Behind the Curriculum Curtain

I still remember the first time I walked into a grade level team meeting as their new math curriculum coordinator/ coach. I had spent considerable time preparing what I thought was the perfect plan to launch a unit. The curriculum maps were clear, the resources were ready, and the rationale was airtight. But as I looked around the table, something didn’t feel right. Teachers nodded politely, a few asked surface-level questions, but no one truly engaged. And when I left that room, I realized something important—I had completely overlooked the one thing that matters most in professional learning conversations: teacher identity.

As curriculum leaders, we spend a lot of time focusing on what we’re asking teachers to do. New units of study, updated assessment rubrics, new lesson plans —all these technical pieces are important. But none of it sticks if we don’t consider who our teachers are when they show up to the table.

Every teacher carries a professional identity shaped by their experiences, values, successes, and, yes, even their failures. Some proudly wear the badge of a veteran teacher, with decades of classroom wisdom. Others might be second-career educators, still trying to prove to themselves and others that they belong in this field. And some are simply exhausted—caught in the middle of constant change and wondering if they have anything left to give.

If we don’t recognize these identities, we risk asking people to be vulnerable before they’re ready. And trust me, asking someone to open up about their instructional practices or challenges without first building that relational trust is like asking them to hand over their heart with no guarantee it will be treated kindly.

I’ve learned that before we dive into any professional learning, we have to pause and ask: What are the invisible stories in this room?

That teacher sitting quietly in the corner? Maybe she’s been burned by previous leadership and is skeptical that her voice will actually be valued. The colleague who always seems resistant to feedback? It might be less about stubbornness and more about a fear of being judged. And the new teacher who seems overly eager? Perhaps he’s desperately trying to prove himself worthy.

Acknowledging teacher identity doesn’t mean we avoid tough conversations. It means we approach them with empathy and intentionality. We create spaces where teachers can safely share their ideas and struggles without fear of being diminished or dismissed.

One small shift I’ve made in my practice is to begin to find moments of personal check-ins with my teaching colleagues—not just “How’s your week going?” but genuine questions about what’s inspiring them lately or where they’re feeling stuck. These moments don’t take long, but they open a door to understanding who I’m really working with beyond our job titles.

I also pay attention to how feedback is given and received. Some teachers are ready for direct, challenging questions. Others need to experience small wins before they feel safe enough to be vulnerable. As curriculum leaders or instructional coaches, we have to read the people we are working with and not necessarily the school agenda.

The truth is, teaching isn’t just a job—it’s part of a person’s identity. And when we critique instructional practices, no matter how well-intentioned, it can feel deeply personal. That’s why trust isn’t built with a small chit chat in the hallway. It’s built over time, through consistency, through genuine curiosity, and through honoring the professional journeys of the teachers we support.

So, if you’re a curriculum leader wondering why your latest initiative isn’t taking off, take a step back. Before you ask teachers to change what they do, take the time to understand who they are. Build the trust that allows them to show up as their whole selves, knowing that you see them, value them, and believe in their growth.

Because in the end, curriculum leadership isn’t just about shaping programs—it’s about shaping the conditions where teachers feel safe enough to grow. And that starts with understanding the incredible complexity of teacher identity.