper printed for notes: Mendel’s pea plants, salts lab, boat challenge, kinematics equations, circuit greeting cards, sheep eyeballs. “Ms. I, I saw you at Breka last night.” Did you remember to answer that parent email? Did you remember that you invited a guest speaker today? Did you drop off the plaques in Richmond to be engraved? “React to this post with your favourite emoji to confirm that you’ve seen it." Dancing gran emoji, pregnant man emoji, Moyai statue emoji, X-ray emoji. Where’s the picnic? On the grass mound outside. Did you remember to invite the grade 7s? Did grounds mow the lawn? No? The seniors brought their own lawnmowers? Oh okay. I fly through the year, acquiring memories, more “oh okay" moments, more sentimental mementos of my first steps in this role.
Every email of encouragement I received this year, I printed out and pinned to the bulletin board next to my desk. Reminders of the good people who believed in me and trusted in me. I often leaned back in my chair and watched the little papers on that bulletin board as they flitted in the breeze from the open windows. Present tense: believe in me, trust in me. They’re still there, those papers.
One takes their first steps in a lot of things. First step off the ledge at the Strathcona zipline course. First step into the Foods classroom with promise of brownies ahead. First step onto a university campus on a tour. In all our students’ first steps, I took my first steps too: the first steps as a Head Teacher.
A Head Teacher’s First Steps
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