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📖Turn the Page📖Heyyy [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], I have a secret. Teachers are natural storytellers. Every day, you: capture students’ attention with a hook weave in key details and guide them to a takeaway they’ll remember. What you may not realize yet is that this skill is pure gold in copywriting.
In marketing, facts alone don’t persuade. What moves people is story—the emotional connection, the “I see myself in this” moment, and (MOST ESPECIALLY) the vision of transformation that makes someone click, sign up, or buy. Think about it:
The best part? (THERE’S MORE!) Storytelling isn’t about making things up—it’s about framing the truth in a way that resonates. Teachers already know how to do this, often without realizing it.So, when you sit down to write copy, don’t think of yourself as “new” or “starting from scratch.” You’re already carrying one of the most powerful skills in marketing: the ability to tell a story that makes people lean in, stay engaged, and take action. 👉 Try this: Pick a classroom story you’ve told a hundred times and rewrite it as a short piece of marketing copy. Could it work as a testimonial? A metaphor for a product benefit? A way to show transformation? That’s how you start practicing storytelling that sells. The 4 x1
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The art of dying back
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📖Turn the Page📖 There’s a tiny red tomato hanging perilously over the edge of my deck right now. I wonder if it’s rethinking its purpose here, I mused this morning, chuckling out loud at the thought. My summer “deck garden” (all 2.5 plants) has been a freaking masterclass in resurrection. The basil that looked completely spent last month? It just needed a good drink and some shade—now it’s flourishing again. Those flowers whose leaves curl inward like prayer hands when they’re thirsty? They’ve taught me that distress signals aren’t always death knells; sometimes they’re just requests for attention. But it’s the tomato plant that’s been my Mr. Miyagi. Y’know… Grow on, Grow off. This scrappy little thing has “died” what feels like a thousand deaths this summer—wilted in the brutal heat, leaves brown and brittle, looking like it belonged in the compost bin. Yet here it is, still producing those perfect little gems: first green, then orange-ish then blushing a deep red, or starting to as my eager kiddo plucks them just before their peak ripeness… Each one a small miracle of persistence. Plants understand something we are constantly forgetting: that life isn’t meant to be a constant state of thriving. They’re born into this sweet nuance, existing their entire lifespan in the space between growth and rest, abundance and dormancy. Dead on the outside, but alive underground in winter, resting deeply. Shedding in the fall, only to grow again in spring. Nature operates in cycles, not straight lines. Trees don’t apologize for losing their leaves. Perennials don’t feel shame about dying back to their roots. They trust the rhythm, the ebb and flow— the necessity of both the growing and the letting go.Why then, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], can’t we humans live just a little bit more in the nuance? Why do we try so hard to be always in one cycle? Why do we panic at the first sign of withering, the first hint that we might need to pull back, rest, or start over? Maybe the real wisdom isn’t in avoiding the dying back—maybe it’s in learning to trust that sometimes we need to curl our leaves, retreat to our roots, and wait for the right moment to unfurl again. After all, that little tomato didn’t get there by staying the same. It got there by dying a thousand small deaths and choosing, each time, to grow again anyway. So, here we are at the end of summer. School starts next week. I am feeling a bit like a dwelt horse. (Full transparency—I had to describe this idea to google in order to get the term) As in, should be ready to go™ after this summer, to hit the ground running, to roar. And yet. I’m feeling like I need a slower start (and a long freaking NAP) this time around. I feel like I am finally learning this funny thing about myself (SURPRISE): If I don’t rest, exhale, decompress, celebrate what already is… I will be stuck. No forward motion. No growth. So, I am moving into September, my “new year” (you can take a girl out of teaching but…) With A LOT more intention. Some serious work with managing my own time and commitments. Some DEEP, starting at the wall, sitting in silence, laying the grass, people watching… REST.So that I have the brain space to do all the things I know are coming. If you are a teacher and you know you want to build something new on the side this year, I challenge you to schedule in some starting at the wall time. Start with 5 minutes. Your roots are going to need that rest as you move through the seasons. What’s teaching you about cycles and renewal right now? I’d love to hear about your own gardens—literal or metaphorical. The 4 x1
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the hidden copywriting skills you already have
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📖Turn the Page📖Hey [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], I was talking to a teacher last week who said, “I’m not sure I have what it takes to be a copywriter. I’ve never written or done anything like this before.” I had to stop her right there. You’ve been writing copy your entire career. You just called it something else. Stay with me here: That parent email you sent about the field trip? That was direct response copy. You had to get busy parents to take action (sign the form, send money, pack a lunch) by a specific deadline. You probably included social proof (“The kids are so excited!”) and addressed objections (“Don’t worry about the weather—we have indoor backup plans”). Your classroom newsletter? That was content marketing. You were nurturing your audience (parents), building trust, and positioning yourself as the expert guide for their child’s education. That lesson where you hooked reluctant students on fractions or (GASP) POETRY?? That was conversion copywriting. You had to grab attention, overcome resistance (“When will I ever use this?” or “Poetry is so dumb!”), and get them to take action (engage with the material). Your parent-teacher conference prep? That was client communication and stakeholder management. You presented data, told stories, and guided conversations toward desired outcomes. Here’s what most people don’t realize: Good copywriting isn’t about manipulation or pushy sales tactics. It’s about clear communication that helps people make decisions that serve them.Sound familiar? You’ve spent years:
These aren’t skills you need to learn. These are skills you need to recognize. The only difference between your classroom communication and copywriting is the context. Instead of helping students learn fractions, you’re helping customers understand why they need a solution. Instead of getting parents to sign field trip forms, you’re getting readers to join an email list. Same skills. Different application. So what’s next?
You’re not starting from zero. You’re building on expertise. What’s one communication win you had this week? Hit reply and tell me about it. I’d love to celebrate it with you. Cheering you on, Meredith The 4 x1
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Selective bravey
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📖Turn the Page📖 I don’t know if you read to the end and this one was too good to risk it: Which belief once protected you, but now confines you? (credit: James Clear’s weekly newsletter) ) Hey there, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], Last week I wanted to go for a run. My daughter wanted to go with me. I was hesitant to agree (this is being generous. I like to run alone 😬), because, well, she complains a lot during these types of activities. But she had some solid 6 year old persistence. (I’ve heard she got this from me…but who can tell?)
So… I agreed to let her ride her bike with me. We headed out on the path near our house, a section of which is particularly flat so she wouldn’t have trouble riding. Our adventure started out a bit sticky—in biking riding as in real life, she likes to be right next to me at all times. I explained that when someone is riding a bike and someone is walking or running, if we are next to each other, there is a better chance we will run into each other. She decided to believe me on this one and took off. As she rode up ahead, I marveled at the way she all of a sudden seemed older, braver and more competent. She came out of the womb a dare devil… but only selectively. She was walking at 10.5 months and running immediately after. As soon as she could manage, she was leaping off of any high surface she could climb onto. But water? She was terrified. It took some very intentional and intensive lessons (most of which she cried before) before everything clicked for her and her fear dissipated. Social situations? She sticks by my side until she has observed what’s happening and can understand where she fits in (this is my interpretation anyway, LOL). She’s cautious in as many ways that she’s brave. Her bravery looks different than other kids’ does.And this is something I will tell her over and over again until I get that eye roll and groan, “MOM! I know. I get it, OK?” It took me half my life to get this: that my bravery can look different from someone else’s. That saying, “this doesn’t work for me anymore,” … and then actually doing something about it it, is also incredibly brave. THAT THERE IS ACTUALLY NO UNIVERSAL DEFINITION OF BRAVERY. This lack of understanding will keep you in place if you let it. Don’t let it. xo, Meredith ps. Do you have an “outside the box” version of bravery? If yes, when did you understand that it was different than what we are taught as kids? pps. Hit reply and share this with me! The 4 x1
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Accountibilibuddies™
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Hey hey, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE]! July was a blur. Like seriously. Where the F did July go? I set out this summer to do less and with more intention and I’ll be honest… it didn’t really go the way I wanted it to. (You may have noticed my absence in your inbox these past 2 weeks… sometimes you need a break!) I realized by the beginning of July that I didn’t plan well enough in the months leading up to summer to be able to slow down my work. Instead I ended up with major content projects back to back, (on top of launching my own course!) and by the time I started the second one, I was pretty annoyed with myself. This all had me: -waking up first thing to work -having to say ‘no’ to hanging with my 6 year old way more than I wanted to -not having the time I needed to fill my own cup.
I’ll be honest here, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], because I have to be:I wobble between knowing I am extremely grateful to be thriving and growing as a business and knowing that I need to work on the way I organize and plan for my year when it comes to work… so I can reap the benefits of being my own boss. It’s definitely a work in progress. And I am lucky to have found some accountibilibuddies™ to help me do this work. So… August is here. For any teachers, this means you are getting ready to start a new school year, even if you know you’d rather not be. I did this SO MANY YEARS in a row, so I truly know it’s a swirl of feelings.But there are so many ways you can start to set yourself up from the start of the year to be in a different position come August next year:
And if you think you will need some guidance later in this year, hang here—I will be offering tidbits on a weekly basis and will likely launch another cohort of From Classroom to Copywriter at some point during Q4! Teachers: What is one thing you can do as you walk into this year if you KNOW beyond the shadow of a doubt this needs to be your last year? Hit reply and get some accountability! I’d love to know what you’re planning and I have lots of ideas if you need some! The 4 x1
It is common to think about what you would like to accomplish. It is less common to think about what must be discarded to make space for your new endeavors. The time must come from somewhere. What do you need to give up to make space for what you would like to achieve? |