Stretching, Sweating, and Sticking the Landing: Day 1 of My Solo PD
I Built This: What I Learned from Designing and Delivering My Own PD (Day 1)
I have a confession to make…
I’ve never done anything like this. Not really.
I’ve supported PD. Built pieces of it. Led small segments—sometimes after watching someone else do it first. I’ve co-facilitated full-day sessions, contributed one section of a training, helped develop content with a team. But I’ve never created everything—from the structure to the content to the delivery—and led it solo.
This was a stretch. A big one. This is my reflection after Day 1—just six hours into a three-day, eighteen-hour professional learning experience.
A Crafted Experience
Eighteen total hours of content. Eighteen hours of decision-making, pacing, scaffolding, transitions, processing structures, movement breaks, and strategy integration. Every activity, every question, every graphic organizer, every font and margin and slide title—I decided all of it. No team. No fallback. Just me and the deep belief that if I could get it right, it would matter.
I’m meticulous to the point of obsession when I’m crafting something meant to serve teachers. But even I was in awe of the scale of what I had created—and how far my own practice had stretched. It wasn’t just about building content. It was about curating an experience.
One that invited both new and experienced educators into shared reflection, planning, and learning.
The Details Were the Work
I spent weeks prepping this. At first, I didn’t understand why making this PD was taking me so long. I’d open my laptop for what I thought would be a quick design session, only to spend hours making what felt like tiny decisions. But those “tiny” decisions were actually the bones of the experience.
Every single element was a choice.
Which concepts are most critical for sixth grade success?
Which strategies best reflect what we want for our students?
Where do we need to pause and process?
Where do we need to move and reconnect?
How do I make this engaging, interactive, human?
Even the smallest things mattered. I chose every font intentionally—for clarity and tone. I adjusted line spacing to make note-taking easier. I designed handouts to feel visually inviting, not crowded. I even color-coordinated the pencil pouches, sticky notes, and dividers to match each teacher’s binder.
I wanted it to feel thoughtful because it was. Every item in that binder was something I sourced or created myself. Every question was crafted to spark dialogue. Every transition was mapped out. Every moment was designed to honor teachers' time and minds. I want teachers to feel like what they’re doing matters—and that starts with the materials I hand them.
If we want teachers to feel like professionals, we have to treat them like professionals.
Thoughtful. Intentional. Worth the effort.
What Went Well
Here’s the part that feels really good:
This was a big swing. And I connected.
The session felt calm and grounded—not because I wasn’t nervous, but because I was ready. There was no scrambling. Just focused, intentional facilitation. The teachers were engaged. They read deeply. They highlighted, annotated, talked, and listened. They leaned into the strategies and the content. Our discussions on adolescent development and trauma-informed instruction were rich, reflective, and real.
The list-group-label-rank strategy created connection and energy. The Cornell notes sparked thoughtful annotation and conversation. I had mapped out every transition—but I still adapted in the moment when I realized some conversations needed more time.
We didn’t get through everything on the agenda. And that’s okay. It means people were really thinking.
What Surprised Me
🧠 Understanding isn’t the same as unlearning.
Some of the comments at the end of the day revealed that deeply held beliefs don’t shift easily. I heard things that didn’t quite align with the research we’d just explored. It reminded me: learning doesn’t happen all at once. We revisit. We reflect. We re-ground.
🔀 You have to be ready to pivot.
I believed I had thought of everything—that the session was cohesive, well-structured, and tightly aligned. But once I was in the room, it became clear the sequence was off. Making an on-the-fly change wasn’t comfortable, but it was necessary. That pivot reminded me: even the most intentional plans sometimes need to be reordered when they meet the reality of the room.
⏱️ Pacing will disrupt your plan.
I worried that the day might feel light on content. Instead, we ran out of time. I had to move three full hours of material to Day 2. Between partner talk and whole group share-outs, time flew. And when the conversations are that rich, you let them breathe—and adjust later.
🎯 Share-outs need boundaries.
I need to rethink how I manage whole-group time. When everyone wants to share, it eats the clock. Tomorrow, I’ll be more intentional about what deserves a full-room moment and what can stay in pairs. And I need a clear signal—music or a sound cue—to wrap up conversations.
The Bigger Question
Will it stick?
Because even with the energy and engagement, I could see how easy it was for people to revert to default thinking. That’s not failure. That’s just the truth of adult learning. Understanding is step one. Internalization takes time.
What I’m Holding Onto
This was Day 1. I still have two more to go. I don’t know how all three days will land. I don’t know what will stick. But I know this:
A lot of sweat went into this. I stayed at work until 8:00 PM the night before, printing and prepping. I spent two weeks of summer vacation pouring myself into the design. I showed up, without a safety net, and held the room with care, professionalism, and intention.
And I don’t regret a second of it.
In fact, I feel full. Like I just poured a gallon of gas into my confidence tank.
I took a risk and built something from scratch. And that leap turned into a space that honored teachers, that centered students, that sparked thinking.
That’s the kind of leadership I want to grow into.
That’s the kind of work that keeps me going.
I’m tired—but I’m energized. And most of all, I’m proud.
For coaches reading this: if you’re scared to lead something on your own, you’re not alone. I was too. (I still am!) But you can do it. You can take the leap.
Just prep like it matters. Listen like it matters. Adjust like it matters.
Because it does.
P.S. I’m so so so grateful to work with a team that trusts me enough to do something like this. They helped ensure the participants got paid for their time, bought the snacks, the supplies, the lunch—all the things that made the experience feel human. Thank you.