Picture this: It's my second year teaching, and I spent my entire August creating the most gorgeous classroom you've ever seen. Hand-lettered welcome signs, perfectly organized book bins, bulletin boards that belonged in Pinterest. I was so proud.

By October, my beautiful classroom looked like a tornado had hit it. Students were wandering around aimlessly, I was constantly interrupting lessons to manage chaos, and I was going home exhausted every single day.

Nobody told me that pretty classrooms don't teach themselves to run smoothly. That's on us, mijas.

After 22 years in the classroom (and way too many hard-learned lessons), I've figured out which procedures are absolutely worth your precious first-week time. Forget teaching your entire morning routine on day one. Focus on these five, and everything else will fall into place.

Procedure #1: How to Get Your Attention

This one is non-negotiable. If you can't get their attention, nothing else matters.

I use a simple call and response: I say "Criss cross," they say "Applesauce" and immediately stop what they're doing, look at me, and put their hands in their lap. Sounds silly? Maybe. But it works with fourth graders, and that's what counts.

Here's the key: Practice it fifteen times that first day. Not three times. Fifteen. Have them practice when they're already quiet, when they're talking, when they're working, when they're moving around. Make it muscle memory.

And yes, you'll feel ridiculous. Do it anyway. Trust me, you'll thank yourself in September when little Marcus is deep in a math problem and you need everyone's eyes on you immediately.

Procedure #2: The Bathroom System

Ay, dios mio, the bathroom drama we create for ourselves. I used to have this elaborate sign-out system with clipboards and time logs. What a waste of energy.

Now? Two bathroom passes on hooks by the door. If a pass is there, you can go. If both passes are gone, you wait. No asking permission, no interrupting my lesson, no keeping track of who went when.

The magic is in what I tell them: "Your bathroom time is your responsibility. If you're missing instruction, that's your choice. If you're gone too long, that's a conversation we'll have later."

I've had exactly three "conversations" about bathroom abuse in the past two years. Kids self-regulate when you give them the chance.

Procedure #3: What to Do When You're Finished

This is where classroom management lives or dies. That moment when Sofia finishes her math worksheet and has nothing to do? That's when chaos begins.

I have three simple rules posted on a bright yellow poster: 1. Check your work 2. Help a neighbor (quietly) 3. Read your independent book

That's it. No elaborate early finisher bins to maintain. No complicated choice boards to update. Just three things they can always do.

The secret sauce? I model exactly what "help a neighbor quietly" looks like. We practice whispering. We practice pointing to problems instead of giving answers. We practice what to do if your neighbor doesn't want help.

Procedure #4: How to Ask for Help

Fourth graders have two modes: suffer in silence or interrupt you seventeen times during small group instruction. Neither works for anyone.

I teach them the "Three Before Me" rule. Before you ask Mrs. Santos: 1. Read the directions again 2. Ask a table partner 3. Check the example on the board

If you've done all three and you're still stuck, put your red cup on your desk and keep working on something else. I'll come to you.

The red cups were a game changer. I can see at a glance who needs help, and kids don't waste time sitting there doing nothing. Plus, no more interruptions during my guided reading groups.

Procedure #5: How We Treat Materials

This one hits different when you're at a Title I school and every crayon matters. I'm not asking kids to worship our supplies, but I need them to understand that taking care of our things means everyone gets to use them.

I show them exactly how to sharpen pencils (two twists, check the point, two more if needed). How to put caps back on markers immediately. How to carry scissors safely. How to close glue sticks so they don't dry out.

We practice with actual materials. I give each table a set of supplies and let them mess up. Pencil shavings everywhere? Perfect teaching moment. Dried out markers? Let's talk about why that happened.

It takes fifteen minutes of practice, but it saves hours of frustration later.

The Secret Nobody Tells You

Here's what I wish someone had told me in year one: You don't teach procedures once and move on. You reteach them constantly, especially after long weekends, after winter break, after FAST testing when everyone's brain is fried.

Every October, I spend one morning re-teaching our attention signal. Every January, we review our bathroom system. It's not because kids forgot. It's because good habits need maintenance, just like everything else in life.

Making It Stick in Florida Heat

Let's be real, we're teaching these procedures when it's 95 degrees and the air conditioning is struggling. Everyone's tired, everyone's cranky, and you're wondering why you didn't go into a nice, cool office job like your sister.

Keep your procedure practice sessions short. Five minutes here, three minutes there. Don't try to teach all five in one marathon session. Spread them across the week.

And remember, you're not just teaching procedures. You're building a community where everyone knows how to be successful. You're giving kids the structure they need to learn and grow.

Your Turn

Pick one procedure from this list. Just one. Spend tomorrow really teaching it, really practicing it, really making sure every single kid knows exactly what to do.

Then come back and tell me how it went. Because after 22 years of trial and error (okay, mostly error in the beginning), I know this truth: Great teaching happens when good procedures become invisible.

Your future self will thank you. Your students will thank you. And your sanity? Definitely saved.

Now go forth and practice that attention signal fifteen times. Yes, really. Fifteen.