Today is Sunday. This week we start back with students. We've been planning and prepping and meeting the last week, and may teachers have been planning in some form for months. Soon, TeacherTok and EduReels will be full of "Sunday Scaries" posts. I find those interesting. Do I get a little anxious, especially at the beginning of the year and throughout the fall? Sure. Am I scared? No. Really. No. Do I think some teachers really are? Yes. I understand that there are some out there who legitimately are. Do I think some teachers are a little overdramatic and jump on this trend with a little more gusto than necessary? Uh, yeah. But hey, if they need to do that to ramp up for the year and for the week, then they can go for it. It's satire (sometimes). And sometimes it's not that serious (as the young'ins might say).
So people will say, "Of course you aren't having Sunday Scaries. You're a type B teacher."
And to that, I say, "Stop."
Just stop.
We have this bad habit as teachers of trying to categorize things and people. For a while now, teachers have been dropping their colleagues into boxes labelled "Type A" and "Type B." I'm looking at you @educator_andrea. It is often in fun and does have its roots in what we see each day in our hallways. And it is kind of funny. Some teachers even take it and run with it, making it their whole teacher personality. Fine. Have fun. But here's the thing: it's inaccurate and, if we are being honest, lazy.
I know full well that I would be dropped in the Type B Teacher box. Some of my outward habits make that an obvious choice. For those that do not know, from what I can tell, Type B teachers are those that roll into the classroom - often a little late - apparently with no plan, a vague idea of what day it is or where their desk is, a free spirit, and lax approach to all things structured. A calendar? Never. Sticky notes (according to the reels and tiktoks) are the only ways this person plans or organizes ideas, and usually they can offer little help to a colleague who needs something, because let's face it, they are just flying by the seat of their pants.
And right now, some of you that know me, are saying, "yep, that's Kohls." And in some ways, probably not the ones you think of, I meet some of those criteria. However, as with all stereotypes and labels, I am not Type B in more ways, and in the ways that I find most important. Is my desk a mess? Sometimes, but I only use it as a place to put things because I'd rather sit with the kids, so it does not matter. Do I forget where I put my coffee cup? Sure. I move around the room a lot. Are there times when I cannot tell you with certainty what we will be doing on a specific day next week? Definitely. But that is not because my sticky notes are lost or I haven't planned that far ahead. Quite the opposite.
Those "Type A" teachers who feel most comfortable when their carefully selected planners are written in using ink, duplicated for a 3 ring binder, transcribed to the Google calendar, and used to schedule Google Classroom posts weeks in advance (yes, that is an exaggerated and unfair generalization of type A teachers) may not realize this, but many of us "Type Bs" have been planning just as long. I plan as I walk in June. When I drive. When I am sitting on the patio. They might be acute, a particular day's lessons, or they might be the big picture, stretching out in front of my along the walking path. Sometimes, those plans are jotted down immediately, if they are particularly striking or surprisingly polished. It might be on a sticky note. Or in a notebook. Or in my phones notes. Or a voice memo. More often than not, however, they roll around my skull, often for hours or days, developed and revised in chunks and portions, added to and tossed and recalled from the scrap heap, before they are ready to flow as ink or graphite across a page. And even then, it may not ever make it to the typed page or a spiraled planner, which I do not own. But when it is ready to be implemented, it has been rolled through the creative cycle, often multiple times.
And sometimes we do find it worthwhile to step off that trail that was laid out, to follow a faint rabbit trail or the sound of an unseen and unplanned wonder that might lay around a corner. You know, the whole "Road Not Taken" thing. And sometimes it does make all the difference. And sometimes, to harken back to Kid President, there are rocks, and glass ("Not cool, Robert Frost!"). But we are somewhat fine with taking that risk, probably because we have rolled something like it through the fog of our minds hours, days, or months ago. We just didn't write it down or pick a day or time to pencil it in. We just planned for it to happen at some point. And we know where the main trail is, or at least where it eventually leads, and know we will get back there.
It's not that we do not care or feel like planning is worthwhile. We plan. We care. A lot. Probably too much or we would put ideas on paper sooner, rather than rolling them around to see if they gather moss. We simply are ok with veering away from that guide and that mental work if we see it as valuable. Call it confidence, if you want. We are sure enough in what we are doing to let it go a little bit. Or call it insecurity. Nothing is ever perfect, so sure, if something new comes up, we'll give it a shot.
And if that is not you, that's ok. If your confidence skyrockets with each entry in your planner and your comfort level corresponds with the numbers of weeks ahead you have planned, that is fine. As they saying goes, "We're built different." And that's ok. We are going in the same direction and toward the same destination. We should be able to help each other along the way.
I guess where I am going, eventually, is this: the memes and skits are funny, but putting people in boxes and thinking that is everything about who they are is frustrating, judgy, and a little dangerous. If we are willing to do this and do it unthinkingly with those we work with, then we are going to do it with our students. And when we do this, it is often done so we can judge them. I know, despite trying not to, that have done it. I have to be better. I can always be better. And I will be.
I have a plan.
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