katievale22

Success looks like a lot of failure, I promise.

Messi

          Listen, I would never compare myself to the most goatified GOAT of all time, Lionel Messi, BUT, I love this quote for everyone, for athletes, for business owners, for teachers, for authors, for principals, actors, speakers, comedians, you name, it is powerful.  And, true.   

         Over the last six months or so in my newish speaking career, I’ve gotten, “How did you start doing this?  I want to do it too.”  OR “Girl, you are everywhere!”  Which is a statement I’m grateful for because when this whole dream got started, I was not everywhere.

        It was about 2017 when I started thinking that I wanted to speak to teachers to uplift them, train them, and give them hope.  I had done internal training in my district for years, mentored the baby teachers, trained all the new ELA teachers to the district, and did many classroom management workshops at my own school.  I went to conferences and watched the keynotes, the breakouts, and thought to myself, “I think I can do it.”  Then I would think, “how hubris of me to think I could do that.”  Then I would think, “I think I can do it.”  Back and forth, over and over again it rolled around in my mind, heart, and soul.  Two years later, I got the nerve to put in several speaking proposals to different conferences.  Rejected.  Rejected again.  “You are a nobody.  Why would they want you?” I’d let negative self-talk get me down, but I pressed onward.  I cleaned up my bio, my content, my proposal writing skills, and one day… “You’ve been accepted to speak at the ACT conference for two sessions!”  I almost blacked out.  I called my mom, my mommy, and made her promise she would come help me.  I practiced.  I practiced.  I practiced again.  I timed myself.  I timed myself again.  I practiced in the mirror while timing myself.  I took a personal day from school to drive to Stillwater to present at my very first conference.  

         I was some kind of nervous as the room filled up, thinking I would maybe have diarrhea right there, and was praying that I didn’t because I didn’t have extra pants, and so I took a breath, and I did it.  My first breakout ever.  The year: 2019!  At that time, I was a little bit better than average.  Maybe.  I was shocked and delighted as people got in line to talk to me, ask me if I had a book, and hug me because they understood the life and plight of a teacher.  

         A book?  “Gosh, I’d love to write a book.”  I’d think to myself.  “A book for baby teachers, a book for vet teachers who have lost that spark, a book to help all the teachers everywhere.  A book!”  But, I was busy.  My kids were in all kinds of extracurriculars; I was teaching six classes seeing up to 150 teenagers in and out of my space every day from August to May.  I had grading to do, lessons to plan, dinners to make, soccer games to coach, and vocal concerts to attend; where would I find the time?  The answer was, I wouldn’t.  

       March 13th 2020… well, you guys know what happened.  I wrote my book with all the time the pandemic afforded me.  I blogged about lessons, and I became a study of the speaking game.  Watching comedians and their timing, studying other famous keynote speakers, taking workshops on how to launch a speaking career, and I got my book published.  Untold Teaching Truths dropped on doorsteps in October 2021.  Speakers, write the book.  It will never make you millions unless you get it in front of the right people, but it is an expensive business card that launches you into the thought leadership space.  When I do a conference for free (yes, in 2024, I’m still doing a few things for free), my goal is to sell enough books while I’m there to cover my gas and hotel expenses.  And I usually do, and I usually book at least one gig from it, so it pays for itself. 2021 and 2022 I was still working as an Instructional Coach full time while speaking on the side, and it started getting challenging.  I didn’t have enough days to take, and my guilt crept in when I had to be away from the building.  My TedTalk, which my friend Suzie signed me up for, dropped in 2022.  My book, coupled with my Tedx, coupled with a handful of paid gigs had me hard launching out of my nest to try and make speaking, facilitating, and training my main gig.  

         So here I am a mere seven years later from my first speaking spark thought that happened in my soul, an inkling of a dream that has now come to fruition.  Listen, I’m still new to this game, and I still fall on my face.  Two years ago, I drove all the way to Dallas to do a breakout for free at a conference.  I stayed on my cousin’s couch because of money, and my session was at 8 a.m. the next day.  I missed my son’s soccer game for it (I don’t do that).  I anxiously waited at the door for attendees to show up in my session.  In a room with 50 seats, only three people showed up.  I wanted to die.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to not speak to three people, but I pulled up my big girl panties, and put on a show for my three attendees.  I got back in my car and sobbed all the way home.  “I should quit. This is dumb. This is a pipedream. I’m hurting my family by not being home.”  

        I didn’t quit; I wanted to monetize what set my soul on fire, so I stayed the course.  Did I put in the work, absolutely!  Did I get in front of some of the right people, yes!  Did I continue to improve and do I still continue to improve, absolutely!  However, I had people in high places helping me along the way.  Friends, oh, there will be haters.  That is what happens when you find the courage, strength, and audacity to follow your dreams, but there will also be your marigolds.  The ones who cheer you on from the sidelines.  The ones that mentor you, the ones that hype you up in rooms you aren’t in.  The ones who open doors for you.  Find your marigolds.  And put on your armor when it comes to the haters, they are around whether you follow your dreams or not, so you might as well light that passion, and relentlessly pursue what sets your soul aflame.  Here is a quick timeline of some integral moments to get me on the path I find myself on today.  Thank you, friends!  

2017- “I think I can do it too.” 

2019- My first speaking proposal was chosen.  The ACT Conference!

2020- Pandemic Book Writing; I formed my first company: The Blue Wall LLC.

2021- Adam Welcome began coaching me, and I continued to speak for free.   

2021- Untold Teaching Truths came out! 

2021- I met Rick and Erin from Relate Then Educate

2022- Untold Teaching Truths TedxTalk dropped. I continued to speak for free at conferences creating more content and getting reps in. 

2022- My cousin gets me my first paid gig at a school.  

2022- I met, learned, and networked with people from Paradigm Shift Leadership. 

2022- Someone in charge of PD saw me at the ACT Conference.  I got my first paid contract for multiple visits to a district.

2022-I kicked off two small districts’ convocations; then, I continued to speak for free at conferences.

2023-I hard launched myself out to do this full time.  I created my second company: Premier Professional Development.  

2023- One of my besties redid my website because it looked like trash.  

2023- I started to book more gigs, but it still seemed slow.  

2023- A principal saw me at the Innovative Schools’ Summit and booked me in Salt Lake City.  Hey Jo! 

2023- I tried to put on my own conference and I did, but lost money on it.  

2023- I put out Hallway Leadership with Derrick Sier and Taylor Upchurch.  A collection of stories for school leadership teams written by our coauthors, some of the best in the business.  

2023- August of 2023 I kicked off five district convocations. 

2024- Booking paid gigs regularly, but still doing a few things for free (I probably always will).  

        Listen, it ebbs and flows; it is rejection and then success and then rejection again.  It is busy and then it’s slow; it is people not responding to emails, and booking me for a date, and then ghosting me when I reach out to confirm.  It is standing ovations and book sales.  It is laughter and tears and sweat and hugs and hard work.  It is loving the people, the teachers, the principals, the educators everywhere.  Then, rejection again.  Rinse and Repeat.  It isn’t for everyone, but I am loving the journey I’m on and I’m grateful for the failures that have led to my eventual success.  This is my journey, and yours may be completely different as it should be.  We are all out here following dreams and making moves.  I’m honored to be in the arena getting my ass kicked along with the best and hope to stay for many years to come.  

Speak On, Warriors!    

katievale22

M

I never really wanted to know about a kid before he stepped foot in my classroom.  I didn’t want to have a bias or a preconceived notion as to how a kid will behave, but in a middle school when you teach 8th grade, you will have to cover for the younger grades (many times).  We don’t have subs at my school, and teachers are allowed to be fully human much to society’s chagrin, and we sometimes get sick, so onward we go to cover our people because they will be covering us.  If you know, you know!  

So, I knew M before he stepped into my class as my student because we had battled in 6th grade when I covered, and we had battled in 7th grade when I covered.  And, to be honest, everyone in our middle school knew M.  He had a way about him that made you forgive him almost immediately because of his sheepish grin, and he was just so darn cute.  The counselor put him on our team on purpose.  Our team was strong, and I played the mother figure well, and it wasn’t an act.  I love every kid that walks through my doors as if they were my own children.  One of my best friends, and teacher soulmates was on my team.  He,too, loved big, and is still to this day one of the best, most innovative educators I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.  He often played bad cop with M as he was his football coach too.  I often played good cop with M always telling him how I loved him too much for this behavior or that.  He would give me that sheepish grin and hug me.  “I know Ms. Kinder, you right!”  He would always say.  

As the year went on, we battled M on a near daily basis.  One step forward, and three back.  M was headstrong and his abilities in the form of debate were his strongest.  He LOVED when we had a formal debate in my class.  He came to life almost always winning the debate for his side.  When we worked in collaborative groups, I always made him the ‘leader’ of the group.  He never failed to work hard when I gave him that role.  He took it up with pride.  

One day in February, there were rumblings amongst the kids that there was to be a fight.  Not just a fight, a brawl.  A girl brawl.  We alerted all authority figures that this might happen, and the kids were still determined to fight, and they did.  I was getting ready for 5th hour when a sweet girl came in and said, “Ms. Kinder, they are fighting down by the tornado shelters!”  As a teacher, your instincts kick in, and you run.  You just can’t imagine one of your school babies getting hurt on your watch.  I was the only adult in the vicinity.  I’m scrappy, but I am 5’3, and that is generous.  I couldn’t break it up alone.  I took one look at M because he was there, and I said, “help.”  He sprung into action grabbing the alpha girl and hauling her away to the principal’s office.  The fight subsided because he was there to help me.  M had grown to over 6 feet that school year, and it was light work for him.  We were all shook the rest of the day, the teachers, principals, kids, everyone.  

At the end of the day, with my head in my hands, in walked M.  “Are you okay, Ms. Kinder?”  he asked ever so gingerly.  I had taken my teacher mask off because I thought the kids were well on their way home for the day.  

“I’m really grateful you were there, M.”  I said back through tears.  He hugged me. 

“I will always come through for you.”  He grinned that grin.  I always told him he would make millions one day in his future career because of his charismatic self.  He would laugh.  

“And when you do,” I said, “You will donate money to my classroom because I need new desks.”  He always promised he would.  About a week later, I had promised my basketball kids that I would catch a game.  It was the last of the season.  M was on the team.  He was not as adept at basketball as he was football, but I raced home to get my own kids to head back up to school to catch the games.  They were in 3rd grade and 5th grade at the time.  After the games, we took pictures, and I went to work in my classroom for a minute to get ready for the next day.  A minute turned into an hour and a half later…oops.  IYKYK.  It was 9:30 p.m. and I was ushering my kids into my ever-present minivan when I looked over and saw M sitting on the school steps.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I asked. 

“I always get left places,” he said seemingly to no one.  It was true; we all knew M needed rides home if he ever missed the bus or that he would ride his bike the five miles to school and back if need be.  He squeezed into the minivan and my son was thrilled to have a big 8th grader talking to him about sports.  I already knew the way to M’s apartment.  

“See you tomorrow, baby!”  

“Thanks, Ms. K.”  It wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t the last time he needed help.       

Three weeks left in this particular school year, M made a horrible mistake, and was kicked out for the remaining days of school with promises that he could come to 8th grade graduation if he stayed away.  It was bittersweet because we would be lying if we said it wasn’t easier without his presence in our classrooms and hallways.  His personality was BIG, and so much of our time was eaten up by his ever changing demands and personality.  But it was sad too, because he was making such progress.  His heart was as big as his personality as much as it would pain him to admit.  

I got to see him at 8th grade graduation.  He was thrilled to be there with that big ole grin.  “Please keep me updated on your life, okay?”  I said to him that day.  

“Oh, I promise Ms. Kinder,” he exclaimed, “You were like a mom to me this year.”  The lightheartedness of the last day of school is levity in the souls of educators and kids alike.  

I kept up with M through the years.  He found himself at our alternative school his sophomore year in high school, but kept himself on the right path until this past Saturday.  

He was shot and killed in Oklahoma City.  He was 18 years old.  Never to make all that money or have a family or grow old.  I will attend his funeral this week.  This is teaching.  We lose kids who mean the world to us and to their families, and we mourn.  And we get up the next day to fight the good fight and go hard for kids.  

Teach on, Beautiful Warriors.  The Ms of the world need us.  

-Katie  

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