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What happens when the work you’re proudest of also leaves you standing alone?
In 2006, nearly a thousand educators were nominated—and I was named Educator of the Year. My family attended the banquet. People shook my hand. For one unforgettable evening, I allowed myself to believe that everything my students and I had built truly mattered.
Then Monday morning came.
The congratulatory message outside my school was gone by lunchtime. The hallways felt different. Conversations stopped when I entered the room. And for years, I couldn’t understand why.
In Episode 103 of Life’s Learning Curve, I open an old trunk—and a complicated chapter of my life. It’s the story of a young teacher, an Apple IIe, a classroom filled with cameras and extension cords, and students who discovered that they could become writers, performers, technicians, and producers.
But it’s also about the things I couldn’t see at the time: how passion can create pressure, how silence can resemble superiority, and how becoming visible can sometimes leave a person isolated.
Was I helping children find their voices—or was I also searching for my own? Twenty years later, I’m finally willing to admit it: Looking back…I was wrong about a few things.
