I truly believe that sometimes the BEST teachers are the ones who look the worst on paper.

Before I started teaching, I had this idea in my head of the kind of teacher I would be.

I just knew I’d be one of those teachers with the cutest bulletin boards and color-coordinated folders for lesson plans. I could already picture the outfits I’d wear—and how I’d have them laid out, ready to go, on Sunday evenings. I mean, I knew teaching wasn’t going to be EASY, but I was more than prepared to conquer it with a smile on my face, and extra supplies always on hand.

This crazy thing happened, though, when I started teaching. I quickly found out—I wasn’t the teacher I thought I’d be. I was shocked, confused, and utterly disgusted with myself at first.

It turns out—I hadn’t accounted for SO many things…like my moods, my students’ moods, sick days, my home life, or any of my students’ real needs. This image of teacher perfection I had in my mind simply did not account for our HUMANITY.

It took some time for me to accept that I would never be a perfect teacher; then, I realized that my coworkers weren’t perfect teachers either (who knew?!).

Once I let go of “perfect”, I found something better. I found more TIME for the things that mattered, like really LISTENING to my students and meeting their needs. Once I stopped stressing over lesson plans and bulletin boards, I found a newfound love of teaching. I no longer “looked” like the perfect teacher, but I became a BETTER one.

I refuse to be remembered as the teacher who had it all together. That’s not the title I’d wear with honor. Rather, I want my students to remember how they felt safe in my classroom; I want them to remember that they felt like they could ask questions in my presence. I want, more than anything, for my students to remember MY class as a gentle and creative learning environment. Forget perfect.

To the teacher who wishes to be perfect,

You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t have to put on a show. You just have to show up where it matters most.

I know you feel the pressure because I feel it, too, BUT there is more to this job than stacks of paperwork and inboxes full of emails.

I truly believe that sometimes the BEST teachers are the ones who look the worst on paper. They’re the ones too busy teaching real skills to notice that the 500th new computer program of the year isn’t functioning properly. They’re the ones with the same bulletin board from August to December because the kids find it helpful even if it’s not aesthetically pleasing. They’re the ones with a messy classroom at 3 p.m. because they were too entranced in a project to realize the paper scraps littering the floor like confetti.

They’re the perfectly imperfect teachers who might not have a perfect score on their teacher observations but KNOW in their hearts that they are reaching these kids. THAT is the kind of teaching I want to be remembered for.

Today, while you’re shutting your door on your less-than-perfect classroom and ambitiously packing your bag with papers you won’t grade, please remember that what you’ve done today was enough.

There is no way to be a perfect teacher, but there are a million ways to be a good one.

I Refuse to Be Remembered as the Teacher Who Had it All Together