Last year at this time, I was sitting with my roommate,
Jade, at McDonalds writing a vision for my classroom. I remember remotely
complaining (while eating cookies drenched in coffee) about the six-page
template I had to complete. After I submitted it to my mentor, I sighed seeing
the expected revisions and re-workings that inevitably needed to take place.
Ultimately, though, my vision became the driving force of my classroom. It
dictated the questions I asked my students, the lessons I planned, the pacing
of the stories we read. It eventually became our source of flight, the words
that gave us wings.
Last week, I wrote the vision for the library in which I’ll
be working. To be entirely transparent, my experience in libraries is
profoundly limited. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reading, taking
notes, and studying in libraries, but as far as the inner-workings of the
seemingly all-knowing information sources, I’m nearly naïve. Like my experience
as a teacher, I have grand ideas and the inherent visionary in me wants to run
wild with projects and community nights, but I’m struggling to break my ideas
down into actions steps. Even more, I don’t even know what to prioritize and
the writer in me wants to immediately commence learning the stories of my new
community and save solo library time for the weekends. Despite not knowing
where to start, my two years in the classroom taught me that having a vision
was essential. So, when my new principal requested I submit a vision to him, I
(nerdily) jolted with excitement. I love responsibility and, even more, I love
envisioning, even if the steps to vision matriculation are a bit ambiguous.
In the process of writing a vision for the library, riding
on persistent reflection of the past two years, I considered this: I might not
know what to do right now, I might not know the ideal timeline that leads to a
rocking (absolutely not drab) library, but I do know it’s important to create a
meaningful vision that I’m passionate about ensuring becomes a reality. I love
so many parts of the school year, but I love this part so much because it my
time to really craft my source of strength, to wind wonderful words into a
vision that will give deserving people wings, that will help me to spread my
wings, that will dictate this year. I love this time of year because it molds
the rest of the year and I love having the choice to create a mold that will
lead people, wonderful people, to discover their value and run with their
passions. A mold that will be broken when people
fly.
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