This week, I’m excited to share my fifth grade class’ final project: a Native Art Tour, digitally interpreted by my fifth grade docents. One of the featured pieces is the weaving students created alongside our Art teacher, Anna. I invite you to explore the full tour and learn more about the unit here.

Each year, this is a project I’m proud to share with families because it really exemplifies an interdisciplinary approach and it’s tied to a topic that is near and dear to my heart. Recently, though, I’ve been reflecting on how projects like this only tell a fraction of the story of what happens in our classroom.

That’s because much of the most important work is invisible to the outside eye.

It’s not always polished or photo-ready. It’s often messy, in-progress, and unfolding in ways that can’t be neatly captured in a slideshow or displayed at a school event. Behind every finished project or smiling field trip photo is a long road – one filled with detours, unexpected challenges, and meaningful “side quests” that shape the learning just as much as the final product.

Simply sharing this project doesn’t fully capture what it took to bring it to life.

• Head: For the past eight years, I’ve been on a journey to deepen my understanding of Native histories and contemporary truths, collaborating with Native thought leaders and changemakers to develop curriculum through the nonprofit People of the Sacred Land. This work continues to shape and strengthen this unit in ways that go far beyond a single project.
• Hand: For the past four years, Anna and I have been experimenting with botanical dyes, learning through trial and error, and reaching out to local experts. This year, we were finally able to bring in a skilled dyer to work with our students – an exciting milestone that came after years of behind-the-scenes effort.
• Heart: While immersed in this unit, our class encountered a social challenge that required us to pause our plans and come together in council. Drawing on their learning about Native governance, students used the structure of the Cheyenne Council of 44 to work through the issue. This wasn’t something I had planned, but it was essential – and ultimately, just as important as the project itself.

I could list countless other examples of the invisible work that led to this moment, but much of it isn’t glamorous. It’s the everyday, behind-the-scenes reality of teaching.

The other day, a friend peeked into my car as we loaded her bike into the back and laughed, “What is all this?!” Inside was a snapshot of teacher life: a box of books by Native authors, a cast iron kettle and bags of flour from making fry bread the day before, tree branches for a student project, buckets and paint sticks from dyeing silk, soil for our 3 sisters garden bed, clay for student sculptures, and grapevines destined for the middle school garden.

As I shifted things around to make space, I shrugged and said, “The life of a teacher.”

In my role as an Instructional Coach, I have the privilege of seeing this same kind of work happening across our school. It’s a perspective that reminds me how much of teaching remains unseen. Naturally, as parents, you get a glimpse into your child’s experience – but only a small window into all that goes into each day.

At our school, we often talk about learning through the lens of Head, Hand, and Heart, typically in reference to students. But the truth is, this philosophy is just as deeply embodied in the work of our teachers.

• Head: the thoughtful, often years-long process of designing meaningful curriculum
• Hand: the constant motion, materials, and doing that bring learning to life
• Heart: the care, attention, and emotional presence teachers offer students every day

And perhaps most importantly, the ability to move fluidly between all three.  

This week, during Teacher Appreciation Week, I want to thank this parent community for the recognition you’ve shown our staff. It means a great deal. I can say with confidence that the educators here are deeply deserving of that appreciation.

At the same time, I also want to thank you… for your trust and partnership.

The work of teaching is both a craft and a practice. Like parenting, it is imperfect, evolving, and deeply human. No one can be everything at once, but together, we support one another, learn from one another, and continue striving to meet the needs of each child.  

So the next time you attend a sing-a-long at the ECE, see a photo of your child’s Kindergarten class at the farm, learn about birds from first and second grade, watch a third and fourth grade performance at CU’s Shakespeare Fest, make a wish on the fifth grade wish tree, or flip through pictures of middle school at the Sand Dunes, I invite you to remember: behind that single moment is a much larger story.  A story filled with intention, care, complexity – and a great deal of invisible work.