Nancy Dean

Nancy Dean, Ed.S., is professor emerita at the P.K. Yonge Developmental Research School, University of Florida, Gainesville, Florida. During her 43 years in education, she has taught middle and high school English, reading, social studies, English for speakers of other languages, and Advanced Placement English. She is also an experienced literacy coach and curriculum specialist.

Committed to school improvement and meaningful professional development, Nancy has worked extensively with teachers and school leaders in both urban and rural schools throughout the United States. She is the Associate Director for Professional Learning of the National Literacy Project and works as a lead trainer for that organization. In addition, she is a national consultant in secondary literacy and literacy leadership.

To contact Nancy about workshops, email her at ndean62@gmail.com.

Areas of expertise:

• Close reading and purposeful writing through the teaching of voice

• Working with literacy teams to build and implement literacy action plans

• Content area literacy

• Reading instruction for struggling readers

• Building a school culture of literacy

Not so very long ago I got home a little late. It was hot and dry, dishearteningly so. But I was in a great mood. Sang a little song going up the driveway. Said hello to the neighbor who always “walks” his dog in our yard. Even cooked a little dinner. “So,” my husband said over dinner, “your kids did well today, did they.” Oh yes. They did. How did he know? It got me thinking.

Teaching isn’t a job. It’s a life’s work. We plan, we assess, we plan again. We wake up in the night thinking about Eileen or José or Jake, kids we just can’t seem to reach. Our lives are consumed with grading, planning, meeting, learning — for our kids.

I love teachers. Several years ago I attended a large conference in San Francisco. Yes, San Francisco is wonderful: cable cars, Chinatown, restaurants, gardens, shops. But the best part was the teachers: 15,000 people, mostly women, with no-nonsense haircuts and sensible shoes gathered in one place, learning and sharing. You know how it is. I stopped for coffee one afternoon, sat by myself, and started to read. Not five minutes later a teacher from an international school in Japan asked if she could sit at my table. “I won’t bother you or talk to you,” she said. Right. I knew immediately that she was a teacher (How can we tell? Haircuts? The way we dress? The little blue tags we wear around our necks?) Within 15 minutes we knew all about each other: what we do, our children, our husbands, the man who dumped her ten years ago. But most of all we talked teaching: those kids…how do we reach those kids? Teachers all over San Francisco were having the same conversation.

There are people who don’t know teachers, who think anyone can teach, who think teachers need scripts and prescriptions. I recently heard a state-level administrator advocate top-down curriculum planning. “Most teachers,” he said, “need to be told what and how to teach.” I bit my tongue and smoothed down the hair on the back of my neck. Then I spoke in as calm and measured tones as I could muster: “I don’t share your cynicism about teachers,” I said. “I’ve worked with teachers all over the U.S., and I know teachers. Teachers are the brightest, most dedicated, most creative, and most committed professionals in this country. You can’t know teachers and believe we need scripts.”

I don’t know whether or not I convinced him, but I do know this: I’m right. Teachers know their life’s work. And teachers do make a difference. It’s the great un-kept secret of teaching. Why would we put up with meager pay, long hours, unruly kids, low status and no recognition? Why indeed. Every teacher knows. We love our work. Stocks rise and fall; fashions come and go; teams win and lose; and news gets reported. But teachers, we make a difference. That counts.