The start of a school year always feels like standing at the intersection of firsts and lasts. This week, I experienced one of those milestone moments: I gave my last welcome-back speech as President of our local teachers’ association. For more than a decade, it’s been my honor (and sometimes my challenge!) to welcome staff back, remind us of our collective strength, and set a tone of encouragement and advocacy. This year, I knew as I stepped up to the microphone that it would be my final time doing so. I’ll still serve as president throughout the year, but the ritual of opening day, including the speech, the handshakes, and the shared anticipation, belongs now to the past.
That moment carried weight. As educators, we often move so quickly from one task to another that we rarely stop to recognize the importance of symbolic endings. This one caught me by surprise with its mix of pride, nostalgia, and relief. Pride because I know the work I’ve done has mattered. Nostalgia because I’ll miss the energy of that yearly tradition. Relief because leadership, while deeply rewarding, is also deeply demanding.
But while I’m closing one chapter, I’m opening another. This year marks my 30th year as a teacher. It is a milestone that still feels surreal to say out loud. Thirty years of lesson plans, IEP meetings, late nights, professional development, mentoring newbies, hundreds of students, colleagues, and countless cups of coffee. And yet, even now, the start of a school year feels brand new. That’s one of the great paradoxes of education: no matter how long you’ve been at it, there are always fresh beginnings.
This is my fifth year of teaching virtually. On paper, that might sound routine. I know the platforms, I understand the rhythms of working with students online, and I’ve learned the quirks of virtual teaching. But this year is different because of leadership. I have a new principal who is including me in our virtual school in ways that feel fresh and energizing. Sometimes a “first” isn’t about a new role or assignment. Instead, it’s about being seen in a new light, valued in a new way, or supported differently than before. That has me excited about my work in ways I didn’t anticipate, and it’s a reminder that “firsts” can happen even in familiar places.
Why Firsts and Lasts Matter
Marking firsts and lasts is about more than sentimentality. It’s about meaning-making. Human beings are storytellers, and when we recognize turning points, we remind ourselves that our work isn’t just a series of to-do lists. It’s a journey.
- A first nudges us toward curiosity. It asks: What will this bring? How can I grow into this new experience?
- A last invites reflection. It asks: What have I learned? What am I grateful for? What am I ready to release?
In the whirlwind of back-to-school, it’s easy to focus only on logistics, lesson plans, rosters, and tech glitches. But pausing to notice our firsts and lasts grounds us. It keeps us from moving on autopilot.
A Resource to Try
If you’re interested in practicing this reflection yourself, or with students, I recommend Edutopia’s Refining Your Teaching Practice Through Reflection. It’s a collection of prompts and strategies that make reflection tangible, not just a vague idea. Even taking five minutes at the end of a week to ask, What was my first this week? What was my last? can be grounding.
The Walking Parallel
I’ve been thinking, too, about how powerful this can be for students. For them, the school year is filled with firsts and lasts: the first time they master a concept, the last time they struggle with something that used to feel impossible, the first time they feel seen, or the last time they feel alone in a classroom. Encouraging students to notice these milestones could help them see their growth in real time.
Outside of school, I’ve been working on my own personal “firsts and lasts” with a walking goal. My aim is to walk four continuous miles a day. Right now, I’m solidly at just over one mile. That might sound small, but it’s actually big progress from where I started. Every day, I lace up my shoes and remind myself that growth is a slow build.
A podcaster I listen to daily says, “poco a poco”—Spanish for little by little. That phrase has become a mantra for me. The first time I make it two miles without stopping will be a milestone. The last time one mile feels difficult will be, too. Progress, whether in walking or in teaching, comes poco a poco.
It strikes me how similar this is to education. Our students don’t become confident readers, problem-solvers, or self-advocates overnight. We don’t become better teachers in a single workshop or school year. We grow little by little often without realizing how far we’ve gone until we pause to look back.
Looking Ahead
As I step into this 30th year, I feel grateful for the blend of firsts and lasts in my life right now. I’m closing the chapter on one role, embracing new beginnings in another, and taking each step, literally and figuratively, with purpose.
So here’s my encouragement to you, as you start this school year: notice your firsts and lasts. Write them down. Share them with a colleague. Invite your students to do the same. These moments are markers of growth, and they deserve to be honored.
May we all step into this year with curiosity for our firsts, gratitude for our lasts, and the steady persistence to keep moving forward—poco a poco, one mile, one lesson, little by little.
📌 Teacher Takeaway: Reflection Prompts for You and Your Students
- What was your “first” this week? (Example: the first time you tried a new strategy, or the first time you felt connected to a student.)
- What was your “last”? (Example: the last time something felt overwhelming, or the last time a challenge stayed unsolved.)
- How will noticing these moments help you grow?
Try asking these at the end of the week, either in your own journal or in a student reflection. You might be surprised at how powerful it feels to mark the moments that often slip by unnoticed.
Paula Johnson Tech 
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