School starts this week for many of us, and even though (or maybe because) I’m not in my own classroom this year, I wanted to take a moment to remind you of your impact.

The time you’ve spent on your classroom this summer is not lost on me. You’ve worked to prepare this space where students feel welcomed. This isn’t just another room to you; this is a space where kids can dream big dreams … and where you’ll help make those dreams a reality.

I see you make the Walmart and Target runs. I’m well acquainted with the Amazon wishlists. “Should I ask for those supplies? Should I just buy them myself?”

I don’t know of any other profession that has to ask for Kleenex. Yet here we are, making hundreds of decisions a day already, and also wondering if we should add some more hand sanitizer to our cart.

Still, I know how you pore over those rosters, holding students in your heart before you ever meet them. There’s a mix of excitement and nerves as you prepare to teach a new group that enters as strangers but will leave as an extension of your heart and mind.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes during this time of year I get the sense that we’re supposed to feel a certain way. We’re often met with booming bands and sparkling pom-poms and 20%-off coupons. And sometimes those are exactly the things that help me get excited for a new year, but other times I just want to lock myself up in my classroom and beg for a stretch of quiet productivity.

Whichever way you’re feeling today (or maybe you’re somewhere in between), it’s OK. It’s OK to feel excited about a new year and still sad that summer is over. It’s OK to be eager to meet your students and still nervous for the newness.

Most likely, our students are feeling all those things, too; noticing them in ourselves is the first step in noticing those feelings in our kids.

But here’s what I want to remind you of. The power you hold as a teacher is infinite.

Because of you, students will learn how to read — whole new worlds now open to them. Because of you, kids will start to shift their mindset that math is about celebrating all the different ways we can solve problems. Because of you, history lessons will come to life, inspiring our next generation to learn from the past and work towards a more whole and just future.

Because of you, our students will learn how to hypothesize, experiment and hypothesize again. Because of you, artists, poets, musicians, mathematicians, historians, scientists, teachers, athletes and governmental leaders will find their calling.

Because of you, a student who is new to the community will find they don’t have to try to fit in — they belong exactly as they are. Because of you, a student who was met with unspeakable loss this summer will find comfort in your room. Because of you, the kid who was dreading the first day of school will come home with a smile on their face.

What a gift you are to our community.

I know this work is hard.

This work is hard because this work matters.

You might not know when you’ll change a life.

But what I know is: You will.

May this year be full of joy and purpose. May your classroom be a space where both students and colleagues are met with grace, love, and peace. May you remember that every day may not be good, but there’s something good in every day.

May you lean into your teacher friends and work together to create buildings where all students are challenged and embraced. May you grow with and from your students.

May your students look back, in 180 school days, and be able to say, “I’m a truer, kinder, more beautiful version of myself.”

And may you be able to say it, too.

Go light the world, teachers.

Rebecka Peterson is the 2023 National Teacher of the Year and math teacher from Union Public Schools.

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