(Editor's Note: Each district in western Nevada County selected its own Teacher of the Year. Those teachers then wrote essays to be considered for the county and state recognitions.)

My name is Scott Mills, and teaching is my life. Whether it's in the classroom, in the gym, at home, or deep in the wilderness with a group of teenagers, I believe God put me on this Earth to be a teacher.

My day job is teaching 8th Grade English Language Arts at Lyman Gilmore Middle School, and I suppose this contest is mostly about that, so that's where I'll focus this letter.

In my mind, it's a great time to be in education. In spite of insane budget cuts, an economy on life support and a planet in decline, we have the opportunity to enlighten a generation that can bring healing to every aspect of our world. Earth doesn't just need smarter people, it needs better people.

I hope that a kid, having gone though my class, is not only challenged and edified by a rigorous and relevant curriculum, but is also more compassionate, more aware, and more willing to answer the calls to adventure in their lives.



When I survey my kids at the end of each year about what it's like to be in my class, I'm always encouraged by their responses. Here's a sampling of some common themes from this year:

“Being in Mr. Mills's class is a rush. It's like going on an adventure every day.” (Tyler)

“He challenges us to do things we never thought we could do.” (Esther)

“I like how he doesn't treat us like children.” (Anonymous)

“It's the only class I look forward to when I go to school.” (Elijah)

“It's not the easiest class, but I believe you learn the most from it.” (Chris)

“He always pushed me to do better.” (Hannah)

“He made me, and probably others, want to go to school.” (Anonymous)

“I feel accomplished.” (Brizeth)

“I enjoyed the ability to always take the conversation deeper.” (Brandon)

“The work is tough sometimes, but this class is impossible to hate.” (Addison)

“It's tough, you have to work hard and keep your habits up.” (Miguel

“This is the class I want to be in forever.” (Jazlyn)

and my personal favorite, “A day in Mr. Mills's class is like a week at the Hamptons.” (Lyric).

Now to be fair, it isn't always positive. Katie wrote, “The 85-minute periods hurt my butt.”

There are many days when teaching is full of wonder and magic. Some of my best days are days when I realize I've so engaged the mind and trained the habits of my students that they almost don't need me any more.

One particular day I'm proud of, I taught the entire day without saying one word. A cold had completely taken my voice, but I suspected we could still go through with the lesson plan.

That day we worked on Greek and Latin roots, had an invigorating Socratic Seminar on the themes and symbols of Louis Lowry's The Giver, and did some response writing, all with me little more than a glorified spectator. As much as possible,

I try to remove myself as the center of all knowledge in the room. It's ironic, I suppose, that my goal with students is to make myself obsolete, but I feel that is an important aspect of any form of education.

To make myself obsolete, however, requires a lot of work. Lots of training, lots of explaining, lots of practice. Some days are less than ideal.

A less than ideal day is one where the connection just doesn't happen. Maybe I over talk something and leave the class feeling restless and bored. Maybe my anxiety gets the best of me and I get hung up on control. Maybe it's not me at all. Maybe what the kids are bringing from home that day is just too overwhelming for much learning to take place.

An example that comes to mind is a day a few years ago when (of course) a colleague asked to come in to observe. What she expected, I'm sure, was a creative, energized display of teaching. What she got was a dead, lame attempt (despite quite a lot of planning) to bring the kids to an enlightened interpretation of Robert Frost's “The Road Not Taken.”

I was so determined to break through the clichés and gain “aha!” moments from the students that I didn't realize I had overreached and chosen the wrong approach to the wrong poem for the wrong time. But I plowed on, and I was left with the sinking feeling I had inspired no one that day.

There's a line in Rudyard Kipling's poem “If” that reads, “If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same...” I try to learn from every day, every moment. In fact, I have learned to appreciate the failures as much as the successes.

Both are a thrill, and both are only temporary. The day after the ill-fated poem lesson, I went through a plus/minus/delta activity with my kids where they were able to tell me what worked for them and what didn't. Everyone learns from that.



I believe one of my greatest strengths as a teacher is to constantly be self-reflecting, adapting and applying. One thing about teaching is there's never time to be bored. I love this job. What an adventure!

ooo