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Actualizing something is different from internalizing it. Actualizing means I can do it. Internalizing means I understand it, believe in it, and begin to carry it with me even when no one is watching. In education, we often confuse the two. A teacher can actualize a new instructional strategy because it appears on a walkthrough tool. A team can actualize a new protocol because it is required at every meeting. A student can actualize a behavior because there is a reward attach

An ideal version of co-teaching exists. Two teachers sit together regularly. They plan the lesson from beginning to end. They anticipate misconceptions. They decide who will model, question, monitor, redirect, assess, and provide feedback. They reflect afterward and adjust the next lesson together. Then there is the reality in many schools. The co-teacher is supporting multiple classrooms. Schedules do not align. Planning periods do not overlap. One teacher may be moving from

Something is compelling about the fact that the magnetic compass came before the modern mechanical clock. Before we became exceptionally good at measuring how long something took, we had already developed a tool to help us figure out where we were going. I think there is a lesson in that. We spend an enormous amount of time measuring time. How long did the lesson take? How quickly did the student finish? Are we on pace? How many minutes are left? When will the initiative be i

If You Always Call on the Fastest Hand, You Teach the Room Something The question is asked. A hand shoots up. Then another. The teacher calls on one of them, the answer comes quickly, and the lesson keeps moving. It feels efficient. It may even feel like engagement. Over time, though, the room begins to learn something that was never part of the lesson plan. It learns whose voice counts. It learns how quickly an answer needs to arrive. It learns whether thinking time is actua

One of the hardest things for a practitioner is watching someone struggle when you know exactly how to fix it. You see the student hesitate. You hear the silence after the question. You watch someone start down the wrong path. You know the answer, the next step, the better strategy. Every instinct says: help. That instinct comes from care. Care, though, can quickly become rescue. Difficulty alone does not build courage. Supported uncertainty can. The distinction is important.

There is a phrase that captures one of the hardest parts of caring deeply about this work: The curse of giving a $h1t. Crude? Yes. Accurate? Also yes. Especially in education. There are a lot of teachers trying very hard to create healthier boundaries. They are trying to stop checking email at night. They are trying not to answer every message immediately. They are trying to leave work at work, protect weekends, reclaim dinner, go to the gym, sit with their families, watch a

A graphic on assessing conceptual understanding caught my attention this week because it asks a question that is bigger than assessment design. What are we really trying to know about what students have learned? For a long time, schools have been very good at measuring what is easy to measure. Did the student remember the vocabulary? Did they complete the assignment? Did they get the correct answer? Did they meet the deadline? Did they earn enough points? Those things can tel

My daughter is a newly minted high school freshman, which means we are entering that season of welcome emails, syllabi, expectations, routines, and introductions to the people who will help shape the next four years. This week, I received a welcome email from her Global History teacher that made me stop for a moment. It was honest. It was refreshing. It sounded like a real educator talking to families about what students were actually going to experience in the classroom, not

In retirement, my “start of the school year” looks different than it did for most of my career. I am not reviewing opening-day schedules, preparing for faculty meetings, checking staffing lists, worrying about transportation, troubleshooting technology, or wondering what completely unexpected issue might appear before the first bell. My mission and purpose have not changed. I still believe deeply in the work of schools. I still believe in children, in educators, in the power

Today is my birthday, which makes it a natural time to think about what birthdays represent. They are moments to celebrate, but they also offer an opportunity to pause, reflect, take stock, and consider how we want to use the year ahead. In schools, we often measure time by calendars that are not our own. We count marking periods, semesters, school years, testing windows, and graduation dates. Birthdays remind us that growth also happens on a deeply personal timeline. A birth

When we hear “agricultural education,” we may picture high school electives, large school gardens, barns, or students preparing for careers in farming. But agriculture is already woven into nearly every part of the traditional Pre-K–12 curriculum, from the food students eat and the clothes they wear to science, economics, technology, history, environmental responsibility, and community life. Including agricultural education does not require classroom teachers to abandon exist

In this video (https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1K9qf3DAXu/?mibextid=wwXIfr), a successful musician tells the story of deciding to leave New York and move to Nashville to pursue music. His guidance counselor thought he was making a huge mistake. They cared about him, wanted him to be successful, and was giving him advice based on what she understood about stability, careers, and the world. For a moment, he almost believed them. Of course, we know the story differently because

In my presentations about teacher leadership, I often return to the idea that strong schools do not grow from leadership that sits in one office. They grow when leadership is intentionally cultivated, shared, supported, and sustained throughout the organization. I have also asked participants to consider whether we are truly creating more leadership or simply distributing more work. That distinction matters. Teacher leadership should not be about extracting more from capable

A student completes a lesson successfully. They answer the questions, participate in the activity, and demonstrate the skill on the assessment. Then, a few days later, they encounter the same idea in a slightly different situation and seem unable to recognize it. Teachers are often left wondering: But we just learned this. The challenge may not be that the student failed to learn the skill. The challenge may be that the student has not yet learned how to transfer it. Transfer

The photo is of my child and her teammate waiting to hear whether their names would be called for the semifinals. They had competed against one another. They both wanted the same opportunity. Yet, while they waited, they held hands. This is what it is about. We talk often in education about social-emotional learning. We create lessons about empathy, sportsmanship, self-regulation, kindness, and responsible decision-making. We build character education programs and identify th

The other day, someone walked past me wearing a T-shirt that read, “No Risk, No Story.” It was one of those simple statements that stays with you long after the person wearing it has disappeared into the crowd. I immediately thought about classrooms. Every day, students are asked to take risks. They raise their hands without knowing whether their answer is correct. They read aloud when they are unsure of a word. They share an idea that may be different from everyone else’s. T

Social media has changed the way students communicate, connect, disagree, joke, and build relationships. It has also changed the way words land, because online comments arrive without the things that help us understand one another in real life: body language, facial expressions, voice intonation, pauses, softness, hesitation, and repair. In a classroom, a student can usually tell when a joke has gone too far. They can see someone’s face fall. They can hear the change in someo

As we celebrate the Fourth of July and look toward the 250th anniversary of the United States, it is worth pausing to think about what freedom really asks of us. Independence is not only a historical event, a fireworks display, or a long weekend. It is an ongoing responsibility to participate, to listen, to learn, to question, and to help build a country that lives closer to its ideals. The story of America has never been simple. It is a story of courage and contradiction, sa

There is a quiet kind of kindness that does not always get named. It is the kindness of letting people be fully themselves without correction, eye rolls, judgment, or the need to understand why something matters so much to them. In classrooms, this matters more than we sometimes realize. Every child has something that lights them up. A topic they cannot stop talking about. A book series they love. A hobby that seems unusual to someone else. A word they mispronounce because th

Last Friday, my daughter went to her 8th-grade dance. There was the dress, the pictures, the friends, the excitement, the small moments that somehow become big memories before we even realize it. Watching her step into that milestone brought me right back to my own 8th-grade dance. Not because of the decorations. Not because of the music. Not because I remember every detail of what I wore or who stood where in the gym. But because of the boy I went with. Years later, when I w