Introduction

We are a four o’clock faculty.

Roy Briggs

I am on a mission, and I want you to join me. My aim is to change the face of professional learning for educators. It is well past time to make this happen. If you agree to join me on this adventure, I can promise you a few things:

(Okay, let’s be honest. This last one might or might not happen. It’s actually possible you could upset some people, but it is important to note that everything you do to improve your own learning helps you become the best educator you can be. So go ahead and give yourself permission to ignore the naysayers.)

Now that we have that out of the way and you’re still reading, I hope you share the conviction that motivated me to write this book: Pursuing learning and professional development is the single most important action we can take to hone our craft as educators.

We hear the term lifelong learner mentioned in education circles all the time. We want to be lifelong learners, and we want our students to grow up to become lifelong learners. But how many of us are living that out? How are you and the educators you know intentionally and consistently pursuing learning?

The truth is, professional development (PD) often falls to one or two district or building administrators. But if we are to improve as educators, it is imperative that each of us takes responsibility for our own professional learning. As educators, we must continually be on the lookout for opportunities on and off campus to stretch ourselves professionally.

As we begin this journey, let me tell you how I got started on my own path to improve professional learning for myself and my colleagues. I currently serve as a principal of a small second- and third-grade building in New Jersey. In my fifteen years of education, I have been a classroom teacher, basic skills interventionist, technology and instructional coach, and a Supervisor and Director of Curriculum and Instruction. In my roles, I have been responsible for planning and presenting professional development sessions and have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. Throughout it all, I continue to be as passionate today about professional learning as I was when I first started, and I have continued to engage in my own professional learning.

If you’re a teacher, it’s likely you have experienced a few less-than-stellar professional development sessions that had little to no relevance to what you do every day. Some might argue that every opportunity to expand your knowledge base has some merit, even if you might not be in a position to apply that knowledge on a daily basis. But educators, I believe, are like most practitioners: We want to perfect our individual and specific skills. To that end, it’s critical that we obtain knowledge and information that directly supports the work we do day to day; for example, why do we force music and art teachers to sit through mandatory training in math instruction? This happens more often than I would like to admit, so we need to ask this question: Why should teachers settle for training that’s irrelevant to their roles in the classroom?

I experienced this frustration early in my teaching career. My district was implementing a new writing assessment, and it had established a year-long training program for teachers using the new assessment. In one sense, I must applaud the district for rolling out a new initiative with a comprehensive training program. Some school districts would have provided teachers one workshop on the new writing rubric, and that would have been the end of it. The fact that teachers were sitting together once a month to learn about the program was commendable—sort of. At the time, I taught fifth-grade math and science, so the new writing rubric had no relevance to my daily role. The rubric was going to be used only in language arts classes. So there I sat in the training, a math teacher learning about a writing rubric I was never going to use. I sat between two colleagues, one who also taught fifth-grade math and science and one who taught kindergarten through fifth-grade art. Within our group, the number of times we would use the new writing rubric to score a student’s written work would be zero. This fact was not lost on any of us, especially me.

After each meeting, I walked slowly back to my classroom with my colleagues, complaining about the training the entire way. “Why do I need to sit and listen to professional development about a rubric that I am never going to use?” I wondered aloud. “Can’t they realize this is a huge waste of time for some of us?” My resentment took over, and I didn’t even try to learn anything from those sessions or apply any of the insights to my teaching methods. Looking back, I can now admit that was a critical mistake on my part, but that frustration ultimately helped me become the educator I am today. At the time, however, although I recognized the problem, I did nothing to work toward a solution. I didn’t try to find a more relevant use of my time. In fact, I let my valuable time be wasted by assuming my professional development was someone else’s responsibility.

After almost a year of making excuses, I finally decided to challenge the status quo. I explained to my principal that the training had nothing to do with allowing me to help my kids and asked to meet with colleagues to discuss our math curriculum. Up to this point, we felt we had been racing through the math pacing guide, hitting topic after topic, but never giving students a true conceptual understanding of the foundations of math or how it applied to them. We wanted to give students more context for how the math skills they were learning could be applied in real-life examples. Deep down, I believe that my principal recognized that we were not helping our students in math with such a school-wide focus on writing. After nine months of sitting through the writing sessions, we were granted the last meeting in June to meet to discuss the math curriculum. We gathered to discuss and start creating real-life word problem examples, something that would take the students from math theory and isolated skills to real-world application. The session in June led to additional sessions the following year, and a renewed focus on quality math instruction. It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. And more importantly, it served as a bigger win for our students. The following year, we were able to provide real-world problems where students could take the skills they were learning and apply them. Taking that stand was one of the key moments that led to my determination to improve professional development, not only for myself but others as well. At the time, I didn’t know my long-term goals included administration, but I knew that if I were ever in charge, I would never make anyone sit through a session that had no relevance to them or their daily work.

A few years later, I took a leadership position in a new district. My midyear arrival was just in time to attend an in-service day on the Friday of President’s Day weekend. Now, I have never researched the term in-service and don’t know the history of the phrase, but it doesn’t sound at all interesting, relevant, or meaningful. Evidently, I’m not the only one with that impression.

On the day of in-service training, the teachers shuffled into mandated sessions featuring large-group presentations. It was the traditional sit-and-get model with little interaction between the audience and the instructor. All teachers were required to take part in a mandatory dyslexia training session. Everyone was forced to learn about new math and language arts standards, even those who taught other subject areas. Teachers were frustrated. I heard several teachers echo as they walked out of the final session, “What a waste of time!!!” Although I had only been in the district a few short months, it was easy to see teachers were not getting what they needed.

I also discovered another interesting fact that day. After searching the campus for one particular teacher—and striking out with several people—someone informed me, “Oh, she took off today.”

“Took off?”

“Yeah, a lot of teachers take off in-service days to make it a four-day weekend.”

Taking off on a professional day? It was the first time I had ever heard of such a thing. Was that even allowed? In my previous districts, it hadn’t been an option. I was shocked that some teachers would consider skipping professional development, but after some serious reflection, I realized I couldn’t blame them. If leaders don’t provide relevant professional development, then why should teachers show up? Why wouldn’t they decide their time was better spent somewhere else?

More than ever, I became convinced that the culture of professional learning needed to change, not only in my own school district but for educators everywhere. We needed to change the system from the inside out.

Extremely difficult? Yes.

A lot of work? No doubt.

A challenge? In every way.

Impossible? No.

I racked my brain trying to think where and how to begin this shift toward more individualized and meaningful professional development. What could I do to change professional learning? How could I, as one educator, possibly make an impact? I quickly realized I would need some help, and so I reached out to my good friend and fellow educator Trevor Bryan. We had been colleagues at a brand-new school many years ago. I was the rookie, fresh out of a teacher certification program, and Trevor was hired as the art teacher. We shared a passion for education and learning as much as we could to improve what was happening in our classrooms. Through the years, Trevor shared with me many stories about his father, Larry Bryan, who also was an educator. Larry had done it all in education, serving students for thirty-eight years as a teacher, supervisor, and assistant superintendent. One story has always stayed with me, and it speaks to that responsibility administrators have in helping their teachers become the best they can be.

In 1959, Joel Barlow High School opened in Redding, Connecticut. Roy Briggs was the first principal. Briggs recognized his situation as a unique opportunity; not many principals have the chance to handpick each member of their faculty. Briggs’ aim was not only to hire the best teachers he could find but to hire a faculty that would help establish the high school as the best in the state. He hired Larry Bryan as a teacher in 1960. During his interview, Briggs informed Bryan the school day ended at 2:15 p.m. When Bryan asked, “What time can teachers leave?” Briggs simply responded, “We are a four o’clock faculty.”

An hour and forty-five minutes might not seem like much time to devote to improvement, but the idea resonated with me, and I decided to follow Roy Briggs’ lead.

And so, Four O’Clock Faculty was born.

The mission was simple: We wanted to establish something that would allow all educators to be the best that they could be. We wanted to engage educators who wanted to improve schools and learning—for themselves and their students—in meaningful, relevant work. Educators must pride themselves on doing whatever is necessary to improve learning.

The mission of the Four O’Clock Faculty extends beyond the walls of any school. In fact, if you are unhappy with the professional learning opportunities made available to you, now is the time for you to join the Four O’Clock Faculty. It’s simple:

  1. Commit to becoming the best educator that you can be. Forget all the naysayers.
  2. Commit yourself to learning as much as you can so your students can learn as much as they can.
  3. Start now by reading the rest of this book.

The Road Ahead

Before you move forward, here’s a quick look at where we’re headed:

In Section 1, we will look at what professional development is, what it could be, and why all educators have a responsibility to ensure that we are continually growing as professionals. We will examine how some professional development ends up as one-size-fits-all, and you will learn several principles for better PD, such as how a simple CHOICE between two learning sessions can impact an educator’s attitude toward professional learning.

Section 2 offers practical strategies that you can use almost immediately to impact learning outcomes for your students. We will examine ways to maximize available time for professional learning; for example, what do you currently do with the fifteen minutes before students arrive? How about the fifteen minutes after students leave? Learn how to take advantage of this time! We will also explore ways to take advantage of technology to connect with expanded professional learning opportunities or to explore PD opportunities on your own.

Section 3 will help us as we all move forward with professional learning by exploring how we can redefine professional learning communities and by providing a game plan for changing professional development. We will answer the question, “What do I do when my professional learning experience is terrible?” and you can learn how to PDIY (PD It Yourself). We will also show you how you can go beyond learning in order to solve a problem or create something meaningful.

Within this book, you will find several strategies, structures, and resources for redesigning professional learning. The ideas apply to anyone who wants to use them. You might be an administrator looking to refuel your teachers through new dynamic professional development opportunities. You might be a teacher seeking ways to connect with like-minded individuals who share your passion for learning. You might be an instructional coach who is not getting what you need in terms of professional development. Or you might be like me, an educator who is dedicated to learning and growing so students get the teacher they need—and deserve.

Now is the time to redesign professional learning for all educators. Our students need us to be at our best. And for our own sanity and success, we need to pursue relevant, meaningful learning that empowers us to thrive as educators.

Thank you for joining me on this journey.