Mr. Funky Teacher (Nicholas Kleve)

This is Mr. Funky Teacher with BeAFunkyTeacher.com. I’m coming to you with another Be a Funky Teacher podcast. Welcome back. Today, what we are going to be focusing on is: Be the storm—finding strength when teaching gets tough. That’s what we’re going to be focusing on. But before we get into it, we have three things that I want to share that I’m thankful for. First thing I’m thankful for is administrator support. Knowing that leaders have your back makes the storms easier to weather. Oh boy, do they ever. Next thing, copy machines that work. Sometimes it’s the small victories, right? You know this, I know this. When you get a copy machine that’s working—not jamming, not running out of toner, not running out of staples without a jam error on it—that’s a win. Especially when you’re under pressure to get copies done. And the third thing that I’m thankful for is having an opportunity to get caught up on copies. One of the things I like to do is make copies for the entire year based on core curriculum resources if there’s something I know I’m using. I try to pace it out and get those copies done so I don’t have to worry later. So having an opportunity to get caught up on copies is wonderful. And once again, when the copy machine is working, even better. Alright, so the main event—the main topic—is be the storm: finding strength when teaching gets tough. Teaching has always had storms, right? There are behavior issues, unexpected changes, and personal stress that bleeds into the classroom sometimes. And there’s a myth that strong teachers prevent storms. Like, if you’re an effective teacher, you’re not going to let any storms happen in your classroom. But the truth is this: strong teachers stay steady in the storms. Every storm is temporary, but how you respond leaves a permanent impression in the mind of those around you. Sometimes a storm is external. It could be a school policy. It could be something related to testing, state testing, or administration changes. Sometimes the storm is internal. Maybe it’s our own stress coming into the classroom, or doubts in our minds. Sometimes it’s exhaustion. We’re coming in exhausted from the day before—maybe dealing with certain behaviors or student needs—and we walk in the next day already tired. We do have to recognize that storms are normal. And it helps to keep us from feeling like we’re failing when they come. I’m my own worst critic when I encounter a storm. I can be very hard on myself, and I have to reframe it in my head: teaching has storms—internal storms and external storms. That’s the name of the game. It doesn’t mean we’re bad educators if storms show up. So here’s the next idea I want to challenge you with: the “I am the storm” mindset. Just think about that for a minute. “I am the storm” means you’re not tossed around by chaos. You are the calm force inside it. I’ve been playing with that idea lately. It’s about identity. You are strong enough, steady enough, resilient enough to weather whatever comes your way. When teachers embody this mindset, they stay calm when the class spirals. They hold boundaries without being harsh. And they keep showing up day after day with consistency. The storm isn’t about destruction. It’s about movement and energy. You set the energy in the room. And y’all, don’t forget—as the funky teacher—you are the energy. You are the motion. You are the force in the room that can reframe hardships as power. You don’t just endure storms. You become the force that drives through the storms. You borrow stability from your mindset. And your presence can teach students about resilience more than any possible lesson you could imagine. But remember: being the storm is not about destruction. It’s about steadiness. It’s about firm, strong, positive, powerful energy. It’s stability. So how do you be the storm in practice? You regulate. You pause, breathe, and respond instead of reacting. If we’re reactive all the time, we can look unstable. We have to have self-regulation in the classroom—steady instead of impulsive and reactive. Mantras matter. Anchor phrases matter. I love anchor phrases—things you can say in the classroom or say to yourself. “I am steady.” “I am the storm.” Affirmational thinking is powerful. People joke about it, but there’s power in that kind of talk. Community matters too. Lean on colleagues. Lean on administration. Share small wins. Celebrate successes. Even leaning into the wins themselves as support—like a working copier—reminds you that good things are happening. Perspective taking matters. My mom, when she was alive, was always big on reframing and having perspective. Bad storms pass. Don’t let temporary chaos define your worth. Use micro recoveries. Take a sip of water. Take a lap in the hallway. Take a minute of silence before the next class, before picking kids up from the lunchroom, recess—whatever that looks like. Visualize strength. Picture yourself as a tree in the wind—firm roots, flexible branches, holding strong. You might get whipped around, but you don’t break. Elite athletes visualize strength. I encourage you to visualize yourself holding strong when chaos is around you. And celebrate resilience. Notice when you stayed calm in storms. Call it out. Name it. Own it. Grow from it. Celebrate resilience, and then teach it forward. Talk openly with students about handling challenges, hardship, adversity, and obstacles. Teach it forward. Because students can learn from how we model navigating storms—and we want them to learn from it. So here are the takeaways. Storms will always come. I don’t care what building you’re in, what school district you’re in, what classroom you’re in. Storms will always come. Don’t fear them. Don’t just survive them. Be the storm. Be the calm, steady, powerful presence your students need. When kids remember you years later, it won’t be for how perfect your lessons were. They’re going to remember how you stood strong when life got messy. Be the storm. And remember to inspire greatness in young people. And don’t forget to be a funky teacher. Bye now.