Stay the Course (The Portland Years)

Teaching is hard. I have learned many things over 20 years in public education. One of the constants is that it is hard. Year after year, we pour ourselves into our students, jobs, and colleagues; sometimes, we get very little in return. The hard stories that lifelong educators can tell would fill many books. For “outsiders” and those who do not know our world, the statements are much the same through the years:  “Why would you keep doing that?”  “They don’t pay you enough for that.” “I could not do what you do.”

I certainly do not have all the answers. I can, however, tell you that I have noticed a trait throughout all my years in public education. Educators stay the course. They fight for their students; they fight for their colleagues. The fire and fight inside of so many teachers is a sight. It is truly a fantastic thing.

This year, my colleague and I had the privilege of working with seventy libraries. People always ask me how things are going at all the schools I visit. My response is much the same every time I get asked this question: “One of the joys of my job is seeing so many good people trying their best for their schools and students.”

If I could encourage any educator, it would be to stay the course. The children need you. You have made an impact on students this year. You have made an impact on your colleagues this year. If it has been a hard year, press on to the next one. If it has been a fantastic year, rejoice in that and remember it fondly.

When I graduated from college, I immediately took a job at the school I had attended my whole life. I went to Lakeside School District in Lake Village, Arkansas, for 13 years; I was in the AmeriCorps program there for 2 years and taught there for 1 year. Then, I took my first job there teaching 5th grade. At a young, stubborn, smarter than the world, 22 years old, I truly believed I would be a teacher there forever, just like the wonderful teachers who taught me.

Three years later, I was so down on education that I thought it was over. I had no fight left in me. Through no fault but my own, I had ostracized my principal and developed bad classroom habits. When my principal tried to correct me, I blamed her and knew I was right (which I was not). I knew I needed to work another year before I quit education forever. I also learned about a 3rd-grade opening at a school 20 miles away. I took the job, and it changed my life forever.

It was not easy to leave. Lakeside was the only school I had ever known in my life. It was my first job. When my mentor, Ms. Brown, heard the news (more about her here), she cried, and my heart sank even more. I did not have the heart to tell her that being a teacher was too hard for me and that this new job was part of an exit strategy. I left Lakeside frustrated, angry, and disenfranchised with public education.

I arrived at Portland Elementary School in Portland, Arkansas, the next August. Back then, Portland did not even have a gas station. It had a cotton gin and a school. The school was planted firmly in the middle of a cotton field.

Over the next 7 years, what happened there were some of the most magical times in my educational career. Looking back, I know now that those 7 years were magical because of the colleagues I worked with and my students.  

The classes at Portland were small. I would be your only option if you were coming to 3rd grade. I blossomed into a teacher who loved teaching all subjects, teaching the kids to “beat” the test, and seeing what kind of wild games or contests I could get going. I remember one class; we had so much fun that school year. I choked up at the awards assembly when I thanked the students for letting me be their teacher. I got to see that class graduate High School 3 years ago. One of the students said to me, “Mr. Pettiette, do you remember me? Because I sure remember you!”  I did remember them; I remembered all of them.

The colleagues at Portland were terrific. The Principal, Cristy West, must have seen something I thought was gone in me. She challenged me to improve, gently corrected me when I failed, and supported me in every area of my life. Ms. Cristy is the reason I am still in public education today. She pulled me up and taught me how to fight again. She taught me how to love my students and colleagues. She taught me that public education was worth the fight. She didn’t just pour into a young, brash 26-year-old Michael; she poured into every employee, every student, every teacher. Looking back, I don’t know how she had the energy. She just fought for everyone.

I could tell you more about my colleagues in Portland. Colleagues that grew me and made me into the educator I am today. Mrs. Becky Smith would not let me settle and teach reading mediocrely just because I didn’t like the program we used. She wanted me to be better, and she pushed me. Ms. Doris, Ms. Charlotte, and Ms. Teretha were paraprofessionals who cared not just for my students but my wife and children. They also participated in every kickball tournament I had there.  

There are many more notable people I think about when I think about Portland. There are many more special students as well. All people worth fighting for. Some are still there, and some have passed on, but I smile when I think of them.

The Portland years restored my fire and my fight for Public Education. It also made me brave enough to move to Texas and become a Librarian, which led me to Region 7 and my current adventure.

I did not know in the middle of the Portland years that they were some of the most significant years of my life. I know it now.

The 2024 - 2025 school year is over. The halls are quiet. As you reflect on the good you have done this year, I hope it was awesome. If it was not, use this summer to regroup, recharge, and get ready for the following year. If it was, reflect and rejoice. Either way, keep fighting. Your students, your colleagues, or some young teacher that you don’t even know will need you. Public education needs you.