Real Teacher Appreciation: Beyond One Week

I knew I wanted to be a teacher long before I was in high school. My first “real” teaching experience came in fourth grade, when my teacher was exasperated about what to do with me–a precocious fourth-grader who finished early and talked to everyone in the class. She got a full 40 minute break from me each day when she worked out a deal for me to tutor a first grade student who struggled in reading during our afternoon study hall time. It went so well I looped with him in second grade as a tutor and added two more students to our study group. But I also knew teachers didn’t make enough money. You could find high school me regularly saying, ” I would love to be a teacher, but they don’t make enough money.” Those two truths sat side by side in my mind—but the calling to make a difference, to connect with students, to teach, ultimately won out. My mentor, my idol, my high school French teacher wept in front of me when I told her I had made the decision to follow my heart and teach, and that was definitely not the reaction I expected for being true to my calling.

I became a classroom teacher anyway. And I’ve never regretted it.

Now, years later, I serve as a district leader, Director of Technology. I spend my days leading systems, solving problems, and making decisions that shape the learning experience for thousands of students. But the truth is, I never stopped being a teacher. I just changed how I serve.

Back when I was teaching, I discovered that technology—when used intentionally—could be a powerful bridge to engagement, integrity for all students, and opportunity. I learned how to use it not just to check boxes, but to connect with my students and support their learning in new ways. And when I started helping other teachers do the same, something clicked.

The work I do now as a CTO still starts with the classroom. Every system we streamline, every platform we vet, every device we deploy—it’s all in service of that sacred space where learning happens between teachers and students. That’s where the magic is.

I have complicated feelings about this week. Not because teachers don’t deserve every ounce of appreciation—we all know they do—but because too often, the gestures feel hollow. One week of thank-you notes, snack carts, and social media posts isn’t enough to match the level of care, creativity, patience, and perseverance teachers bring every day.

Real appreciation isn’t performative. It’s proactive.

As a leader, I believe our best way to appreciate teachers is to actively remove barriers to their success. That means:

• Fighting for tools that work and that make their lives easier—not harder.
• Respecting their time with purposeful professional learning (not just more “stuff”).
• Advocating for their voice in decision-making.
• Listening—really listening—when they say what they need.

It’s not about adding another celebration to the calendar. It’s about honoring their profession through the way we lead, all year long.

Teachers deserve more than donuts. They deserve systems that make sense. They deserve time to plan, to think, to breathe. They deserve to be trusted as professionals and supported as people.

And honestly? They deserve to be paid more. Period.

As someone who’s been in their shoes, I carry those memories with me. I remember the energy it took to show up every day—mentally, emotionally, creatively—for every single student. I remember the joy of a lightbulb moment and the heartbreak of not being able to reach a kid. I remember staying late, worrying always, and caring deeply. And I’ve never stopped those old habits despite my change of titles. My office is filled with collages of senior pictures, newspaper clippings, and thank you notes from the students I served. They ground me in purpose. These aren’t nameless students. They have names like Morgan, Cori, Gunnar, and Jordan, and they are my own children, now students in the system. They might be your children too.

That experience shapes every decision I make in leadership.

My Pr

So this week, yes—I’m saying thank you. Loudly. I’m celebrating every teacher who shows up with heart and hope, even when it’s hard. But I’m also recommitting to the kind of leadership that supports you beyond the thank-you notes.

From one educator to another: I see you. I value you. I’m in your corner—not just this week, but every week.

Let’s make our appreciation last longer than a hashtag and longer than a week.