Off to a
Good Start

In Seattle, a mentoring program provides essential support for new teachers—and a new learning opportunity for veterans.

Story and photos by Suzie Boss

SEATTLE, Washington—There is a way of standing in front of a class that signals a call for attention. With your eyes, your posture, your body language, you bring 28 pairs of shuffling feet to rest and cause rustling papers to fall silent. This is the moment, says veteran teacher Sally Shintaffer, “when you start a class purposefully. It’s not enough to plan a good lesson. You also have to demonstrate your intention. You let it be known that it’s time for learning—right now.”

Since she became a mentor teacher in Seattle two years ago, Shintaffer has become more acutely aware of the small moments and artful gestures that add up to being an effective teacher. After 25 years in education, she admits, “It’s profound to recognize that things that are so routine for a veteran are a challenge or conundrum for new teachers.”

For novices, of course, nothing feels routine about that first year in the classroom. They have no file drawers full of lesson plans to pull from. No old friends down the hall they can brainstorm with or talk to after a trying day. No clue about the principal’s expectations or leadership style. Not even a game plan for surviving their first open house.

Left to their own devices, a sizable percentage of new teachers simply give up. An estimated 10 percent of beginning teachers quit by the end of their first year, and 50 percent are gone within five years. Researcher Richard Ingersoll likens the current situation to a “revolving door.” Constant turnover takes a toll. The expense of ongoing recruitment is just one cost. Harder to measure is the negative effect that turnover can have on building a cohesive learning community and making lasting connections with learners.

A STAR Approach

To help new teachers get off to a better start, Seattle is among a growing number of districts offering novices a structured mentoring program. Staff Training Assistance and Review, or STAR, was started more than a decade ago as a joint effort by Seattle Public Schools and Seattle Education Association. The program continues to evolve, incorporating research about effective mentoring and addressing concerns of new teachers.

Through STAR, Shintaffer and eight colleagues with varied teaching backgrounds are released from classroom responsibilities for three years. Each has a caseload of new teachers. Throughout the school year, mentors spend at least 30 hours with each beginning teacher. They serve as wise counsel, critical friend, sounding board, and cheerleader. They observe new teachers in action and provide helpful suggestions. At the new teacher’s request, they will model or videotape lessons, conduct research, or track down resources. Most of all, they instill reflective practice as they help to answer the wide range of questions that come up for beginners, such as:

• How do I supervise an instructional assistant?
• How can I infuse academic thinking routines into my class and build higher order thinking skills?
• How do I engage parents in their children’s learning?
• How can I manage my classroom more effectively?

In return, veterans gain the opportunity to observe a wide range of classrooms and reflect on what they are learning. They also collaborate among themselves, sharing strategies, research, and insights with fellow mentors. As participants’ stories reveal, the STAR program opens windows for professional growth at both ends of the career spectrum.

“I Had No Idea”

Renee Gallagher weighed several job offers before accepting a position as special education teacher at Cleveland High School in south Seattle. “I had offers from more suburban schools, with higher pay and maybe easier working conditions,” she says. “But I chose Cleveland based on the diversity here. That’s what I was looking for.”

Gallagher’s classroom is located in a portable building squeezed between the main campus and the parking lot. Interstate 5 is literally a stone’s throw away, and freeway noise is as relentless as a river. Here, Gallagher teaches all subjects in a self-contained special education class. The physical isolation is compounded by the school’s organization. Although Cleveland recently reorganized its 700 students into smaller learning academies as part of school reform efforts, the school’s three special education teachers working in self-contained classrooms are not part of the academy structure. “We’re kind of on the outside here,” Gallagher says with a shrug.

When Gallagher walked into her classroom at the beginning of the 2004-2005 school year, she found an empty slate. “There was nothing here. I realized I would have to piece together my own curriculum.”

What’s more, she was left to figure out for herself the daily routines and procedures that a more experienced teacher would know by rote. “You have to track down information on your own. That’s frustrating, especially if you like to be organized,” she says. The school offered no orientation for new staff, even though nearly half the faculty started with Gallagher. “About half were new to teaching, and the other half were just new to this setting.” Like many urban schools, Cleveland experiences high staff turnover. Even the principal who hired Gallagher in September was gone by January.

Once the students arrived, Gallagher felt like she was on more familiar footing. Before becoming a teacher, she spent eight years working at a youth center that served primarily at-risk teens. “I’m patient with kids who have issues,” she says. She was not put off by one girl’s angry outbursts. Instead, she began working with the student and an instructional aide on a plan for “what to do when I’m angry.”

During that busy first week of teaching, Gallagher got a call from Sally Shintaffer. At first, meeting with her mentor seemed like “one more thing I had to do,” Gallagher admits. But the new teacher quickly warmed up to the idea of having a mentor. “If I mention a situation or tell her I need resources in an area, she will spend time to help me. She makes sure I find out what I need to know,” Gallagher says.

Gradually, the mentoring relationship evolved to include more than just providing information. Shintaffer, whose background is in special education, offered to observe Gallagher teaching a lesson. “Afterward, we would talk about what went well, places I could improve, or other ideas to add to a lesson,” Gallagher explains. Shintaffer also arranged for Gallagher to spend a day visiting other special education classes in the district. “It was interesting to see what other people are doing, to hear about their experiences,” Gallagher says. She joined a study group for new teachers that Shintaffer organizes once a month. “We’re all special education teachers, but from different settings. It’s helpful to get together and talk about what we’re doing.”

Although there have been bright spots during Gallagher’s first year of teaching, she is not yet certain about her own future. “I probably spend half the time thinking that this will be my last year of teaching,” she says with a sigh. “Then I’ll have a good week, and I’ll think: This is doable. I can hang in here.” She recalls the Friday when she called a student’s home to report that he’d had a successful week. “His mom threw him a barbeque that weekend, she was so happy.” Another day, Gallagher received a card from the student who had struggled to control her outbursts.

When she has those rare moments to pause and reflect, Gallagher thinks about the kind of teacher she would like to become. “I can see how a teacher would get more effective every year. You can keep building on what you’ve learned. You don’t have to start your curriculum from scratch every year.” But even more important, she says, “is building positive relationships with your students, teaching them in a way that they can be successful.” She keeps that goal in front of her while she continues to keep her own options open. “I’m amazed,” she says, “by the amount of work it is to be a good teacher.”

“It’s a Raft”

Life-sized paper cut-outs of her kindergarten students line Tamara Evans’s classroom at Wing Luke Elementary School in south Seattle. The colorful posters echo the real-life smiles that her students flash their teacher, but only hint at the diversity of these 26 learners. Their first languages include Spanish, Somali, Tagalog, and Chinese. Many arrive at school with virtually no English proficiency. For Evans, the first surprise of her new teaching career was finding herself all alone with these delightful children. “I looked around on my first day and realized, it’s just me,” she recalls. Graduate school does not prepare you for the moment when you’re put in a classroom and told, 'OK, now go ahead and teach.’”

Evans says her journey has been eased considerably by having regular contact with her STAR mentor, Sally Shintaffer. Evans knew about the program because her mother, also a Seattle teacher, has been a STAR mentor. “I would have been bogged down and gasping for air without it. The STAR program is a raft you can jump on whenever you need help,” Evans says.

Evans’s first year of teaching was interrupted by the arrival of her first child, a daughter. After a maternity leave, she came to Wing Luke Elementary in November. She found the school to be welcoming, with a principal who takes time to build a sense of community and visit the classrooms. The open design of the school gives teachers frequent opportunities to at least glimpse what their colleagues are doing. But the pace of the regular school day leaves little free time for brainstorming among colleagues.

During her meetings with Shintaffer, Evans has been able to focus on the skills she wants to build. “Planning for the week was a big deal for me at first,” she recalls. “I felt like I was trying to survive day to day. Sally helped me keep organized.” Better planning provides benefits that go beyond time management, Evans has learned. “It helps to know that you have a purpose. You communicate that to students, and that’s a big deal when it comes to classroom management. I always tell them, we’re doing this for a reason.”

Shintaffer has taken Evans to visit other schools, where the new teacher could observe different strategies in action. “That helped me, to get ideas from other teachers. I brought ideas back to my class.” For example, Evans was impressed watching one class where kindergartners played leadership roles during learning activities. Evans started asking her own students to lead activities, such as reading sight words. “I can see a difference now,” she says. “They have become more confident.”

Evans admits she has had some trying days, but she tries to keep learning from each experience. “I’ve learned that when the day is not going well, you need to adapt. Switch it up and make it turn out better.”

Her students’ achievement scores let the new teacher know that she’s on the right track. On a Direct Reading Assessment that took place late in the school year, Evans was thrilled to see all her students meeting goals, and many achieving well above grade level. “That was nice, seeing their improvement,” she says. The data reassure her that she’s getting her young learners off to a good start. “You feel so responsible for their future. If they don’t get the basics down in kindergarten, they will be lost next year.”

Completing the Circle

STAR mentors stay in their role for only three years. Each spring, a few cycle out to return to the classroom or segue into administration. And a few new faces join the team. That’s no accident, explains Shintaffer. “Part of what makes this program successful is that we are all teachers. We have close, recent, authentic connections with the classroom. We’re not disconnected from what new teachers are facing.”

After a quarter-century of teaching, Shintaffer has a solid understanding of what it takes to succeed in the classroom. Becoming a mentor has given her a chance to step out of her comfort zone “and try something new. I was ready for that,” she says. Her own learning has accelerated during her time with the STAR program. One lesson stands out above the rest: “I really miss direct connection with kids. My forte is working with students. And that’s a good thing to know.”

Although the STAR program is designed to support new teachers, it has the serendipitous benefit of creating new learning opportunities for veterans. “It gives us the opportunity to step out of own classroom and see a range of situations,” says Shintaffer. For example, her experience has been in secondary special education, but she has been a mentor to teachers across the grade levels. “I’ve learned a lot about kindergarten,” she says. “It’s a different world.”

STAR mentors also take an active role in their own professional development. To stay current on best practices, they send a team to an annual conference hosted by the New Teacher Center at the University of California at Santa Cruz, and have worked with a consultant from the nationally recognized center to improve their own practice. As a result, the STAR program remains a work in progress, with new mentors encouraged to research and implement ideas that will lead to ongoing improvement.

One practice that mentors reinforce—for themselves and their new teachers—is the art of reflection. “What we want to accomplish is that practice of looking at what they are doing and reflecting on their work, in as rational a way as possible,” Shintaffer explains. For example, after she observes a lesson, she prompts the teacher to consider: What did I intend? What worked? What didn’t? What should I do now? “Then, we want to make that kind of thinking a routine thing.”

Guided reflection also helps new teachers keep their day-to-day experiences in context. As Shintaffer has noticed, most new teachers enter the profession with a powerful desire to do good work. “They want to teach. But they are expected to just jump in and be successful. If they don’t feel effective, they can get discouraged—especially the most conscientious ones.” Shintaffer brings her understanding of how people learn into her mentoring relationships. “People don’t learn until they feel safe. The brain doesn’t function well. That’s true in the classroom, and it’s true in the mentoring relationship.”

Mentors conduct at least eight formal observations of each new teacher during the school year, but the purpose is never evaluative. “We talk about what they want me to watch for, so that I observe with a point in mind. Do they want feedback about a practice? Their use of language? Their movement in the classroom? Do they want me to record data or take anecdotal notes? It’s up to them,” Shintaffer explains. Observations are followed by reflective conversations, reinforcing the professional development experience.

Walking their talk, mentors also come together as a group to discuss what they are learning. “We call it 'mentoring mentors,’” Shintaffer says. Monthly conversations give them time to compare notes about the unique and sometimes difficult issues they may be encountering. In role-playing exercises, they work in pairs or triads to practice a coaching protocol for addressing especially challenging situations.

Like the new teachers she mentors, Shintaffer presses herself to reflect on what works well in her mentoring relationships and where she wants to improve. When she encounters perplexing questions or tough situations, she digs into research and investigates best practices. She takes time to reflect on what she has learned, often capturing her thoughts in writing. And she thinks about how she might take those insights back into her own classroom in the future.

Best of all, she can count on her fellow mentors—strong teachers all—to help her keep it all in perspective. If not for the STAR program, she might never have met these colleagues. Now, she knows she will stay in touch with them throughout her teaching career, strengthening her own practice through collaboration. She adds, “It’s a gift I never would have imagined.”

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