As artificial intelligence (AI) continues to reshape the educational landscape, teachers have a unique opportunity to model how to use it responsibly, creatively, and strategically.
Rather than viewing AI as a threat or distraction, we can reframe it as a tool for empowerment and efficiency–one that allows us to meet student needs in more personalized, inclusive, and imaginative ways. Whether you’re an AI beginner or already experimenting with generative tools, here are five ways to infuse AI into your classroom this school year:
1. Co-plan lessons with an AI assistant
AI platforms like ChatGPT, Eduaide.ai, and MagicSchool.ai can generate lesson frameworks aligned to standards, differentiate tasks for diverse learners, and offer fresh ideas for student engagement. Teachers can even co-create activities with students by prompting AI together in real time.
Try this: Ask your AI assistant to create a standards-aligned lesson that includes a formative check and a scaffold for ELLs–then adjust to your style and class needs.
2. Personalize feedback without the time drain
AI can streamline your feedback process by suggesting draft comments on student work based on rubrics you provide. This is particularly helpful for writing-intensive courses or project-based learning.
Ethical reminder: Always review and personalize AI-generated feedback to maintain professional judgment and student trust.
3. Support multilingual learners in real time
AI tools like Google Translate, Microsoft Immersive Reader, and Read&Write can help bridge language gaps by offering simplified texts, translated materials, and visual vocabulary support.
Even better: Teach students to use these tools independently to foster agency and access.
4. Teach AI literacy as a 21st-century skill
Students are already using AI–let’s teach them to use it well. Dedicate time to discuss how AI works, how to prompt effectively, and how to critically evaluate its outputs for bias, credibility, and accuracy.
Try this mini-lesson: “3 Prompts, 3 Results.” Have students input the same research question into three AI tools and compare the results for depth, accuracy, and tone.
5. Automate the tedious–refocus on relationships
From generating rubrics and newsletters to drafting permission slips and analyzing formative assessment data, AI can reduce the clerical load. This frees up your most valuable resource: time.
Pro tip: Use AI to pre-write behavior plans, follow-up emails, or even lesson exit ticket summaries.
The future of AI
AI won’t replace teachers–but teachers who learn how to use AI thoughtfully may find themselves with more energy, better tools, and deeper student engagement than ever before. As the school year begins, let’s lead by example and embrace AI not as a shortcut, but as a catalyst for growth.
Timothy Montalvo, Iona University
Timothy Montalvo is an educator passionate about leveraging technology to enhance student learning outcomes. With over a decade of experience in social studies education, he is dedicated to preparing students for active citizenship in the digital age. He currently serves as a Middle School Assistant Principal in Westchester, NY and an adjunct professor of education at Iona University in New York. He can be reached on Twitter/X @MrMontalvoEDU.
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As a “pink-collar profession” — a nickname given to women-dominated occupations — teaching has historically paid less than comparable fields requiring a higher education degree, and in Philadelphia, the push to close the wage gap could lead to a strike by the end of the month.
Salaries for Philly teachers — roughly 70 percent of whom are women — begin at $54,146. That’s far below the median earnings of Pennsylvania college graduates. Now, concern over pay has become a sticking point between the Philadelphia Federation of Teachers (PFT) and the School District of Philadelphia as they negotiate a new contract, with the current collective bargaining agreement expiring August 31.
The PFT in June voted to authorize its executive board to initiate a strike if the union and the district don’t agree on a new contract by then. With the deadline imminent and no deal in sight, schools may open on August 25 only for teachers to appear on picket lines within days. A strike could leave working parents in a lurch, scrambling for childcare — a task moms usually have to complete. Many Philly teachers, however, are also parents and demanding higher salaries to better provide for their families.
PFT President Arthur Steinberg pointed out that even suburban teachers with less education often out-earn Philadelphia’s top-performing educators by up to $22,000.
Amid ongoing negotiations, Steinberg appeared with School District of Philadelphia Superintendent Tony Watlington at a welcome event for new teachers on Wednesday.
“We are optimistic about a successful conclusion by the end-of-the-month deadline, and it’s important to us that all of our employees feel seen, valued and heard,” said Watlington, who called Steinberg a “tough negotiator.”
To reach an agreement, Steinberg said, “There’s significant work that has to be done, but it’s doable.”
“Our schools are not safe, they’re not healthy for anybody to work in or go to school in,” chemistry teacher Kate Sundeen told local news station ABC 6. “We have a hard time with teacher retention and a hard time attracting new talent.”
On Friday, the national bus tour of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations (AFL-CIO) will arrive in West Philadelphia to support the PFT ahead of a possible strike. The event will be the last of six strike preparation events that have taken place before the teachers head back to work on Monday, a week before the first day of school.
This podcast, Sold a Story, was produced by APM Reports and reprinted with permission.
There’s an idea about how children learn to read that’s held sway in schools for more than a generation – even though it was proven wrong by cognitive scientists decades ago. Teaching methods based on this idea can make it harder for children to learn how to read. In this new American Public Media podcast, host Emily Hanford investigates the influential authors who promote this idea and the company that sells their work. It’s an exposé of how educators came to believe in something that isn’t true and are now reckoning with the consequences – children harmed, money wasted, an education system upended.
Episode 14: The Cuts
Education research is at a turning point in the United States. The Trump administration is slashing government funding for science and dismantling the Department of Education. We look at what the cuts mean for the science of reading — and the effort to get that science into schools.
This podcast, Sold a Story, was produced by APM Reports and reprinted with permission.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
“We found, regardless of where they are, that housing is a huge challenge for them if they don’t already own a house,” explained Van Schoales, senior policy director at Keystone Policy Center. “You need to have great teachers that are well-trained, committed and live hopefully near the school and know the community.”
In some districts, the study found more than half of educators spent 40% of their income on housing while 58% said they would be interested in district-provided affordable housing.
“It was an interesting question to ask teachers how would they feel if their employer was also their landlord — how did people feel?” asked Denver 7’s Danielle Kreutter.
“This was a huge surprise for me,” Schoales answered. “I expected that most people would say, ‘Well, I’m not so comfortable with this.’ And in fact, we found that 70% of those surveyed said they were fine with it, and I think that speaks to what a challenge it is.”
About 40 miles east of Denver, in Byers, teachers are facing the same struggles. But after a school district consolidation in the 1960s, the Byers School District had a bold idea for how to use the funds.
Denver7
“We have 10 apartments ranging from one-bedroom apartments up to three-bedroom apartments. Then we have two houses,” Tom Turrell, superintendent of Byers School District, explained about the affordable workforce housing.
He said hundreds of teachers have benefited over the years from this option.
Rent for a one-bedroom apartment, depending on how long an employee has been with the district, can be as low as $200 a month. The price has stayed the same for decades.
“The goal is to get their feet underneath them and then have enough for a down payment to stay in the community and purchase their own home. I mean, that’s ultimately the goal. And many, many staff members have done that,” Turrell said.
This is an investment into Byers’ future, he said. And it allows teachers like Nathan Phipps to be a part of their students’ community.
Denver7
Phipps is a high school social studies teacher in the Byers School District and moved to Colorado from out of state.
“Coming straight out of college, there was very limited options when it came to housing, even renting on a teacher’s salary,” he told Denver7. “It makes a huge difference. You see what your students are going through, who they are. I mean, the amount of times that kids ride through here on a dirt bike or on a bicycle and say, ‘Hi, Mr. Phipps, how’s it going?’ and I’m sitting out on the front porch — I think has really helped build relationships.”
Denver7 asked Turrell how the school district makes money from the housing units and he said it is “not a money-making venture for us,” and instead is all about retaining teachers.
He explained the properties are already paid for, and the affordable rents cover the utility bills.
If other districts have the resources to consider this option, or something similar, as a solution, they definitely should, he said.
“I don’t think you pass up the opportunity and if you wait until tomorrow, you’re kicking the can down the road, and the need is now,” he said.
Denver7 | Your Voice: Get in touch with Danielle Kreutter
Denver7’s Danielle Kreutter covers stories that have an impact in all of Colorado’s communities, but specializes in reporting on affordable housing and issues surrounding the unhoused community. If you’d like to get in touch with Danielle, fill out the form below to send her an email.
After our previous ‘hot for teacher’ gallery, you had to know this one was on deck. For those of you thinking about going to Grad School, or maybe just taking a few courses here and there, we’ve got you covered.
Again I give these lovely ladies all the credit in the world for choosing to educate future generations. Because if I had to do what they do, I’d crumble up into a ball on the floor.
It’s tough enough for the average American to navigate through the torrents of mis- and disinformation flooding social media platforms. How about having to guide a classroom full of eighth graders? David Raymond and Eric Gimbi somehow seem to enjoy it. Both are middle school teachers in the swing state of Pennsylvania and well as part of the Bobblehead George geek squad. I was able to trade techniques with them along with Tory Van Voorhis, creator of the non-partisan and data-driven platform, Election Edge, and CEO of Second Avenue Learning, to discuss how and why educators must address the 2024 presidential election in the classroom.
Have a listen:
Kevin is a forward-thinking media executive with more than 25 years of experience building brands and audiences online, in print, and face to face. He is an acclaimed writer, editor, and commentator covering the intersection of society and technology, especially education technology. You can reach Kevin at KevinHogan@eschoolnews.com
Almost every day at the public elementary school she attended in Montgomery County, Maryland, Stephanie heard comments about her weight. Kids in her fifth grade class called her “fatty” instead of her name, she recalled; others whispered, “Do you want a cupcake?” as she walked by. One classmate spread a rumor that she had diabetes. Stephanie was so incensed by his teasing that she hit him and got suspended, she said.
But nothing the kids did upset her as much as the conduct of her teachers.
For years teachers ignored her in class, even when she was the only one raising her hand, said Stephanie, whose surname is being withheld to protect her privacy. “I was like, ‘Do you not like me or something?” she recalled.
She felt invisible. “They would sit me in the back. I couldn’t see the board,” she said. When Stephanie spoke up once in middle school, a teacher told her, “I can’t put you anywhere else because you’re going to block other students.” She burned with embarrassment when her classmates laughed.
Nearly 20 percent of children in the U.S. — almost 15 million kids — were considered obese as of the 2020 school year, a number that has likely increased since the pandemic (new data is expected next year). The medical conditions associated with obesity, such as asthma, diabetes and sleep apnea, are well known. Children with obesity are also more likely to have depression, anxiety and low self-esteem.
Researchers have suggested different reasons for this “obesity achievement gap,” including biological causes (such as reduced cortical thickness in the brain in children with obesity, which is linked to compromised executive functioning, and higher levels of the hormone cortisol, linked to poorer academic performance). Researchers have also examined indirect causes of poor performance, such as that kids with obesity might miss school more often because of medical appointments or bullying.
But a relatively new area of research has shifted attention to educator bias. Studies have found that teachers often perceive children with obesity as emotional, unmotivated, less competent and non-compliant. That can lead to teachers giving these students fewer opportunities to participate in class, less positive feedback and lower grades.
Weight bias is part of American culture, said Rebecca Puhl,deputy director of the Rudd Center for Food Policy and Health at the University of Connecticut, who has studied childhood obesity and bias. “Teachers are not immune to those attitudes,” she said. While many school districts have tried in the last 20 years to reduce childhood obesity through more nutritious meals and increased exercise, Puhl and other experts say schools also need to train teachers and students to recognize and confront the weight bias they say is hampering the education of an increasing number of children.
Some advocates argue that childhood obesity, which has steadily risen over the last 40 years, should be seen as an “academic risk factor” because of its lasting effects on educational and economic mobility. “There’s certainly been a big push for racial and ethnic diversity, for gender identity diversity, that’s so important,” said Puhl. “But weight is often left off the radar, it’s often not getting addressed.”
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Stephanie, now 18, has struggled with obesity her whole life. Within her family, being overweight never felt like a problem. But school was different.
Beginning in kindergarten, her classmates told her she looked like a Teletubby, she said. Even teachers made comments related to her weight. “If someone brought pastries for a birthday, they would ask, ‘Are you sure you want to eat that? Why don’t you try carrots and hummus?’” Stephanie recalled. Once Stephanie listened as an educator told her mother to put her on a diet. She stopped eating lunch at school after that. “When I was home, I ran to food because it was like the only place I would feel comfortable eating,” she said.
There were a handful of occasions teachers noticed her for something besides her weight. Stephanie smiled as she recalled a time when an English teacher praised an essay she wrote; when she won second place prize in a coding camp; when she was named ‘cadet of the year’ in JROTC during remote school during the pandemic. In elementary school, she received the President’s Award for Educational Achievement, designed to reward students who work hard, often in the face of obstacles to learning.
Stephanie, 18, holds an old photo of her taken in the sixth grade. Credit: Moriah Ratner for The Hechinger Report
It wasn’t enough to make her feel like she had educators on her side. “In school, they want you to confide in teachers, they made us believe that we can go to teachers for anything,” she said. “If you have no friends or if there’s no one to trust — you can always find a teacher who you can feel safe with, you can always trust them. So, I would try, but they always pushed me away.”
One interaction in particular shattered her confidence. Toward the end of seventh grade, Stephanie stayed to ask a question after class. Her teacher asked if she was a new student. “‘How did you not notice I was in your class and the entire year I turned in work?” Stephanie wondered. “That’s when I started to feel like I’m a shadow.” From that point on she stopped caring about getting good grades.
Liliana López, a spokesperson for Montgomery County Public Schools, said that teachers are not “expressly trained on weight bias,” but they “elevate all the identities individuals hold as valuable and we work with staff to identify ways they can create spaces full of affirmation, validation and significance for those identities.” Celeste Fernandez, spokesperson for the National Education Association, the nation’s largest teachers’ union, said her organization does not offer specific training or information on weight bias.
Researchers are increasingly identifying links between poor outcomes for students with obesity and teacher’s attitudes toward kids. In 2015, Erica Kenney, an associate professor of public health nutrition at Harvard University, helped lead a team that analyzed data from a representative sample of children from across the nation. The researchers examined, among other things, whether the kids’ weight gain influenced teachers’ perceptions of their abilities and their standardized test scores.
Gaining weight didn’t change a child’s test scores, the researchers found, but, based on surveys, it was significantly linked to teachers having lower perceptions of students’ ability, for both girls and boys. In other words, kids who gained weight faced a small but significant“academic penalty” from their teachers, Kenney said.
A separate study, involving 130 teachers, found that educators were more likely to give lower grades to essays if they believed a child who was obese had written them. For the study, Kristin Finn, a professor in the school of education at Canisius University, in Buffalo, New York, took four essays written at a sixth grade level and paired them with stock photographs of students who looked similar but some had been digitally altered to appear overweight. The overweight students received moderately lower scores.
As an elementary schooler, Stephanie heard comments about her weight almost every day. Credit: Moriah Ratner for The Hechinger Report
Finn found that the teachers were more likely to view the students with obesity as academically inferior, “messy” and more likely to need tutoring. In surveys, teachers also predicted that students with obesity weren’t good in other subjects such as math and social studies.
“To be able to make a judgment about somebody’s mathematical abilities based on a short essay seemed pretty remarkable,” said Finn. Yet, teachers maintained that they were personally unbiased in their evaluations. “They all think that they’re treating these children fairly,” she said.
Teachers’ perceptions of children’s academic potential matters: Their recommendations can affect not only students’ grades, but also their access to higher level courses, competitive programs, specialized camps and post-secondary opportunities including college.
Girls are at particular risk of being stigmatized for being obese, research has found. In one study, nearly a third of women who were overweight said they had had a teacher who was biased against them because of their weight. Students who face other barriers including poverty are also more likely to be penalized for being overweight, what is called a “double disadvantage.”
Covid, which hit during the spring of Stephanie’s eighth grade year, was a welcome interruption. She loved learning in the privacy of her home and not being “judged for my body,” she said.
When schools reopened in the fall of 10th grade, Stephanie couldn’t bear the thought of returning. She had gained weight during remote learning, some 100 pounds. Citing her asthma and her father’s diabetes, she applied for a waiver that would permit her to attend classes virtually. But “the real reason was because I was ashamed of what I look like,” she said.
She received the waiver and continued her high school studies at home.
After a 2022 diagnosis of Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, which had made her body resistant to insulin, Stephanie decided to undergo bariatric surgery. Following the operation, Stephanie lost more than half her body weight. When she returned to her high school to take exams, people were suddenly nice to her, she said. It frustrated her, she said: “I’m the same person.”
Negative perceptions of people with obesity start early. In one study, children as young as 3 who were shown drawings of people of varying weights perceived the obese people as “mean” more often than “nice.” In another study, when 5- and 6-year-olds were shown images of children of different body sizes, most said they did not want to invite the heavier children to their birthday party.
Experts argue that administrators and teachers must become more sensitive to and knowledgeable about the challenges facing children with obesity. Yolandra Hancock, a pediatrician who specializes in patients with obesity and a former teacher, said she frequently intervenes with educators on behalf of her patients with obesity. One 7-year-old boy was often late to class because he found it difficult to climb the three flights of stairs to get there.
“The assistant principal actually told him if he wasn’t so fat, he would be able to get up the stairs faster,” Hancock said. She explained that the student wasn’t walking slowly because of “laziness” but because obesity can cause a bowing of the leg bones, making it hard to navigate steps. Giving the student more time between classes or arranging for his classes to be on the same floor would have been simple fixes, she said.
In another case, an elementary school student with obesity was getting into trouble for requesting frequent bathroom breaks, a result of his large abdomen putting pressure on his bladder, similar to what happens during pregnancy. “He came close to having an accident,” Hancock said. “His teachers wouldn’t allow him to go to the restroom and would call his mother to complain that he wasn’t focusing.” She wrote to the school requesting that he be allowed to go to the restroom whenever he needed. “If you don’t allow them to do what it is that their body needs,” Hancock said, “you’re creating more barriers to them being able to learn.”
Research has found that teachers can play an important “buffering role” in reducing bullying for children with obesity. In one study, children who believed educators would step in to prevent future bullying did better in school than those who didn’t share this conviction.
But often teachers don’t intervene, said Puhl, the University of Connecticut researcher, because they believe that if students “want the teasing to stop, they need to lose weight.” Yet “body weight is not a simple issue of eating less and exercising more,” she added, but is instead a highly complex condition influenced by genetics, hormones, culture, environment and economics.Bullying and mistreatment don’t motivate people to lose weight, Puhl said, but often contribute to binge eating, reduced physical activity and weight gain.
One way to help, would be for schools to include body weight in their anti-bullying policies, Puhl said. At present, most schools’ anti-bullying policies protect children on the basis of race, ethnicity, gender identity, disability and religious beliefs, “but very few mention body weight.” That lack is really shocking, she added, “because body weight is one of the most prevalent reasons that kids are bullied today.”
This spring, Stephanie went back to school to attend her graduation ceremony and receive her diploma. She still struggles with body image but is determined to put her negative experiences behind her and start fresh in college this fall, she says.
She plans to study psychology. “I want to understand people better, because I didn’t feel heard and there were a lot of things I didn’t speak about,” she said. “I just want to help people.”
This story about childhood obesity awareness was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
BROOKLINE, Mass. — It was a humid, gray morning in July, and most of their peers were spending the summer sleeping late and hanging out with friends. But the 20 rising 10th graders in Lisa Rodriguez’s class at Brookline High School were finishing a lesson on exponents and radicals.
As Rodriguez worked with two students on a difficult problem, Noelia Ames was called over by a soft-spoken student sitting nearby. Ames, a rising senior who took Algebra II Honors with Rodriguez as a sophomore, was serving as a peer leader for the summer class.
“Are you stuck on a problem?” Ames asked, leaning over to take a closer look.
Noelia Ames, a senior at Brookline High, helps a younger student with a math problem during a summer class where she served as a peer teacher. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
The students in Rodriguez’s class were participating in a summer program created by the Calculus Project, a Massachusetts-based nonprofit. Founded at Brookline High near Boston in 2009, the group now works with roughly 1,000 students from 14 nearby districts beginning in the summer after seventh grade to help them complete advanced math classes like calculus before they finish high school.
It focuses on helping students who are historically underrepresented in high-level math classes — namely those who are Black, Hispanic and low-income — succeed in that coursework, which serves as a gateway to selective colleges and well-paying careers. While some states and districts are nixing advanced-math requirements, sometimes in the name of equity, the Calculus Project has a different theory: Students who have traditionally been excluded from high-level math can succeed in those courses if they’re given a chance to preview advanced math content over the summer and take classes with a cohort of their peers.
In recent years the Calculus Project’s work has taken on fresh urgency, as the pandemic hit Black, Hispanic and low-income students particularly hard. Meanwhile, the Supreme Court ruling banning affirmative action left even some college officials concerned that inequities in high school math would make it harder for them to fill their classes with students from diverse backgrounds. The Calculus Project’s national profile has grown — its staff advises the College Board on AP math exams and classes and have advised groups in a few other states — even as the organization has attracted some scrutiny from parents, due to its emphasis on students from disadvantaged backgrounds.
“One out of 10 Black students in the eighth grade math scores were scoring basic or above,” saidKristen Hengtgen, a senior policy analyst at the nonprofit advocacy group EdTrust, referring to last year’s National Assessment of Educational Progress, known as the Nation’s Report Card. “When you see that, you need to throw certain student groups the life jacket,” she added. “We cannot combat a math crisis if we’re not helping the students who need it the most.”
Related: Widen your perspective. Our free biweekly newsletter consults critical voices on innovation in education.
The racial and socioeconomic gaps in math are stark: Only 28 percent of Black students and 31 percent Hispanic students nationwide took advanced math in high school compared with 46 percent of white students, according to a 2023 report from EdTrust. Just 22 percent of low-income students took advanced math. Experts say that’s because these students are less likely to attend high schools that offer higher-level math or to be recommended by their teachers for honors or AP classes, regardless of mastery.
They are also less likely to report feeling confident in math class or to enroll in calculus even when they are on a path to take the class early in high school, according to a report from EdTrust and nonprofit Just Equations. When it comes to Black and Hispanic students, Hengtgen blames what she calls “the belonging barrier.” “Their friends weren’t in the class,” she said. “They rarely had a teacher of color.”
Senior James Lopes, wearing a green sweatshirt, listens to William Frey teach a lesson on polynomials, rational trigonometrics, exponential and logarithmic functions at the Calculus Project’s summer leadership academy program at Boston University. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
As a math teacher at Brookline High in the early 2000s, Calculus Project founder Adrian Mims got firsthand experience in what the research was beginning to establish. Black and Hispanic students were largely absent from the high school’s honors and advanced math courses, he said, and the few Black and Hispanic students who did enroll often dropped out early in the year.
As a PhD candidate at Boston College, Mims was writing his dissertation on how to improve African American achievement in geometry honors classes. His findings — suggesting that Black students dropped out of the course because they lacked knowledge of certain foundational math content, spent less time studying and preparing for tests, and lacked confidence in their math ability — became the catalyst for the first iteration of The Calculus Project.
Mims’ idea was to introduce Black students over the summer to math concepts they’d learn in eighth grade algebra in the fall. Students would be able to take the time to really understand those concepts and to build their confidence and skills, learning both from district teachers and peer teachers who could provide individual support.
In the summer of 2009, Mims piloted his idea with a group of rising eighth graders. In addition to learning concepts they’d see in algebra that fall, they were exposed to the stories of famous Black and Latino figures who excelled in STEM, such as Black NASA mathematician Katherine Johnson and Mexican-American astronaut Jose M. Hernandez. When the school year arrived, they participated in after-school tutoring at Brookline High.
The next fall, 2010, the district opened the program to all interested students, regardless of race. Summer participants were placed into cohorts so they could advance through math classes in high school with peers they knew.
Teachers and administrators at Brookline say the project had an immediate — and lasting — impact. “It’s so much more than learning math,” said Alexia Thomas, a guidance counselor and associate dean of students at Brookline High.
In 2012, Brookline High saw more Black students score as advanced on the state Massachusetts Comprehensive Assessment System Math test than ever before; 88 percent of those students had participated in the Calculus Project. The highest-scoring student in the district was Black – and a program alum. Two years later, when the first cohort of students who participated in both the summer and year-long programs graduated from high school, 75 percent had successfully completed calculus.
A class of rising eighth graders in the Calculus Project’s summer leadership academy at Emmanuel College finishes a review before their final exam on content previewing Algebra I. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
Today, eight districts participate in the year-round program and another six send their students to the group’s summer programs, two three-week sessions that take place at Boston University, Emmanuel College and University of Massachusetts-Lowell. As of May 2024, 31 percent of students in the program identified as Black, 39 percent as Hispanic/Latino, 11 percent as Asian and 7 percent as white, according to program data. Mims has helped develop similar models in Florida and Texas.
In 2023, research consultancy group Mathematica, in partnership with the Gates Foundation, published findings from a two-year study on the effectiveness of the Calculus Project and two other math-oriented summer programs. (Disclosure: The Gates Foundation is one of the many funders of The Hechinger Report.) According to the report, students in the Calculus Project outperformed students who hadn’t participated by nearly half a grade point in their fall math classes, on average.
The project runs counter to a recent push to engage high schoolers in math by making the content more relevant to the real world and substituting classes like data science for algebra II and calculus. Justin Desai, the Calculus Project’s director of school and district support and a former Boston Public Schools math teacher and curriculum designer, said he sees risks in that approach. Students need subjects like calculus, he said, because “it’s the foundation of modern technology.” To replace advanced math classes in favor of less rigorous math courses keeps students from accessing and excelling even in some non-STEM fields like law, he said.
The project finds ways to show students how math skills apply in the professional world. Every semester students take field trips to Harvard Medical School, Google and to university research centers and engineering companies, where they are introduced to careers and see how the math they are learning is used in society.
A group of rising eighth graders from Newton Public Schools learn how to use different engineering applications at MathWorks headquarters in Natick, Mass. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
In late July, a group of rising eighth graders from Newton Public Schools’ summer program took a field trip to the sprawling campus of global software company MathWorks. In one room, an engineer showed students how a car simulation model is built and used, while a second engineer helped students test a robotic arm. Another group of students learned how to use a programming software to turn an image into music.
As the Calculus Project has grown, there has at times been friction. In July, simmering tension between teachers and students at Concord-Carlisle High School came to a head when some project participants learned they’d been placed in financial literacy or statistics courses instead of calculus.
Some students being placed into lower-level classes has been a pattern since the program started at Concord-Carlisle in 2020, Mims said. He threatened to pull the program from the high school, and the students were reassigned to calculus (and one to statistics).
Mims said “this is a clear example” of how teacher recommendations can lock students out of advanced math classes. School administrators and teachers often point to students and parents as the reason for a lack of diversity in high-level math. “When we destroy that myth and we show that students can achieve at that level,” said Mims, “they can no longer point the finger at the students and the parents anymore, because we’ve created a precedent that these students can thrive.”
Laurie Hunter, the Concord-Carlisle superintendent, wrote in an email that her district is committed to partnering with the Calculus Project and that it “works closely with individual students and families to ensure their success and path align with the outcomes of the project.” She did not respond to specific questions.
A student in William Frey’s summer class at Boston University works on graphs during a lesson on functions. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
Milton Public Schools, another district that works with the Calculus Project, was the subject of a 2023 federal civil rights complaint from national conservative group Parents Defending Education. The group accused the district of discrimination by partnering with the Calculus Project, which it said segregates students by intentionally grouping students of certain backgrounds together as part of cohorts.
Mims rejects the group’s claims, noting that the Calculus Project is open to students of all backgrounds including white and Asian students. He says he has not heard from the federal government or the group about the complaint since early 2023. Parents Defending Education did not respond to several interview requests. A spokesperson for the federal Department of Education said the Office for Civil Rights does not confirm complaints but pointed to its list of open investigations. At the time of publication, there were no open investigations against Milton Public Schools.
Art Coleman, a founding partner at legal group EducationCounsel LLC, said that he doesn’t expect such challenges to be successful. School districts have a legal obligation to address inequities in student performance, he said, and “there is nothing in federal law that precludes that targeted support, as long as in broad terms, all students, regardless of their racial or ethnic status, have the ability to tap into those resources and that support.”
This summer, the Calculus Project expanded its programming, including by adding a college advising class for rising seniors. It’s part of the group’s mission to help its students succeed not just in high school but in college and beyond, Mims said.
The group plans to help its graduates secure internships while they’re in college and network once they’re out, he said, and will soon begin tracking students to see how they do in college and the workforce. “It’s really about giving them every advantage that rich kids have,” Mims said.
Ames, the Brookline High senior and peer teacher, said she has found the program “totally life-changing,” in part because of the relationships she’s built with other students and teachers.
Miranda Vasquez-Mejia, a rising ninth grader from Newton, learns how to handle a robotic arm at MathWorks headquarters in Natick, Mass. Credit: Javeria Salman/The Hechinger Report
“You can be in the hardest class or the easiest class and every teacher will be there to support you,” said Ames, who is taking AP Calculus this fall and is considering studying finance after high school. “Whatever questions you have, they’ll answer.”
Quentin Robinson, a college junior who joined the Calculus Project as a rising seventh grader, said it taught him that he enjoyed math and also how to advocate for himself.
“My freshman year, they tried to put me in a lower-level math class because they didn’t think I was capable,” Robinson said. But his summer experience empowered him, and he persuaded the school to place him in Geometry Honors instead. He graduated from high school having completed both calculus and a college-level statistics course.
Now, Robinson is an accounting and data analytics major at Stonehill College in Easton, Massachusetts. The Calculus Project, he said, helped him realize the voices of naysayers can be used as “a fuel” to achieve what you want.
Contact staff writer Javeria Salman at 212.678.3455 or salman@hechingerreport.org.
This story about advanced math was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for our newsletter.
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The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
As a political scientist with a background in policy analysis, I used to approach questions about policy plans in terms of which had data behind them and which didn’t — along with what such evidence might mean for decision-makers.
However, no question about what a new Donald Trump administration would mean for U.S. education can be answered strictly with a debate about facts and figures.
With the former president and his allies still denying that he lost the 2020 election, with Trump and his running mate embracing unfounded stories about Haitian immigrants eating household pets and with Trump’s obsession with the size of his cheering crowds, any analytical projection about his future agenda is all but impossible. With such an absence of facts or evidence-based policy designs, we must turn to past actions, current rhetoric and the priorities of Trump’s political alliances for a hint of what could come.
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Many Republican proposals have been well-covered, starting with Project 2025 — the policy agenda assembled by the conservative Heritage Foundation for a new Trump term. Although Trump denies that controversial document speaks for his candidacy, more than 140 former members of the first Trump team had a hand in its crafting.
The key education points in the platform Trump does claim as his own — the so-called Agenda47 and the GOP party platform — strike the same notes of emphasis as those in Project 2025. Indeed, the one-page education “chapter” in the 16-page party platform is all but a summary of its much larger Project 2025 counterpart.
What do they emphasize? Culture wars, school vouchers and a peculiar fixation on ending the federal Department of Education.
There’s little action around education in this election cycle, but Harris is likely to boost teacher pay and denounce book bans and privatization
Two of the first three paragraphs of Project 2025’s education plan call for universal school vouchers. In Trump’s official GOP party platform, universal vouchers are the second education agenda item, behind a call to end teacher tenure. Both items follow a general statement about making great schools.
And yet, private school vouchers are not only eating up increasing shares of state budgets, some states are now directly funding new construction for private schools to receive those vouchers. These schools are free to discriminate on admissions and expulsion decisions across a variety of child characteristics.
The education bullet point in the 20-point summary of the Trump platform — the highlights of the highlights — excludes any specific policy statements, simply reading in its entirety:
Cut federal funding for any school pushing critical race theory, radical gender ideology, and other inappropriate racial, sexual, or political content on our children.
Such a call echoes that of Kevin Roberts, head of the Heritage Foundation, in his Foreword to Project 2025. In that section, after setting a new litmus test for all conservative presidential candidates to support universal vouchers, Roberts insists:
The noxious tenets of “critical race theory” and “gender ideology” should be excised from curricula in every public school in the country. These theories poison our children.
Then there are the statements Trump and his allies make every day, including calls to end the U.S. Department of Education. A similar demand is in the very first paragraph of Project 2025’s education chapter, just ahead of its demands for vouchers.
Moms for Liberty co-founder Tiffany Justice, who hosted a “fireside chat” with Trump in August, has said on X (formerly Twitter) that Trump is “not kidding” about ending the department, and that she “hope[s] to get to help him accomplish this goal,” perhaps as one last secretary for that agency.
She could have competition. Two weeks before Trump’s appearance for Moms for Liberty, former U.S. Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos told reporters that she would consider joining a second Trump administration if it were for the specific task of eliminating the department she led in the first Trump term.
Let’s be clear: The U.S. Department of Education does many things, but what really riles up the Trumpian right is its role as the chief anti-discrimination authority for American schools. And that’s why it’s been singled out by the right for special criticism.
So what does all of this actually mean for kids and families?
What is the common theme of attacks on gender ideology, diversity and racial justice in schools; demands for universal vouchers; and calls to end the federal education agency?
If policy proposals, like budgets, are moral documents, what unifies the possibilities of a new Trump term — whether laid out in Project 2025, the GOP platform, Agenda 47 or campaign speeches on the trail — into some statement of purpose?
I say it’s this: A new Trump presidency would usher in an era of isolation and separatism and a casting out of children who differ from their peers or from what Christian Nationalists believe America should look like beyond what we all share as human beings. As just one example: Voucher schemes, like those prioritized by Trump and his allies, have been used by the right to marginalize LGBTQ+ children and families by denying them access to what the right calls the “education freedom” and “opportunity” represented by such “scholarships.”
What, if not a Trump-inspired politics of humiliation, explains the Trumpian right’s current obsession with the names children use to call themselves or how they describe the racial legacy they carry and experience?
Yet presidents only have partial control over which specific plans they’re able to pass during their time in office. For that reason, considering a new Trump term is as much about the broader political coalition he leads as what Trump and his team could personally do in the education policy arena.
So, from all of this, and regardless of what policies actually pass, we can be sure that a Trump victory would extend the era of culture warring in American education.
For nearly a decade in political life, Donald Trump has told us who he is. When it comes to any education ideas he and his allies might have, my humble suggestion is that we finally listen to what he has said, and consider what he has already done.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
A dashboard from the Canvas learning management system is displayed to students in this college lecture hall. A University of Michigan study finds that students with last names at the end of the alphabet are penalized when instructors grade in alphabetical order, a default setting in Canvas and other widely used learning management systems (LMS). Credit: Brandon Bell/Getty Images
If your last name starts with an A, that could mean that you’re also more likely to score an A on a test. But if you’re a Wilson or a Ziegler, you may be suffering from a new slight of the modern age: lower college grades.
Grading processes have profoundly changed at colleges and universities in the past decade. Instead of placing assignments on a table in the front of the classroom, students today upload their work to a website, called a Learning Management System or LMS, where course documents, assignments and communications are all housed. Students can even take their exams directly within the LMS.
Course instructors mark assignments, papers and exams within the LMS, whichalso functions as a computerized grade book. The default setting is to sort student submissions in alphabetical order by surname. The computer system automatically guides the instructor to grade Adams before Baker all the way down to Zimmerman.
A trio of researchers at the University of Michigan, including one whose surname begins with W, documented an unintended consequence of grading in alphabetical order. “There is such a tendency of graders to give lower grades as they grade more,” said Helen Wang, lead author of the study and a doctoral student at the University of Michigan’s business school.
Wang and her two co-authors analyzed over 30 million grades at a large university that uses the most popular LMS, which is called Canvas. They calculated that surnames starting with U to Z were docked a little more than half a point (0.6 points) on a 100-point scale compared with A-to-E surnames. That’s a rather small penalty. But cumulatively, these small dings can add up and eventually translate into the difference between an A-minus and a B-plus on a final grade.
The study is described in a 2024 draft paper posted on the website of SSRN, formerly known as the Social Science Research Network. It is currently undergoing revisions with the academic journal Management Science.
The researchers detected grading bias against the end of the alphabet in a wide range of subjects. However, the grading penalty was more pronounced in the social sciences and the humanities compared to engineering, science and medicine.
In addition to lower grades, the researchers also found that students at the bottom of the alphabet received more negative and impolite comments. For example, “why no answers to Q 2 and 3? You are setting yourself up for a failing grade,” and “NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.” Top-of-the-alphabet students were more likely to receive, “Much better work on this draft, [Student First Name]! Thank you!”
The researchers cannot prove precisely whyextra points are deducted for the Wilsons of the world, but they suspect it’s because instructors – mostly graduate students at the unnamed university in this study – have heavy grading loads and they get tired and cranky, especially after grading the 50th student in a row. Even before the era of electronic grading, it’s quite likely the instructors were not as fair to students at the bottom of the paper pile. But in the paper world, a student’s position in the stack was always changing, depending on when the papers were turned in and how the instructors picked them up. No student was likely to be in the bottom of the pile every time. In the LMS world, the U’s, V’s, W’s, X’s, Y’s and Z’s almost always are.
Another theory mentioned by the authors in the paper is that instructors may feel the need to be stricter if they’ve already given out a string of A’s, so as not to be too generous with high marks. Students at the bottom of the alphabet may be the victims of a well-intentioned effort to restrain grade inflation. It’s also possible that instructors are too generous with students at the top of the alphabet, but grade more accurately as they proceed. Either way, students at the bottom are being graded differently.
Some college instructors seem to be aware of their human frailty. In 2018, one posted on a message board at Canvas, asking the company to randomize the grade book. “For me, bias starts to creep in with fatigue,” the instructor wrote. “I grade a few, go away from it, grade a few more, take a break. Or that’s the goal when I’m not up against a deadline.”
If you’ve read this far, perhaps you are wondering how the researchers know that the grades for the U-to-Z students were unfair. Maybe they’re comparatively worse students? But the researchers matched the grades in Canvas with the student records in the registrar’s office and they were able to control for a host of student characteristics, from high school grades and college GPA to race, ethnicity, gender, family background and income. End-of-the alphabet surnames consistently received lower marks even among similar students who were graded by the same instructor.
The researchers also found that a tiny fraction of instructors tinkered with the default settings and graded in reverse alphabetical order, from Z to A. That led to the exact opposite results; students with end-of-the alphabet names earned higher grades, while the grades for A, B and C surnames were lower.
The bias against end-of-alphabet surnames is probably not unique to students who use the Canvas LMS. All four major LMS companies, which collectively control 90 percent of the U.S. and Canadian market with more than 48 million students, order submissions alphabetically for grading, according to the researchers. Even Coursera, a separate online learning platform, does it this way.
Wang’s solution is to shake things up and have the LMS present student work for grading in random order. Indeed, Canvas added a randomize option for instructors in May 2024, after the company saw a draft of this University of Michigan study. “It was something that we had on our radar and that we’d heard from some users, but had not completed it yet,” a company spokesman said. “The report from the University of Michigan definitely pushed that work to top priority.”
However, the default remains alphabetical order and instructors need to navigate to the settings to change it. (Changing this default setting, according to the study authors, has “low visibility” within system settings on the site.) I hope this story helps to get the word out.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
SAN FRANCISCO –Edthena is transforming the video coaching process for educators with the launch of VC3, the next evolution of the company’s award-winning video coaching platform. VC3 features new coaching tools that empower teachers and instructional coaches to collaborate more efficiently, gain deeper insights into instructional practice, and engage in more meaningful professional learning.
“Educators have one of the hardest jobs in the world and they deserve access to the most innovative solutions possible to support their work,” said Adam Geller, founder and CEO of Edthena. “With VC3, educators can more effectively reflect on their practice and access the high-quality coaching needed to ensure their success—and, ultimately, the success of their students—in the classroom.”
The reimagined video coaching platform draws upon Edthena’s 14 years of experience helping educators add more than two million comments to nearly seven million minutes of classroom video.
The core of the coaching experience happens within the video conversation page. This is where educators add timestamped feedback to videos of classroom teaching. Not only does the updated conversation page in VC3 make it easier to leave comments, but it also encourages teachers and coaches to deepen their reflections. One example of this emphasis is the Insights tab which helps jumpstart the video analysis process for both coaches and teachers.
The Insights tab includes several tools: open-ended questions that help inspire the observer for what to look for in the video; a student-to-teacher talk time graph to support a deep-dive into student engagement, language development, and confidence; and, a visual representation of the most frequently used words within the lesson to get a sense for the presence of academic language.
“With the help of Edthena, we are harnessing the power of video and innovative AI tools to level up our coaching practices,” said Amanda Maceo, professional development implementation strategist for Alief Independent School District. “We love the automatic summaries and closed captioning—they provide us with valuable insights. Plus, the talk time graph makes it easy to set clear and measurable goals for improvement.”
The VC3 experience is available to all new and existing users. This includes schools, districts, and teacher education programs from more than 20 states and multiple countries that use Edthena to make video observation an integral part of teacher induction, teacher mentoring, professional learning communities (PLCs), and peer observation.
“Video reflection and facilitative coaching play a pivotal role in the professional development process for teacher residents,” said Halley Maza, an instructor in the University at Buffalo Teacher Residency program. “By leveraging Edthena’s VC3 platform, our program empowers teacher residents to analyze and refine their instructional strategies, fostering self-efficacy through critical reflection and collaborative learning. This approach aligns with our goal of improving student outcomes and preparing educators to meet the diverse needs of their students.”
Edthena provides innovative technologies to support educator professional learning by streamlining feedback to teachers. The companyoffers the AI Coach platform, an artificial intelligence-driven solution to guide teachers through coaching cycles; VC3, the classroom observation and collaboration platform for video coaching; and Edthena Organization Libraries, a platform for schools and districts to curate and share best-practice teaching videos. Edthena is the recipient of numerous awards from organizations such as SIIA, District Administration, and Tech & Learning. For more information, visit www.edthena.com. For more news about Edthena, visit www.edthena.com/blog/.
eSchool Media staff cover education technology in all its aspects–from legislation and litigation, to best practices, to lessons learned and new products. First published in March of 1998 as a monthly print and digital newspaper, eSchool Media provides the news and information necessary to help K-20 decision-makers successfully use technology and innovation to transform schools and colleges and achieve their educational goals.
D.C. public schoolteachers would get a raise and more planning time as part of a tentative agreement with the city on a new five-year union contract.
D.C. public schoolteachers would get a raise and more planning time as part of a tentative agreement with the city on a new five-year union contract.
The tentative agreement, which both the Washington Teachers’ Union and Mayor Muriel Bowser announced Monday night, comes after over a year of negotiations. It still has to be ratified by the union’s members.
The union’s last contract took over three years, and the one that preceded it took about five, WTU president Jacqueline Pogue-Lyons said. She called the fact the most recent agreement took only about a year “something to celebrate.”
The contract includes a raise for the union’s members, but Pogue-Lyons didn’t elaborate on the structure, because members haven’t yet had a chance to review the terms of the agreement, she said. But many other protections are tied to working conditions for teachers, which Pogue-Lyons said are essential to attracting and retaining educators.
“There’s so much competition to get great and knowledgeable people,” Pogue Lyons said. “So we want to get them, but we also want to keep them. We don’t want a revolving door, because we feel the longer we keep our teachers, the better they become as educators.”
She added that the deal includes a memorandum of agreement (MOA) on achieving and keeping diversity in schools and an MOA on climate, which is tied to ensuring classrooms have enough ventilation and that air quality is good.
The agreement has details on controlling class size and will enable teachers to keep their vision and dental insurance, which they feared they might lose. It features more planning time, Pogue Lyons said, and the assurance that special education and other teachers won’t be pulled out of their classrooms to perform other duties.
“When those things happen, we’re not able to meet the needs of the students that were tasked to teach, especially our most vulnerable population,” Pogue Lyons said.
In a joint statement, Pogue-Lyons, Bowser and Chancellor Lewis Ferebee said the agreement “shows what can be achieved when we work together with a common goal of putting students first. With this agreement, we are reaffirming our commitment to investing in our young people and making D.C. the number one city for teachers.”
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As a special education teacher, I often encountered students who struggled with solving math problems. Many would simply add all the numbers they saw without grasping what the problems were actually asking.
To help, I introduced keywords like “all together” for addition and “difference” for subtraction.
However, this approach fell short when students focused solely on the keywords, missing the problem’s context. Today, elementary school teachers share similar struggles with their students.
The issue isn’t just about teaching math; it also involves addressing gaps in literacy. Reading skills are closely related to children’s ability to solve math problems. And, as much as early literacy development plays a critical role in developing problem-solving abilities, early numeracy strongly predicts overall academic success, including literacy development: Research has found that literacy and math development are intertwined.
Yet, pre-K teachers spend an average of only 2.5 percent of their day on numeracy skills — a gap that underscores the need for teaching approaches that bridge math and literacy.
Teachers must do more to help students build foundational cognitive skills, such as logic and reasoning.
Related: Our biweekly Early Childhood newsletter highlights innovative solutions to the obstacles facing the youngest students. Subscribe for free.
Integrated teaching can help students view math and English language arts as complementary disciplines that help them solve real-world problems. It could lead to better academic outcomes and a richer understanding of the world. Unfortunately, most elementary schools teach math and English language arts separately.
One way that teachers can address these comprehension gaps is to initially remove numbers from word problems and encourage students to read through the entire problems before they add or subtract. By solving “numberless word problems,” students can visualize and grasp the context before computing.
We can also use the power of storytelling. In my classroom, I incorporated engaging literature into math instruction to help my students better understand word problems. We used “Amanda Bean’s Amazing Dream,” a Marilyn Burns Brainy Day Book by Cindy Neuschwander, to explore multiplication concepts; the book’s illustrations helped students identify repeated addition and multiplication and allowed them to recognize similar scenarios in math problems. Incorporating math through storytelling helps children better understand and remember math concepts and also improves their confidence and reduces math anxiety. By building on the critical skills students need to excel in math and ELA, we can better equip them to apply math to real-world problems.
Here is what this approach encourages:
Improved comprehension: Stories and real-world scenarios promote a better understanding of math concepts, making abstract ideas more accessible.
Math visualization: Using descriptive writing and storytelling to explain math concepts, such as measurement and fractions, gives students a tangible reference for math principles as they exist in the world.
Vocabulary development: Just as students learn new words in ELA, with math storytelling they learn math vocabulary to enhance their understanding of the math concepts needed to solve problems.
Critical thinking skills: When students analyze problems from various perspectives and use language to describe them, they’re better equipped to apply problem-solving skills across disciplines.
Administrators should encourage training for teachers and provide resources that effectively blend math and ELA. Supporting a curriculum that encourages the teacher to be a facilitator — rather than a sage on a stage — will encourage more students to talk about math, draw upon their language skills and solve problems together.
Here are some approaches educators can use to blend instruction to challenge students and enhance math and ELA skills:
Project-based learning: Assign hands-on projects that require mathematical analysis and language arts skills, such as reviewing datasets, creating infographics and writing interpretations.
Collaborative learning environments: Ask groups of students to work together to solve complex problems that require mathematical reasoning and effective communication. Their work could include debates or reviews of written mathematical explanations.
Literature-based mathematical discussions: Read books that incorporate mathematical themes or concepts and include a character who uses math to solve problems; such books can spark lively debate and serve as a springboard to discuss how math applies to real life.
These strategies strengthen the connection between math and ELA and promote deeper learning and engagement for all students.
Using an integrated approach with literature also provides a level of comfort for teachers. Not surprisingly, most elementary school teachers didn’t choose their profession due to a deep love of mathematics — and some may suffer from math anxiety themselves. Teachers can model problem-solving beyond the classroom by expanding what it means to teach math through children’s books and hands-on activities.
Math instruction will only improve if administrators, educators, parents and policymakers push for integrated curricula. Doing so will not only help students’ math, but promote a more effective education system overall.
Thera Pearce is the learning services manager at ORIGO Education. She has experience in instructional design, curriculum consulting and professional development coordination. She has also worked as a special education teacher and coach for 15 years in North Carolina.
This story about early numeracy was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.
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The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
Maryland school officials said they are confident they will able to obligate almost $780 million in federal funds in the next 10 days – money that will have to be returned to the federal government if they don’t.
Maryland school officials said they are confident they will able to obligate almost $780 million in federal funds in the next 10 days – money that will have to be returned to the federal government if they don’t.
The funding is part of $1.95 billion Maryland received in use-it-or-lose-it pandemic-relief funds for schools from the American Rescue Plan’s Elementary and Secondary School Emergency Relief, or ESSER, program. As of this week, Maryland had spent 60.7% of the total, for $1.18 billion.
Maryland’s rate of obligating its funds is one of the lowest in the nation, ahead of only Nebraska and the District of Columbia, according to a U.S. Department of Education dashboard.
In a letter to all states dated Sept. 10, Laura Jimenez, director of state and grantee relations in the department’s ESSER Office, reminded grantees that they have until Sept. 30 to report on how they will commit to draw down the remaining money. States have until Jan. 28, 2025, to liquidate, or spend, the money, but can also request an extension to March 2026.
That’s what Maryland has done and will do, said Krishna Tallur, deputy state superintendent for the state Department of Education’s Office of Finance and Operations.
“We believe that all of the funds will be obligated by the deadline and liquated by the extended deadline,” Tallur said in an interview earlier this month.
The federal dashboard still shows that Maryland spent 59.4% of its allocation, but Tallur said that the number as of July, the most recent available, was actually 60.07%.
But if the state doesn’t obligate that money, then it goes back to the federal government.
“At the end of the day, our kids cannot afford for this money to just disappear. This is tax money, right?” said Tracie Potts, executive director of the Eisenhower Institute at Gettysburg College, which released a report last month on ESSER funding.
The pandemic-era relief money in this third and final round can be used for a variety of needs and services such as summer enrichment programs, upgrades to facilities and mental health support.
“Federal funds just don’t come out of the air,” Potts said in an interview. “This is money that was designated for our kids to catch up. The question becomes, ‘What are we going to do with it?’”
Her institute’s report, “Building America: Reinventing Education Funding Education in Maryland During and After the Pandemic,” was completed last fall with data updated through January 2023. The state Department of Education updated a source file last month on what districts spent in federal pandemic-era funding.
The report offers recommendations for school district officials to invest and evidence-based strategies to address pandemic learning recovery such as community school and summer learning programs. It also highlighted high-impact tutoring, which will be done this school year in Baltimore City.
Potts said research has shown it’s best for high-impact tutoring to take place during the school day in small groups and done several times a week.
“Number one, more than likely you’ll be able to get the teachers because they’re already there,” she said. “There are additional costs when we keep kids after school and try to get them there before school. If transportation is not provided, then only the kids who have somebody at home and who’s not working…can pick them up. So that’s an equity issue.”
Except for the District of Columbia, which had allocated just 44.4% of its funding, according to the federal dashboard this week, all of Maryland’s other neighbors had obligated or spent significantly larger share of their ESSER funding:
Delaware reported spending 83.1%, with $69.5 million left to obligate;
West Virginia has allocated 79.8%, with $153.9 million left;
Virginia spent 77.1%, and had $484.4 million left;
and Pennsylvania had spent 77% money, with $1.1 billion left to obligate.
While Nebraska and D.C. were at the bottom among states, having allocated 56% and 44.4% respectively, Hawaii and Washington state had allocated the largest share among states. Hawaii has spent 93.7% of its $412.5 million, and has $26.2 million left, while Washington had $169.5 million left, having spent 90.9% of its $1.85 billion total.
California received and spent the most, getting $15 billion and spending $12.3 billion, or 81.5%.
Del. Bernice Mireku-North (D-Montgomery), who serves on the House Ways and Means Committee, said she didn’t know about the upcoming deadline, or amount left. But she said federal dollars have helped to address pandemic challenges such as food insecurity and laptops for children in her jurisdiction.
“We will continue our commitment to a world-class education for our children, by making sure they have the resources they need around the state,” she said in an interview Aug. 30. “There’s going to be a point for us to consider how we’re going to fund them once federal money goes away. We’ll continue to work together as a legislature to find the right steps that the gains from those federal resources aren’t lost.”
The Campaign for Grade Level Reading will host an online discussion Tuesday from what some state education officials learned in applying the ESSER funding to their schools as the “looming ESSER funding cliff” approaches.
This week, I wanted to highlight our continuing early ed math coverage by talking to Joe Hong, who wrote a story about a Milwaukee school district trying to revive methods it used for math instruction a decade ago. Our conversation below has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
A small group of teachers in Milwaukee are trying to return to math strategies the district used from 2004-2014. Teachers in the district call this “the golden years of math instruction.” Could you explain what made math during those years different?
It came down to a two-pronged accountability structure. First, there was a hierarchy of university professors, district administrators, teacher leaders and classroom teachers that bridged the needs of educators in the field and the latest research surrounding math pedagogy. Second, it was the university professors who oversaw the funding — a substantial amount of $20 million — and made sure it was spent just on improving math instruction and not redirected toward competing priorities in the school district.
Part of the glue that seemed to hold this instruction model together was the school district’s partnership with the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. When that partnership ended a decade ago, the district went back to using its own in-house math curriculum. My understanding is that partnership is still gone. How are educators in the district trying to keep the “golden years of math instruction” alive?
DeAnn Huinker, the University of Wisconsin professor who oversaw the partnership, is still running teacher trainings. Some of the teachers who were in the classroom in the early 2000s are now holding leadership positions in the district. Having these folks around makes it easier to continue the work, although at a smaller scale.
There’s a moment in your story where a first grade teacher is surprised she’s enjoying math. Do you get the sense proponents of this instruction model see the Milwaukee teachers benefiting as much as the students?
Yes, in fact I think so many teachers struggle with teaching math because they themselves aren’t comfortable with it. Milwaukee’s approach has always been centered around making sure teachers know the math. More than one person involved in Milwaukee’s math instruction told me, “When teachers are learning, students are learning.”
Was there any pushback to teaching math in this way?
There was some resistance. Part of it isn’t unique to math. Principals and teachers are wary of change because it can often mean more work for them, which often means allocating funds and time that they don’t have. And then there are also the ongoing debates in math education. Milwaukee’s approach really emphasizes the concepts behind math over the procedures, and while I don’t know whether the more procedurally-minded educators pushed back against the Milwaukee Mathematics Partnerships in the early 2000s, I’ve already gotten emails since the story published from educators criticizing the conceptual approach.
You touch on a trend in this story that I’ve noticed in my own reporting — early childhood teachers gravitating to younger grades to avoid having to teach difficult math. Do you get the sense the training intentionally targets the district’s early elementary educators to re-teach them how to think about math?
Milwaukee Public Schools has definitely focused on early childhood educators in recent years. Many of these teachers admit that they got into elementary teaching because they weren’t “math people.” But they’re starting to rethink their identities with these trainings and learning how to leverage their own expertises in child development and classroom management to engage with the youngest learners.
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VESTAVIA HILLS, Ala. — Principal Lauren Dressback didn’t think about it after it happened. After all, she was workplace-close with Wesley Smith, the custodian at Cahaba Heights Elementary School, in this affluent suburb of Birmingham. She called him “the mayor.” She said that he knew her two children, asked about her family almost daily and made a point of interacting. “Every day, a huge bear hug,” she recalled.
So, when Dressback, just after last Valentine’s Day, asked Smith to come into the nurse’s office and shut the door, and then shared three photos on her phone of who she had just started dating, it felt ordinary. Afterward, she said, “I just moved right on about my day.”
But the 2 minute, 13 second-exchange — captured on video by the nurse — would prove fateful.
In a few short months, after a two-decade career, Dressback, a popular educator, would go from Vestavia Hills City school district darling to controversial figure after she came out as gay, divorced her husband, and began dating a Black woman.
Within days of showing the custodian the photos, she was ordered to leave the building and was barred from district property. Soon, she found herself facing a litany of questions from district leaders about a seemingly minor issue: employee timesheets. In April, she was officially placed on administrative leave. On May 2, during a packed school board meeting, she was demoted, replaced as principal, and sent to run the district’s alternative high school.
At that school board meeting, as he had for weeks, Todd Freeman, the superintendent, refused to offer an explanation, even to Dressback. Rather, at the beginning of the meeting, he read a statement that “we have not, cannot, and will not make personnel decisions based on an individual’s race, sex, sexual orientation, religion, national origin or disability.” (When contacted, Vestavia Hills City Schools spokesperson Whit McGhee said the district would not discuss confidential personnel matters and declined to make Freeman available for an interview. He provided links to school board meeting minutes, district policies and Alabama educator codes without explaining how they applied in Dressback’s case. Freeman and two other district officials involved in the situation did not respond to emails requesting interviews or a list of detailed questions.)
Lauren Dressback on June 19, at the apartment where she moved after she and her husband divorced and sold their home. Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
Despite Freeman’s assertion regarding personnel decisions, many people in the community believe differently. So many, in fact, that “the Dressback situation” has lit up social media (one TikTok post has more than 313,000 views), spurred supermarket conversations and online chatter — and challenged allegiances.
“The entire situation has divided the community,” said Abbey Skipper, a parent at Cahaba Heights Elementary. Some people, she said, are “trying to label everyone who is on the side of Dressback as leftists or Democrats or radicals” and assuming “everyone who supports the superintendent and the board is a Republican — which isn’t true.”
A private Facebook group, “We Stand With Lauren” quickly gathered 983 members, while a public Facebook post by a fifth grade teacher at Cahaba Heights complained of the “news frenzy and whirlwind of social media misinformation” and stated that, “We Stand for Our Superintendent, Our District Office, Our Board, and our new principal, Kim Polson.” The May 8 teacher post, which got 287 likes and 135 comments, both in support and challenging the post, went on to say, “To do our jobs to the best of our ability, we trust the people who have been charged to lead us.”
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Alabama has among the strictest anti-gay policies in the nation. This past legislative session, the House passed a bill to ban LGBTQ+ flags and symbols from schools. It also expands to middle schools the current “Don’t Say Gay” law, which prohibits instruction or discussion of LGBTQ+ issues in elementary schools. Its sponsor, Rep. Mack Butler, who represents a suburban community in northeast Alabama, stated that it could “purify the schools just a little bit.” He later walked back the comment. The bill died in the Senate, but Butler has vowed to reintroduce it next session.
The bill was one of dozens introduced or passed in states around the country restricting classroom discussion of gender identity, books with LGBTQ+ characters and displays of pride symbols. The laws have contributed to a climate in which “every classroom has been turned into a front” in a battle, said Melanie Willingham-Jaggers, executive director of GLSEN, which advocates for LGBTQ+ individuals in K-12 education. “Every educator, every administrator now has to be on that front line every single day,” she said. “We’re seeing educators leave because of the strain of the job made worse by the political moment we’re in and we’re also seeing because of the political moment we’re in, educators being targeted for their personal identity.”
Tiffany Wright, a professor at Millersville University in Pennsylvania who studies the experience of LGBTQ+ educators, said right now many “are very on edge.”* Wright and her colleagues have surveyed LGBTQ+ educators four times since 2007, with new 2024 data to be released in November. While the past decade has seen strides toward acceptance, “the regional differences are huge,” she said. “Folks in the South definitely felt less safe being out to their communities and students.” November’s presidential and statewide elections could yield even sharper differences in LGBTQ+ protections between red and blue states.
While quite a few states long had laws barring discrimination based on sexual orientation, it took a 2020 Supreme Court decision, Bostock v. Clayton County, to bring such protections to Alabama. That changed landscape spurred Dressback to engage lawyer Jon Goldfarb, who filed a complaint alleging work-based discrimination with the federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, which is investigating.This fall, he expects to file a separate federal civil rights complaint. In 30 years of practice in Alabama, Goldfarb said, “I’ve had a lot of people that have come to me and complain about being discriminated against because of their sexual orientation.” Until Bostock, he would tell them, “There is nothing we can do.”
A review of Dressback’s personnel file shows no reprimands until June, when she received an evaluation questioning her professional conduct that followed her filing the EEOC complaint. This raises a question: Why was she removed?
Dressback’s situation, however, is about more than the law. It also challenges her place in the white Christian, predominantly conservative community she grew up in, belongs to and loves. And it offers a test case in a divided political time: Will her removal and the outcry that followed harden partisan alignments — or shake them? Even in Alabama, a Pew Research Center survey shows, more than one-third of those who lean Republican say homosexuality should be accepted.
Cahaba Heights Elementary School in Vestavia Hills, Alabama, where Lauren Dressback served as principal and from which she was escorted out in February. She was banned from school grounds until mid-August. Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
Brian DeMarco, a local attorney and high school classmate of Dressback’s, was sporting bright print swim trunks, a T-shirt and a Vestavia Hills baseball cap when we met at the public swimming pool where he’d brought his kids. We sat at a picnic table; the squeals of children released to the joys of summer carried in the warm Alabama air. He said he understands why some people may not be comfortable with a gay elementary school principal.
“Her coming out as an educator, being around children, I think that frightens people, certain people all over the country,” he said. And in the South, in a conservative town, “it does become a bigger issue to people.” Politically, DeMarco tends “to swing right,” but sent Dressback a message of support on Facebook. “Everybody that knows Lauren knows she is a good person,” he said.
In fact, Dressback’s case has spurred public outrage because so many people do know her. She attended Vestavia Hills Public Schools — Class of 1997 — and her mother, now retired, was a popular high school English teacher and yearbook adviser. She followed her parents into education (her father was a geography professor) and returned to teach social studies at the high school.
In 2015, she was named secondary teacher of the year; in 2017, the graduating class dedicated the yearbook to her. She moved into administration and advanced; in 2022 she was appointed principal of Cahaba Heights Elementary School. She was awarded a three-year contract, effective July 2023, following a probationary year. In December — weeks before she was told to gather her things and was escorted off school grounds — she was given a positive write-up by an assistant superintendent who observed her running a meeting of teachers about the school’s “core values.”
It also matters that this story is unfolding in Vestavia Hills. The city’s motto is “A Life Above,” and the municipal website declares that it “exemplifies the ideals of fine southern hospitality.” The community was born as a post-World War II subdivision and incorporated in 1950 with 3,000 residents (it now has 38,000). It is an effortfully attractive place with well-kept painted brick homes and clipped lawns. It is named for Vestavia, the exotic estate of former Birmingham Mayor George C. Ward whose Roman-inspired home was here. The 1930s-era news accounts describe lavish parties with male servers draped in togas.
Vestavia Hills is also one of the “over the mountain” suburbs of Birmingham. When you drive over Red Mountain out of the urban core with its reminders of steelmaking and jazz, of Martin Luther King Jr. and the Negro Leagues, away from streets where shabbily dressed men push wheeled contrivances, where pride flags fly and breweries sprout, where drag queens coexist with affirming churches, you enter a different world. Birmingham is a Black city; Vestavia Hills is 86 percent white.
And like surrounding white suburbs of Mountain Brook, Homewood and Hoover, Vestavia Hills competes on lifestyle, including its public schools. Alabama is hardly an education leader, yet the four districts earn mention in U.S. News rankings. Church is also central to life here; biographies for public officials name which they attend.
“You move a child into the school system, there’s two questions they’re asked,” Julianne Julian, a resident and another Dressback high school classmate, said when we met at a coveted rear table inside the Diplomat Deli, a popular Vestavia Hills lunch spot. “Who are you for as far as football — Alabama? Auburn? — and what church do you go to?”
Teams matter in Vestavia Hills — the high school’s in particular. The district itself was founded in 1970 amid federal desegregation orders, when residents broke away from the Jefferson County Schools and agreed to pay an extra tax. They adopted the Rebel Man in Civil War military uniform as the district’s mascot. Dressback’s 1996 junior year high school yearbook includes a photo of students at a rally waving massive Confederate flags. “It was just kind of the way we were growing up,” said DeMarco, who in high school displayed a Confederate flag on his Nissan pickup. “It was just kind of cool.”
It wasn’t until 2015 that the district considered changing the mascot. After contentious public meetings in which some argued that the mascot and flag were not racist — a point ridiculed by John Oliver on national television — the district chose to adopt the 1Rebel rebrand. (Mess with one Rebel and you mess with us all, is the concept. They are still called “The Rebels,” but simply use the letters “VH.”)
Lauren Dressback on June 19, several weeks before she was cleared to return to work — at the alternative school. Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
When I met with Dressback, days after school let out, she answered the door to her apartment wearing a T-shirt that read “love. empathy. compassion. inclusion. justice. kindness.” She looked like she could use every one of those things.
She was welcoming, but said she was nervous about talking. She had not spoken publicly since she was escorted out of Cahaba Heights Elementary in February. We sat at her dining table — I brought an Italian sub, no onions or peppers, hot, from Diplomat Deli, Dressback’s regular order — and in our conversations then and later, she appeared to believe the best about people.
Others in Vestavia clearly believe the best about her: Since things erupted, her phone has pinged with messages, including from former students. “Thank you for making an impact on my life,” said one of the many that she shared with me. “You stood up for me in class when someone made fun of me for having depression and I’ll never forget that,” wrote another. And, “you may not remember me, but I had you as a teacher during my time at VHHS and even when I was not your student, I still saw you as a person who cared for all students, not just the ones on your roster.” (Dressback said she has “not received any negative messages. Not one.”)
At Cahaba Heights, parents noticed her gift for calming children with behavior issues. A mother of twins who got tripped up by transitions (drop-off is “the hardest part of our morning”) said that, with Dressback greeting them at the curb, “We didn’t have that struggle this year at all.” Sometimes Dressback would slip on a wig or costume — Santa, Minion, astronaut, among others; before winter breaks she donned an elf outfit and climbed atop the brick marquee in front of the school to the delight of arriving children and passing cars. She wanted to remind everyone that school is fun.
“Her love for the children just reached every square inch of the school,” said Skipper, the Cahaba Heights parent of a second grader who moved to the neighborhood specifically for the school. Her removal “plunged me into grief. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I lost weight. The amount of upset was palpable. I loved her. She loved my child.”
As we sat at her dining table, Dressback shared that she sensed she was gay in high school but said that “it sort of felt clear to me that I couldn’t have that life here.” The only gay people she knew well were two family members. When her Uncle Dennis died of complications from HIV and her cousin Robyn died by suicide, as upset as she was, being out was tough to imagine.
The tragedies coincided with her time at Samford University, the private Baptist college where her father taught. “It’s one of the most religiously conservative schools in the nation,” she said. “You go to Samford to not be different.” And it was there in a geography class that she met Shane Dressback, when the two arrived early one day and “started chit-chatting.” They were engaged the next year, and married in January 2001, just after her December graduation.
“I met Shane and did very genuinely fall in love with him,” she said. “He is a wonderful man.” They had two children — Kaylee graduated from college in May and is playing semi-pro soccer, and Tyler is a senior in high school — and were consumed with family life. But then, as she approached becoming an empty nester, Dressback began having panic attacks around being gay, she said, feeling that “I’ve pushed this down for a really long time.”
This past December, she came out to Shane. They didn’t speak for more than 24 hours. Then, she texted him to say she was going to church. Minutes after the service began, she told me, “He texted me and said, ‘I’m here. May I come sit by you?’ So, we sat together at this church service. Both of us cried the whole way through it.”
Shane Dressback told me that he struggled with the news. On one of his worst days, however, he said that God told him to love her “no matter what.” The next day, he told Lauren, “I was going to love her unconditionally and unconventionally.” The marriage ending was painful, but they remain close. “I know she loved me for 23 years,” he said. “There was nothing fake there.”
The two held hands as they told their children and parents. They divorced, sold their home and rented apartments near one another. They still have family dinners and Shane cooks; leftovers of “Daddy’s Jambalaya” were in the refrigerator of Lauren Dressback’s apartment when I visited. Kaylee came by with her goldendoodle, Dixie, to grab a helping for lunch.
Throughout Dressback’s ordeal with the school district, Shane has been her defender. “Lauren is a child of God and should be treated as such,” he said, as we sat at a friend’s brewery during off-hours. He knows her to be professionally excellent; her personal life should not matter. “It was no one’s business what was going on in our bedroom beforehand and I don’t think that’s anybody’s business now,” he said. “People have drawn a line in the sand where I think it needs to be more about, you know, loving people as Jesus did.”
Shane was the one who urged Dressback to attend a brunch in early February organized by members of a LILLES Facebook group, which connects later-in-life lesbians. There she met her girlfriend, Angela Whitlock, a former medical operations officer in the U.S. Army and law student (she graduated in May). The two began a relationship that appears to charm and steady Dressback. At a dinner during my visit, they held hands under the table.
Dressback says she came out to Freeman, the superintendent, at the end of a one-on-one meeting in January in the spirit of transparency. But the incident that appears central to Dressback’s removal unfolded just after Valentine’s Day, when Dressback asked Smith, the custodian, to come into the office of nurse Julie Corley, whom she described as a close friend at the time, and “close the door.”
Dressback said it was Corley’s idea to show Smith the photos to see his reaction. He was in the lunchroom near Corley’s office. The brief exchange between Dressback and Smith was captured on video. (Dressback said she did not initially notice Corley filming, but did not stop her when she did, something she now regrets.) Corley did not respond to several interview requests by email and text, and, when reached by phone, said she was not interested in speaking and hung up. Dressback said she has not had any communication with Corley since being removed.
“You shared something about your past, I was going to share something with you,” Dressback says to Smith in the video. “Do you want to see a picture of who I’m dating?” She and Whitlock had had their third date on Feb. 14. He says reflexively, “Shane?” She responds, “He’s my ex-husband.” Smith appears surprised. “April Fool?” and asks how long they were married. She says, “23 years.” He expresses disbelief. “You and him broke up?” Dressback holds out her phone to show a photo of her and Whitlock.
“Who the hell is this? I mean, Who is this?” he asks. Several times Smith states that he doesn’t believe it. She hands him her phone. “Bullshit!” he exclaims as he looks at the three photos. “Stop lyin’!” There is one of Whitlock kissing Dressback on the cheek, one with their faces cheek to cheek and one in which they are sitting at a bar with Dressback’s arms around Whitlock, their noses touching. Smith then says, “Wow, I’m sorry,” and pulls her into a hug. “Once you go Black, baby, you don’t go back,” he quips. She groans at his attempt at humor.
Dressback’s lawyer said that an affidavit the district obtained from Smith “appears to be in conflict on several points with what the video shows,” including a claim that he was made uncomfortable by the encounter. When reached by phone, Smith insisted, “I made no type of statement” even as district officials were “coming at me” seeking to query him, he said. “I hadn’t talked to nobody about the incident.”
(McGhee, the school district spokesperson, declined to provide answers to specific questions, including regarding the apparent affidavit from Smith.)
This sign on Route 31 greets drivers traveling from downtown Birmingham over Red Mountain to the affluent suburb of Vestavia Hills Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
Days after Dressback shared the photos, on the morning of Feb. 23, Meredith Hanson, the district’s director of personnel, and Aimee Rainey, the assistant superintendent who had given Dressback the positive write-up in December, arrived at Cahaba Heights for a surprise meeting. Dressback said they told her that someone had complained that she shared “explicit” details of her relationship at a meeting with teachers. Dressback knew that to be untrue. “I kind of relaxed because I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, that absolutely did not happen,’” she recalled.
They questioned her in a way she found confusing. She asked for details of the complaint, but was told, “You know, ‘explicit.’ And I’m like, I know what ‘explicit’ means. Like are you going to tell me what they said I said or what?” They asked if she showed Smith photos of her and her girlfriend. She said she did. Meanwhile, she observed to me later, “There is a picture of Shane and me kissing on our lips at our wedding on the bookshelf right behind them.” (Hanson and Rainey did not respond to interview requests or to a list of detailed questions for this story.)
Dressback says she was then told to gather her belongings, and that she was being placed on “detached duty,” requiring that she work from home. She was barred from school property. She was escorted from the building, which she said made her feel “like a criminal.” She expected to be gone for a few days.
But several days later, Dressback was informed of a new problem: timesheets. In January, she had met with staff to remind them about clocking in and out (everyone must clock in, and paraprofessionals must clock out during lunch).
On March 4, while still barred from the Cahaba Heights campus, Dressback met with Freeman, Rainey and Hanson in the conference room at the central office to discuss timesheets. Two days later, she was told that the following morning, March 7, she was to fire two employees for irregularities on their timesheets. One, she knew, had an attendance problem. She said that she had already discussed with Hanson not renewing him at the end of the school year.
The other was a close friend, Stefanie Robinson, a paraprofessional who worked with students with severe disabilities, including those requiring help with feeding and diapering. Robinson often stayed in the classroom during her lunch breaks to aid the special education teacher because one student had as many as 30 seizures a day. When I met Robinson at her home, she acknowledged to sometimes forgetting to clock out or in, or not being able to do so if she was attending to a child’s needs. “If I’m in a massive diaper situation, I’m not going to remember to clock out, or if I’m helping a kid that’s having a seizure or, you know, one that’s in crisis,” Robinson told me.
What most upset Robinson, however, was that shortly after Dressback was escorted out of the school and placed on “detached duty,” requiring she work from home, Robinson faced 45 minutes of questioning by Hanson and Rainey about Dressback’s dating life that she says “felt like an interrogation.” After confirming that she and Dressback were close, Robinson says she was asked questions such as, “When Lauren goes on a date, what does she say happens? And I was like, ‘What do you mean? What do you want to know?” They pressed: “Well, when she goes on a date and the date ends, what does she say happens after that?” Robinson insisted, “I don’t ask her how her date ended.”
On March 7 at 5:58 a.m., Robinson received a text from Hanson asking her “to start your day at the Board of Education” instead of Cahaba Heights. As soon as she arrived at the central office, she saw Dressback in the room; Dressback said Freeman had told her to fire Robinson. “I could tell she’d been crying,” said Robinson. “And I just smiled at her, I was like, ‘It’s OK.’” Robinson recalled Dressback saying, “in the most robotic tone, ‘It’s my recommendation to the board that your contract be terminated immediately.’”
She hugged Dressback, told her she loved her, and left. Robinson texted the parent of one of her students, a second grade girl who is nonverbal, uses a wheelchair and has cerebral palsy and epilepsy. The girl’s mom, Payton Smith, no relation to Wesley, told me that she’d appreciated how Dressback had welcomed her child to the school a few years earlier. The principal had asked, “‘What do we need to do to make your kid feel comfortable?’ and recognized her as a child,” and not a set of legal educational requirements to meet, Smith recalled. Despite Robinson’s key role in her daughter’s education, Smith said she was not officially notified until March 19 — nearly two weeks later — via email that “Mrs. Robinson is no longer working at VHECH,” district shorthand for Cahaba Heights.
Yet an email of district documentation shared with me states the date of Robinson’s leaving as April 5, and said that she had resigned. Nonetheless, the district continued to pay her for the rest of the school year, which she said felt “like I was being paid off because they knew what they did was wrong.” She is now a clinical research data coordinator for University of Alabama at Birmingham School of Medicine. (Neither McGhee, the district spokesperson, nor Hanson, in charge of HR, responded to email requests seeking comment on why Robinson was fired, the claim that she had resigned, or the discrepancy in her pay.)
Meanwhile, on March 13, Dressback emailed Freeman asking to be reinstated to her position at Cahaba Heights, immediately. “I believe the action the system has taken against me is discrimination because of my sexual orientation, my interracial relationship, and my gender,” she wrote. The next day, Goldfarb, her lawyer, filed the EEOC complaint. (He later amended it to allege additional discrimination and that the district had retaliated against her for the filing.)
On April 18, Dressback received a letter signed by Freeman officially placing her on administrative leave. It states that she is “not to contact any employees of the Vestavia Hills Board of Education related to your or their employment or relationship with the Vestavia Hills City Schools.” The letter does not state a reason for the action.
Lauren Dressback watches her daughter, Kaylee, play for Birmingham Legion WFC, a semi-pro soccer club, on June 19. Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
As a result, to parents and some educators, Dressback seemed to have vanished. “I thought like, ‘Oh, I bet she’s sick. That’s really sad,’” said Lindsay Morton, a Cahaba Heights parent, a reaction echoed by others. Then, on April 27, two of Dressback’s classmates from high school posted videos on social media.
“Where is Principal Dressback???” a schoolmate and friend, Karl Julian, titled a video on his YouTube channel. It has been viewed more than 11,000 times. Lauren Pilleteri Reece, who as laurenpcrna has 228.7K followers on TikTok, posted several videos narrating Dressback’s battle; the first has more than 313,000 views and 3,400 comments. Reece has known Dressback since high school.
When the Vestavia Hills School Board called a meeting five days later, on May 2, to take up Dressback’s employment, everyone seemed to know about it. People rallied outside the district headquarters holding posters with messages such as “We Stand with Principal Dressback” and “Love is Love.” Many people wore green, Dressback’s favorite color, to signal support. Local TV and news reporters showed up.
The room thrummed with emotion. There were angry, even tearful Cahaba Heights Elementary parents, teachers and retired teachers, students, former classmates and others who knew Dressback, plus some who didn’t know her. “I’ve never met her, I just know she had been wronged,” said Jim Whisenhunt, an advertising executive whose children, now grown, attended Vestavia Hills public schools.
Dressback, fearing that she could not keep her composure, did not attend. Those who did attend had a lot to share. But before public comments were permitted or a vote was taken, Freeman read the prepared statement in which he said he wanted “to address, in general, personnel decisions made by the board.” He went on to say that they “have not, cannot, and will not make personnel decisions based on an individual’s race, sex, sexual orientation, religion, national origin, or disability” and that “all of our decisions are vetted thoroughly and thoughtfully.” He added that “district employees contribute to academic excellence and are committed to our mission to provide every child in our schools the opportunity to learn without limits.” Then, over the objections of many in the audience who demanded a chance to comment before a vote was taken, the board officially transferred Dressback from Cahaba Heights Elementary to the alternative school.
When public comments began, the outrage was obvious. “We may color outside of your lines a little bit, but coloring outside of your lines at no point does that ever mean that we are unprofessional. Lauren did not become unprofessional overnight,” said a charged-up Reece, who also came out as an adult. “You started lookingat her as unprofessional overnight.”
Rep. Neil Rafferty, a Democrat who represents Birmingham, stated that he “felt compelled to drive straight here” after “a long week in Montgomery” even though it is not his district. “We are all watching this. It is not just a Vestavia Hills issue anymore,” said Rafferty, the only openly gay member of the Alabama Legislature. The action, he said, signals “to your students who might be LGBTQ that they don’t matter.”
Rev. Julie Conrady, minister of the Unitarian Universalist Churches of Birmingham and Tuscaloosa, and president of a local interfaith group, stood up to speak. “You are sending her a message that in Vestavia Hills it is not OK to be LGBTQ,” she told the board and superintendent. “You should not be punished in your job in 2024 because of who you love.” Conrady, in black liturgical robe and green stole, told the crowd “that there are consequences here for all these people. I want you to get pictures of every single name and vote them the hell out!” (The school board is appointed by the City Council, not elected.)
Another speaker, Allison Black Cornelius, who said she was “a conservative Republican,” focused on what seemed to make this issue explode: the silence. The superintendent and board had given no explanation, even to Dressback, as to why she was removed and now demoted, she said. “When you wait this long,” said Cornelius, “it puts this person in this black cloud.”
Her point underscored a question others raised at the meeting to a board that largely remained silent: If Dressback did something so egregious as to require she be escorted from school and barred from district property, why was she suitable to lead the alternative school? The district declined to answer this question.
The division, so apparent at that meeting, seemed to only harden a few weeks later during the board’s annual meeting on May 28. A group supporting the board and superintendent appeared in blue T-shirts and applauded after the board gave Freeman a new four-year contract that included a raise to $239,500 (he was paid $190,000 when he was hired in 2018) plus perks. Dressback supporters in green again spoke, sharing their frustration.
This is not the first time Vestavia Hills City Schools have made unpopular personnel moves. In August 2020, Tyler Burgess, a well-loved bow-tied principal, was removed as head of the high school and assigned to oversee remote learning during Covid, when many classes were online; the board voted not to renew his contract in March 2021. Students organized a protest; 3,134 people signed a petition calling for his reinstatement. The board and superintendent did not provide an explanation for their decision. Burgess, who has a doctorate in education, is now director of learning and development at a large construction firm. He did not respond to multiple interview requests.
Danielle Tinker came to Vestavia Hills after more than a dozen years in Birmingham and Jefferson County schools, first as assistant principal at Liberty Park Elementary. In spring 2021, she was selected as principal of Cahaba Heights. From the start, Tinker, who is Black, felt unwelcome at the school where the teaching staff was nearly all white, she told me when we met for lunch. The day she was introduced as the new principal, a staff member emailed her, saying that “Cahaba Heights is a family” and that “today was hard on this family,” according to a copy of the email that she shared with me. Tinker said she was told by staff that the faculty had wanted a different principal; a later inquiry confirmed that staff felt “blindsided” when she was selected over that individual.
As principal, Tinker raised questions with Rainey, the assistant superintendent, over student articles in a fall 2021 newsletter, including two about race. They were titled “Anti-Racist Kids: Leading the Way to New Beginnings” and “Learning About Racism: How It Can Change Lives.” Tinker told me she feared those articles would be “more fluff than addressing the actual challenge” with claims such as “Racism is part of our lives, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing if we are the ones ending it.” Rainey agreed to pause publication of the newsletter, which she said upset several teachers who wanted it published.
On Dec. 16, 2021, several hours after Tinker told teachers that publication was being paused, Tinker emailed Hanson raising an “employee concern” after one of the teachers “stormed down the hallway” and was “pointing at me and yelling,” according to a copy of Tinker’s email exchanges that she shared with me. The next day, Tinker received a letter from Freeman stating that he was recommending she be transferred to the alternative school, effective Jan. 3. In March, Tinker filed a complaint of racial discrimination with the EEOC and resigned, using her remaining personal time to cover her pay for the remainder of the school year. In February 2023, she and the district reached a settlement for an undisclosed amount. She is using the money to attend law school. (McGhee, the district spokesperson, did not answer questions about Tinker or Burgess; Rainey and Hanson also did not respond.)
The Sibyl Temple Gazebo in Vestavia Hills, Alabama, a landmark and city symbol that nods to the Italian-inspired estate of former Birmingham Mayor George C. Ward, where the city is sited. Credit: Charity Rachelle for The Hechinger Report
On my last day in town in early June, Dressback gave me a guided tour of Vestavia Hills. We met inside the Diplomat Deli; Reece, Dressback’s high school classmate with the large TikTok following, joined us. As we walked out, Dressback, wearing a Care Bears T-shirt, showed off a new tattoo on her left forearm. In typewriter font it reads, “Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.”
I slid into the passenger seat of her car, a red Buick Encore whose license plate reads “DBACK.” Reece hopped in back. An order of fries from Milo’s, a favorite Dressback fast-food spot since high school, leaned in a cup holder. Soon, we passed places they hung out as kids, schools they attended, new neighborhoods and old, the spot at Vestavia Country Club with a panoramic view where kids still take prom photos.
The discussion jumbled together past and present, reminding these childhood friends — both of whom came out as adults — how much has changed. And how much has not. When we reached Vestavia Hills High School, Dressback stopped near a small sign at sidewalk level that reads “Alternative Placement” with an arrow. I descended metal stairs that span a rocky embankment; the alternative school, Dressback’s new assignment, is subterranean, its entrance nearly hidden from view. If architecture can relay shame, it might look like this.
Yet when I returned to the car, Dressback told me she saw the alternative school as an opportunity rather than an exit. The school has often operated without a principal (Tinker never stepped inside or interacted with students, partly because of the Covid pandemic). At that late May school board meeting, Freeman could not say how many pupils attend the school. But Dressback was struck by what DeMarco, her classmate, told her. As a student, he spent time at the alternative school; he could have used someone like her.
“I’m not gonna just go and sit and read a book. I can’t do that,” Dressback said, as she pulled out of the high school driveway. She wanted to make it a place less about punishment and more about connecting with kids for whom the traditional school is not a fit. It should not be a dumping ground for educators or for kids, she said. “My mindset is I’m gonna go and I’m gonna make this the best damn alternative school in the state.”
In other words, Dressback is not willing to let go or to disappear. Yet “the Dressback situation” is hardly resolved. A few days after my visit, in early June, Dressback met with Freeman to receive an official performance review for the 2023-24 academic year, a copy of which she shared with me. It was the first official yearly evaluation she had been given in her career in the district despite a stipulation in her contract that this occur annually, she said. It is searing. It finds that her “job performance is unsatisfactory.” The report was sent to the state Department of Education, per Alabama code requiring that personnel records and “investigative information” of employees placed on administrative leave for cause be reviewed by the department.
Most damning are six bullet points of claims. One alludes to Robinson’s employment and the timesheet matter. The most explosive is cast as “failure to demonstrate moderation, restraint, and civility in dealing with employees” and includes salacious assertions, including “public displays of affection and of photographs which would not, for example, be tolerated even among high school students” — presumably a reference to the photos shown to Smith, the custodian. It includes a charge Dressback had never heard before: a claim of “remote activation by your husband of a sexual toy on your person while you were in a school meeting.”
Dressback was floored by the charges, and countered each in her rebuttal, which she asked to have filed with the state Department of Education in response to Freeman’s report. Regarding the sex toy claim, Dressback wrote that it is “false. I have never done that, and I would never do that.” The very idea of “remote activation” of a sex toy by her husband was absurd, she said. “I wouldn’t think that I would need to remind you that my ex-husband and I are divorced, that I have recently come out as gay, and that I am now in a committed relationship with a woman,” she wrote.
Such a thing never happened then, or in any school year, her rebuttal continued. She wrote that she “cannot imagine why you would credit this slanderous and irresponsible allegation” and include it in her personnel record, “other than to retaliate against me” for the EEOC filing.
Her lawyer said in an email that the performance review “is further retaliation and an attempt to create further pretexts for the adverse employment actions the Board has already taken against her.”
On Aug. 15, after the state Department of Education had reviewed the evaluation submitted by Freeman, the agency stated in a letter addressed to Dressback, cc’ing Freeman, that it had “examined information regarding an investigation in the Vestavia Hills City School System” and “decided to not take action against your Alabama Educator Certificate.” The same day, Freeman said in a letter to Dressback that she would “no longer be on administrative leave and may return to work” at the alternative school.
It has been baffling and infuriating to some in the community as to how such charges surfaced so soon after Dressback was given a three-year contract extension last year. The mystery that remains is why some people — people who were eager for her to continue leading the elementary school — now want her gone. The battle has been drawn up and is now readying to be fought. Dressback told me that beyond feeling driven to “defend my name and my integrity,” she wants to speak up for others who come after — or who are now silent.
Of course, Dressback had hoped this could all be avoided. “I tried to just be the good employee,” she told me. “I thought if I just do what they ask me to do, this is gonna get wrapped up and I’ll go back to work” at Cahaba Heights.
Notably, she still feels loyalty, even love, for Vestavia Hills and its school system.
“Maybe I shouldn’t feel the allegiance I feel,” she said when we spoke over Zoom several weeks ago. “But I can’t just turn it off. It’s not like a water faucet. You know, it’s my home. It’s where I grew up and it’s where I chose to plant my career. As betrayed as I have felt, I just can’t turn my back on the system.” Rather, she wants to nudge it forward.
*Correction: This story has been updated with the correct name of Millersville University.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
Temple University’s faculty union has reached a tentative agreement on a five-year contract that gives members their largest negotiated raises since 1999 and stronger protections for job security.
The Temple Association of University Professionals, which represents 2,300 faculty members, librarians and academic professionals, announced the agreement Monday after more than a year of collective bargaining. Once the deal is ratified, all full-time employees will get $10,000 raises across the board and 3% raises in each year of the contract. The contract also includes higher pay for adjuncts and no increases in health care costs.
“This is the most complex and transformative agreement for our union since our 1990 strike, and contained in this agreement are historic wins on pay equity, job security, and numerous working conditions, benefits, and union power,” the union said in a statement.
The tentative contract still needs to be presented to union members for ratification and the university’s Board of Trustees must vote to approve it.
“I would like to thank the entire Temple University community for its patience over the last year as we have worked with TAUP to negotiate this new contract,” Sharon Boyle, Temple’s vice president of human resources, said in a statement.
At the outset of negotiations last year, TAUP rejected an 18-month extension that would have included salary increases but no changes in benefits. The union then rallied and campaigned for contract terms that recognized the changing landscape of higher education since the COVID-19 pandemic, which put financial strain on many universities seeking ways to reposition their degree programs.
Under the new contract, adjunct professors at Temple will have their minimum pay rate increased to $2,250 per credit, with $50 increases in each subsequent year. The minimum pay for a three-credit course will rise from $4,800 to $6,750. The union said the agreement marks a 50% raise for adjunct faculty over the life of the contract.
Although TAUP was able to negotiate expanded bereavement leave and improved parental leave for librarians and academic professions, the pact does not include changes to the university’s sick leave policy – a union sticking point. Temple allows up to 10 days of sick leave, but the university can take disciplinary measures if employees use more than five of them instead of dipping into a separate bank of vacation days.
Union members argued that the sick leave policy has a “chilling effect” on employees and results in many of them coming to work sick or using vacation time, despite being entitled to 10 sick days.
The tentative contract also includes more protections for academic freedom and extended protections for discipline related to student feedback.
The deal comes after Temple’s graduate student union went on strike for six weeks last year before reaching a new deal with the administration.
Temple is in the midst of a leadership transition as incoming President John Fry — Drexel University’s president for 14 years — prepares to step into his new role on Nov. 1.
Young people experiencing family instability and trauma are at increased risk for precarious living situations and interrupted educational experiences. And students who leave school before graduation are considerably more likely to experience homelessness and less likely to enroll in college.
By failing to systematically and preemptively address youth homelessness through our schools, we are increasing the chances of hundreds of thousands of young people becoming and remaining homeless.
We can change this.
Schools are key to intervention. Schools can and should serve as indispensable resources for students who are experiencing unstable housing or outright homelessness. Lamentably, too often, there aren’t enough staff members to carry out existing support programs, much less manage additional programs designed for youth who are at risk for or are already experiencing homelessness.
Related: Become a lifelong learner. Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter to receive our comprehensive reporting directly in your inbox.
I saw these issues firsthand when I worked as the chief of staff at Chicago Public Schools, but they are prevalent at schools nationwide. For roughly 700,000 youth ages 13 to 17, not having stable or any housing is top of mind, a recent study found.
Here are some suggestions for identifying youth at risk and tackling youth homelessness systemically.
Paying more attention to risk factors will increase the chance that at-risk students will be identified earlier and interventions enacted.
We’ve learned a lot about risk factors at the independent, nonpartisan policy research center I lead. For example, a family’s income is a strong indicator of risk, so school officials and staff should be hypersensitive in districts where families are struggling financially.
Yet appearances alone won’t necessarily indicate which students are struggling. Many schools rely on student self-reporting, which students are less likely to do if they don’t know there are resources available or if they are too ashamed to reveal their status.
Schools should initiate a universal screening at the beginning of the school year to gauge if students are vulnerable to homelessness. All staff should routinely be trained to look for signs of homelessness and risk factors.
Not everyone at a school needs to deeply engage with each student, but they should be aware of signs so they can make referrals to a social worker or the school’s McKinney-Vento liaison if needed.
The federal McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act includes a requirement for schools to provide “comparable” transportation for homeless students to get to and from school. And while every school has a McKinney-Vento liaison who administers programs funded by federal dollars, at many schools that assistance boils down to just providing a bus pass for homeless students, nothing more.
If their school is only able to provide a bus pass, students’ many other needs — like clothing and mental health care — will not be met.
Having more school social workers would also help identify students struggling with housing stability and match them to programs and services that could meet their needs.
Another significant risk factor for homelessness is dropping out of school. A truancy officer’s role is critical when students drop out. Administrators should be asking themselves what it takes to get kids back in school to stay. The goal of that position should not be to identify and punish students but to figure out what resources they need to get them back to school and keep them there.
One way to ensure that interventions are available and applied would be to mirror the work of the Title IV-E Prevention Services Clearinghouse, the place where evidence-based interventions for child welfare are vetted, rated and made eligible for federal reimbursement.
The inclusion of an evidence-based clearinghouse in a federal program is a legislative component that has historically enabled bipartisan buy-in. Since schools are already burdened by tight budgets and overworked staff, adding a clearinghouse for homelessness prevention efforts would allow qualified outside agencies to provide — and be reimbursed for — evidence-based intervention services.
Two other points not to be overlooked are that youth homelessness is experienced disproportionately by Black, Hispanic and LGBTQ youth, and youth homelessness is a leading pathway into adult homelessness. That’s why supporting young people at risk for or experiencing homelessness — through substantial investments and increased services — is a significant way to address racial inequity and break these cycles.
The point of school is to educate and nurture our youth so they can successfully pass on to the next phase of life. If we work together, we can disrupt the brutal cycle of homelessness and give more young people the future they deserve.
Bryan Samuels is executive director of Chapin Hall. He previously served as chief of staff at Chicago Public Schools, director of Illinois DCFS, and commissioner of the Administration on Children, Youth and Families at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services during the first Obama administration.
This story about homeless students was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.
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The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
Tell Williams, a teacher in Philadelphia, keeps lollipops in his desk in case of an active shooter.
About a decade ago, the school Williams teaches at had been put on lockdown because a drunk man at the apartment complex across the street had a rifle. After the lockdown was lifted, Williams and his fellow teachers gathered in the hallway at the end of the day to talk about what had just happened. Williams’ fellow teacher told him that she keeps lollipops in the desk for her kindergarteners when there is an active shooter threat.
“I was thinking, like, why would you do that?” Williams told HuffPost. “And she was, like, ‘Well, because if the kids are eating them, they can’t cry and they can’t talk.’ I buy them now, but it was such a horrific moment being, like, Oh, my God. That is the only safety measure in keeping kids calm.”
By the time Williams was in his second lockdown, he had the lollipops ready. He took his students into the classroom’s bathroom, put his jacket under the door to block out the light and turned on his phone flashlight.
“I was making shadow puppets on the ceiling, trying to distract them so they wouldn’t cry and be scared,” he told HuffPost. “And that’s our safety measures as teachers. You have to convince the kids to stay quiet, to not scare them because we don’t want them to be scared and cry, but we also want them to take it seriously and not giggle.”
Williams initially told the lollipop story on TikTok just hours after a shooter killed two students and two teachers and injured nine others in a school in Winder, Georgia. The suspect in the Georgia shooting is just 14 years old, and Georgia does not have secure storage laws requiring gun owners to lock up their firearms to prevent kids from using them.
“I want that to sink in for a moment before you tell teachers like me that what happened today isn’t political, that what happened today, we don’t need gun reform for that ― because that’s bullshit,” Williams said in a TikTok that has drawn nearly 5 million views.
Lawmakers have been slow to enact any real gun reform in America even though guns are the leading cause of death in children. With no real gun reform, teachers and students are left to their own devices to fight against and survive gun violence, which U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy calls a public health crisis.
“I was making shadow puppets on the ceiling, trying to distract them so they wouldn’t cry and be scared. And that’s our safety measures as teachers.”
– Tell Williams, Philadelphia teacher
In 2018, Oakland University, a public school in Rochester Hills, Michigan, made news when it was revealed it hands out hockey pucks to students to use as weapons against an active shooter on campus.
“If you threw [a hockey puck] at a gunman, it would probably cause some injury. It would be a distraction, if nothing else,” Mark Gordon, the university’s police chief, told WXYZ-TV in Detroit at the time.
A high school teacher also in Michigan went viral on TikTok in 2022 for doing the same thing. The teacher said on TikTok that she wanted to give her students “something to prepare themselves” in case of a school shooting.
At Emily Thomas’ high school in Connecticut, the administrators provided their teachers with a first-aid kit and a bucket, just in case they were in lockdown for a while and a student needed to use the bathroom.
Thomas told HuffPost that she’s had to go in lockdown over threats just outside the school and it’s been “terrifying.” The school goes through a lockdown drill about every three months, but they don’t tell the teachers and students if it’s just a drill or a real threat.
“It’s kind of like a blind panic every time,” Thomas said.
When they’re called to go into lockdown, Thomas follows all procedures. Lock the door, close the blinds, turn off the projector, cover a mirror she has in her classroom, and gather the kids into a “quote unquote safe space,”Thomas said. Then she grabs her phone to check what the threat is.
Several districts across the country are experimenting with not allowing cellphones in class, a move Thomas has mixed emotions about. On the one hand, it would be nice for her students to stop relying on the internet for answers, but she knows firsthand the comfort of being a student in lockdown and having a cellphone nearby.
Thomas was an eighth grader in 2012 when 20 children and six adults were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, only a few miles from her middle school.
“I was texting my mom furiously on my phone,” she said, “even though I wasn’t supposed to have my phone.”
At Mikayla Dane’s school, teachers are given a metal U-bolt that acts as a lock to place on the door in case of an active shooter.
In a TikTok just days after the Georgia school shooting, Dane said the bolt makes her feel better.
“It’s sad that I’m holding it now because it makes me feel better,” she said in the TikTok video, which has more than 5 million views.
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Thank you for your past contribution to HuffPost. We are sincerely grateful for readers like you who help us ensure that we can keep our journalism free for everyone.
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After there’s a school shooting somewhere in the country, Dane, a high school teacher in Missouri, told HuffPost, she looks at her class and thinks about the possibility of it happening at her school.
“I don’t know what I would do in that situation,” the 24-year-old said. “We’re trained for it, and I mean, I know what I would do, but emotionally it’s just so hard to think about. Being in charge of them, it is just so scary to think that these kids are relying on me and my guidance on what they should do in that situation, and that is frightening to think about.”
The threat of an active shooter looming over Williams sent him back to college to get a degree in social work to become a therapist so he could help students learn to regulate their emotions. Though he doesn’t believe mental health or bullying is the root cause of school shootings, he wants to help address a student’s emotions and encourage the parent to take steps to help them.
“What keeps me there now is that I can now partner with parents and students and teachers and say, ‘What emotional and social skills do the kids need to work on now?’” Williams said.
“How do we teach them empathy? How do we have these safety measures in place so that if a student’s feeling angry about something or sad about something or scared about something, that we can hopefully talk about this now, so that if we have a student who’s having volatile thoughts … we can address them now and really encourage the parents to take steps so we don’t have incidences like in Oxford, Michigan, or in Georgia.”
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Thank you for your past contribution to HuffPost. We are sincerely grateful for readers like you who help us ensure that we can keep our journalism free for everyone.
The stakes are high this year, and our 2024 coverage could use continued support. Would you consider becoming a regular HuffPost contributor?
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