From an Idea to Our Work

Sometimes an idea starts with a question, and sometimes it starts with listening to people talk about how much they have on their plates and thinking, There has to be a better way to do this. But an idea doesn't always come with a plan, a timeline, or even a guarantee that it will go anywhere. Sometimes, you just have to be willing to take a chance and see what happens.

As I shared in Innovating Within Constraints, the Coach’s Toolkit began during the rollout of a new language arts curriculum. I was part of that rollout, and as I listened to our campus instructional coaches talk about everything they were going to need to learn, I heard another part of the challenge. Much of the focus was on helping teachers learn and implement the curriculum, but the coaches supporting that work were facing a learning curve of their own. They needed to understand a new curriculum, learn a different approach to planning and lesson internalization, and then figure out how to help teachers do the same. On top of that, they were going to need to create resources to support the teachers in their buildings. There was a lot to figure out, and someone said something along the lines of, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the district could just make something for us to use?”

Well. That got my attention.

The Coach’s Toolkit wasn't a required project, and there was no guarantee that it would become a department-wide effort or grow beyond the resources I could create in the time I had. There was simply a need worth exploring and an opportunity to respond. I started asking questions to find out whether this was a shared concern among other groups of coaches or something that had come up in one conversation. The need was consistent across the coaching groups I consulted, and that was enough to get started. I didn't know exactly where the work would lead; I just knew there was an opportunity to make the process a little more manageable for the people responsible for supporting it.

There was another piece of the puzzle, too. The curriculum had very few digital resources; what was available online was largely PDFs of the printed materials. I had questions about how the curriculum would address digital literacy and digital processing expectations, particularly when students would eventually demonstrate their learning through a cumulative assessment delivered online. How could we consider that end goal while still honoring the expectation to implement the curriculum with fidelity during the first year? How could we help coaches and teachers understand the curriculum first while also considering where digital tools might eventually support students?

When I brought those questions to the director of the English language arts department, a true collaborative colleague, the response was, “Great questions.” That conversation helped us begin thinking about what we could do, how we could sequence the work, and where we could have the greatest impact within the time available. We needed to start somewhere, and the campus instructional coaches were the logical place to begin. Before they could effectively lead their campuses through the new planning processes, they needed time to understand those processes themselves, along with practical tools to help them navigate the work.

So, I got to creating.

I had about two months between the end of the school year and Camp Bluebonnet, the training experience for our coaches, to build the resources from scratch in Google. I created visual planning slide decks for every unit, with built-in timers to guide the curriculum’s recommended process and questions to consider, and other key elements to keep at the forefront during lesson internalization. I also created a recording document for each unit so coaches could capture decisions, revisit their thinking, and keep the planning process collaborative in one place. 

In addition, I developed digital writing portfolios in Bookcreator for every unit at every grade level, in both English and Spanish. Each portfolio included a table of contents and a unit theme, with space for students to document their writing over time by typing, speaking, recording, or adding photographs of work completed on paper.  With more than eight units of work per grade level, the portfolios provided a practical way to organize student work over time without accumulating quite so much paper. They also addressed a gap I noticed in the curriculum: students needed a place to reflect on their writing process, so I added one. These resources weren't intended to replace the curriculum; they were designed to support the people using it and create opportunities that might otherwise have been overlooked.

I am not going to lie. It was a lot to create with no guarantees it would be used. I had two months, a whole lot of digital files to create, and a pretty ambitious vision for what these resources could accomplish. I was able to prepare three units per grade level for the initial training, Camp Bluebonnet.  The first week of the planning process was particularly meticulous, and from there, the process gradually released some of that structure as coaches became more familiar with it. (Yes, the gradual release model showed up in the way we learned to use the tools, too!)

When we introduced the Toolkit at Camp Bluebonnet, the coaches applauded. Some cried. They were genuinely appreciative, and I don't think I will ever forget that response. I knew there was a need because I had listened to them talk about it, but seeing how much the resources meant to them made the hours of creating and organizing feel especially worthwhile-even if they chose not to use it. These were people who had been thinking about everything they needed to learn and everything they would need to create for others; now they had something tangible to take back to their campuses.

Their response reinforced something important for me: The people responsible for helping others navigate change need support themselves. Their voices had helped shape a resource designed specifically for them, rather than leaving them to figure out how to create everything on their own.

Of course, the first version wasn't perfect. There was a small glitch with the timers, and the slide decks were more detailed than they ultimately needed to be. The coaches who modeled the process didn't use the tools exactly as I had envisioned them, but that was okay. Actually, it was more than okay; they were using them!  They were also taking the tools and making them their own. After gathering feedback, I revised the materials for the second iteration, shortening the slide decks to one slide per internalization process and fixing the timer issue.

The Toolkit continued to evolve throughout the year as we learned what worked, what needed to change, and what would make the process more manageable for the people using it. That feedback was essential because the Toolkit wasn't intended to be a finished product that I created, handed over, and walked away from. It needed to work for the coaches, and that meant paying attention to how they actually used it. Their feedback helped shape the next version, and their willingness to adapt the tools reminded me that creating something useful for other people also means leaving room for them to make it their own.  It really helped that they were very clear yet kind in their feedback.  It made making adjustments meaningful.

By the final couple of months of the school year, we had found a rhythm. I was able to recruit two additional people from the district-level ELA department and one colleague from my instructional technology team to help with digital creation. The Toolkit continued to be developed and revised, and we made it accessible to all campus instructional coaches. What had started as a response to a need I heard from the coaches had become an ongoing, collaborative effort, with more people contributing and more opportunities to consider what teachers and students would need next.

Then, as often happens in education, the calendar had other plans. STAAR season was approaching, and the conversation shifted toward student products. The original Toolkit wasn't going away; it was still being developed, revised, and used. At the same time, we were beginning to think more intentionally about student-facing digital enhancements and how we could support students in interacting with the curriculum in different ways.

That question led me back to my own amazing team. (Seriously, it was such a privilege to be part of a dream team in the instructional technology department.) In January, I asked at our instructional technology team meeting to help brainstorm ways we could move forward with student-facing digital enhancements across three platforms. The response was wonderful. Each member took a grade level and a platform and created a mockup of a possible digital enhancement. We knew our audience—the ELA team and classroom teachers—needed to see what something could look like before they could fully envision how it might work in practice. Rather than trying to explain all the possibilities in the abstract, we could show them examples and invite them into the thinking.

That was the beginning of a different kind of collaboration.

I reached out to the entire district-level ELA department and arranged for both departments to come together for a day of learning and creating. My instructional technology colleagues demonstrated their mockups, and then we paired up across departments to create something together. We weren't simply showing the ELA team what technology could do or asking the instructional technology team to build resources based on someone else's directions. We were working on the same project, for the same users—our kids—at the same time.

That distinction mattered. We took the time to understand the goals behind the curriculum and the processes involved in creating digital learning experiences. As we worked, we gained a clearer understanding of the considerations each department had to navigate and how much more purposeful the integration could be when both sides understood what the other was trying to accomplish. The ELA team brought its knowledge of the curriculum, instructional goals, and students' learning needs; the instructional technology team brought its understanding of digital tools, design, and the possibilities and limitations of the platforms. Neither perspective was enough on its own. We needed both.

And we enjoyed it! There was learning, there were new understandings, and there was plenty of laughter along the way. We built camaraderie while we worked, and I think we all left with a clearer picture of what our respective departments actually do. Sometimes we work in our own spaces for so long that we forget how much other people have to consider to do their jobs well. Taking the time to work side by side gave us an opportunity to see that work differently.

One of my favorite parts was that both directors were actively involved in the creation day. This wasn't something handed down from one department to another, nor was it a meeting where people listened to a presentation, nodded, and returned to their usual routines. The leaders were part of the process, working alongside their teams and participating in the same learning and creating. That took the collaboration to the next level, and it reinforced the idea that this was work we were doing together.

Looking back, I can see how many small moments moved this project forward: a conversation with a group of coaches, a few questions to find out whether the need was shared, a conversation with a department director, a couple of months spent building resources, feedback that helped improve the tools, and an invitation for two departments to create together. None of those moments was particularly flashy on its own, and none came with a guarantee of what would happen next. Each one was simply an opportunity to take the next step.

I keep coming back to where it started. The Coach’s Toolkit began because of listening in while campus instructional coaches talked about what they needed. At a time when much of the attention was focused on helping teachers implement the curriculum, their own learning and workload could easily have become just another part of the process they were expected to manage. Their comments reminded me that the people supporting teachers need support, too. I couldn't change the curriculum or eliminate the demands of the rollout, but I could respond to what I was hearing and try to make the work more manageable.

I didn't know whether the Toolkit would become a department-wide resource, whether other people would join in creating it, or whether it would lead to a day when two departments sat down together to build digital learning experiences for students. I certainly didn't start with that end result in mind. I started with an idea, a need worth exploring, and a willingness to see what might happen if I did something about it.

It went from an idea to “our work”.

That shift is one of the things I will remember most about the year. The Toolkit grew because the coaches used it, offered feedback, and made it their own. The work expanded because other people recognized its value and contributed their expertise. A related effort brought two departments together in a way that deepened our understanding of one another and gave us the chance to create for the same students, side-by-side.

The collaborative creation day became a spark for what came next, and that story will be highlighted in my next post of “The Year I Didn’t Blog”. But this part of the story matters, too, because it reminds me that meaningful work doesn't always begin with an assignment, a committee, or a carefully planned initiative. Sometimes it begins when we listen to the people doing the work, take their voices seriously, and decide to try something that might help.

There were no guarantees when I started creating the Coach’s Toolkit. There was simply an opportunity to respond to a need, and I am grateful I took a chance at it.  I am even more grateful for the coaches whose voices sparked the idea and for all my dear colleagues who helped it become something bigger than any one of us could have created alone.

Truly, the most meaningful things we build aren't just resources or tools. They're the shared work that grows when we listen, make room for one another's expertise, and take a chance on what we might be able to do–together.