Each back-to-school season is so different. In the fall, the time is full of possibility, nervous jitters, and new faces. After spring break, it’s more like Mad Max: desert cars limping across a finish line, held together by duct tape. But after winter break? It’s…familiar. We have follow-up questions to ask our students (“How was visiting the grandparents?”), and we have inside jokes to reignite. We also have a unique midyear position to reenergize and recommit.

Here are four low-stakes New Year’s resolutions for teachers to guide the second half of an incredible school year. And don’t worry. You can actually accomplish these.

Resolution #1: Observe the Hippocratic oath and do no harm

Every good teacher worries that they aren’t a good teacher. My department head once said, “It’s pretty easy. Don’t be a bad one.”

In my master of arts in teaching program, our cohort was encouraged to share positive and negative teacher stories from our past. I was struck by how harmful teachers were often inadvertent but consistent—like repeatedly timing math tests or not paying attention when students read personal poems—while uplifting teachers were often gentle and effortless, and they did things like letting students eat lunch in the classroom. Positive teachers, quite simply, wanted and enjoyed a student’s presence.

I used to have such a high bar for what I considered a successful day. Did we hit our standards? Did I use technology in an innovative way? Did we have stations, options, multiple learning styles, a field trip, and an impromptu sing-along? Now, I reframe: Did anyone exit this room feeling demoralized (which is different from challenged), unseen, dismissed, or hurt? No? Great!

Let’s remember that we are one piece of one year of our students’ lives. If they leave our room feeling safe, that is our job half done.

Resolution #2: (Pre)narrate your trust, even if it feels mind-numbingly obvious

At the top of the year, I pull out a multiplication ball that we toss around to practice facts. (This deserves a whole post: “How to help students with multiplication facts without turning it into a world-ending traumatic event.” Let me just say that we norm this activity to be slow, with lifelines and “passes” and lots of grace.)

As I hold the ball in my hands, I narrate, “Okay, I’m holding a ball. Why, as a teacher, am I worried about giving it to you?” They fill in every possible worry I could have, plus some hellishly inventive ones.

Then, if things weren’t covered, I narrate some more: “ Do I…want you to throw this in the trash can? Do I…want you to hit someone in the face? No, and if those things occur, what will I be forced to do?” They answer: We will not be able to play, not because you’re the bad guy, but because, duh. (Now, if something goes awry, I’m dispassionate about it: “Okay, we have to stop.” No emotion. No surprises.)

I’ve noticed that many teachers skip this explicit rules agreement and proceed to an activity, whether it’s group work or a field trip. Then, when students betray the trust that was never explicitly defined, we educators get huffy at students’ bad behavior. It becomes personal and emotional.

Prenarration takes the wind out of the bad ideas before they begin to blow. Then, if students do make dumb choices, we don’t have to engage in the time-wasting practice of arguing with them. They knew it was a bad idea because we said it was. They will endure the consequences because we said they would.

This holds true in every single decision in my class. Students want to work together in the hallway? I say, “What am I worried about?” They list every not great thing they could do and agree they will not do these things. If they do, I wordlessly send them to the principal, and they go without (very much of) a fight.

As the year goes on, we get faster. Them: “Can I listen to my headphones during the test?” Me: “Don’t make me regret it.”

Resolution #3: Attend one after-school event every month

I am talking to myself when I say this. Yeah, Kailey, you do need to chaperone the dance. You do need to attend the sporting event, the homecoming, and the play. Not every play! Not every game! In fact, as you build (authentic) rapport with your students, you’ll bet they’ll indicate which events they want you to attend.

I could go into why you need to go, but you know why. So I’ll just give you another tip: You don’t need to be seen by the student at the event. If it feels right to wait around, cool. Go for a high five and then split. Your student probably doesn’t want to have a wedding-reception moment of connection with you. What really matters is you bringing it up (and depending on the student, maybe in front of others) on Monday, saying how great they performed and how much fun you had.

Teachers, we are more than just their math teachers. We are their second, fourth, or tenth parent. Let’s support our kids.

Resolution #4: Stop spending two hours on something they’ll finish in 10 minutes

Oh, sweet little first-year Kailey. That beautiful web quest (remember web quests?) on Edgar Allan Poe that you spent hours making that they finished in, like, 17 mildly interested minutes?

Luckily, we get better (and faster) each year, right teachers? Happy New Year, y’all!