Category: Education

You walked into my classroom on the first day of school, and before I even had time to greet you, you said “Ms., no disrespect, but science just isn’t my thing.” You smiled warmly and took your seat, and I knew that despite my dedication to care for you this year, I had already lost you. At least in the beginning.

How am I supposed to be culturally responsive and sustaining in my science classroom? Isn’t my job to teach you how to memorize information, follow strict procedures in a lab, collect data, and draw conclusions that are unbiased by your personal experiences? Where is there room for your—or anyone’s—personality and culture when science is all about using facts to explain phenomena? This stereotype is probably why the research into what makes a culturally responsive and sustaining science classroom was so limited when I started learning about it. And I wonder… How have you been affected by the stereotype that science is so impersonal? Is that part of what drove you away? Even when a novelist who doesn’t look like you writes about something you’ve never experienced, at least you can imagine what it might be like to live their character’s life.

Science is done by people, for people, in an effort to answer questions about the natural world. And the way we answer questions is through science. Take the Moon for example. Every year or so you probably see a certain “supermoon” start to trend. Last year it was the Super Strawberry Moon, this year it’s the Worm Supermoon. Did you know that these names come from Native Americans, who gave the full moon a different name each month to connect it to their own experiences as the seasons passed (National Geographic Staff, 2019)? For example, the Anishinaabe, Cherokee, and Mahican tribes named the Strawberry Moon for when the fruit comes into season (American Indian Alaska Native Tourism Association, n.d.), and the Naudowessie tribe named the Worm Moon for when the emergence of beetle larvae signals the beginning of spring (Almanac, n.d.).

And what about your star sign? Dante, I know you’re a Sagittarius, but do you know why? Even before there was written language, there were scientists! We have cave paintings that show people were trying to connect the movement of stars in the night sky to observable phenomena on Earth as early as 25,000 years ago (Campion, 2008). See? Science is so much more about humans and our experiences than most people think. And the best part? Science is for everyone, and should be done by everyone.

Going back to what you told me on the first day of school, that you “just can’t do science,” I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about how we can work together to rewrite that narrative in our class this year. I hope that over the course of this school year you will not just have the opportunity to do amazing science, but to discover and internalize that you are a scientist.

For now, let me ask you: What would it take for you to be excited to approach novel problems, because it’s an opportunity to work towards a solution? As your teacher, I am dedicated to finding ways that you can empower yourself through science. Remember how you thought a scientist is someone who sits alone in a lab mixing together different chemicals? In reality, scientists are so much more.

Scientists are collaborators. It’s a great story when you hear about the one guy who made a ground-breaking discovery all on his own, but in reality scientists work in teams that require frequent, productive conversation.

Scientists are communicators. To share what they’ve learned with the world, scientists speak at conferences and on the news, publish articles, and can be some of the best public speakers around. Scientists even use social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok to broadcast information and network with colleagues.

Scientists are problem solvers. There are so many things wrong with the world, from hunger to pandemics to droughts. When faced with these issues, scientists brainstorm the kinds of solutions that can change the world. And almost none of these amazing results were achieved on the first try. What truly makes a scientist is the ability to try, fail, and then try again.

But enough with my motivational speech. What can I actually do to help you feel more comfortable taking up a scientist identity? As I mentioned, I’m grounding my teaching in something called CRSE (culturally responsive-sustaining education) to help you feel that science is for you. I’m trying to teach in ways that value what you and my other students bring to the table, draw on your cultures to help you feel connected to the content, hold high expectations for everyone, and help you think critically about socio-political structures and processes (Howes & Wallace, 2022; Wallace et al., 2022). With these objectives, I am hoping that you see yourself as a science scholar, and take agency in your role as a scientist.

The first step in this process was figuring out the source of the problem: Was I the only teacher with some students saying that they “just can’t do science,” or were other science teachers observing similar things in their classrooms? I regularly meet with a team of teachers from other schools around our city, and all of them have reported that they too have students who shy away from science. We started meeting to discuss literature and figure out how to improve our teaching practices. It quickly became clear that before we could do anything, we had to answer a fundamental question: What does a culturally responsive and sustaining science classroom look like?

We started with this idea of “cultural relevance.” To us, that means making connections to references that you would get. If I try to get you thinking about rocks by describing the tombstones in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that’s going to fall pretty flat (though maybe it would work for your parents). But if I start my minerals unit by mentioning the diamonds on Jay-Z’s watch, and show pictures of Drake’s marble bathtub to introduce metamorphic rocks, it is more likely that you’ll know what I’m talking about.

I can also make my class more relevant when I teach about latitude and longitude. For instance, I can have you learn to plot locations on the map based on cities where you and your classmates have family. It helps to ground new information in the things you already know, but it’s still not enough. This brings us to the idea of culturally responsive education. If we go back to what you’ve observed about science and scientists in the past, it’s evident that this field is whitewashed by history. On one hand, that means that white Europeans are being glorified as the heroes of science. But on the other hand, that means that people of Color have been excluded (Fields, 1998). Not just hidden from history, but shut out completely. It’s almost as if we are supposed to believe that people of Color can’t or shouldn’t do science.

If I want you to feel like you belong in my class, I need to respond to this crime of history. That goes way beyond the content of my mandated Earth science curriculum. This isn’t something you’ll see on your standardized test at the end of the year, but is an important part of the critical stance we both need to take to rewrite the narrative.

With this in mind, my teacher group began to consider the idea of student identity in science class. We knew that it would be an uphill battle trying to convince our students that they look like scientists, especially given the persisting racial inequities in the field. Instead, we speculated we might help our students begin to see themselves as scientists if they could think and talk like scientists. And so, we agreed that culturally responsive education in the science classroom could be characterized by student voice.

We all had different ideas about what student voice should look like. In this context, when I use the term “student voice,” I am not simply talking about how many times you open your mouth, or the noise levels in our classrooms. I am referring to your participation in academic conversations in which you demonstrate critical thinking using evidence and analysis. When it comes down to it, that’s all science is! Science is the process of using observations and reasoning to answer a question or solve a problem. If we can help our students develop those abilities, and make it clear that engaging in those practices is what scientists do (NRC, 2012), then you will have no fuel to support the argument that you “can’t do science.”

Thus, our hypothesis was born: If we can help our students develop their “scientist voices,” then they will be able to identify as scientists. If our students identify as scientists, they will be more likely to pursue higher education and a STEM career. All we had left to do was test our hypothesis. (Even though I’m a teacher now, I’m still a scientist, too!) We also had different ideas about how to foster student voice in our classrooms.

For me, there were four important considerations to keep in mind regarding how to foster student voice in my classroom that helped me figure out what strategy to use.

1. It had to be something that gave my students the opportunity to make their own choices. Obviously, an assignment is going to be more engaging if it’s something students choose. More than that, choosing can put students in charge of their learning, requiring them to take agency in the classroom and ownership of learning and success ( Baroutsis et al., 2016; Morrison, 2008).
2. It had to be something that positioned my students to practice being responsible. As a teacher, it is not just my job to teach facts about Earth science. One of my most important roles is helping students learn how to be successful once they are out of school.
3. It had to be grounded in real science. Many of my students think of science as something that “other” people do in “other” places. If we could learn about diverse examples of science in the real world, it would be easier for students to make connections between science and their own lives.
4. It had to provide the opportunity to have academic conversations about science. The point of this was to help my students feel comfortable having their voices heard in a scientific setting, so that they could develop the confidence necessary to see themselves as scientists.

Artificial intelligence (AI) both for student work and to speed up teachers’ tasks is on the minds of many educators, augmented by the number of platforms available to integrate with systems to make them usable for educators. But how can teachers integrate AI in teaching elementary students?

The heart of the challenge is to remember that when we evaluate how new tools work with our students, those tools may change the process of instruction, and that’s OK. As an elementary technology specialist, I’ve researched what are the most appropriate and private tools utilizing AI that can be used with our younger students. Below are some of the options I’ve found to be successful.

Pre-K, kindergarten, first grade: An interesting tool for the youngest students’ teachers that assists with their workflow is from Project Read. Project Read has a decodable skills generator that allows teachers to create short stories based on the blends their school uses. 

For our school, which uses Orton-Gillingham, pre-K teachers combined tech tools, or app smash, using the week’s blends to create a story that matched our school’s cultural unity focus. After pulling the created story, a teacher was able to use some of the Canva AI apps to create books that matched the theme with the blend.  We’ve also seen teachers create personalized books based on the specific blend each student was working on.

Second grade: For an interactive and engaging AI tool, Curipod is a digital presentation tool that integrates polls, drawings, and more. We first used Curipod as an AI slides generator because it has a very teacher-friendly look to it, which seemed less daunting to those tiptoeing into the world of AI prompts. We could put in any topic, grade, and amount of slides to generate a presentation that created questions for students to submit quickly. Educators love how the ease of drop-downs and creation tools helps with teacher workflow.   

Curipod has grown over the last year to allow teachers to use assisted prompts with their AI Question and AI Drawing Tool to formulate immediate responses to their submissions. In math, we’ve seen teachers create drawing prompts to request students to design their own arrays, angles, and geometrical shapes. To customize feedback based on the submitted drawing, the teacher modifies the fill-in-the-blank-type prompt. There’s also an opportunity for the teacher to act as a student and input a submission to see what types of feedback the AI generates. 

This is a great introductory AI tool—with one click, each student receives customized feedback on the drawing they submitted while the teacher can see all drawings and feedback given. 

In my own classes, I like to ask students if they agree or disagree with the feedback given to them. This helps me to tweak the prompts that I’m giving to the students through Curipod.

Third through fifth grade: If your school uses Canva, the embedded Free Online AI Image Generator is one of many AI apps that can allow students to visualize their assignments. At our school, students in fourth grade were working on historical-fiction creations based on their book clubs. After reading, students bullet-listed prompts to describe characters and setting. After teacher approval, students tested their bulleted description by using the image generator. Students were able to measure their descriptions based on what the AI generated. 

If the AI didn’t generate what the students were trying to design, they would go back to their bulleted prompt list to modify the descriptions. In the end, teachers were able to post beautiful AI pictures and link a QR code to the students’ writing pieces.

Another collaboration activity presented itself during partnerships with other grades. For example, during reading buddies, fourth-grade students partnered with second-grade students to discuss characters. The fourth-grade students worked with their buddy to design with Canva the fictional characters whom the second-grade students were reading about. The partner activity was so successful that the second-grade students were then able to utilize the Canva AI tools independently for their next visual assignment.

Due to age restrictions and privacy, our school took a look at the different chat-type platforms and fell in love with Flint. We chose a specific research unit for our third-grade students to start their AI chat learning during their biography units. Additionally, our fourth- and fifth-grade teachers integrated Flint into a variety of subjects. Flint is different in that it is specifically designed for education, which means it doesn’t just give students the answers.  

Some of the most meaningful usage I’ve observed is when teachers ask students to do a brain dump, aka free recall, for assessment prep. Using Flint, students are asked to “show what you know” to the AI. Flint can help by quizzing students like a tutor on the content they don’t mention—asking thought-provoking follow-up questions for students who are already prepared to make higher-level connections, and it can prompt areas that the students didn’t mention.  

The most common comment I hear from teachers is that using the platform is like having an extra teacher or pair of hands during teaching time for small groups. During a science class, students were explaining lab procedures and a student wrote back to Flint, “I don’t think I learned that,” to a question the program asked.  Flint readjusted to ask in a different way, probed questions on the content the student did know, or provided content the student needed to answer the question. If you love flipped classrooms, you may want to try Flint instead.

During a social studies class, the teacher set Flint to act as either a loyalist or a patriot for students to debate with regarding the American Revolution. Fifth-grade students used the platform by arguing points on why the opposing side should lean one way or the other. 

Things got really interesting when the students tried to stump the AI. Students started arguing back, with one student even writing, “I need Flint to explain why the opposing point should be taken,” after being dissatisfied with an answer. The process of teaching prompting effectively teaches students to continue to ask, “Why?”

Brisk has been the largest shortcut for our educators and has replaced several of our previous leveled reading platforms. While it can be used in upper grades, Brisk is especially suitable for younger grades because it allows for simple creation in the elementary area. The Brisk extension can open on webpages to allow for simplified content of articles or create fresh ideas. 

While many educators use Brisk to generate slides at different grade levels, we’ve also seen creative usage with our language teachers. For second-grade Spanish classes, an educator wanted to create differentiated and leveled readers’ theater for both non-fluent and fluent students. I worked with the educator to change the language and to input the story, number of parts they wanted, reading level, and amount of slides. In under two minutes, the teacher had a fully fleshed-out play with assignable parts for her students to participate in Spanish. Later, the Spanish teacher was able to Brisk the presentation again and choose the Quiz option to create questions based on the presentation she modified.

When elementary educators look at new technologies, we must remind our counterparts who teach older students that tools are not one-size-fits-all and the key to using AI in schools is the ability for teachers to reimagine our benchmarks.  For example, some online platforms have age restrictions. 

It’s good practice to verify that the platform you’re having students sign into meets many of those under-age-13 Children’s Online Privacy Protection Rules. This is especially true for platforms where privacy statements lay the onus on the teacher to monitor what is uploaded by the students into the platform. Free and trending tools don’t necessarily meet the guidelines for safety that educators pride themselves on. The Kapor Foundation has sample questions to ask before investing in any AI tool at your school, found in their publication Responsible AI and Tech Justice: A Guide for K–12 Education.  

When used thoughtfully, taking into account the age and developmental stage of your students, as well as privacy and security, AI can add excitement and personalization to your elementary classroom.

For school leaders, turning around a struggling district can seem overwhelming. The challenges—such as academic underperformance, disengaged students, and overworked teachers—may seem impossible. But in my experience leading a district from an “F” to a “B” rating (we use an A–F accountability scale in Texas), I found that focused, targeted action rooted in transparency and data can truly make a difference. It’s not about doing everything at once; it’s about focusing on a few critical strategies and doing them well.

In this article, I’ll share the two most impactful strategies I’ve used: building trust through radical transparency and implementing targeted academic interventions using real-time data. While these strategies sound simple, their execution requires strong leadership and a willingness to address challenges head-on. For other school leaders facing similar struggles, focusing on these strategies can be a powerful catalyst for change.

One of the most critical steps in our district’s turnaround was building trust—not just with teachers but also with students, parents, and the broader community. This trust provided the foundation for all future change. However, building trust required radical transparency, which wasn’t always comfortable.

Keep an open dialogue with stakeholders. Too often, school leaders avoid difficult conversations about underperformance, assuming they will lead to resistance from teachers and parents. However, we found that opening a dialogue actually built stronger relationships. We invited feedback through town halls, surveys, and small group discussions, where we candidly discussed the district’s problems. This transparency allowed us to engage the entire community in the turnaround process.

For instance, during one of our first forums, teachers voiced frustrations about outdated curricula and a lack of support for struggling students. On the other hand, parents expressed concerns about the district’s poor communication. By openly acknowledging these issues in a public way, we showed the community that we were listening—and, most important, committed to addressing their concerns. This kind of engagement created the trust we needed to move forward.

Present data honestly. Being transparent about poor performance data is never easy, but it’s crucial for creating a sense of urgency. We confronted our district’s academic struggles head-on by presenting the data openly to our staff and parents rather than sugarcoating the situation. This allowed us to gain trust and mobilize support for necessary changes.

When we first shared the district’s academic data, we didn’t shy away from the reality that our students were underperforming in key areas like literacy and math. However, we paired the data with a clear, actionable plan for how we would improve. This transparency shifted the conversation from blame to problem-solving. The honesty we showed about our weaknesses gave the community confidence that we were serious about improving things—and helped them become part of the solution.

While transparency set the stage, the real transformation came from focusing on specific academic interventions. Instead of tackling every problem at once, we concentrated on literacy as the foundation for overall academic improvement, using real-time data to guide and adjust our interventions.

Focus on literacy as a core academic intervention. Reading is fundamental to academic success in every subject. Our data showed that low literacy rates held our students back, so we prioritized literacy improvement. We implemented after-school tutoring, reading programs, and teacher professional development to ensure that students received support.

For example, we set a district-wide goal to increase reading proficiency by 10 percent in one year, though we knew that with consistent effort we could push that increase into the double digits—potentially 12 percent or more. To meet this target, we offered after-school tutoring for struggling readers and provided teachers with high-quality professional development through professional learning communities. We capitalized on school improvement funds to pay teachers for their after-school tutorial sessions, ensuring that their time and efforts were compensated. Concentrating on this single area showed notable improvements not only in reading but also in math scores, as well as boosting students’ overall academic confidence.

We also went into our communities and asked local vendors to donate incentive items, such as fast-food coupons and small prizes. As students mastered key concepts, they earned “Panther Bucks,” which they could use to enter a weekly prize drawing. This system motivated students to stay engaged, creating a positive reinforcement loop that kept them excited about learning.

At the same time, as teachers gained confidence in their instructional delivery—reflected in improved student outcomes on interim assessments, exit tickets, and other formative measures—their confidence shot through the roof. This was the boost they needed to feel valued, seen, heard, appreciated, and supported. As a result, this focused approach allowed us to make measurable progress where it was needed most.

Monitor progress with real-time data. To ensure that our interventions worked, we used real-time data to track student progress and adjust as needed. Implementing programs and hoping for the best wasn’t enough—we needed to be proactive in identifying what worked and what didn’t.

Every two weeks, we held data meetings with principals and teachers to review student performance. We used formative assessments and quick quizzes to track how students responded to the literacy and math interventions. When the data showed that certain students or schools weren’t making progress, we adjusted our approach—whether by adding more support for specific students or refining instructional methods. This constant feedback loop allowed us to course-correct quickly and ensure that we were continuously improving. 

Academic success doesn’t happen in a vacuum—school culture is critical to student outcomes. As part of our overall strategy, we introduced Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) to improve school culture and create an environment that fostered academic growth.

For instance, after implementing PBIS, we saw a significant reduction in behavioral issues, translating into more focused learning environments. With fewer disruptions, students were more engaged in class, which directly impacted their academic performance. By addressing academic and behavioral challenges, we created a school culture where students could thrive.

Turning around a struggling school district is no easy act. Still, real change is achievable by focusing on building trust through radical transparency and implementing targeted academic interventions guided by real-time data. These two impactful strategies were the foundation of our district’s success and can serve as a blueprint for other school leaders facing similar challenges. 

The path to improvement may be difficult, but the results can be transformative with the right focus and a commitment. If you’re leading a district through tough times, my advice is simple: Be honest with your community and let data guide your decisions. The effort is worth it, and the impact on your students’ lives will be profound.

As part of my role in technology integration, I strive to bring joy to students through science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM). Virtual learning experiences are a great way to do this, and in recent years, I’ve been exploring national parks with my students virtually and using this strategy as a springboard for project-based learning (PBL).

My students were able to meet a park ranger through programming from the nonprofit Expeditions in Education, which helped us to get started. Through a Zoom call, a park ranger, Jen, taught my students about national parks in general and about her park, the National Mall in Washington, D.C.

There are more than 90 virtual learning experiences on the Expeditions in Education site, and getting started is easy.

1. Choose a national park virtual learning experience.
2. Decide how you will structure your PBL unit and what kinds of products students can create to demonstrate their learning.
3. Align the work to the United Nations Sustainable Development Goal attached to the challenge.
4. Watch the virtual field trip with your class—you can also post the link to the video for students to view again as they are working through their project.
5. Have students tackle the provided STEM challenge, which includes a real problem the park is facing.
6. Is there a larger audience in your school or community that needs to hear your students’ message? This kind of project is an ideal chance to set students up with an authentic audience.
7. Optional: Take it a step further and contact the park ranger from the video for a live, virtual visit (or in person if you’re lucky enough to be close to the park) to share your students’ PBL designs.

In the fall of 2021, after participating in a STEAM in the Park experience through Expeditions in Education with 30 other educators, I was excited to share my newfound passion for the outdoors with my students.

We had a Zoom call with Ranger Jen to learn about the national park system and the Every Kid Outdoors program, which offers free access to federal lands for fourth graders. Ranger Jen informed us about a crisis affecting the cherry trees at the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C.—daily flooding and salt from the Potomac River were harming a protective wall and the trees. My students were shocked and asked, “What can we do about this problem?”

My students quickly began working to see if they could help, and I was a learner right alongside them every step of the way. They used the National Mall website to learn more about the park, and I set up a collaborative Google Slides presentation with a map, links to articles, and criteria for their projects. They used this resource to document their ideas, designs, and feedback.

Defining: After our call with Ranger Jen, I posted articles about the Tidal Basin and cherry trees so that students could clearly articulate the problem they were trying to solve.

Ideating: Students worked on their own or in groups to think as creatively as possible and generate a wide range of potential solutions. Their ideas included draining water into the Washington Channel to reduce the impact of high tide.

Prototyping: Ideas were brought to life during this step. Students used recyclable materials to construct models quickly and affordably. I helped the students understand these important points: Prototypes are first drafts, they help test ideas, it’s OK to make changes, use simple materials, and teamwork helps. Each prototype had a unique design.

Testing: Students tested their prototypes with their peers and me. I had an ongoing conversation with Ranger Jen during this phase in order to deliver feedback to students. Most students received feedback from more than one peer group before heading into the next phase, such as, “I don’t think your building materials will be strong enough to hold the water from the Tidal Basin.”

Iterating: Using the feedback gathered from peers and me, students were able to refine and improve their designs. Some groups even completely redesigned their prototype. This is all part of the process and demonstrates real-world skills and learning. The iterations included changes in materials, drainage changes based on better understanding, and the addition of supports.

Communicating results: I reached out to Ranger Jen to share my students’ work. To my surprise, she arranged a Zoom call with the superintendent of the National Mall and a group of rangers and engineers, all of whom wanted to hear from my students.

The students were amazed that their ideas would be presented to such an important audience. I reminded them that kids often think outside the box and see possibilities that adults might miss. Each group had five minutes to present their ideas. Even the most hesitant students understood the importance of their contributions. 

Watching my students engage with a real-world problem and seeing their pride and commitment was truly moving. To wrap up, I used a Google Form to collect feedback from students and assess their contributions. This reflection proved far more valuable than any test score. A common theme was, “I didn’t know kids could change the world before this project. I thought it was just adults.”

With every new generation, adults claim that children are different. Commenting on the youth in his time, Socrates opined, “If the whole world depends on today’s youth, I can’t see the world lasting another 100 years.”

In our conversations with teachers, especially those teaching teens, we hear a similar refrain: “Something’s changed in students.” Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt, in The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness, presents a compelling explanation: the unprecedented challenges of present-day childhood. Thoroughly researched and very readable, the book chronicles a cultural earthquake that has resulted in a restructuring of children’s brains and a precipitous rise in rates of childhood depression, anxiety, and suicide. The book can serve as a catalyst for critical thinking about the design of our schools and the somewhat contradictory roles of technology and play. 

Haidt attributes the crisis to a transformation from “play-centered to phone-centered childhood.” First, there is a loss of free play, brought on by helicopter parenting and the erosion of recess in schools. Free play has myriad benefits. When children are in “discover mode,” characterized by child-governed (versus adult-supervised) face-to-face interactions typical on a playground, they learn how to cooperate; senses of empathy and agency rise; and there is a growth-inducing tendency to step outside one’s comfort zone. The opposite phenomenon, “defend mode,” which is brought on by an overprotective approach to child-rearing, impinges on a child’s attachment system and the ability to take reasonable risks.

The second determinative factor is the invention of the smartphone in 2007. Within a decade, 79 percent of American teens had smartphones in hand. Haidt delineates four “foundational harms” from having a phone, and while he doesn’t connect these to school performance, the relationship will be apparent to educators. There’s sleep deprivation (impacting readiness to learn), social deprivation (stunting socialization), attention fragmentation (inability to focus), and addiction (social media and video games engineered to be habit-forming).

What can schools do? Targeting the prevalence of smartphones and the loss of play, the author recommends that schools adopt two strategies, to which we’ll add a third.

Some state legislatures and local school districts have become wise to the perils of smartphones in schools. Fifteen states, most recently California, have outright banned or restricted cell phones. Haidt recommends banning cell phones altogether (no exceptions for passing time or recess), enforced by mandatory use of phone pouches and phone lockers.

In our experience, two-way communication with parents is critical when launching policies banning cell phones. Parents have become accustomed to instantaneous access to their children; they fear losing contact, especially in a school shooting or other emergency; and they may need to get in touch with their child if after-school care arrangements change. We’ve used the following address to explain and reassure:

“School is a precious opportunity for children to become comfortable interacting face-to-face and acquire lifelong social skills. Our experience shows cell phones distract students from these critical learning opportunities. If you have an urgent message for your child, call the school office; secretaries will reach your child. Police advise us that student cell phones are hazardous in an emergency if they ring or buzz or if children talk. Our staff regularly drills lockdown procedures in conjunction with the police—we’re trained to keep children as safe as possible and will keep you informed as much as we can without compromising safety.”

Haidt makes a compelling case for “generous” free time in kindergarten through eighth grade, citing research-validated academic, social, and health and wellness benefits.

The value of playtime and recess was once generally accepted in education circles. Then A Nation at Risk, school report cards, standards-based instruction, and the accountability movement became a veritable tsunami resulting in schools maximizing academic time-on-task in order to raise reading and math scores. In countless districts, career and technical education and arts programs fell victim too. You could consider it a perfect storm: less play time and creative outlets during the school day; screen-based interactions predominating after-school hours. 

Haidt’s book shows a flattering photograph of a playground merry-go-round from the Mad Men era. You might remember the apparatus. A big kid spun the metallic monster at breakneck speed until the occupants flew off, half giggling and half terrified, into a sand and dirt pit. They’re dinosaurs today, decommissioned at the insistence of risk-averse school lawyers and insurance underwriters. In a talk last month, Haidt mentioned that as a result of today’s “safetyism” movement, adult males have replaced boys as the demographic cohort most prone to broken arms—a trend, perhaps, of dubious distinction.

Maybe schools cannot achieve the laissez-faire, child-centered paradise that Haidt envisions. Perhaps there’s a happier medium between never-never land and playgrounds governed by adults. We suggest that schools form committees consisting of educators, parents, and students to reimagine how schools can create a more play-based environment.

Questions to be considered include these: To what extent can our playgrounds prompt children to step outside their physical and social comfort zones without taking excessive risks? Can we offer loose parts play options—hands-on objects such as milk crates, car tires, carpentry tools, and twigs—that encourage children to build structures and otherwise stimulate their imaginations while promoting group play? What is the role of staff in giving children a sense of independence and ownership on playgrounds? What do we do about children who feel uncomfortable in a playground setting or are socially excluded? How might we provide training to recess staff that will help them teach children the mediation skills necessary to work out disputes themselves, embrace inclusivity, and adopt a sense of fair play?     

New York City public schools, under recent Open Streets for Schools legislation, closed surrounding streets during recess and before and after school, leading to a resurgence of double Dutch, stickball, and other traditional city games.   

Our last Edutopia article suggested that schools assume a role educating parents beyond the traditional annual orientation programs. We recommend that schools play an active role in helping parents navigate the “rewired” landscape. This past summer, the Surgeon General issued an advisory on parental stress, ranking its severity with the health threat posed by cigarettes and AIDS. 

One way to help parents think about transitioning back to a play-centered approach to childhood is to start with a schoolwide read of Haidt’s book. Plan an evening book discussion for parents, moderated by the school psychologist or a child psychologist from the community. (We like starting these evenings with a potluck dinner, establishing a cohesive tone as parents break bread together.) It’s not the school’s job to dictate whether parents enforce minimum age restrictions on social media, limit screen time, etc., but schools can educate parents about research-validated risks and help them define alternatives.

Parent education programs also create an opportunity to follow Haidt’s final advice to parents: Link up. Teens are likely to respond to restrictions with the accusation, “But you’re the only parents who…” When parents act in concert, perhaps signing a community-wide pledge, they have significantly more power. If there was ever a time to exercise the principle of “It takes a village,” it would be when trying to improve the fraught condition of childhood today.

Over the summer, I flew home to my parents, who live across the country from me. Groggy from jet lag, one morning I awoke to the scraping sound of wheels against pavement. When I looked out the window, I was delighted to see my parents’ neighbor hauling their trash can back down the long driveway to its designated spot at the side of the house. 

I can recall when the young neighbors moved in next door to my aging parents. My parents were helpful and warm to these neighbors when they were the new kids on the block. Ten years later, the young neighbors continue to return the favor. With a 30-year age difference, I wouldn’t call them friends but rather good neighbors.  

This made me wonder about what being “neighborly” would look like in a classroom setting. Like moving to a new neighborhood, each year students enter a new classroom with a new teacher and a number of new classmates. From the beginning of the year, teachers are tasked with turning this newly assembled class into a harmonious community. Cultivating positive student-to-student relationships often takes up a lot of teacher time in the beginning and throughout the year.  

Reflecting on the value of community and knowing it’s a lot to expect students to jump right into becoming friends with all their new classmates, I tried something a little different this year—a gentler, more reasonable approach. With a focus on building a thriving community of learners, I  set out to teach my fourth-grade students how to be good neighbors.

By shifting the focus from being a good friend to being a good neighbor, teachers can remove false expectations of fast friendships. Cultivating neighborly behaviors can contribute to a harmonious classroom community and pave the wave to new authentic friendships in the future.

Unlike with friends, we cannot choose our neighbors. This is true in our communities and our classrooms. Like a neighborhood, a classroom comprises a variety of personalities, interests, and ability levels that all need to coexist peacefully in a small walled community. 

At times, teachers have to field requests from anxious parents to have their child placed in a classroom with their friends. While it is understandable for parents to want their child to be happy, it’s not reflective of true communities. Educators are in a unique position to teach young people the value of community and equip them with the skills to be good neighbors. Being a good neighbor is a timeless skill that will continue to be helpful outside the classroom and throughout a student’s life.  

Good neighbors understand and invest in the inherent value of community. Being respectful, trustworthy, and helpful are some qualities exhibited by good neighbors.

These are also attributes of good friends. If a student can first learn the skills involved in a neighborly relationship with their classmates, then they can also learn how to become a better friend.

Ask students to share ways they can show respect and trust toward a classmate. Co-constructing a list of neighborly behaviors will help give examples for students to follow and teachers to reference when students are not getting along.

Working with younger students? For students in lower grades who are not yet writing, this activity can easily be done orally. The teacher can ask questions and record responses about what students feel they’re good at, what they need help with, and how they show respect to their classmates. Drawing neighborly behaviors is also a great way to develop younger learners’ understanding of community.

At the beginning of the year, have students take a strengths inventory. This inventory will ask students to identify their positive attributes and areas of expertise. It will also ask students to identify areas where they could use a little help, which encourages students to think deeply about what they’re good at as well as areas where they can use support.

Once students have identified their unique strengths and weaknesses, it’s time to create a community board. Present students with a simple sentence frame, such as “If you need help in… I can help you” or “I need help in…; can you help me?” The community board is divided into “Help Wanted” and “Resources Available” sides, and it lets students connect with classmates both as helpers and as those seeking help. The community board is then placed in the classroom, advertising strengths and needs of community members—in this case, the students.

I teach my students that the community board is the first place students should go for help. This empowers them to use their strengths to help the classroom community thrive. In this way, students become good neighbors by helping and receiving help from their classmates. 

This also builds self confidence in students. When students help their classmates, they feel good about themselves, and because everyone has different skills, everyone has a chance to be a helper. Through this, students come to appreciate each member of the community as a valuable resource that has unique strengths to offer.

In addition to building a harmonious community, here are some other compelling reasons to rethink how we approach relationship-building in school.

Increase inclusivity: When every member of a community has an opportunity to contribute, each member feels valued and appreciated. When students are provided a way to share strengths, they have more opportunities to help each other. This helping behavior is beneficial for both the helper and the helped.

Develop lifelong habits: When students learn that each member of a community has something to offer, they appreciate the importance of working together to move forward. Working together also builds appreciation of the diverse members of their community. Explicitly talking about topics such as trust, helpfulness, and respect can help students not only be better classmates but also build friendship skills.

While enjoying a trusting relationship with neighbors has been linked to many benefits such as increased happiness, health, and civic involvement, social trust has been on the decline. Explicitly teaching students how to be a good neighbor may not only help build harmonious classroom communities but also have beneficial effects far beyond the classroom.

As someone currently active in the teaching year, I want to first acknowledge and celebrate the highly active work of teaching, while also reminding colleagues to be “smart in their hard work.” Much is made of the beginning of the year and end of the year, but this in-between time is precious for all of us as we navigate holiday seasons and seek to enrich our instructional time.

Here, I point out some of the elements of teaching that keep me balanced and focused, especially at those moments when I feel like my work is losing some direction.

In the early days of my teaching career, I would literally scrap everything and start over again each year. While this work of remaking might sound like a noble quest for reinvention, I’m not so sure that it wasn’t simply a response to boredom or a mark of insecurity. I sometimes felt that when the lesson came together well, this was a stroke of luck.

The time spent planning for both the materials and the humans in the room is careful and critical work. All of the steps in a lesson, and all materials, don’t need to be constantly remade. Part of the artistic craft of what we teachers do is finding what strategies (I’ll call them tactics, but this is all about intention) will work across time with the students who are part of our classroom.

When a time-tested strategy fails to launch in a given year, I urge you not to throw it out completely but to look for subtle ways to tweak what has worked. Is it the inclusion of technology? Is it the encouragement to use real materials? For example, when I found that my students began engaging less with drawing and illustrating vocabulary, I began encouraging them to use digital media to represent words they were learning. When I found that students were less engaged in a class-wide novel study, I opted for a more small-groups approach. These are decisions and changes that can happen each day in the classroom.

As Dr. Raúl Mora recently shared in an interview I did with him, sometimes it’s about finding the next step to change instead of rebuilding the entire structure. 

It might seem obvious, but our work is complicated enough without leaning into overcomplication. This doesn’t mean that we don’t challenge students, but it also means that we are succinctly clear. As a rule of thumb, I don’t ask my students to engage in any kind of writing or creating that I would not/have not done myself.  

The classic I do, you do, we do approach of the Gradual Release of Responsibility model still works with older students. Strangely, it’s sometimes absent from secondary education programs or only hinted at. Breaking tasks down, assessing understanding, and finding the next manageable bite can make the work of learning meaningful and accessible.

This doesn’t mean that we must weary ourselves with breaking down every single standard for all students, unless we’re working with children who need this level of support. It does mean that we have critical conversations about data, target areas that need improvement (thinking tactic again here), and then break those tasks down into manageable steps to practice and build on.

Our professional conversations can demystify so much of the process for our students, and we can even co-teach with one another to talk through these elements if we are in spaces that allow for this level of collaboration.

I remember the first time I uttered the “D word” in class. It’s the one that comes before “know” and after “I”—“I don’t know.” It’s OK not to know everything. In today’s society, encyclopedic knowledge is perhaps not nearly as important as knowing how to manage and critically consider information.

Teaching can be stressful enough without the constant fear of a mistake. The same reality is true for our students. If we’re working in a content area that a student feels reluctant about, they may be in survival mode each day, hoping we do not call on them, notice them, or embarrass them. 

In our classrooms, it helps to normalize asking questions, seeking answers, and learning more as a classroom community. As the adult in the room with the degree on the wall, I feel that my task is to model this first. Even though I have studied, I have more yet to learn—and always will.

May our classrooms be places where, of course, we are prepared and do our best to anticipate questions, but also spaces where we recognize that sometimes the best moments in a lesson happen when exploring a finding from a student who is pointing out an on-topic truth—thereby giving us another tactic to use to build intentional work.

At present, many schools in my community are dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. I recognize that not only have I done some focused work with my students in the past month, but also we’ve built some community with one another.

Keep at it—and keep the human first. That’s true for both the student and the teacher. For the new and seasoned teacher, there is always work to do. I’m reminding myself to be intentional in this complicated process of teaching, and I’m taking moments to find joy and success whenever I can—like when a student says, “I’ve never had a teacher give me this option before” when finishing a novel, or joy like when a student reaches out by Remind message to check on you because they know you live in an area where there is increased flooding.

This is truly treasured work that we do. Tactic is never more central than tact—or, even more so, a focused sense of compassion that is part of our intentionality as teachers.

When you ask a school-aged child what the most important part of their school day is, you will almost always get the same response: recess. While many of us in education put lots of thought and energy into designing engaging learning tasks in our classrooms, it is those 10-to-15-minute-long sections of the day outside the classroom that matter most to our students. 

The central importance of recess to students should come as no surprise to us, of course. Students spend a lot of time on the schoolyard. When you add up all of their recesses and lunches, students will have spent the equivalent of one full school year on the yard by the time they graduate from eighth grade.

Despite this, schools don’t often spend much time thinking intentionally about recess. Additionally, even schools that do provide some options for recess typically tend to focus on more traditional offerings like soccer or basketball, as opposed to open-ended play.

Recess can be a mixed bag for students. For some it is the source of various highs: scoring a goal or an exciting game of hide-and-seek. But for others it is the source of lows that come from being bullied or left out. Additionally, most schools provide students with a list of what not to do but offer no real guidance or opportunities to use recess time in a way that will add to students’ well-being and development.

Consequently, on many schoolyards, recess is a time for the more dominant, sporty students to engage in mostly one-sided competitive play against the less athletic students. Social hierarchies that already exist in the classroom are simply reinforced out on the yard, and many of the ensuing dramas follow students back into the school once the bell rings.

Educators who want to disrupt this dynamic need only observe their own students to see what sorts of recess activities might result in a more cooperative and less competitive recess experience. Even with relatively few materials or equipment, students will engage in a number of different play types at recess, including imaginative play, rough-and-tumble play, tag and running games, climbing, digging, and fort or den making. How many of these options do your students have at present? A school that wants to center student voice might very well start with this question and then work to provide more varied play opportunities.

If you follow your students’ lead, improving their experiences outside doesn’t have to cost a great deal of time or money. Here are some of my favorite recess improvements:

• Purchase a “jobsite” radio for students to take outside at recess and have dance parties.
• Add extra-tough (kidproof) gardening wagons to the yard. Classes can take turns being the “wagon patrol” and be in charge of putting them out each day.
• Provide chalk to students, and invite them to beautify a certain section of the schoolyard.
• Allow tree climbing, where safe.
• Provide plastic shovels for mud play in spring and snow play in winter.
• Provide buckets and PVC pipes for rainy-day play.
• Disassemble old furniture and allow the students to use the pieces of wood in their own creations.
• Create a digging section of your schoolyard.
• Explore implementing a loose parts play program.
• Hang tarps from eyelets on the outside wall of the school. These become forts, pirate ships, and other bases for students to hide in.
• Teach students about consent, and then allow wrestling or play fighting.
• Consider banning indoor recess (“We play in all weather!”).
• Invite parents to drop off used Christmas trees on the yard in January. Students can use these as beds or as fort-building materials and then enjoy “replanting” them in the spring mud.

I should note that the changes I have listed above are only possible in a school where the staff, parents, and principal all share a common passion for open-ended outdoor play. As a principal myself, I didn’t implement all of the above at the same time, and certainly not before building local consensus around the importance of providing rich opportunities for developmentally appropriate play. I had multiple starting points for building support for open-ended play, including sharing research and my own learning at staff meetings and parent council meetings, conducting student surveys, and publicizing the benefits of open-ended play in my newsletters and bulletin board displays.

I also modeled the interactions that I wanted to see on the yard: I went out and pulled students in wagons at recess, I helped them build their shelters and forts, and I even climbed a few trees. For me as the lead learner in the building, engaging in healthy, developmentally important outdoor play with the students was an essential step in giving my staff and students the explicit permission to take a few risks, get a little dirty on occasion, and embrace the many benefits of an open-ended recess program.

Educators who want to begin learning about this work can start by reaching out to their own early years departments, outdoor education departments, or physical education departments to learn about other schools or initiatives that support healthy open-ended play in schools. You may also want to connect with groups like Take Me Outside or Jonathan Haidt’s Let Grow, both of which help schools to promote student agency, outdoor learning, and healthy recess times.

Most important, though, I would encourage educators to think like a child when making decisions about recess. Far too often in education, we make decisions that work best for adults, under the premise of doing what is best for kids. In practice, however, we often force children to conform to a set of rules and behaviors that make sense to us adults. In so doing, we give children the message that there is something wrong with them. The truth is that the natural, self-selected play activities of children should serve as guideposts and indicators for those of us in positions of authority. If we simply follow children’s lead, recess can be a collaborative and creative time of day that enriches your school culture and fulfills your students’ many developmental needs.