Lessons I Have Learned from My Students -Part 1
Have you ever had a recurring dream? One you just can't let go? That seems to be the impetus that finally has me writing again. Over the past few years, I've been flooded with memories of lessons I taught — some that went extremely well, and some that went terribly wrong. But something else kept creeping into my thoughts: What were the lessons I learned from my students? What did they teach me? As I've sat with those questions, a handful of hard-won memories have come flooding back.
An important part of the learning cycle — no matter your age — is to reflect and evaluate. For students, the question is: What did I just learn? For teachers, it's: How successful was that lesson? Looking back on my many years in the classroom, I'll admit that early on I would bask in the glow of the lessons that went well. And there's nothing wrong with that — those wins fueled my sense of efficacy and helped me grow as a teacher. But as the years went on, I began to do the harder thing: take a deep look inside, own my mistakes, and sit with the failures — the flopped lessons, the chaotic transitions, the moments when student progress simply wasn't where it needed to be.
I think that's around the time I truly adopted a growth mindset (long overdue, if I'm honest). I was finally ready to embrace challenges and see mistakes as opportunities to learn. The stories below are ones where I accept full responsibility for how things played out. If you're a teacher reading this, I hope you'll take a few moments to reflect and have an honest heart-to-heart with yourself as well.
When Progress Is Slow
It was around my tenth year of teaching. I had an adorable, petite student who found first grade enormously challenging. We could barely get through a day without several outbursts of tears — a struggle with independent tasks, with transitions, with so many aspects of school. I grew concerned and spent time looking for ways to support her. The early months sailed by, and not much progress was made.
I'm ashamed to admit this, but during the winter break I found myself thinking about her lack of advancement and wondering whether what she really needed was an extra year to mature. Then January arrived — and with it, something shifted. My student seemed more settled, more attentive, more willing to take risks in reading, math, and writing. All of a sudden, that much-talked-about "lightbulb moment" happened. She began meeting with success more frequently. Tears gave way to smiles and an "I can do this!" attitude. She went on to work incredibly hard that spring semester and mastered every benchmark needed to complete first grade.
My sweet, petite student taught me a lesson I will never forget - do not count anyone out. You simply cannot predict when the lightbulb will switch on. It may take a little longer for some students to find their footing — but when they do, they can truly thrive. That lesson has stayed with me ever since, a steady reminder never to prejudge a student based on the first half of the year.
Maybe Not Every Meltdown Is the Student's Fault
One year, I had a student who excelled academically but presented real challenges with behavior and self-control — a scenario many teachers will recognize. He was engaging and knowledgeable about so many things. He loved telling stories and sharing his passion for bugs with anyone who would listen. As the year went on, I also learned he had quite the temper and would become easily frustrated.
One particular day, his frustration had been building, and I had been cautiously keeping an eye on him. The class went off to Music, leaving me a window of time to return a parent phone call and prepare for our upcoming math lesson. I remember hurrying down the hall to pick up the class when my student rushed over to tell me about something that had happened during Music. He was adamant — he needed to tell me. In that moment, I wasn't ready to hear it. I perceived it as tattling, told him to return to his spot in line, and said we'd talk about it when we got back to the room.
We returned, the class filed in, and I began transitioning them into the math lesson. What happened next was a full-blown meltdown. Books flew. A desk went over. He was on the floor — kicking, crying, screaming. I called for an administrator immediately. My other students went next door to my buddy teacher's classroom. The administrator arrived, and once my student had calmed down, he was removed from the room. It was my first experience with a meltdown of that magnitude, and I want to say clearly: meltdowns are frightening — for the student experiencing them, for the classmates witnessing them, and for the teacher trying to hold it all together.
At the end of that day, I sat at my desk and replayed everything. Something tugged at my heart and wouldn't let go. The truth settled in slowly, then all at once: I caused that meltdown. If I had simply stopped for thirty seconds and let him tell me what happened in Music, the whole situation could have been avoided. A quick "Thanks for letting me know" — and we would have moved on.
The next day was better. After meeting with both of his parents and with him directly, we made a plan: a system for monitoring behavior, clearer and more acceptable ways for him to communicate, and — just as importantly — a chance for me to express how much he was valued in our classroom, by me and by his classmates. Each new day begins with a clean slate. Yesterday's mistakes do not carry over.
Don't we all deserve that?
His extreme outbursts became fewer over time. We worked together on managing frustration and building coping skills. One book I found enormously helpful was The Explosive Child: A New Approach for Understanding and Parenting Easily Frustrated, Chronically Inflexible Children by Ross W. Greene, Ph.D. I can't recommend it enough — it was a genuine lifeline.
Stay tuned for Part 2 — and likely a Part 3 — of Lessons I Have Learned from My Students. Previously posted April 19, 2026