My journey into audiobook narration didn't start with my most recent work. It started with a polite but persistent "No."
After my third book, The Teacher’s Principal, came out, I asked my publisher, ASCD, if they might consider an audiobook. "Principals are commuters," I argued. "They will love listening to this as they drive!" They declined, politely. I asked again after The Principal’s Guide to Conflict Management. Nope. I asked one last time after Trusted.
Finally, they said yes! Yessssss!
Echo Point Books and Media, LLC, bought the rights, but instead of one of the more recent books, they wanted me to record my very first: You’re the Principal! Now What?
The catch? It’s twice as long as the other daggone books. Twice as long. It’s soooooo long.
I thought recording an audiobook would be fun. And it was, for an hour or two. After that, it was positively arduous.
Hours. Hours and hours and hours. Every Saturday for weeks, I sat in a chair in a recording studio in Delaware, Ohio, and read into a microphone. I’ll write more later about why it’s so arduous—the mistakes, the mispronunciations, the volume adjustments, the pacing problems— but for now, trust me that it’s hard mental work.
But it’s done, and it’s been sent off to Echo Point, and I cannot wait for you guys to have access to it.
But that’s not what this post is about.
The Sound of Time (and Cringe)
Here’s the thing: That book was written ten years ago.
As I read, I was still happy with much of the content. But there were entire passages that made me cringe. Recording a decade-old text about the field of education is like holding a conversation with your younger, less-informed self— about a profession fundamentally altered by time.
Some changes were small, but significant to those in the field.
In the book, I reference “ELL” learners instead of the current, preferred “EL.” I say “guidance counselors” instead of “school counselors”—a change in terminology that matters a lot to the people who hold those jobs. I reference RTI but never mention the now-standard MTSS.
It is surprising how much terminology can shift in a single decade.
But the truly cringy moments were the big ones, the concepts that have changed in fundamental ways.
The scenario where I suggest the principal intervene with a parent who is mad at a teacher (instead of insisting the parent talk to the teacher directly). This is bad, outdated advice.
The section on discipline where I implied angry parents could be deescalated with just a few calm conversations (as if they’d all suddenly become agreeable—?). Naiveté.
My advice that hiring is the most important part of a principal’s work, and to do so, you just "take a look at the stack of resumes you have and then set up a hiring process." (A "stack of resumes”—? Ha.) The current teacher shortage makes this painfully outdated.
There are also massive omissions that, in retrospect, feel negligent, though they weren't at the time of writing, because they didn’t.even.exist. I don’t mention AI, the plethora of new legislation, the drastic spike in student behaviors, COVID recovery, digital literacy, or the pervasive influence of social media.
In 2016, these things weren't the forces they are now.
It’s stunning to hear my own voice offering advice on technology, hiring, and teacher support that is so deeply obsolete.
Ten years have transformed this role into a fundamentally different job.
This job is a wild one, people. Wild. This audiobook proves the job we had ten years ago exists in a different universe than the one we have now.
I truly wonder where we will be ten years from now.
Okay— so let’s close with a short pep talk. Hang in there, everyone. For most of us, we have just nine more days until a beautifully restorative break!
Staying curious—
Jen
P.S. Still no A.I. used in this newsletter, ever, except spellcheck.
P.P.S. Keep referring your friends. Subscriptions are high and getting higher and I’m so psyched about that!
P.P.P.S. If you have any topics you want me to cover in this newsletter, I hope you’ll let me know. Ask me questions, or throw out a topic and I’ll dissect it. You can email me at [email protected].
P.P.P.S. A unique referral link is here for you to tell your friends and colleagues about this newsletter. I had a college professor tell his entire class load about it, and he got himself four free books. Yahoo!