Student Teaching Reflection
What are you proud of?
I am most proud of my ability to build meaningful relationships with every single one of my students. For some, those connections came quickly. For others, it took more time and intentional effort. I found ways to connect by engaging with what they loved, reading books they recommended, researching the football teams they talked about, or just being present enough to notice when something felt off. I worked hard not to let my own biases cloud my understanding of student behavior. I kept showing up, even when students pushed back or even told me they hated me for enforcing consequences. I didn’t take it personally. I saw it as a sign that I was holding the line with care. I'm proud that I never gave up on any student. I kept trying new ways to help them see the beauty and uniqueness in their art and in themselves.
What has been challenging?
Elementary was, without a doubt, the most challenging part of student teaching. That placement almost broke me. I was navigating two vastly different teaching cultures, student populations, economic realities, classroom sizes, and maturity levels. Teaching kindergarten and teaching fifth grade are completely different experiences, yet in a single day I would have to switch mentalities back and forth and back and forth, with no downtime in between to stop and reflect in the moment. I felt like I just needed to keep moving them through. I thrive in mixed-age secondary settings, but the fast-paced, conveyor belt schedule of elementary left me feeling like I never got to know my students deeply. I started after spring break, when routines and systems were already established, and I struggled to keep up with the rhythm of rotating classes without passing periods or transition time. I taught identical lessons over 20 times each week (with minor adjustments) which was draining, but in reality the hardest part was that I never learned their names. I tried so many different strategies to try and get their names down, but I never found one that worked. By the end, I was still calling students by the wrong names. That felt like a failure I couldn’t recover from in the time I had.
Where have you grown the most as an educator?
I’ve grown the most in my willingness to be vulnerable and authentic in front of my students. When I started, I thought I had to be polished and perfect all the time to earn their respect. But I quickly learned that showing my flaws and humanity was the key to connection. Telling my students when I was having a rough day or admitting when I made a mistake opened up some of the best conversations we had about showing up anyway. When I shared that I struggle constantly with my own art practice, it helped students keep going when their own projects when it wasn't turning out the way they hoped. One moment that sticks with me was when I broke a demo piece I had worked on for two days right in the middle of a lesson. I had to pivot immediately, turning that accident into a teachable moment on failure, problem-solving, and perseverance. Moments like that helped me let go of the need to be perfect and embrace the reality of teaching and making art.
Now looking back, what would you have done differently?
Looking back, I would have trusted myself more. I leaned so heavily on my mentor’s existing projects rather than exploring my own interests and I wish I had taken more creative risks and brought more of myself into the curriculum. I would have established far more firm deadlines for student work (as two months after I'm done with my high school placement I’m still receiving late submissions). And honestly I wish I had asked to be transferred to a middle school when I began noticing mental and physical health red flags during my elementary placement. I stayed too long in a setting that wasn’t right for me. I regret not reaching out for more support with my cohort members, as I often felt like an outsider and missed opportunities for connection and kinship. Most importantly, I wish I had been kinder to myself. I constantly graded myself harshly throughout the entire experience, often dismissing the positive feedback from my mentor and coaches.
What goals do you have for yourself moving into your own classroom?
My top goal is to improve family engagement and communication. I want to create more consistent, proactive connections with guardians, even in a subject area that isn’t always prioritized like visual art. This connects directly to Colorado Teacher Quality Standard III: Element D – Communicating effectively with families. During student teaching, I only had access to guardian contact info for high school students and missed the opportunity to connect with elementary families outside of the official parent-teacher conference (which happened before I arrived). Moving forward, I want to explore creative, sustainable ways to foster more parent involvement, possibly through regular digital newsletters, student artwork showcases, or consistent positive emails.
Another goal is to deepen my classroom management skills by building on the Love and Logic framework I already value. This aligns with Standard II, Element B: Creating a safe and inclusive learning environment. While I was praised during observations for creating a welcoming classroom culture, I want to continue refining this with strategies that balance structure and care. I plan to read more literature on Love and Logic, seek out professional development workshops, and continue to observe colleagues when able.
What perspectives or opinions about teaching have changed from the beginning of the program to now?
Looking back at my original Educational Philosophy and “Top 10 Hit List,” I’m not surprised to find that my core beliefs have stayed the same. What has changed is the strength of my conviction in those beliefs. From the beginning, I believed that art is a deeply personal outlet, that everyone is capable of being an artist, and that the teacher’s role is to support, guide, and listen rather than control.
This program didn’t make me rethink my philosophy, it gave me the tools, experiences, and perspective to see just how important those ideologies really are. Creating a safe environment, setting strong (but kind) boundaries, and allowing students space to struggle and grow have all proven to be essential. Each classroom experience confirmed what I already believed. If anything, I feel more confident now as I’ve seen my values play out in real settings, and I know they hold up. My philosophy hasn’t changed, but it has matured, and I feel more prepared than ever to stand by it.
I Used To...
Personal Growth
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I used to be terrified of public speaking. Now, I confidently teach a room of 30 or more people of all ages. This transformation came from realizing that being prepared, passionate, and authentic is more important than being perfect.
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I used to second-guess everything I said, constantly worrying I wasn't smart enough. Now, I speak with confidence because I am starting to accept that my education and experience have made me an expert in my field.
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I used to criticize myself over every mistake. Now, I recognize those moments as essential stepping stones that help me grow into a more effective and empathetic educator.
Skill Development
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I used to hide my artwork, afraid it wasn’t “good enough.” Now, I proudly share my work alongside students to show that creativity is not about right or wrong way, but about exploration.
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I used to spend hours perfecting every pixel of my presentations. Now, I prioritize clarity and accessibility, recongizing that students engage more when the information is easy to follow and targets goals are clearly shown.
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I used to doubt my own artistic ability when students didn’t meet some unrealistic visual standard I had placed in mind. Now, I focus on their creative journeys and celebrate the process rather than fixating on the final product.
Habits and Attitudes
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I used to write lesson plans like scripts, afraid I would forget something important. Now, I use bullet points and speak naturally because students respond better to authentic and flexible teaching.
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I used to wake up early to prepare for my day. Now, I premake my lunch and lay out my outfit the night before so I can reduce decision fatigue and start each day with a clear mind.
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I used to get flustered when students didn’t immediately understand my instructions. Now, I recognize that every student learns differently, and if I can make the baseline instruction clear, I can use small group check-ins to reinforce and clarify for individual learners.
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I used to give very rigorous requirements, thinking it would keep students focused. Now, I understand that flexibility and choice actually help creativity flourish. I’ve adjusted my expectations to support more open-ended exploration.
Relationship Dynamics
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I used to think teenagers were intimidating or mean. Now, I see them as people experiencing the same struggles we all do, and sometimes they just need an adult to validate their emotions by saying, “Yeah, *insert life event* is really hard, and I'm sorry you have to go through that.”
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I used to believe that every student could be “saved” if I just tried hard enough. Now, I understand that I can offer support and encouragement, but ultimately students must choose to engage in their own growth. Sometimes failure is part of that journey.
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I used to avoid setting too many boundaries at the beginning of the year because I thought it would confuse or upset students. Now, I know that consistent boundaries build trust and structure, and students respond to that with respect and understanding.
Presentation of Learning a.k.a. How Hanging Upside Down 30 Feet in the Air Taught Me How to Teach
3 Large Learnings
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Preparation is vital
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Finding the right apparatus (school) can make all the difference
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Failure is part of the plan, flexibility is survival
Introduction
Did you know that becoming a teacher is a lot like climbing a pair of stretchy fabrics and hurling yourself toward the ground (with razzle dazzle of course). Seriously, whether I'm dangling 30 feet in the air or teaching a high school art class, success depends on your ability to plan ahead, walk in with the right mindset, be flexible, and prepare for a lot of trial and error.
Oh and glitter, lots of glitter helps too.
Large Learning #1 – Preparation is Everything (a.k.a. Warm Up or Wipe Out)
My first major learning this year was about preparation (and no, I’m not just talking about making sure your lesson plans are ready, although yes, do that too). I’m talking about prepping like you really mean it. In aerial, you must wear the proper clothes, have the proper equipment setup and tested, and most importantly no matter how much of a rush your in, you gotta warm up! You would never ever throw a drop without warming up and teaching is exactly the same (unless you enjoy impossible to heal injuries, in which case…. I have questions)
This year, I realized that walking into my classroom unprepared for all matter of circumstances is the teaching version of skipping all the necessarily safety warm-ups in aerial. I don't have the expertise yet to "just wing it" through a lesson, therefore prep is vital for my own success. Little changes like bulleting out my talking points, outlining my overall unit goals, and focusing on pacing helped me become a stronger, more confident educator. My students were more engaged, my days were less stressful, and I could give far clearer direction, even if things didn’t go exactly as planned.
Properly warming up a.k.a. prepping for my day gave me the freedom to help students focus on their creativity, to take risks, and to make space for the spontaneous moments that make teaching joyful.
Oh and little tip, to warm up your voice for a day full of talking, blast your favorite musicals to sing along too on your drive into work, it's a fun way to warm up your vocals before entering the classroom.
Large Learning #2 – Find the Right Apparatus (and Classroom) for YOU
In aerial, not every apparatus is a match but that’s part of the fun. When I first started training in 2018, I tried everything: Lyra, sling, silks, trapeze, straps, even pole. Lyra, while elegant left me bruised like a peach. Pole? Incredibly powerful and fun to spin on but my joints rebelled as soon as I hooked my knee on. Sling is basically a fabric pretzel machine, too many knots, too much uncontrollable spinning. But silks? Silks feels like home.
Trying different apparatuses helped me understand my own body, interests, and limitations and the same is true for teaching. I student taught at three different schools, and while all of them had something to offer, not all of them felt 'right' for me. Just like aerial work, teaching has different specialties and areas of expertise to master; elementary vs. high school, drawing vs. digital design, ceramics vs. crafts. Each one has pros, cons, quirks, and potential and it’s easy to feel pressure to master everything but what I’ve learned is that it’s okay to hone in on what 'clicks' for you.
However, this also doesn’t mean you’re locked in forever. Start with building strength and confidence in a single setting, and once you comfortable on one apparatus (or in one classroom) then branch out and try new things. I might never be a Lyra performer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire it, study it, or even incorporate its concepts into my own silks work. Likewise, I may not pursue elementary art, but I can see the value in that world and may explore it again if/when the time is right.
The key is not forcing yourself into a role, classroom, or teaching style that doesn’t fit your values or goals. We grow best where we can move freely, try things out, and still feel supported.
Large Learning #3 – Failure is Part of the Performance (and That’s Okay)
Let me tell you about the time my costume stuck mid-drop performing with a live band in front of thousands of people. I was doing a 360 single star, a drop I’ve performed literally hundreds of times. I climb to the top, set up my wraps, let go of my silks, and **BAM** my costume got stuck mid-rotation. And not like a cute little snag—I mean fully wrapped up and I am stuck.
There were a few things I knew I couldn't do to fix this; I couldn't panic as that would make the wraps tighter if I didn't hold myself up properly, I couldn’t derobe myself in front of the crowd, and I definitely couldn’t let the audience know I was completely stuck. So I took a deep breath, and relied on my past experiences of how I got myself free in similar situations. I did what I could to make it look like a planned move, gave the crowd a some nice slow dramatic poses, and eventually got myself down, and y'all the audience was none the wiser.
Internally though I was spiraling. I couldn’t stop wondering what did I do wrong? Why did it go so bad this time? How could I have forgotten to check for loose fabric before I climbed? Should I not do this drop anymore? Did I over rosin my hands and made the silks too sticky? The truth is I’ll never fully know.
And that’s the most important learning!!
Even with practice, even with preparation, even when you’ve done something successfully hundreds of times before, things can still go wrong. You can have your lesson ready, your backup plan prepped, your class engaged and it still might flop. Or maybe the internet breaks, students tune out, the "vibe" is just off, whatever it might be, you'll start to question yourself. What did I miss? Where did I fail? Was it me? But sometimes..… it’s just a weird day.
So here’s what I’ve learned: do a quick reflection, but don’t live in the failure. Don’t spiral because more often than not, you’re the only one who notices the stumble. Your students don’t know what “perfect” was supposed to look like. They’re just impressed you showed up and tried at all. So don't forget to give yourself grace, to trust your instincts, and keep moving. Because if I can recover from a mid-air wardrobe malfunction and still strike a decent final pose, I can absolutely recover from a rough Wednesday in the art room.
Conclusion
Teaching isn’t so different from being an aerialist. You have to plan and prepare, not just to avoid injury and chaos but to make room for creativity. You have to explore different environments and tools until you find the one that fits your goals, your body, and your weird little soul. And even when you do find your thing, when you know it inside and out, you’ll still have days where it just doesn’t work. The drop tangles, the lesson flops, and you’re left wondering what went wrong but teaching, like aerial, is not about perfection, it’s about being present in the moment and situation you are in. Your students aren’t keeping score, they’re just happy you’re up there, creating, guiding, and showing up for them.
So whether I’m 30 feet in the air trying not to depants myself, or standing in front of a classroom full of teenagers trying to get them excited about texture, I’ve learned to breathe, adapt, and keep going.
How to Survive Grad School With Your Sanity Intact
1. Take Care of You First – Burnout Isn’t a Badge of Honor
Just because you're capable of grinding yourself into exhaustion doesn't mean you should. Grad school and student teaching will push you to your limits if you let it. You can't do your best work if you're sleep-deprived, hungry, socially starved, and falling apart. Drink water, not just coffee. Take breaks, use the planning periods to take a deep breath and recenter yourself. Eat food that fuels your body, mind, and soul. Prioritize your physical and mental health. Don't forget about your life and relationships outside of this program. You are not a machine. You are a human being who deserves to thrive, not just survive.
2. Lean on Your Cohort – They’re the Only Ones Who Truly "Get It"
Nobody outside the program can truly understand the unique kind of chaos you'll be living through. But your cohort? They’re living it too. These are your people. You’ll laugh together, vent together, cry together, and maybe even rage-text about some assignments together. You’re all facing the same uncertainty and showing up for each other is what makes it bearable. Build each other up, celebrate the wins, and share the load when things get tough. Building community is a survival skill. Your cohort is your community. Things will feel overwhelming and absurd, but they are there to validate your experience and help you laugh instead of scream. Trust me, they are the glue that keeps you from falling apart.
3. Fight Decision Fatigue – Automate Your Life
Time management will be your best friend and worst enemy. Set realistic deadlines and give yourself grace when things go sideways. Life does not care about your perfectly planned calendar. Be organized, but flexible. Also, fight decision fatigue before it hits. Pick out clothes the night before. Pre-pack your lunches. Automate everything and anything you can. Save your energy for the big stuff by eliminating tiny, unnecessary choices in your day and don't be afraid to ask for help! The CSU coaches are some of the most kind and understanding people you'll meet during this journey, and if you need more time or help in anyway they will be there for you in every way they can.