During Teacher Appreciation Week, we celebrate the educators who shape not only academic outcomes, but the lives and futures of their students. For Gillian Ober, a 7th grade multilingual educator in New Jersey with 10 years of experience, teaching is far more than a profession—it’s a calling rooted in trust, advocacy, and unwavering commitment to students. In this conversation, Gillian reflects on the moments that define her work, the realities teachers navigate every day, and what it truly takes to build classrooms—and systems—where both educators and students can thrive.

OBER: Building a classroom culture where students feel safe enough to try, fail, and try again does not happen overnight. It starts with trust. One of the ways I try to build that trust is by being fully myself in front of my students. I share stories from my own life, including my failures as much as my successes, and I let myself be weird, silly, and human with them. When students see a teacher who is unafraid to be real, they begin to soften. Their guard comes down, and that is often when real learning can begin.

I want my classroom to be a place where students know they will never be ridiculed or punished for being who they are or for not getting something right the first time. That is especially important for multilingual learners. So much of language learning is tied to anxiety. When students are tense, embarrassed, or afraid of making mistakes, it becomes much harder to take risks and acquire new language. To learn a language, students have to feel at ease. My goal is to know my students well enough that I can help bring them that sense of ease from the moment they walk through my classroom door.

If I were sharing one concrete practice with a new teacher, it would be this: normalize mistakes out loud and often. I do that by celebrating effort, modeling my own imperfections, and reminding students that growth almost always looks messy before it looks successful. Students do not need a perfect classroom. They need a safe one. And that safety begins by creating a space where both teacher and student can be exactly who they are.

OBER: One “small” thing teachers do that I wish more people understood as a very big deal is the ability to pivot in real time. That skill is a kind of superpower. Every learner in a classroom is unique, with different needs, strengths, emotions, and ways of making sense of the world. A teacher can plan a beautiful lesson, but depending on the day, the time, or the students sitting in front of them, that lesson may completely fall flat. What matters then is not the plan on paper. It is the teacher’s ability to read the room, adjust in the moment, and find another path forward.

Teachers are so much more than instructors delivering content. We are constantly observing, analyzing, responding, and adapting. In many ways, we are conducting an ongoing case study of the human beings in front of us. We learn what helps each student access learning, what shuts them down, what motivates them, and what helps them feel successful. Then we use that knowledge on the fly. That kind of decision-making is incredibly complex, and it often goes unseen.

Curriculum and lesson plans matter, of course, but the real artistry of teaching is in the responsiveness. It is in watching a teacher conduct a classroom almost like an orchestra, adjusting tempo, tone, and direction in order to bring everyone along. That is not a small thing. It is one of the most remarkable parts of the profession.

OBER: Some of the clearest moments in my career have been the ones when I stepped into roles I was never formally trained for, but knew in my heart I could not step away from. Over the past few years, in our current political climate, I have had students and families come to me needing help navigating fear, uncertainty, and the realities of our country’s immigration system. Am I a lawyer? No. But when families came to me asking for help, and I felt in my soul that I had to help, that is when it became undeniable to me that teaching is not just a job. It is a calling. 

I had a student in my fifth grade class, who I will call Isabella, whom I had known since third grade through our after-school literacy program. Isabella had made incredible progress in English, but she was still shy and hesitant to speak at school. We worked hard to build her confidence, and I reminded her often that she had so much to share with the world because of her journey and her experiences as a multilingual learner. By the end of the year, she was speaking up more in class and beginning to show her brilliance in new ways. 

Then one day, she was absent for several days in a row. I assumed she was sick because that is what was entered in the attendance notes. But during my prep period the next day, my phone rang. It was Isabella. Calmly and clearly, she said, “Miss Ober, my dad got taken by ICE this week on the way to drop my brother off at school.” She explained that her mother was terrified, and that they had not left the house at all, not even for groceries or school. In that moment, I was able to connect them with immigration resources, legal support, and food assistance, and I hope I provided even a small measure of relief during one of the most traumatic moments a family can face. 

That moment was simultaneously one of the saddest and proudest of my career. I was devastated for this family, but I was also overwhelmed with pride for Isabella. This ten-year-old girl found her voice and used it not only for herself, but for her family. She stepped into an unexpected role and became an advocate. That is a call I will never forget, and it is one that continues to remind me what being a teacher truly means. Teaching is more than a job because our actions, our relationships, and our willingness to show up in difficult moments shape the lives of children who will go on to face a world we cannot control. What we can do is build spaces of safety and trust that help prepare them to meet that world with courage and a belief in themselves that is unwavering. 

OBER: Teacher Appreciation Week is kind, and I know it comes from a good place, but meaningful appreciation in the real world has to go deeper than treats in the faculty room or a themed gift. Real appreciation looks like creating working conditions where teachers can actually thrive. It looks like time to plan, time to collaborate, supportive leadership, and policies that trust teachers as professionals. It looks like listening to educators when they say what students need, and responding with action instead of just praise.

If I could ask communities and leaders for one meaningful change, it would be this: reduce the unnecessary burdens that pull teachers away from the heart of the work. Teachers want to teach. We want to build relationships, design meaningful learning experiences, and support students well. When the profession becomes weighed down by constant administrative demands, unrealistic expectations, and a lack of support, it becomes much harder to sustain. Appreciation is not just saying teachers matter. It is building systems that prove it.

OBER: If we are serious about strengthening and sustaining the teacher pipeline, we have to stop thinking about recruitment and retention as separate issues. People are more likely to enter the profession, and stay in it, when they see teaching as intellectually meaningful, emotionally sustainable, and professionally respected. That means investing not only in pay, but also in mentoring, coaching, planning time, strong preparation programs, and real opportunities for teachers to grow and lead without having to leave the classroom to do so.

I also believe we need to do a far better job preparing all educators to teach the students who are actually in our classrooms, including multilingual learners. Too often, teachers enter the profession underprepared for the linguistic, cultural, and academic diversity they will encounter. When teachers feel unsupported or unprepared, students feel it too. Strong preparation programs, ongoing professional learning, and meaningful mentorship can make an enormous difference. If we want a strong teacher pipeline, we need to build systems that help educators feel capable, supported, and valued from the very beginning.

Stories like Gillian Ober’s highlight a critical truth: strong educator pipelines are built not just by bringing people into the profession, but by supporting them every step of the way. From preparation and mentorship to ongoing professional growth and meaningful working conditions, the future of teaching depends on systems that recognize the full complexity—and impact—of the role. As we reflect during Teacher Appreciation Week, it’s an opportunity to move beyond recognition and toward action—investing in the structures, resources, and support that empower educators to enter, grow, and remain in the profession. Because when teachers are supported, students—and entire communities—benefit.