Coming Full Circle: Back in the K4 Classroom

By Anna Adl, K4 Teacher, School District of Cudahy, CEC Board Member 

For the past two decades, I have had the privilege of serving as a special educator in various roles. I have been a high school, middle school, and elementary special education teacher; a diagnostician; a program support teacher; an early childhood inclusion coordinator; a new teacher induction coordinator; a K4 coordinator; and, most recently, an MTSS SEL/Behavior Support teacher. 

Through these roles, the Council for Exceptional Children (CEC) has given me opportunities to grow as a leader at both the state and national levels. I have served as a member-at-large and treasurer for my state organization, and in national leadership roles including LDC member, LDPS member, and now member-at-large on the CEC Board of Directors. Perhaps just as importantly, CEC has connected me with like-minded educators and advocates from across the country and around the world. 

This school year, however, I started on a very different—and somewhat unexpected—adventure. 

After years of coaching, supporting adults, developing systems, and working outside a traditional special education classroom, I reached a point where I needed a change. Declining enrollment, competing district initiatives, and staff turnover had made my support role increasingly daunting. I no longer felt as effective as I wanted to be. To be completely honest, I was becoming cynical. 

And I knew something needed to change. 

Reflecting on my professional experiences since the pandemic, I realized something important: I felt most successful and fulfilled when working with four-year-olds. 

My career had come full circle. 

Because I hold both general education and special education licenses, I was able to request a transfer. Two weeks ago, I began a new chapter as a kindergarten teacher for four-year-olds. 

And let me tell you—these last two weeks have been exhausting. 

I had forgotten just how much work it is to teach four-year-olds to love school while maintaining even a semblance of academic structure. More than half of my students have summer birthdays, which means many of them are barely four years old. 

Establishing routines and structures—for my students and for myself—has been one of the biggest challenges. 

Consider the first 15 minutes of the school day: 

1. Feed all of the children breakfast. 
   Wait…they can't open their own milk? 
2. Take attendance—but not until after 8:15. 
3. Take both the breakfast and lunch count. 
4. Somehow accomplish all of this while preventing spills, comforting children who are crying because they miss their grownups and hoping no one has a bathroom accident. 

And that's just the beginning of the day. 

One of the biggest shifts for me has been moving from special education to the general education classroom. Previously, my primary responsibility was supporting the students receiving special education services. Now, I am responsible for the health, welfare, safety, learning, and well-being of every student in my classroom. 

I constantly collect anecdotal data—not just on areas of concern, but on every child's strengths, interests, needs, and growth areas. I am doing this while circulating around the classroom, checking in with students, facilitating play, teaching routines, managing behavior, building relationships, and trying to remember what comes next. 

In my previous roles, I worked with students individually or in small groups. I developed systems, designed programming, adapted curriculum, and intentionally created supports around individual needs. 

Now, I am responsible for supporting all of those needs at once. 

It is a very different perspective. 

Yet, as I recently told a coworker, I feel like every role I have held—and every professional development opportunity I have been blessed to experience over the last 20-plus years—has prepared me to be the general education teacher I am today. 

I now have the opportunity to put so much of that learning into practice every single day. 

Pyramid Model. Trauma-informed care. PBIS. Science of Reading. Inclusion. Mental health. Classroom management. Social-emotional learning. Data-driven instruction. 

All of those experiences have become pieces of the classroom I am building. 

My goal is to create a classroom where all children can learn, feel safe, develop independence, build relationships, and experience success. 

Of course, this new role comes with its own challenges. 

Perhaps my biggest challenge right now is something I never expected: asking for help. 

For much of my career, I have been the person others came to when they needed help solving a problem. I have been a coach, a mentor, a support person, a systems-builder, and a problem solver. I have spent years helping adults figure out how to better support students. 

Now, I am the one who has the problems. 

And I need help. 

That has been a much bigger shift than I anticipated. 

I have always considered myself collaborative. I value others' expertise, welcome different perspectives, and strongly believe in working together. But there is a difference between being willing to collaborate and being willing to say, "I need help." 

That is something I am learning all over again. 

Maybe that is one of the unexpected gifts of this new chapter. 

After more than 20 years in education, I thought I was coming back to the classroom because I needed a change. I am beginning to realize I may have come back to the classroom because I still have more to learn. 

I am learning to slow down. 

I am learning to be present. 

I am learning to see the world through the eyes of a four-year-old again. 

And I am learning that supporting others doesn't mean I should be afraid to let others support me. 

So, here I am—back in K4, surrounded by four-year-olds, milk cartons, crayons, big emotions, tiny shoes, endless questions, and a whole lot of learning. 

I'm tired. 

I'm challenged. 

I'm asking for help. 

And, perhaps most importantly, I'm excited again. 

Sometimes coming full circle isn't about going backward. 

Sometimes it is about bringing everything you've learned along the way with you—and finally realizing how all of the pieces fit together.