Trained for the wrong things
I entered the public school system with a provisional teaching credential, though I had completed a two-year credentialing and masters program and a slew of standardized tests.
I selected my credentialing program because it included several student-teaching opportunities. Each classroom placement was a chance for me to learn from an experienced teacher, gradually taking over the teaching for longer chunks of time.
What I expected and needed was someone to show me what good teaching looked like, let me try it, and tell me specific things I could do to get better. Instead, I was encouraged to develop my own units and lesson plans, while weaving in activities aligned with pseudoscientific “learning styles.”
Not only did my credentialing program fail to prepare me to teach effectively, it implanted misconceptions about good teaching that have been difficult to shake.
Tested rather than taught
By the time I graduated from teacher preparation, I joked that I had become a professional test-taker. To get into my teacher-prep program, graduate, and apply for a teaching credential, I had to pass an enormous number of standardized tests (GRE, CBEST, CSET, RICA, and PACT). The tests attempted to measure my knowledge of teaching and the many subjects an elementary school teacher might cover (reading, literature, history, social science, science, math, physical education, human development, and the arts). Each one of these tests measured my knowledge but not my ability to teach..
When I graduated, I wasn’t surprised at my lack of preparedness because my professors had told me:
The only way to learn how to teach is to do it in your own classroom.
I couldn’t understand why I had paid so much money, time, heart, and soul only to emerge unprepared. It felt wrong that the system of teacher credentialing was abdicating its responsibility while still collecting my tuition. But when I got a job, I did attribute it to my credentialing program. I looked good on paper and I’d been taught to interview well.
What passes for “professional development”
To earn a clear credential, I had to complete an additional two years of what was meant to be on-the-job training. It was actually piles of paperwork and an inordinate amount of Saturday sessions.
Most of the speakers at the trainings had quit teaching and found more lucrative work delivering inspirational speeches or they had never taught at all. They told us how difficult and important teaching was. One speaker told us that when a colleague asks us how we are, we shouldn’t say, “fine,” but should instead say, “I’m not feeling great. I’m in need of a Vitamin You.” He required us to make eye contact with the person next to us and to practice saying this while pointing to their heart. Another speaker encouraged us to take risks with our lesson plans and he had us stand up and tell other participants,“Don’t think outside of the box. Blow up the box!” There were required hand motions for that one, too.
The training I received drained not only my own time and energy — it came at significant expense. California spent more than $4,000 per beginning teacher on a program that didn’t touch our teaching. I desperately needed someone to help me in my classroom and instead I learned to keep quiet and close the door.
Evaluation vs. coaching
I was rarely observed while teaching and, when I was, I received a script of what I had said and numerical scores for the levels of student engagement, organization of my classroom, and how prepared I seemed for the lesson. I didn’t get the coaching I needed and, worse than that, the evaluations I received built my confidence but not my skill, making it harder for me to learn effective teaching practices later on.
Confidence over competence
Within two years of teaching I had a clear credential and within three I was tenured. At that point, I had more security in my job than my supervisor and so our system of evaluation was meaningless and we both knew it.
In the seven years I worked in that district, professional development was exceedingly rare. If a new curriculum was purchased, I was required to sit through sessions led by consultants who worked for the publisher and who told me why I should be excited. On occasion I received training from the County Office of Education on teaching strategies that I could use in place of the curriculum we had. But I was never held accountable for teaching anything in particular. As long as my students’ parents were happy and my class was well-managed, I was doing well.
Without data connecting specific teacher-actions to student outcomes, the system had no way to distinguish a confident teacher from a competent one — and it wasn’t really trying to. Every mechanism that should have pushed me to grow instead signaled that I should figure out how to do things in my own way. I didn’t simply stop improving; I didn’t even know that I had any potential to do better. Tenure was the reward for survival not skill.
What implementation science says about my training
| What I experienced | What research says about it |
|---|---|
| Student teaching focused on developing my own lesson plans and units | Training needs to focus on effective practices and include modeling, opportunities to try, and correction when needed. • Use of Behavioral Skills Training with Teachers: A Systematic Review(opens in a new window) |
| Tests instead of training | Selecting and certifying based on knowledge tests doesn’t measure what the job actually demands. • What Does Certification Tell Us About Teacher Effectiveness?(opens in a new window) |
| Professional development workshops | Even well-designed workshops don’t transfer to practice without follow-up coaching. • A Synthesis of Research on Staff Development(opens in a new window) |
| Observation but not coaching | Evaluation and coaching are different functions — one judges, one builds skill — and conflating them leaves teachers no more capable. • The Effect of Teacher Coaching on Instruction and Achievement(opens in a new window) |
| Tenure regardless of student outcomes | Without data connecting teacher actions to student outcomes, systems cannot distinguish confidence from competence. • The Widget Effect |
I went through plenty of hurdles to become a teacher, but none of them made me better at my job. I used to feel angry about all the missed opportunities for learning, and sometimes I still do.
Imagining a system that serves the public good
I entered the profession because I believed that children deserve great teachers and that I could become one. I still believe both things. What’s changed is that I can now see the system I’m in — its levers and the places where it breaks down. And I know that I can’t be a truly great teacher on my own, that I have to work within a functional system.
In this post, I’ve described what was missing in my own development as a teacher. In the next posts, I’ll zoom out — to the organizational and leadership forces that determine whether any teacher, anywhere, has a real chance to improve.
About the Author
Publication Date
May 12, 2026