Student Teaching
Student teaching has been nothing short of life-changing. When I made the decision to leave behind a stable career and return to school, I knew it was a risk but I also knew that art and education was where my heart belonged. Every single day in the classroom, I felt it; the joy, the purpose, the certainty that this is what I was meant to do.
Thompson Valley High School
My first student teaching placement was at Thompson Valley High School, where I taught both 2D traditional art classes and 3D sculpture and metalsmithing. The students I worked with came from a wide range of backgrounds and skill levels, some were just beginning to explore their artistic voices, while others had already embraced art as a core part of their identity. Some students burst with confidence racing through projects, while others hesitated, unsure of their abilities. But every single day, I watched students create something magical.
They lit up as they fired up a torch for the first time, as they carefully polished a metal piece to perfection, and as they pushed past self-doubt to take creative risks. It wasn’t just about teaching them techniques, it was about helping them realize their potential and showing them that they were capable of creating something incredible.
What I will remember most are the quiet, unexpected moments; the student who stayed after class just to show me their sketchbook because they were finally proud of their work, the one who told me they had never felt "good at school" until they stepped into the art room, and the group of students who turned an individual project into a collaborative masterpiece (friendship heart portrait boxes! I love it!).
These moments weren’t just rewarding, but they affirmed why I’m here. Art education isn’t just about making things it’s about giving students a space where they feel seen, capable, and empowered. And that is something I will carry with me into every classroom I step into.
Centennial/Lincoln Elementary
My second student teaching placement took me into the whirlwind of elementary art, where I worked with over 450 students across two schools. Some classes had as many as 30 students, and I only had one hour a week to teach them, reach them, and try to hold their attention. It was a completely different world, and one that challenged me in ways I never expected.
Starting halfway through their Spring semester, I had to earn the students’ trust from scratch. Many of them looked at me like I was just passing through, another adult with rules and expectations they didn’t ask for. And honestly, I don’t blame them. Trying to build relationships in once-a-week bursts felt impossible. I took on the printmaking unit, but much of my time was spent navigating how to professionally handle meltdowns, managing “fairness” down to the last scrap of paper, and redirecting energy that spilled out in the form of shouting, bullying, or tears. Just getting through directions was sometimes a victory.
What I learned is that elementary art is equal parts preparation and improvisation. Everything has to be broken down, prepped, labeled, pre-cut, and carefully thought through; systems, expectations, and boundaries have to be airtight. The emotional labor is real, and when students walk in needing regulation more than instruction, I become their anchor, even if only for 60 minutes.
But I also learned something about myself: how far I can stretch before I snap. I pushed myself past exhaustion, and my body pushed back. Balancing student needs, instructional goals, and my own chronic illnesses (Crohn’s and MS) taught me a vital truth...I cannot show up for my students if I am not showing up for my own well-being first.
I will remember the chaos, the printing ink that stuck to everything, and the unexpected wins, like the 3rd grader who finally came running up to me after their first successful print, singing “thank you so much for letting me make this” after weeks of prep. Now, I may not have had the time to finish the unit, but I came away from this with a deep respect for elementary educators and a renewed understanding of the kind of teacher I want to be: present, patient, but honest about my limits.