In my first year of teaching, I did not realize how loud my classroom had become.
I was sitting at the back of the room while students worked, thinking things were going reasonably well. There was energy in the room, but I interpreted it as engagement. Then another teacher walked into my classroom, looked at the students, and shouted:
“Is this how you behave when there’s no teacher in the classroom?”
A few seconds later, they noticed me sitting in the back corner.
They froze, apologized awkwardly, and walked out.
I still remember the heat rising in my face. At the time, I felt embarrassed for both of us, but mostly for myself. In that moment, I realized something I had not fully admitted before: I did not have control of my classroom.
At the time, I interpreted that moment as evidence that I simply was not good at classroom management. I believed strong teachers naturally commanded authority and respect, while weaker teachers struggled to maintain order. I saw classroom management as personality, not practice.
Looking back, I understand the situation differently.
What I experienced was not evidence that I “couldn’t teach.” It was evidence that I was still learning a highly complex skill.
Teaching places enormous cognitive demands on novice teachers. New teachers are simultaneously managing instruction, behaviour, pacing, curriculum, assessment, relationships, and decision-making in real time. Experienced teachers automate many of these processes, but beginners often operate under significant cognitive load because every part of the lesson requires conscious attention (Sweller, 1988).
Classroom management is part of that complexity.
The mistake I made was assuming that a calm classroom would emerge naturally if students liked me or found the lesson interesting. What I eventually learned is that effective classroom management depends on explicit routines, consistent expectations, strategic movement, pacing, relationship-building, and the ability to anticipate problems before they escalate. None of these skills are automatic. They are learned through deliberate practice.
This is where Amy Edmondson’s work on failure becomes helpful. Not all failures are preventable through simple systems. Some failures occur in complex environments where expertise is still developing (Edmondson, 2023). Teaching is one of those environments.
The turning point for me was shifting from:
“I’m not good at this”
to
“This is a skill I have not learned yet.”
That distinction changed everything.
Instead of viewing classroom management as a fixed trait, I started treating it as professional learning. I watched experienced teachers carefully. I practiced transitions. I rehearsed instructions before lessons. I paid attention to how tone, proximity, silence, and routines shaped student behaviour. After difficult classes, I reflected on specific moments instead of simply feeling overwhelmed by the entire lesson.
Over time, the room changed because my practice changed.
Research consistently shows that feedback is most effective when it helps learners understand where they are, where they need to go, and how to close the gap (Hattie & Timperley, 2007). While this research is often applied to students, it applies equally to teachers. Growth depends on feedback, reflection, and opportunities to improve.
Unfortunately, feedback in teaching is not always gentle.
That teacher’s comment embarrassed me deeply, but it also forced me to confront a skill I needed to develop. In hindsight, it became one of the most important learning moments of my early career.
One of the most damaging myths in education is the belief that classroom management is intuitive. This myth creates shame for new teachers who struggle and hides the reality that expertise develops through practice, coaching, repetition, and reflection.
The loud classroom was not proof that I could not teach.
It was proof that I was still learning how.
References
Edmondson, A. C. (2023). Right kind of wrong: The science of failing well. Atria Books.
Hattie, J., & Timperley, H. (2007). The power of feedback. Review of Educational Research, 77(1), 81–112. https://doi.org/10.3102/003465430298487
Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive load during problem solving: Effects on learning. Cognitive Science, 12(2), 257–285. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15516709cog1202_4





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