The last 2 months have gone by in a flash. Late August, I was winding down a busy summer of virtual and in-person speaking engagements and was very content with my life as an educational consultant. In what seems like an instant, I said "yes" to a culinary arts position at the high school across town from where I taught for 12 years.

Many people have asked me, “Why did you make the choice to return to the classroom?” It’s natural to think that maybe I made the decision to make a 180 degree turn because I was unhappy or unfilled. But, I wasn’t. I absolutely loved working with Canva for Education/Wasserman Next Gen and truly loved the opportunity to present and collaborate with educators around the world. It was an unexplainable tug on my heart that brought me back. I knew it was going to be challenging in every meaning of the word. I was signing up to be “teacher tired” once again. And yet, by saying “yes” I was also returning to my culinary classroom roots. The culinary classroom is where it all began. There is something about teaching culinary arts that is super special. It’s a career opportunity for some, and it’s a life skill for all. Students are coming away from my class with a set of skills that they can build on for life in the most practical way. Whether they use their culinary skills in the food industry, to prepare food for themselves, their family, their friends, or all of the above, they will hopefully appreciate food and the value it brings nutritionally, culturally, and socially in ways they hadn’t considered before. It is also a coming together of a variety of ages, learning needs, and diverse backgrounds. It's a place where students that may struggle in other classes have an opportunity to shine and thrive. 

I was swept into the classroom so quickly that I am just now beginning to gain traction. I started the school year three weeks late, so didn’t have time to really even wrap my head around what I would be teaching, let alone do all things that I would normally do to start off a school year. I just hoped and prayed that teaching would be like riding a bike and I would be able to get back on and ride it without any serious injuries. Good news, I haven’t had any major falls yet, though the bike does feel a bit rusty. I'm scrambling to find old recipes, learn systems, reestablish routines and procedures, and connect with educators and organizations that I'd lost touch with. I’ve stayed on familiar paths, without veering too far off-track or adding too many new strategies and ideas. I have focused on being present and revisiting the why that I wrote back in about 2016, when my magical journey was just beginning.

I want my room to be full of joy and passion for learning. This starts with being intentional about creating a safe and inclusive environment for all my students. When students walk in my room, I want them to know they belong. Every class period I greet them by name with a smile as they walk into class. I’ve paid attention to the effect it has made over time. At the beginning, there were many that would either avoid eye contact, ignore my greeting, or give me a slight nod. After two months of keeping my consistent doorway greeting, a smile and greeting is returned by most. It’s a simple thing, that makes a huge impact. Of course there have been times, when I have to make a quick dash to the bathroom or I’m having to transition from one prep to another and I miss my doorway greeting, but 95% of the time I am there waiting for them to walk into my classroom. This simple thing, has made a positive impact on my classroom culture.

With the wide array of ages and learning needs in my class, I've spent a lot of time reading IEP's, observing, communicating with support staff, and providing lots of variety in how students show what they know. I have adjusted and pivoted to meet those needs and worked on establishing clear and predictable routines. Truthfully, it's felt messy, but I'm learning so much and have never been more passionate about understanding and teaching neurodivergent learners and I'm so grateful to provide an environment where they can flourish.

​I’ve prioritized getting my students in the kitchens creating and collaborating as much as possible. Culinary Arts is meant to be a hands-on class, and I strive to create that atmosphere for them. Many students are sitting in desks for a large percentage of the school day. I want students to learn by actively working together with their peers to learn techniques and skills, solve problems, and create. If students don’t come away with anything more than the ability to collaborate with others to create something that is delicious, I consider it a win. I love seeing their growth as they get to know each other and gain confidence in their culinary skills.

I have had fun designing learning experiences such as, mystery box challenges that encourage students to take risks, innovate, and problem-solve. By creating a safe environment for collaboration and exploration, students learn that their strengths can come together in beautiful ways to accomplish things they didn’t know were possible. This shifts students from being immersed, to empowered learners. This is a magical thing to witness!

Creating opportunities for students to shine in front of an authentic audience is something that I’m prioritizing as well. Every unit I have created an experience where we involve others from beyond the classroom. Last unit, I invited staff in for a MasterChef Challenge where they had to create a biscuit or scone without a recipe and serve it to a judging panel. This unit, students are creating pumpkin pies and pumpkin bars for a Thanksgiving bake sale for staff. This is a risk for them as it is for me, but I know those risks will pay off. ​I’ve brought in some other gamified strategies too, that I’ll save for a future post, but I’ve scaled it way back and have prioritized the need to observe, reflect, and get acclimated to life in the classroom again.

I’m learning, I’m growing, and I’m remembering the joy that comes with teaching. My friend, Alyssum Barber, sent me an Instagram reel yesterday that made me tear up and rings incredibly true.

What a privilege it is to do a job you wanted for years.
What a privilege to speak love into children, in my case teens.
What a privilege to feel tired after a long day of doing work that matters.
What a privilege to be the adult you needed.

I know this work matters and I’m honored to be a teacher in a world where our kids desperately need us. 

We would love for you to join Tara Martin and me in celebrating the special moments and finding gratitude in the everyday, whether in our personal lives, classrooms, or communities. New to #GratitudeSnaps? Here's how it works:

What?
The #GratitudeSnaps Challenge is as easy as 1-2-3. Focus each day on one thing for which you are grateful.  It could be a thing, a person, a feeling; it’s personal to you.
Who?
Educators, students, community members...anyone who would like to participate is more than welcome. The more positivity we can flood the world with, the better. ​
How?

1. Create a GratitudeSnap by connecting it to something positive in your life.  Add pics, text, anything you choose.
2. Take a picture with your phone and share why this image makes you grateful. You can use any picture app or design platform to create your #GratitudeSnaps. Tara will be using Instagram Stories and Tisha will be using Canva. Click this link for many apps used to make #BookSnaps, which can easily convert to #GratitudeSnaps. ​We have some Canva templates for you to create your #GratitudeSnaps, if you wish! These templates make it easy for you and your students to create and share what you’re thankful for. You’ll find all the resources you need to get started below, however use whatever allows you to express your gratitude best!​

Where?
Post it to a Instagram or X including #GratitudeSnaps & tag us:
X:  @TaraMartin EDU and @tishrich
Instagram: @tarammartin.real & @tishrichmond.
When?
Let’s begin our 30 days of #GratitudeSnaps on Friday, Nov 1st, 2024. It will last until November 30th. You're welcome to keep it going; there is certainly no "time frame" on being grateful. The world has plenty of negativity, let’s spread a grateful attitude! We have so much of which to be thankful.

When I first wrote "A Million Magical Dreams" during the pandemic, this song from The Greatest Showman became my anthem. Every morning, I would run to the beat of that song, letting the lyrics fuel me with hope and courage. As a new district tech integration specialist, it gave me strength when everything felt heavy and uncertain, and it reconnected me with my passion for creating magical learning experiences for all students.

Now, years later, I find myself teaching culinary arts again, and that same song still echoes in my heart. The passion and purpose that surfaced during those runs has resurfaced again, propelling me forward into the world of teaching. It was a bold decision to return to to the classroom after six years—one I didn’t take lightly. I was happy in my former role as an educational consultant, with the freedom, and flexibility that came with it. I felt like I was making a difference as I worked with educators around the globe and I was enjoying it! But even so, there was a magnetic force pulling me back to the classroom. There is a special magic we tap into when we are with students, and I needed to reconnect with that magic again.

​One early morning, on my way to the gym, I flipped on my XM radio just as the morning show host said something that I have been thinking about ever since, “Sometimes you need to shake the snow globe.” I couldn’t help but reflect on how much this simple statement resonated with my unexpected return to teaching high school culinary arts after six years away. After working in a variety of roles throughout these years including: tech integration specialist, Student Engagement & PD Specialist, Global Community Manager and Learning Consultant for Canva, stepping back into the classroom has felt exactly like shaking up my own snow globe. The flakes of excitement, uncertainty, and challenge are swirling all around me, reminding me that shaking things up is not easy, but exactly what I needed.

Returning to the classroom is challenging me in new ways. Teaching, especially in a hands-on environment like culinary arts, demands problem-solving at a rapid pace. I’m constantly faced with the task of meeting the diverse needs of my learners in an environment with a lot of variables. The range of learning accommodations and social emotional needs in each of my classes requires me to approach every day with flexibility, tailoring my lessons and finding new ways to engage students where they are. It’s both exhilarating and exhausting. But through this process, I’ve realized that shaking up my routine has pushed me to think in ways I haven’t in a long time.

Another realization that hit me upon returning is how much I am using a creative part of my brain that had gone dormant. As an educational consultant and tech specialist, creativity was important, but it wasn’t the same as the classroom. Now, the need for creativity is immediate. Every day, I’m creating opportunities for my students to learn, experience, and grow. They’re depending on me to bring energy, innovative lessons, and ways to make learning relevant and engaging, especially in the kitchen. Whether it’s gamifying the lesson to introduce a concept or designing a culinary challenge that stretches their skills, I’m flexing muscles I haven’t used in a while. And it feels good.

What’s most validating, though, is the reassurance that I still remember how to teach. After six years away, there was that little voice of doubt that whispered: “Do you still have it in you?” Returning to the classroom has allowed me to shake off that doubt. Yes, I can still manage a kitchen full of students. Yes, I can still build connections, foster creativity, and facilitate learning. I’m navigating a new generation of students, new expectations, and new challenges, but the core of who I am as a teacher remains the same.

This transition back to teaching has been a reminder that, sometimes, shaking the snow globe brings about clarity. It has re-energized me, pushed me to innovate, and reminded me of the joy that comes with teaching. It’s not just about stirring things up for the sake of it—it’s about realizing that in the chaos of the shake, there’s beauty and purpose. I’m grateful for this shake-up and excited for the journey ahead.

I am happy to report that I’ve become more comfortable with flying over the past ten years and I no longer am anxiety ridden to the extent I was before. However, if I encounter any turbulence during a flight, I definitely have to practice my deep breathing exercises to calm down. On a recent flight to a speaking engagement, I had a feeling the ride would be bumpy due to weather, and my anxiety was rising quickly. Within minutes of taking my seat the pilot came on the loudspeaker and with a friendly and calming tone said, “This is your captain speaking; welcome aboard flight “xxxx“. He proceeded to explain the weather we were encountering and described what we could expect during the flight. Immediately my blood pressure reduced as I felt the confidence from the pilot that he was in control. This wasn't the last time we heard from the pilot. When the turbulence increased during our route, he came back on the intercom and explained why we were experiencing rough air and what he was doing to find a smoother route. Once again, my heartbeat slowed and I felt safe and confident the pilot had things under control. 

Communication is powerful. As I move back into a new role as a classroom culinary teacher, I am facing my own set of fears as I make a sharp career pivot. I haven’t been a classroom teacher for six years. Is it like riding a bicycle? Will I remember how to teach high school kids? Will I be able to quickly learn all the new school systems and digital platforms? Will I be able to connect with my students and provide meaningful, magical learning? The list goes on. If I, as a grown adult, have fears and anxieties walking into a new school year, I know my students do too. When we are thoughtful to consider the fears and anxiety they may be facing and respond with calmness, clarity, and confidence, we are helping those we serve feel safe, seen, and reassured. 

These are practices I hold myself accountable to as I reenter the classroom. Just as the pilot’s calm, clear communication eased my anxiety mid-flight, I want to be that reassuring presence for my students. Whether they’re struggling with a cooking lab, unsure about an assignment, or just feeling overwhelmed by life, they need to know I’ve got things under control, and I’m here to guide them through it. Like the pilot who constantly checked in during turbulence, I will continuously check in with my students, ensuring they understand the path we’re on and feel secure enough to ask for support when they need it.
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In education, we’re more than just teachers—we’re navigators, guiding students through both the smooth skies and the stormy weather of their academic journeys. Every day, we have the opportunity to be that calm voice over the intercom, providing reassurance and clarity when things get tough. The power of clear communication, just like on that flight, can’t be underestimated. It’s what allows us to build trust, reduce fear, and ensure that each student knows they are in safe, capable hands, even when the journey gets bumpy. In my classroom, I hope to be the steady guide, reminding my students that no matter the challenges, we’re all in this together, and I’m here to see them safely to their destination.