After ten years away, I’m back at the keyboard—this time with clearer purpose and hard-earned perspective.
For a long time, I stepped away from writing—not from teaching, but from sharing it publicly. The last ten years were full in a different way. I focused on family life, on becoming more present at home, and on growing professionally in ways that didn’t always come with a spotlight. I learned, observed, listened, and refined my practice quietly, day after day, in real classrooms with real students.
And in that time, I became a better teacher.
I stopped chasing what looked impressive and started paying attention to what actually worked. I learned to slow down, to notice patterns in how students respond, where they get stuck, and what helps them move forward. I deepened my understanding of how students with disabilities and multilingual learners experience instruction—not in theory, but in practice. I learned how much clarity, structure, and intentional design matter, especially for students who have been failed by systems that move too fast.
Stepping back from blogging also gave me perspective. I wasn’t trying to prove anything anymore. I was trying to serve my students well. Professional development became less about collecting strategies and more about building coherence—understanding why something works, when it works, and for whom it works. That shift changed everything about how I plan lessons, how I scaffold learning, and how I respond when something doesn’t land the way I hoped.
Family life played a role in this growth, too. It taught me patience, empathy, and the importance of sustainability. I learned that burnout helps no one—not students, not teachers, not families. I learned to work smarter, to design lessons that are effective without being overwhelming, and to respect the limits of time and energy. Those lessons show up in my classroom every day.
Now, as I return to blogging, I’m not coming back as the same teacher I was ten years ago. I’m coming back with clarity. I know what matters. I know what teachers actually need—practical tools, honest reflection, and resources that respect their professionalism and their time. I understand the pressures teachers face because I live them, and I’ve spent years figuring out how to navigate them without losing sight of why I teach in the first place.
I’m motivated to share again because my impact doesn’t have to stop at the students in my classroom. If I can help another teacher feel more confident planning a lesson, more supported differentiating for diverse learners, or more grounded in their instructional decisions, that matters. When teachers succeed, students succeed—and that ripple effect is worth investing in.
I'm re-learning how to blog and I realized that returning to the keys after a long pause is not an easy task. I'm currently logged in to my Blogger account, and here I see unfamiliar widgets from what I was accustomed to back then when I used my blog as an online journal. I now see a comprehensive, left-hand menu system designed for managing content, design, and analytics. I am doing my research, asking ChatGPT how to navigate Blogger dashboard while simultaneously typing this post. My very first post was in November 2004 and my last post was April 2015, and here I am writing my stories hammering it out on the keyboard again.
This is productive struggle in action, an experience that I can share with my students when I go back to my classroom after this upcoming snowstorm. This next chapter of blogging isn’t about keeping up with trends or presenting perfection. It’s about sharing what I’ve learned through experience, reflection, and persistence. It’s about supporting teachers who care deeply about their students and want tools that actually work. I’m here to contribute, to mentor through writing, and to help build capacity—not just in my classroom, but across classrooms.
I’m returning not because I have more to say—but because I have more to give.
