Published on World Teachers’ Day
At 22, I thought I knew what teaching would be like. I had studied pedagogy, completed practicums, and felt ready to change the world one classroom at a time. What I had not anticipated was how much the people around me would change me first.
I was often the youngest person in the staff room by a decade or more. While my peers from university were figuring out their careers alongside people their own age, I was learning from colleagues who had children older than me. It was not a disadvantage. It was a gift I am only now beginning to fully understand.
I became a teacher at 22, a principal at 29 and a superintendent at 36. Moving through positions early meant my professional circles were often made up of people 10 to 20 years older than me. As a young teacher, my closest colleagues were in their 30s and 40s. As a young principal, I looked to mentors in their 40s and 50s. And as a young superintendent, I built friendships with leaders in their 50s and 60s. These people, so many of them, are among the most important influences in my life.
And now, here comes the cruelty of age. My mentors retire. They slow down. They get sick. Too many of them die.
This is, of course, part of life. It happens in all professions, not just ours. But at almost 52, I feel it more acutely. Those I looked up to, those I built my professional world around, are now mostly in their 60s, 70s and beyond. The losses are sharper. The silences more noticeable.
I am fortunate to have incredible colleagues now, including our current senior team in West Vancouver. They inspire me every day and make the work deeply fulfilling. Yet I also find myself often thinking of those who came before me. I miss them dearly.
And this is where I find hope. Just as I was shaped by those ahead of me, I now find myself in the position to be that colleague and mentor for others. The cycle continues. While I grieve the loss of those who guided me, I also take comfort in knowing their influence lives on in the way I lead and support others.
There is something profound about realizing you have become the person others look to for guidance. Not because you have figured everything out, but because you carry the wisdom of those who came before you. Their voices still echo in the decisions I make, the advice I give and the way I approach both triumph and crisis.
I think about the young educators in our district now, many of them closer in age to my four kids than to me. When they seek advice or simply need someone to listen, I hear my old mentors speaking through me. Their patience, their perspective their quiet confidence in the face of uncertainty—all of it lives on.
This is how we honour the people who shaped us. Not through monuments or memorials, but by becoming worthy of the investment they made in us. And perhaps, if we are lucky, by being worth the investment that someone younger is willing to make in learning from us.
The circle does not break. It just keeps getting wider.
On this World Teachers’ Day, I am reminded that the greatest legacy of teaching is not what we accomplish alone, but how we live on in those who follow us.
And one more link – this post highlights some of my favourite World Teachers’ Day posts from previous years.
The image at the top of this post was generated through AI. Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.
