When I first started teaching, I never imagined that one day I’d be recognized as Somerset County Teacher of the Year. To be honest, most days I’m just trying to keep up with lesson plans, keep my classroom running smoothly, and make sure my students feel loved and supported. Teaching is a job that so often happens quietly, behind the scenes, without big spotlights or recognition. That’s why this award still feels a little surreal—it’s not about having everything figured out, it’s about the heart and consistency poured into the everyday moments that often go unseen.

This honor has given me a chance to pause and reflect—not just on the classroom wins, but on the messy, imperfect, beautiful reality of teaching. The truth is, the impact we make doesn’t always show up right away. Sometimes it’s in the encouragement that sticks, the space we hold for a child who needs it, or the joy we create in the middle of a busy day. That’s the work that matters. And that’s the story I want to share.

---

My Journey as a Teacher

If you’ve been in education for any amount of time, you know it’s a path full of twists and turns. For me, teaching has always been about connection. I became a teacher because I wanted to help kids believe in themselves, discover their strengths, and feel safe enough to take risks in learning.

Over time, I’ve realized that teaching is just as much about who I am as a person as it is about what I teach. My passion for outdoor learning, for example, started as a simple way to get kids moving and curious. But it grew into something much bigger—a chance for students to collaborate, problem-solve, and communicate in ways that don’t always happen inside four walls. Watching my students flourish outside reminds me daily why this work matters.

---

The Moment I Found Out

I actually found out through a phone call. I hadn’t told anyone I was even going through the process after being nominated (not even my husband) because I didn’t think it would ever be a possibility. When the call came, I was stunned. As an introvert and someone who often struggles with feeling worthy, the whole process felt almost unbelievable. I was humbled, terrified, and filled with anticipation about what this would mean.

The hardest part was keeping it a secret. I had to wait a couple of weeks until the announcement ceremony, carrying this incredible news quietly while trying to process it all myself. During that time, imposter syndrome set in. I couldn’t stop asking myself: Why me? Do I really deserve this? What if I don’t belong in the same room as the other county winners? The thought of meeting the other 15 incredible educators across the state made me both nervous and curious about what this journey would entail.

When I finally got to share it with my students, their excitement made it all real. They grinned, cheered, and told me I must be “famous” now. In their eyes, it wasn’t about an award—it was about their teacher being celebrated, and that made me proud in a whole new way.

---

What This Honor Means

This recognition is about so much more than me. It reflects the incredible students I get to teach every day, the colleagues who encourage and inspire me, and the community that believes in the power of education.

If I’m honest, imposter syndrome has been a constant whisper in the back of my mind throughout this process. I’ve questioned whether I was “good enough,” whether I truly deserved to be recognized, and whether I would measure up alongside the other county winners. Teaching is hard—it stretches us thin, it pushes us to juggle more than feels possible, and it often leaves us feeling unseen. To be named County Teacher of the Year in the middle of all that felt almost contradictory at first, like I had somehow been chosen by mistake.

But as I’ve sat with it, I’ve realized that maybe that’s the point. This honor isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. It’s about showing up for students day after day, even when we feel uncertain. It’s about the quiet, everyday choices that often go unnoticed: the extra time with a struggling reader, the gentle encouragement to a child who’s nervous to try, the laughter shared between lessons.

And while my name is on the award, I see it as a reflection of all the educators I get to work alongside. My hope is to use this platform not just to share my story, but to shine a light on the amazing teachers in my school, my district, and across Somerset County. There are so many educators doing extraordinary work in classrooms every single day, and they deserve to be celebrated too.

It also feels like an opportunity to advocate for the things I believe in—outdoor learning, teacher wellness, and balance. I want to remind both teachers and students that learning can be joyful, that growth doesn’t have to come at the cost of burnout, and that we all deserve spaces where we can thrive.

---

Looking Ahead

As I step into this new role, I’m filled with gratitude but also with a lot of hope. Hope that I can represent teachers in a way that feels authentic. Hope that my story can encourage others to prioritize balance and wellness. Hope that outdoor learning can continue to expand, giving more students the chance to discover themselves beyond the classroom walls.

I also want to use this opportunity to shine a light on the incredible educators in my school, my district, and across Somerset County. There are so many teachers quietly doing extraordinary work every single day—work that may never make the news or be recognized with an award, but that shapes lives all the same. If being named Teacher of the Year gives me a bigger platform, then I want to use it to lift up their voices and remind our communities just how much teachers matter.

For me, this journey has been both humbling and stretching. I’ve felt the weight of imposter syndrome, wondering if I was worthy of this title. But what I’ve come to realize is that worthiness isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence, care, and consistency. It’s about showing up, even on the hard days, and choosing again and again to pour into kids.

If you’re a teacher reading this, I want you to know that even if you don’t receive a title or an award, the work you do matters just as much. You are shaping lives every single day in ways you may never fully see.

This honor is one I’ll always treasure, but the real reward will always be the kids—their growth, their joy, and their belief that they can do hard things. That’s the kind of impact no award can measure.

---