Legacy, Forward: Young Educators Leading at a Critical Turning Point

If you’re a pre-service teacher, a first-year, or somewhere in that foggy stretch between “I love this job” and “I’m not sure this is what I signed up for,” this one’s for you.

Make it stand out

You entered education with a picture in your head.

Maybe it looked like inspiring discussions, meaningful relationships, creative lessons, and the occasional lightbulb moment that reminds you why this work matters.

Maybe it looked like a beautiful opus of student success stories. Maybe your goal was to make a lasting impact on your local community, Possibly you even held a vision of an older version of yourself having served generations of families in the same community. Maybe it also looked like summers off, stable benefits, and a sense that if you worked hard and cared deeply, the system would meet you halfway.

I won’t sugarcoat this: parts of that picture were real. Other parts of it may need to be revised.

And none of those assumptions make you naive. That has been the story in education for a long time, and you were wise to assume some of these truths of the role. The reality is that things are changing, and that makes our profession — well — like any other profession: imperfect and uncertain.

You’re Not Wrong—School Is About to Change (Again)

Let’s start with an anchoring truth of education: learning. Learning is ultimately our business. And if you see learning as the constant, rather than focusing on the construct of what schools should look like, you have your eye on the ball. Some things about learning will never change:

• People learn better in community.

• Relationships matter more than strategies.

• Engagement isn’t fluff—it’s fuel for deepening understanding and thoughtful consideration.

• Relevance is the difference between learner compliance and authentic curiosity.

Those truths are timeless.

But the structures wrapped around them? The way we have traditionally done school? The world is shaking those structure and traditions. Those realities about what school looks like are absolutely up for renegotiation.

Public education is standing in a wash—between what school has always been and what it has to become. And whether we like it or not, you are entering the profession right at that breaking point. To be fair, people have been predicting the “end” or “reinvention” of school for decades, and I may sound like just another voice forecasting a future that never fully arrives. But this moment feels different. We’re seeing multiple pressure points hit public education all at once: ongoing funding challenges, intensifying political scrutiny, private companies recognizing schools as a massive untapped market, a societal expectation that everything be personalized on demand, and the sudden arrival of AI tools that are reshaping how work and learning happen everywhere else. Taken together, the reality is this—schools aren’t being nudged to change. They’re being pummeled from every direction.

And if we are being honest, this system — at least on a micro level — didn’t work well for many of you as students. You felt it. You lived it. You survived classes that prized sitting still over thinking deeply, coverage over understanding, and tradition over relevance. (And if it DID work well for you, I promise there were students all around you in those classrooms who felt differently.)

And yet—you still chose this work. (Thank you!)

That tells me something important.

You Matter More Than You Think

You are our most experienced experts at being students in modern schools. You’ve seen the best and worst up close as students. You know when learning feels authentic and when it feels like we are all just playing “traditional school” because that is what the schedule says to do. And at the same time, you have traded hats and started to see that system with different eyes. You have recently completed your coursework, learned the latest educational theories, and witnessed the classroom in the teacher’s shoes.

That perspective is not a weakness. Instead, it’s the seed of innovation.

But here’s the hard truth: caring about being a good teacher alone won’t be enough anymore.

If schools don’t evolve, if teachers don’t make the leap to a new model of teaching and learning —someone else will happily do it to us.

Education is moving closer to an Amazon model than the guaranteed monopoly it has long been in the United States. Schools cannot simply assume families will stay local to community schools because we have always existed. As public schools, we are local businesses with a public mission. That means we must fight harder for relevance, trust, and impact.

That doesn’t mean becoming cold or corporate. It means being clear about what actually matters: learning.

Let Go of What Doesn’t Serve the Mission

No matter what you hear from others, know this: You don’t need to carry everything the system hands you.

Some practices schools embrace are relevant and meaningful to learning. Some practices are valuable traditions. Some are habits. Others are pet projects, failed initiatives that have yet to fully dissolve, leadership preferences, community expectations, or a boisterous colleague’s inaccurate perspective.

You will need to think through everything you agree to do in your classroom from this point forward. Each habit, tradition, practice, initiative, and preference you embrace and practice, you permit to be a part of what school will look like in the future.

Here’s your permission slip:

• You can question systems that prioritize compliance over curiosity.

• You can redesign learning instead of just delivering it.

• You can use technology to liberate time and personalize learning, not just digitize worksheets.

• You can push back—with professionalism and purpose—when policies don’t serve students.

Innovation doesn’t mean burning it all down. It means asking one honest question, over and over:

“Does this help students learn better?”

If the answer is no, the tradition may not deserve your loyalty. While you may have to read the room and the situation. (education is a social business that serves many purposes, and there is rarely black and white answers — everything lives in the grey), you may need to push back on accepted norms of schools.

As a young, inspired, thoughtful educator, uncovering that something that has been embraced by the system but does not support student learning should definitely lead you to ask more questions.

Be Human First. Everything Else Is Secondary.

Here’s the part no prep program can fully prepare you for:

Your greatest impact won’t come from being perfect. It will come from being present.

AI and technology will play an important role in the classroom of the future. It has to for us to compete, to stay current, and to transform our educational institutions meaningfully to serve the next generation of learners. But that does not mean educators like you, the people who stepped forward to make a difference, do not have a role in this transformation.

Your humanity is what will make learning and schools the special place they have always been. Lean into family partnerships. Build trust before you build rigor. Let students know they are seen before they are assessed. Show up as a real person who listens, adapts, and believes in them—even when the system feels heavy.

And modernize! Learn the tech tools that are available to you. Ask how they can serve your mission and streamline your work.

Ironically, modernization can help you do the human side of teaching (the most valuable part — the part you signed up for and are most eager to do) more, not less.

When tools handle the logistics, you get time back. When learning is personalized, relationships deepen. When school stops pretending one size fits all, teachers stop pretending they’re okay being exhausted all the time.

This shift—if done well—can actually lead to more balance, more joy, and more sustainability. It can lead to stronger schools, happier teachers, and better learning. Schools that make this transformation will re-assert their place as a foundational pillar of the community.

You Will Be Questioned. That Means You’re Doing Something Right.

You will be challenged by colleagues who benefited from the old system. You will be questioned by families who don’t yet see the urgency. This is especially true for those families whose success is attributed to the way school was in the past. They may end up being the harshest critics of change, because they are also experts on education (and it worked for them).

You will feel the tension of pushing for change that won’t immediately benefit everyone equally.

That discomfort isn’t failure. It’s leadership. And you don’t need a title to lead.

As an educator, regardless of your role right now, you are in the perfect position to lead from your vantage point. This change won’t happen because a superintendent, or a director, or a principal said it should and started an initiative. It will happen because professional educators across the country acknowledge that the time for meaningful change is here and agree that the essential outcome is a system that prioritizes student learning.

And you won’t be doing it alone. There are seasoned educators — rooting for you — who know the system must change and are ready to stand beside you, not in your way.

Hold Onto Your Why—And Be Willing to Rewrite the How

You didn’t enter this profession to protect structures. You entered it to help people grow. That mission hasn’t changed. The methods must.

If we do this right — if we lean into connection, creativity, flexibility, courage, and the tools and structures needed to modernize the educational system — we don’t lose the heart of education. We finally get to center in on the real reason we got into education in the first place. That is an important part of the recipe. It will help to make sure you are a part of the educational solution not just today or tomorrow, but far beyond this school year.

And one day, much sooner than you think, someone newer will be watching you. (I know you don’t believe this. I am telling you from experience — it is true.)

Think about what you want them to say about you and your legacy in education. They will have the opportunity to feel the courage and passion it required to push for meaningful change. They will be experiencing what meaningful transformation of school looks like. They will learn what the new structure of school is and how it benefits learners and supports learning. They may even be pushing up against the changes that your generation of educators pushed for in an attempt to modernize and change with the times.

They will be copying plays out of your educational playbook.

Make them worth copying.

Legacy in Education: The Work You Leave Behind

In this line of work, we talk a lot about learning targets, benchmarks, and growth. But the longer I stay in education, the more I think about something we don’t name nearly enough: legacy.

Not the dramatic, marble-statue kind. More like the “How did I show up today—and did it matter?” kind.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I’m someone who’s built their life around learning—showing up every day, trying to be a little better than yesterday, trying to serve students and staff in ways that actually matter. That’s why most of us got into this business in the first place. Not the freedom of wearing jeans on Fridays. Definitely not the meetings that could have been emails . We are here for the kids and the colleagues who make this work feel purposeful.

But this reflection isn’t about just me. It’s about the teachers who are rounding that final bend of their careers.

You know who you are.
Maybe you’re counting years, months, or the “After winter break, only 78 more Mondays” kind of countdown.
Maybe there’s nowhere up left to climb on the salary schedule.
Maybe this is your third time on the pendulum ride of educational philosophy, and you're thinking, “Didn’t we already do this in ’09? And guess what, folks—it worked then, too.”
Maybe the connection with kids has shifted—still there, still meaningful, but not quite the same spark you had at 22, or 32, or even your early 40s.

And yet… here you are.
Still standing.
Still showing up.
Still carrying decades of experience that no workshop, no webinar, and no AI tool (hi!) can replicate.

The Truth We Don’t Say Out Loud Enough

The era of teachers staying in one place for their whole career may be fading, but it’s definitely not gone. And honestly? We need the ones who’ve stayed. Desperately.

Because these are the people who bring:

• Stability when the system shifts for the nineteenth time.

• Perspective when new ideas show up claiming to be “revolutionary.”

• Sanity when someone suggests changing the bell schedule… again.

• Impact—the kind you only earn after touching thousands of student lives and mentoring dozens of colleagues.

And here's the part we don’t talk about nearly enough:
Your greatest impact might not be behind you. It might actually be right now.

Not because of test scores or lesson plans or committees you’ve chaired, but because of what younger educators see when they look at you.

They’re watching how you finish.

Teaching Young Teachers What the Profession Really Is

This generation of young teachers is entering a profession that is harder, louder, more public, and more scrutinized than ever. They need models—real ones. People who have seen the highs and lows, who’ve reinvented themselves more times than an iOS update, and who still show up with dignity and purpose. People who know the realities of the hard days, and know that the best days make the hard days worth enduring!

This is where legacy comes in.

We get to show young educators:

• That the profession still matters.

• That you can evolve and still stay true to who you are.

• That you can choose collaboration over competition.

• That being seasoned doesn’t mean being cynical.

• That curiosity doesn’t have an age limit.

Kids need you, yes. But young teachers might need you even more. They need to see that resilience is a skill. That joy is a choice. And that you can walk into retirement not burned out and bitter, but proud—and dare I say—just as energetic as the 24-year-old across the hall… in your own “seasoned professional” way.

So, What Will They Say When You Leave?

Legacy isn’t what we intended to do. It’s what people remember we actually did.

So we all get to decide:

Will young teachers say we were stubborn, cranky, and disinterested in anything invented after 2015?

Or will they say we modeled growth, generosity, and the kind of grounded wisdom that makes this profession feel like a calling again?

Public schools need that version of us now more than ever.

And someday—when you walk out for the last time, keys turned in, badge deactivated—you’ll know you left something behind that can’t be measured but absolutely can be felt.

A legacy worth talking about.

Start the Year Off Strong: Setting 1:1 Routines That Stick

Here’s the thing about teaching in a 1:1 classroom: if you don’t set routines right away, your kids will. And trust me—you’re not going to like their version. Their routines usually involve mystery games, YouTube rabbit holes, and the fastest window-minimizing you’ve ever seen.

Day One is where you set the tone. Not after you “get to know them.” Not once you’re “done with the syllabus.” Day One. Show them the devices are tools, not toys. Do something simple but meaningful—like having students record themselves reading a reflection or answering a fun question. It’s easy, it gets them using the tech, and it says, “In this class, we actually do stuff with these.”

You’ll also need an attention signal. Screens are powerful magnets. Don’t waste your voice yelling “eyes up here!” 47 times a day. Pick something that fits you—music clip, call-and-response, even a corny joke—and use it every time. Kids will roll their eyes… which means it’s working.

And plan ahead for when a device needs a break. Have a neutral “parking spot” for iPads/laptops. It’s not a punishment, it’s just a reset. Saves you from a lot of tug-of-wars over screens.

Why bother with all this? Because research from Quaglia and Corso reminds us that students really come to school for two reasons: to make friends and to feel successful. When your routines build belonging and give them clear wins with technology, you’re giving them both. That’s classroom culture, not just classroom management.

Bottom line: start strong, because the habits you set on Day One are the ones you’ll be living with in May. And if you don’t set them? Well… your students will. And let’s just say their version involves a lot more Minecraft than you planned for.

Stop Making Students Guess: AI Policies Pushing for Clarity in the Classroom

We’re reaching a turning point with AI in schools. Students are using it every day—sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realizing it—because AI is increasingly embedded in the very tools they use. The question isn’t whether AI shows up in the classroom, but whether we as educators are ready to provide clarity about how it can be used.

Some districts are leading the way with smart, forward-thinking policies. They aren’t issuing blanket bans or pretending AI can be locked out. Instead, they’re asking teachers to do the real work of being clear: when is AI a support, when is it a shortcut, and when does it cross the line into cheating? This isn’t about being permissive—it’s about being fair.

Because here’s the reality: when we simply declare “AI is never allowed,” we aren’t stopping students from using it. We’re just setting them up to fail. Without explicit guidance, students are left to guess where the boundaries are. Some will guess wrong, and then they’re not only penalized for crossing a line, they’re penalized for not even knowing where the line was in the first place.

Districts that call on teachers to spell out expectations assignment by assignment are actually doing two things: they’re leveling the playing field for students, and they’re pushing teachers to be sharper about their learning outcomes. If I tell my students “AI is off-limits on this essay,” I’d better be clear about why. If I say, “Use AI to brainstorm but not to draft,” then I’ve clarified both the task and the skill I want them to practice.

That’s why I admire districts that embrace policies built on clarity and context rather than fear and prohibition. They’re not just adapting to a new technology—they’re modeling the kind of teaching we want for the future: transparent, intentional, and focused on learning.

Why the kids who need it most can’t afford to miss out

While some kids look on passively at the creators of the Internet, other young people are out there having their voices heard. Every student needs this opportunity, because every employee will need this critical skill set.

Here’s something I can’t stop noticing: kids are consuming the hell out of technology. At restaurants, family gatherings, even on my own couch, I see students glued to their screens, scrolling through content that’s been crafted by…other kids. Kids their age who already have the skills to edit videos, design graphics, or tell a story in a way that captivates an audience. And it makes me wonder: what about the ones who don’t? What about the kids who’ve never had the chance to use technology as more than a delivery system for someone else’s creativity?

That’s why I keep coming back to the U.S. Department of Education’s distinction between Passive Use and Active Use. Passive use is the endless swiping, tapping, and liking—the digital equivalent of sitting on the couch eating chips straight from the bag. Active use is where the magic happens: creating, collaborating, problem-solving, building something that didn’t exist before. And the reality is, the students who don’t see that kind of use modeled at home are the ones who need schools to make it happen most.

Because here’s the deal: in school, the stakes are low and the opportunities for feedback are high. Kids can experiment, fail spectacularly, and try again—without it costing them a job or a grade point average that follows them forever. If we don’t give them those reps now, then we’re setting them up to be perpetual consumers while a smaller group of peers keeps producing the content that shapes culture, conversation, and opportunity. It’s the difference between watching TikToks and knowing how to make the one that everyone else watches.

But here’s the twist: not all screen time is created equally. Parents sometimes (understandably) see their child staring at a school-issued device and lump it all into the same bucket of “too much screen time.” Yet what happens in a classroom where teachers are leveraging these tools for active use is light-years away from what happens when kids are left to scroll endlessly at home. When done right, that screen time is richer, more dynamic, and frankly, more essential to a student’s growth than ever before. At the same time, that comes with responsibility on our end: if teachers are simply allowing kids to consume passively in a 1:1 environment, then we’re not holding up our end of the bargain either.

So here’s my challenge—to educators and parents alike: we need to stop treating all screen time as the same. We need to make space for active use, for creativity, for problem-solving. Parents, trust that when teachers push your kids to create with technology, it’s not “extra screen time,” it’s practice for their future. And educators, let’s be honest with ourselves—if we aren’t using technology to amplify learning, to give kids agency and voice, then we’re just part of the problem. The world doesn’t need more scrollers. It needs more creators. And every kid deserves the chance to be one.

Not Every Leader Needs an Office: Technology Leadership Teams

In schools, we sometimes act like the only way to “be a leader” is to get a new title, a parking spot, or at least a slightly fancier email signature. The reality? There are only so many department chairs, coaches, and admin jobs to go around. But if we want young teachers to flourish, we can’t just sit back and wait a decade for those opportunities to open up. We need to give them chances to lead now—without pulling them out of the classroom.

That’s where something like our Vanguard Educational Technology Team comes in. Picture this: short, voluntary 45-minute meetings where teachers gather (no one’s forcing them) to learn about meaningful instructional technology. I plan the sessions based on their requests, their building goals, or what’s buzzing in the hallways. But here’s the twist: I don’t hog the mic. I highlight their experiences and then put them on stage to rock out and share what they’re doing. Sometimes administrators join in, which adds real power, but often it’s just teachers talking to teachers about practical ways to design for engagement and make learning more impactful.

It’s simple, but it’s huge. Teachers grow their practice, build confidence, and flex their leadership muscles—all while staying in the classroom where they’re needed most. If you want to grow leaders in your school, you don’t need to hand out new job titles. Just create a space like this, give them the mic, and watch what happens. Turns out, the best leaders don’t always need an office—they just need an audience. And the best news of all — these teachers are already sitting within your building, just waiting for an opportunity to share, grow, learn, and lead.

Same Tools… New Tricks?

I’ve been at this for a while now—23 years in the edtech world, 16 of them in my current role—and I’ve noticed something that makes me chuckle (and maybe makes me feel just a little old). When I first started as an instructional technology advocate, it felt like every week there was some shiny new tool to try. Everything was fresh, different, exciting. Fast forward two decades, and here I am…still talking about the same tools.

Now, don’t get me wrong—there’s a reason they’ve stuck around. Great tools stand the test of time. Padlet, for example, has been part of my toolkit forever. But the Padlet I was showing teachers back in the day is not the Padlet we have now. It’s evolved, borrowed from other platforms, absorbed the features of things like Flip and Jamboard, and is even dabbling in AI. It’s less a “new tool” at this point and more of a “Swiss Army knife that just keeps adding more gadgets.” (At this rate, I’m expecting Padlet to start brewing coffee.)

The funny part is that it leaves me in this strange spot. On one hand, it’s a win—teachers don’t have to feel like they’re on a hamster wheel of constant change. They can get good at a tool and keep using it for years, even as it adapts. That’s stability, and that’s rare in technology. On the other hand, I sometimes wonder: am I missing something? Are there truly no brand-new tools out there, or have we simply reached a point where the old guard is flexible enough to do everything we need?

Of course, AI is the one big exception. That’s the genuinely “new new” right now—different, disruptive, and not just another feature tacked on to an existing platform. But outside of AI, the pace of new tools has slowed, and that’s got me asking: are we in a golden age of mature, reliable edtech, or is there space waiting for the next big thing?

Either way, I guess the irony is that after 23 years of “keeping up,” I’m still standing in front of teachers, excitedly sharing…Padlet. Maybe the tools aren’t what’s new anymore—it’s the ways we keep using them. Or maybe I really am just getting old. (Let me know if you see Padlet adding a rocking chair feature.)