Tag: teach

  • Faculty Are Often Unprepared to Teach About Race (opinion)

    Faculty Are Often Unprepared to Teach About Race (opinion)

    Faculty teaching about race do so in a moment when public scrutiny of higher education is heightened, federal policies are shifting, and diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives are being dismantled. Even as the stakes continue rising, the instructional support for teaching race remains thin. Classroom missteps become fodder for political commentary, investigations and legislative action, not because DEI is failing—but because higher education has not prepared faculty for the instructional demands of this work.

    In recent years, a series of classroom incidents has sparked social media outrage and press coverage questioning whether faculty can responsibly teach about race and racism. This past fall, a federal civil rights complaint filed against Colorado State University objected to how two social-work instructors were teaching about race: The instructors reportedly detailed in a journal article how they treated discomfort as a measure of instructional success, characterizing student dissent as “whitelash” or an attempt to maintain “white emotional comfort.” And, in November, Texas A&M University adopted sweeping new rules restricting professors from advocating for “race or gender ideology, or topics related to sexual orientation or gender identity” after an instructor’s lesson on gender identity drew political scrutiny.

    Similar conflicts, large and small, have surfaced at other institutions where comments, assignments or facilitation missteps around race have escalated into campuswide crises, legislative attention, or national media backlash. For critics of DEI work, the story is a familiar one, each conflict another example of what they believe is a misguided and coercive approach to discussing race in the academy.

    But these cases are not evidence that DEI is failing. They’re evidence that higher education continues to position instructors to teach about race without adequate preparation, support or instructional training. The result is predictable. Classroom conversations break down, students withdraw or react defensively, and faculty fall back on reductive frameworks that flatten complexity instead of deepening understanding. When the inevitable conflict arises, external critics seize on those moments as proof that DEI itself is the problem.

    As someone who has spent more than two decades teaching courses on race and racism, preparing PK-12 educators and school leaders, and facilitating difficult conversations across racial, political and socioeconomic contexts, I recognize many of the dynamics described in recent reports.

    I have seen classrooms fracture when conversations about race are mishandled. I have also seen classrooms strengthen and deepen when race is taught skillfully, developmentally and with transparency about the learning process—not with the goal of making certain students, based on their race, feel uncomfortable.

    Why Higher Ed Keeps Getting This Wrong

    Too often, instructors are left to navigate high-stakes, emotionally charged conversations with little guiding them beyond readings and good intentions. They confuse discomfort with learning or treat identity categories as complete explanations for how students respond. They assume that naming systemic racism is enough to foster insight. They treat emotional reactions as confessions rather than data. And they interpret dissent as avoidance rather than inquiry.

    Teaching about race is not the same thing as talking about race. It is not sufficient to have strong convictions, an antiracist syllabus or a set of readings that challenge dominant narratives. Teaching about race effectively, humanely and rigorously is adaptive work. It requires attention to the meaning-making capacities adults bring to the classroom, the emotional and cognitive demands of confronting unfamiliar histories, and the complex identity threats that discussions of racism can activate.

    Unfortunately, many college instructors are asked to lead these conversations without any formal preparation in adult learning theory, without much practice facilitating difficult dialogues, and without much exposure to exercising racial literacy skills. Graduate programs rarely include coursework on how adults learn, how to hold tension productively, or how to differentiate instruction for learners at different developmental stages. Faculty development programs typically focus on instructional tools, strategies or course design, not the psychological and relational capacities required to teach race well.

    The result is that many faculty default to one of two equally ineffective approaches: avoidance, in which the fear of mistakes or conflict leads instructors to sanitize discussions about race or eliminate them entirely; or overcorrection, in which instructors push students into discomfort prematurely, recast struggle as resistance or treat identity categories as proxies for understanding. Both approaches undermine learning. And both approaches, ironically, feed the narrative that DEI is coercive, dogmatic or intellectually fragile.

    Misinterpreting Discomfort

    A common misstep in teaching about race and racism is treating discomfort as the goal rather than the byproduct of learning. Discomfort emerges when students confront unfamiliar histories or grapple with the implications of structural racism. But causing discomfort without further reflection is not instructive. In fact, adult learning research shows that when learners do not understand why they feel discomfort, or when they interpret it as a personal indictment rather than information, they often shut down, deflect or retreat into defensiveness.

    Barbara Larrivee’s work on reflective teaching practice emphasizes that adults deepen their reflective capacity not when they are emotionally overwhelmed, but when they can connect feelings to meaning. Tyrone Howard is especially clear that reflective practice around race is emotionally demanding and must be scaffolded, particularly for students who have had limited or no prior engagement with racial analysis.

    Deborah Helsing, Annie Howell, Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey’s research demonstrates that adults grow when they can safely examine their assumptions, not when they are forced into emotional exposure without a supportive structure. Ronald Heifetz, Alexander Grashow, and Martin Linsky’s concept of a “holding environment” underscores the importance of creating a space strong enough to contain tension and flexible enough to meet learners where they are developmentally.

    When instructors lack this grounding, discomfort can be misread as resistance, and resistance can be treated as evidence of fragility without further inquiry. The learning process collapses.

    Identity Is Context, Not Destiny

    Another pitfall revealed in some cases that escalate into public controversy is the assumption that a student’s response can be fully explained by racial or gender identity. While identity informs perspective, it does not predetermine it. H. Richard Milner IV consistently argues that classroom discussions of race must be deliberate, contextual and connected to students’ lived realities, structural inequities and institutional power.

    Treating students as illustrations of demographic categories rather than as complex thinkers with varied histories and meaning-making capacities undermines trust and flattens what should be a nuanced dialogue. It also discourages dissent and the kind of intellectual engagement that we are meant to cultivate. Students deserve classrooms where questions are welcomed, disagreements are examined rather than punished, and identity is treated as a lens, not a verdict.

    The Real Risk: We Are Handing Evidence to DEI’s Critics

    Faculty who teach about race are working in a political climate where the stakes are extraordinarily high. White House executive orders and state laws across the country have restricted what can be taught about race. Public trust in higher education is declining. DEI offices are being dismantled.

    In this landscape, when classrooms fall apart, the consequences extend far beyond a single course. They reinforce public misconceptions about DEI, embolden efforts to roll back equity-focused policies, and weaken institutional commitments to preparing students for democratic citizenship in a multiracial society.

    Conservative media has built a profitable outrage economy from these incidents, some real and some exaggerated. Every time a classroom implodes, the anti-DEI movement grows stronger with a new case affirming a preexisting narrative: DEI is dogma, DEI is coercion, DEI is emotional manipulation, DEI is identity reductionism.

    But these explanations are not the inevitable outcomes of teaching about race; they are the avoidable consequences of poorly designed learning environments and instructors’ unexamined assumptions. They describe the worst of DEI as if it were the whole of DEI. And colleges, by failing to teach race well, continue to hand DEI’s critics the evidence they need.

    Making the Pivot

    Adults do not grow when they are humiliated, cornered or shamed into silence. They grow when instructors make their reasoning visible, invite critique and create structured environments where difficult emotions can be examined rather than weaponized. Students learn when they are challenged in ways that help them make meaning of their experiences, not in ways that reinforce fear or defensiveness.

    Through trial, error and learning alongside colleagues committed to adaptive adult learning, I’ve found that effective teaching about race requires several related commitments:

    Instructional transparency: making our own assumptions, reasoning and uncertainties visible so that students understand the purpose and process of the learning.

    A shared framework for inquiry: establishing norms that distinguish exploration from accusation and help students make sense of emotional responses without weaponizing them.

    Developmentally aligned challenges: recognizing that students arrive with different capacities for complexity and designing learning opportunities that meet them where they are, while nudging them forward.

    Treating dissent as data: understanding pushback not as avoidance, but as information about what needs clarification, probing or more practical contextualization.

    When faculty practice these commitments, difficult conversations are not something to endure—they are opportunities for insight. Discomfort emerges organically rather than being imposed. Identity becomes context, not destiny. And students stay in the work long enough for significant learning to occur.

    If colleges and universities want students to think critically about history, identity, power and inequality, they must invest in preparing faculty for that work. That means faculty development centered on adult learning, racial literacy, adaptive teaching and facilitation of complex intergroup dialogue, not just compliance training or lists of “dos and don’ts.” It means recognizing that teaching about race is sophisticated instructional work, not a box to check.

    Without institutional support from university leaders, faculty will continue to be underprepared to teach subject matter deemed too politically controversial—despite its importance to preparing civic-minded, informed citizens capable of productive dialogue with people who have entirely different viewpoints and life experiences.

    A Call to Higher Education

    The recent controversies at Colorado State, Texas A&M or those yet to be reported should not discourage colleges and universities (or PK-12 schools) from teaching about race or lead them to abandon the faculty committed to doing so responsibly. If this moment helps us move toward a more rigorous, developmental and humane approach to teaching about race and racism, it will have done something important. It could challenge us to teach race far better than many of us do.

    John Pascarella is a professor of clinical education at the University of Southern California’s Rossier School of Education and chief academic officer of the USC Race and Equity Center.

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  • What the US can teach other countries about home-based child care

    What the US can teach other countries about home-based child care

    by Jackie Mader, The Hechinger Report
    December 17, 2025

    Each day, nearly 70 percent of the world’s children are cared for and educated by adults other than their parents in home-based settings, many of which are informal and run by women. (In the United States, it’s about 30 percent.) In many countries, these home-based settings receive little financial or training support from their governments. 

    This summer, I moderated a panel made up of global child care experts at the National Association for Family Child Care’s (NAFCC) global learning convening. The event marked the first time that the association brought together child care leaders from across the globe to share their expertise in how family child care works in their countries. About 1,000 people attended, including representatives from Bangladesh, Ecuador, South Africa and the United States, to discuss how early learning programs face similar challenges around the world, including low pay and a lack of respect. Attendees also discussed progress securing funding and more awareness and recognition for the sector.  

    The session I moderated, on home-based child care policy and advocacy, featured Grace Matlhape as one of the panelists. Matlhape is the chief executive director of SmartStart, a nonprofit that supports high-quality home-based early learning programs in South Africa.

    The organization’s model, which trains community members to teach a play-based curriculum and run their own early learning programs, has been found to decrease achievement gaps between higher- and lower-income children. 

    In early 2025, after advocacy from Matlhape and other early childhood organizations, South African President Cyril Ramaphosa announced he would prioritize the early years in his education agenda, acknowledging the country is decades behind in the field. The government also dedicated $500 million to expand early childhood development programs to some of the country’s 1.3 million young children not already enrolled in early care. That number represents about 18 percent of the country’s 0-5 population.

    I recently caught up with Matlhape to hear more about progress she is seeing in South Africa, stereotypes of home-based care and which countries she’s looking to for guidance as the sector continues to grow. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

    What is the landscape of early childhood in South Africa?

    Up to now, South Africa’s main approach is center-based child care. There’s still a gap in access, it’s not equitably accessible, but the main seen, acknowledged, recognized and regulated mode of child care is center-based care. 

    SmartStart is the first organization to look at home-based care as a model to build. Having said that, South Africa is very similar to the U.S. in that the early childhood care education is market-driven. The government does not run programs directly. From time to time, they may have a school here and a preschool there, but in the early years, government is not the main provider of programs. SmartStart is the first organization that decided to build [home-based care] into a national model that becomes acceptable even to policy makers.

    Why are you focusing on home-based care? 

    It enables rapid setup, because it avoids all of the lead times in buildings and so on. It lowers the cost when you take away all of the infrastructure investments required. It’s community-based. People have very strong local relationships, for example, a shopkeeper down the road delivers bread every day. It builds on this very strong local culture of looking after children and just investing in their care and their stimulation.

    We recruit our providers within close proximity to one another so that they can form into communities of practice to support one another. It’s a very powerful vehicle of building belonging and identity. It creates cultural acceptability very quickly. 

    Finally, we’ve seen fantastic child outcomes compared to the national average in South Africa. Many of [the programs] are in informal housing in very, very poor environments, but their child outcomes outperform the national average. We think it is a matter of good child ratios. You can’t have a massive class of children at a home. You have children in smaller groups, and we think that’s the answer.

    What challenges have you encountered? 

    It is really hard for people to let go of this overreliance on quality associated with physical structures. People expect to see quality with their eyes, whereas what we are seeing in home-based child care is the experience and the love and attention, and the power of practicing good pedagogy between one loving practitioner and a handful of children. That’s the secret sauce. And so it’s been a challenge just to change mindsets, for people to see child care, home-based child care, in that way. 

    This summer you came to Dallas and met with other home-based child care experts from around the world. Did anything stick out to you regarding how South Africa’s home-based landscape compares to other countries?

    What was very different in the U.S. is just how mature the sector is. It’s significantly more mature. It has matured to a practitioner-led advocacy level, with a platform like NAFCC and people who are leading the organization! [In South Africa], it is very strongly practitioner led. We are still on that journey of the practitioner representing themselves and driving advocacy in their own provinces or states. It gave me a sense of what the future might look like, the power in the practitioner-led alliance or coalition. 

    What are your goals moving forward?

    We’ve actually moved into the zone now of regulation and funding by the government. We co-founded an advocacy organization about three to four years ago with other early childhood development organizations in South Africa. We’ve invested in policy research on what’s going on around the world [in early childhood]. My colleagues really invested in understanding what home-based child care looks like, particularly in Latin America — we drew a lot from that. And we are partnering with the government, with the Department of Education. As insights emerge, we partner with them to say, ‘This is what the research says. These are the trends.’ We are very effectively influencing policy in South Africa by getting the president to announce early childhood as one of the apex priorities for our government. We are trying to make early childhood development in general, and promoting home-based child care as a first tier approach, a societal priority. 

    This story about home-based child care was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

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  • New Jersey’s $40 Billion Education Machine Is Not Built to Teach

    New Jersey’s $40 Billion Education Machine Is Not Built to Teach

    Evan Scott is a lifelong New Jersey resident, a veteran, and a retired military service member. He holds a bachelor’s degree in education and was elected to his hometown’s Board of Education in 1988. Now living in Evesham Township, NJ, he continues to advocate for fair and transparent school funding.

    New Jersey spends about $40 billion each year on public education for roughly 1.3 million children. That’s one of the highest per-pupil spending levels in the country. We have a constitutional guarantee of a “thorough and efficient” education, a sophisticated school funding formula, a powerful state department of education, and layer upon layer of regulations and oversight.

    And yet: our statewide test scores are still below pre-pandemic levels. Achievement gaps by race, income, disability, and language remain enormous. In some grades and subjects, they’re widening.

    If you built a machine to spend this much money and still fail to close gaps year after year, it would look exactly like New Jersey’s education system.

    The System Optimizes for the Wrong Thing

    On paper, New Jersey’s education system is supposed to deliver a thorough and efficient education for every child, with equity across race and income, leading to college and career readiness.

    In practice, the system optimizes for compliance with regulations, political stability, and avoiding lawsuits and strikes.

    The proof is everywhere. We produce beautiful policy documents, voluminous regulations, complex aid tables, and endless reports. But ask a simple question — “what exactly are we doing differently in classrooms to get more third graders reading on grade level?” — and the answers get vague fast.

    We have built a machine to show we are doing something. We have not built a machine engineered to maximize student learning.

    $40 Billion Is Not $40 Billion of Teaching

    That enormous figure pays for instruction, sure. But also: support services, administration, operations and maintenance, transportation and food, debt, pensions, and legacy costs. Nationally, barely half of K-12 spending reaches the classroom as direct instruction. New Jersey is no exception.

    The problem isn’t that buses or nurses are wasteful. The problem is this: we are spending tens of billions of dollars through a system that does not prioritize the highest-impact instructional uses of the next dollar.

    New money goes first to contractual raises, benefit increases, new programs layered on old ones without evaluation, and rising facility costs. Almost none of this is evaluated through the brutal question a serious system would ask: “If we invest this next $100 million, what evidence says it will move reading and math outcomes for our most vulnerable students?”

    We don’t ask that. We just roll the machine forward.

    The State Knows Better—But Only in Science

    The Department of Education has already shown us what a more serious approach looks like. On its own website, NJDOE concedes that less than 20 percent of classroom materials are aligned to standards in science, and has responded by building a Model Science Curriculum around vetted, high-quality resources.

    In other words: the Department knows that standards alone are not enough. Teachers need specific, evidence-based materials, and many districts aren’t getting them on their own.

    But why only science? Our most urgent gaps are in early reading and middle-grades math. If the Department can curate model units for science, it can create a K-3 literacy framework aligned with the science of reading and a model math sequence built around proven materials.

    Instead, New Jersey treats curriculum as a hyper-local, 600-district procurement hobby — and then acts surprised when quality is all over the map and only half our students read or do math on grade level.

    600 Districts, Zero Instructional Coherence

    New Jersey has hundreds of school districts, each with its own superintendent, business administrator, HR department, and curriculum staff. Many are tiny. Above them sits NJDOE and county superintendents, responsible for standards, accountability, and oversight.

    What does the state actually control? It sets standards, not curriculum. Districts must “align” to the New Jersey Student Learning Standards, but the state does not mandate or approve specific programs.

    The result: strong standards and a huge compliance apparatus at the top. A fragmented, district-by-district free-for-all in curriculum and instruction at the bottom.

    Contrast that with Mississippi and Louisiana, which have seen real gains in early reading. Their state agencies didn’t stop at standards. They rated and recommended specific curricula aligned to the science of reading. They tied professional development to those exact materials. They used state power to make instructional coherence non-negotiable in early grades.

    New Jersey has allowed 600 different answers to “what does reading instruction look like in K-3?” and then acts surprised when results are uneven and gaps persist.

    Our administrative machine is big enough to boss districts around on paperwork and testing windows. It is somehow too shy to insist on evidence-based literacy instruction for six-year-olds.

    SFRA: A Formula Without a Steering Wheel

    New Jersey’s School Funding Reform Act is, in theory, a rational way to calculate how much each district needs, with extra weights for poverty, language, and special education.

    But SFRA answers “how much?” It says almost nothing about “for what?”

    You can be billions closer to full funding and still have districts spending above adequacy with mediocre outcomes, districts below adequacy left on their own to figure out interventions, and no systematic connection between spending patterns and student outcomes.

    SFRA is a clever formula for filling tanks. It is not a steering wheel.

    A System That Protects Itself Better Than It Protects Children

    Step back and the obscenity becomes stark:

    We tolerate enormous fixed administrative overhead spread across hundreds of districts that could consolidate or share services. We accept a patchwork of curricula in early literacy even as other states prove you can do better. We pour in new money with minimal discipline about which interventions actually work. We allow graduation standards to be quietly lowered so statistics look smoother.

    All of this is defended in the name of “local control,” “flexibility,” and “respecting stakeholders.”

    Meanwhile, a third grader in Trenton is still far less likely to read on grade level than a third grader in a wealthy suburb — despite living in one of the highest-spending education systems on Earth.

    New Jersey’s system is extremely good at sustaining itself. It is not nearly good enough at changing itself when children are not learning.

    What a First-Principles Reset Would Look Like

    If we were designing a $40 billion system for learning, rather than inheriting a $40 billion system of habits:

    Clear, public goals. By 2030: 80% of third graders reading proficiently, with racial and income gaps below 10 percentage points. By 8th grade: 70% proficient in math, same gap constraint. By graduation: diplomas tied to real college and career readiness benchmarks.

    Evidence-based spending rules. The next billion in state aid goes first to high-dosage tutoring for students below proficiency, smaller K-3 class sizes in high-poverty schools, literacy and math coaches tied to vetted curricula, and high-quality pre-K expansion. Not to automatic expansion of everything we already do.

    State leadership on curriculum. NJDOE should review and rate K-8 ELA and math curricula and publish a short list of high-quality options. Professional development should be built around those choices. Districts can still choose — but from good choices.

    Rationalized administration. Require consolidation and shared services where appropriate. Reinvest savings into classroom-facing roles: teachers, aides, interventionists, counselors.

    Real accountability for results. Public dashboards showing, for each district: spending per pupil broken out by category, proficiency rates and gaps by subgroup, and whether things are improving. Tie flexibility and funding to demonstrated ability to turn dollars into learning.

    The Courage We Actually Need

    New Jersey doesn’t need one more glossy plan or press release celebrating “investments in education.” It needs the political courage to admit that our current system is not designed to do the thing we say we value most.

    It will take courage to challenge the sacredness of local administrative fiefdoms. To tell high-spending districts that dollars above adequacy must be justified by outcomes. To insist that early literacy is not a matter of preference but of evidence. To rebuild NJDOE from compliance cop to instructional engine.

    We are not a poor state. We are not a low-spending state. Our children’s struggles are not about scarcity. They are about design — the design of a system that has learned to protect adults, institutions, and routines more effectively than it has learned to teach children to read, write, and think.

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  • What Football Can Tell Us About How to Teach Reading – The 74

    What Football Can Tell Us About How to Teach Reading – The 74


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    When I go to my son’s football games, I can tell you which team will win — most of the time — just by watching them warm up. It’s not necessarily having the flashiest uniforms or the biggest player; it’s about the discipline, the focus and the precision of their routines.

    A school is no different.

    In my Texas school district, I can walk into a classroom and, in the first five minutes, tell you if effective reading instruction is happening. I don’t need to see the lesson plan or even look at the teacher. I just need to look at the kids. Are they engaged? Are they in a routine? Are they getting the “reps” they need?

    For too long, districts have been losing the game before it starts. They buy a new playbook (i.e., a curriculum) as a “hail Mary,” hoping for a fourth-quarter miracle. Still, they ignore the fundamentals, practice and team culture required for sustainable success.

    Chapel Hill Independent School District is committed to educating all children to compete in an ever-changing world. To that end, we’ve made literacy a nonnegotiable priority across all campuses. We anchor our approach in research-based practices and a culture of continuous learning for both students and staff.

    We’re building for the long run: a literacy dynasty. But our literacy success hasn’t come without putting in the work. We have a relentless focus on the fundamentals and, most importantly, a culture where every player — every teacher and administrator — fits our system.

    Trust the Analytics, Not Your Gut

    In reading instruction, we can’t make assumptions; all instruction has to start with the fundamentals. For decades, instruction was based on gut feelings, like an old-school coach deciding whether to go for it on fourth down or punt based on a hunch. But today, the best coaches trust the analytics, not their gut. They watch the game film.

    Chapel Hill is an analytics district; we do our research. And our game film is the science of reading.

    Many years ago, we started using structured literacy for a small group of students with dyslexia. It worked so well that we asked ourselves: If structured literacy is effective for a small group of students with dyslexia, shouldn’t it be essential for all students?

    We didn’t just adopt a new curriculum; we redesigned our literacy infrastructure — from structured literacy professional development for every teacher to classroom coaching and a robust tiered system of support to ensure no student falls through the cracks.

    That logic is our offensive strategy. It’s why we use tools like the Sold a Story podcast to show our staff why we’ve banned the strategies of a bygone era, like three-cueing. We have to be willing to reprogram the brain to align with what research proves works. But having the right playbook is only half the battle.

    A great playbook is useless without the right team to execute it.

    This is the most crucial part: “First who, then what.” In the NFL draft, teams don’t always draft the most talented player available. They conduct interviews and personality assessments and ultimately draft the player who best fits their system—the cultural fit.

    Tom Brady is arguably the greatest quarterback of all time, but he couldn’t run a read-option offense, which requires a fast, running quarterback. He wouldn’t fit the system, and the team would fail. But put Brady in a play-action offense, sit back and watch the magic happen.

    We operate the same way. When we interview, we’re not just looking for a teacher with excellent credentials and experience; we’re looking for a “Chapel Hill Way” teacher. It’s a specific profile: someone who believes in our philosophy of systematic, explicit, research-based instruction.

    This culture starts with our team captains: our campus principals. We need them to believe in our playbook, not just buy in because the district office said so. We invest in their development so they can champion literacy daily, monitor instruction and ensure every classroom executes our playbook with fidelity. It’s their conviction that turns a curriculum on a shelf into a living, breathing part of our culture.

    Talented teams win games. Disciplined, team-first organizations build dynasties.

    Building a dynasty requires sacrifice. When an educator joins our team, whether they’re a rookie or a seasoned veteran, we ask them to let go of the “I’ve always done it this way” mindset. That’s the equivalent of a player prioritizing their personal stats over a team win.

    It’s a team-first mindset. It’s about a willingness to put personal preference aside to build a championship team. For Chapel Hill ISD, our championship is ensuring every child learns to read.

    Our team-first philosophy has translated into measurable results: Across campuses, students are gaining the foundational skills they need, and data shows growth for every subgroup, including students with dyslexia and multilingual learners. We want students to become a product of our expectations, rather than their environment. Our district, which serves a diverse population, including a high percentage of students classified as low socioeconomic status, consistently scores above the state average in third-grade reading.

    At Wise Elementary, our largest campus[MOU1] , 56% of third graders met grade-level standards, and 23% scored above grade level on the 2023-2024 STARR assessment. And we had similar results across the district.

    So to my fellow education leaders: Before you shop for a new playbook, ensure you have the right team culture in place. Define your culture. Draft the right players. Build your team. Coach your captains. And obsess over the fundamentals.

    That’s how you win.


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  • Everything is Awesome: Legos® to Teach Teamwork and Communication – Faculty Focus

    Everything is Awesome: Legos® to Teach Teamwork and Communication – Faculty Focus

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  • Everything is Awesome: Legos® to Teach Teamwork and Communication – Faculty Focus

    Everything is Awesome: Legos® to Teach Teamwork and Communication – Faculty Focus

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  • Powering college readiness through community partnerships

    Powering college readiness through community partnerships

    Key points:

    Texas faces a widening gap between high school completion and college readiness. Educators are already doing important and demanding work, but closing this gap will require systemic solutions, thoughtful policy, and sustained support to match their efforts.

    A recent American Institutes for Research report shows that just 56.8 percent of Texas’ graduating seniors met a college-readiness standard. Furthermore, 27 percent of rural students attend high schools that don’t offer Advanced Placement (AP) courses. This highlights a significant gap in preparedness and accessibility.

    This summer, distinguished K-12 educators and nonprofit leaders discussed how to better support college-bound students.

    The gap widens

    Among them was Saki Milton, mathematics teacher and founder of The GEMS Camp, a nonprofit serving minority girls in male-dominated studies. She stressed the importance of accessible, rigorous coursework. “If you went somewhere where there’s not a lot of AP offerings or college readiness courses … you’re just not going to be ready. That’s a fact.”

    Additional roundtable participants reminded us that academics alone aren’t enough. Students struggle considerably with crucial soft skills such as communication, time management, and active listening. Many aspiring college-bound students experience feelings of isolation–a disconnect between their lived experiences and a college-ready mentality, often due to the lack of emotional support.

    Says Milton, “How do we teach students to build community for themselves and navigate these institutions, because that’s a huge part? Content and rigor are one thing, but a college’s overall system is another. Emphasizing how to build that local community is huge!”

    “Kids going to college are quitting because they don’t have the emotional support once they get there,” says Karen Medina, director of Out of School Time Programs at Jubilee Park. “They’re not being connected to resources or networking groups that can help them transition to college. They might be used to handling their own schedule and homework, but then they’re like, ‘Who do I go to?’ That’s a lot of the disconnection.”

    David Shallenberger, vice president of advancement at the Boys & Girls Club of Greater Dallas, indicates that the pandemic contributed to that soft skills deficit. “Many students struggled to participate meaningfully in virtual learning, leaving them isolated and without opportunities for authentic interaction. Those young learners are now in high school and will likely struggle to transition to higher education.”

    Purposeful intervention

    These challenges–academic and soft skills gaps–require purposeful intervention.

    Through targeted grants, more than 35,000 North Texas middle and high school students can access college readiness tools. Nonprofit leaders are integrating year-round academic and mentorship support to prepare students academically and emotionally.

    Latoyia Greyer of the Boys & Girls Clubs of Greater Tarrant County introduced a summer program with accompanying scholarship opportunities. The organization is elevating students’ skills through interview practice. Like ours, her vision is to instill confidence in learners.

    Greyer isn’t alone. At the Perot Museum of Nature and Science, Development Officer Elizabeth Card uses the grant to advance college readiness by strengthening its high school internship program. She aims to spark students’ curiosity, introduce rewarding career pathways, and foster a passion for STEM. She also plans to bolster core soft skills through student interactions with museum guests and hands-on biology experiments.

    These collaborative efforts have clarified the message: We can do extraordinary things by partnering. Impactful and sustainable progress in education cannot occur in a vacuum. Grant programs such as the AP Success Grant strengthen learning and build equity, and our partners are the driving force toward changing student outcomes.

    The readiness gap continues to impact Texas students, leaving them at a disadvantage as they transition to college. School districts alone cannot solve this challenge; progress requires active collaboration with nonprofits, businesses, and community stakeholders. The path forward is clear–partnerships have the power to drive meaningful change and positively impact our communities.

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  • Managing Change Is a Skill; Here’s How to Teach It (opinion)

    Managing Change Is a Skill; Here’s How to Teach It (opinion)

    In every sector, including higher education, change has become the defining condition of professional life. Budgets shift, opportunities change, teams reorganize and expectations evolve faster than most of us can keep up. Students, postdocs and seasoned professionals alike are being asked to adapt constantly, often without ever being taught how to do it.

    As directors of career centers, our job is to spot the skills tomorrow’s leaders will need and to design ways to help them build those skills now. At the top of that list is the ability to navigate change and to help others do the same. It’s not a “nice-to-have” skill anymore; it’s part of how one leads, collaborates and makes their own work sustainable.

    We’ve been discussing how to help trainees and professional colleagues negotiate change for a long time. Naledi developed the Straight A’s for Change Management framework through National Science Foundation–funded work focused on training biomedical professionals in people management and managing-up skills. Dinuka has used this approach in his own leadership practice and integrated its lessons into his work supporting trainees and professionals. Together, we wanted to share what this looks like in real life.

    What’s often missing in professional skill development isn’t the outcome; it’s the process. The Straight A’s for Change Management framework offers exactly that. Built on four steps—acknowledge and accept, assess, address, and appreciate achievement—it helps people build agency: the capacity to act skillfully even when they can’t control external events.

    Acknowledge and Accept

    Step one is to acknowledge reality and then accept what it means to and for you.

    Many people we work with, from first-year students to senior leaders, stop short of even this first step. They can acknowledge the problem—funding has been cut, hiring has slowed or their people are struggling with change—but they don’t take the harder step of acceptance.

    Acceptance means internalizing that your long-standing plan or approach may no longer be viable and that you will need to adjust your goals or strategies. It can also mean accepting that you might need support or community beyond your institution to help hold this heavy truth. But this is the inflection point where agency begins: not wishing conditions were different, but accepting the need for you to think and act differently, too.

    For a postdoc, acceptance might mean recognizing that a principal investigator’s funding constraints could shorten the timeline of their project. That realization could prompt them to seek alternative support, accelerate a job search or pivot their research scope. For a student, acceptance might mean realizing that since their adviser’s experience is limited to academic careers, they will need to proactively seek additional mentorship to position themselves for biotech careers.

    For Dinuka, acceptance came during a period of leadership transition. The role he had taken on had quietly shifted beneath him—new expectations, new reporting lines and values that no longer aligned with what drew him to the work in the first place. He agonized over whether to stay and adapt or to acknowledge that something essential had changed. The moment he admitted that reality, uncomfortable as it was, he could finally see a path forward. Acceptance meant reclaiming his agency.

    Reflection Prompts:

    • What change in your environment are you resisting acknowledging?
    • What might acceptance make possible that resistance is currently blocking?
    • Who can help you process this shift with honesty and perspective?

    Assess the Change

    Once you’ve acknowledged and accepted a situation, the next step is to assess it strategically. This is where you shift from emotional reaction to analytical clarity.

    A useful tool here is a SWOT analysis (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats). Ask yourself:

    • Strengths: What are your skills? Where can you leverage them in this situation?
    • Weaknesses: Where are you vulnerable?
    • Opportunities: What new directions might this open?
    • Threats: What could block your goals?

    Answering these questions encourages balance. Some start with weaknesses and threats; others begin with strengths and opportunities. What matters is that you consider all four dimensions.

    It’s also helpful to share your SWOT with a mentor or trusted colleague. Instead of laying out your situation and asking, “What should I do?” you can say, “Here’s how I’m assessing my situation. Can you help me identify what I might be missing?” Tools like a SWOT provide structure for both your reflection and your conversations with those who support you.

    When Dinuka reached this stage, he turned to trusted mentors, colleagues and family members to triangulate perspectives. His SWOT involved asking, what strengths could he draw on if he stayed? Where were the risks if he left? What opportunities might emerge if he stepped away? What threats might come from doing so? Speaking these questions aloud prevented him from getting stuck in his own echo chamber and restored clarity. Assessment gave his uncertainty a shape.

    Reflection Prompts:

    • How fully have you mapped the situation you’re in—emotionally and strategically?
    • Which perspective (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats) do you tend to overemphasize or neglect?
    • Who could provide an outside view to help you see what you might be missing (trusted mentors, colleagues, friends or family members)?

    Address the Change

    To address change is to use what you’ve learned to respond skillfully.

    Sometimes it starts by envisioning your best possible outcome six to 12 months out and working backward from there. Other times it means short-term triage, only figuring out the next logical step rather than solving everything at once. That might mean updating your CV, signing up for job boards or reaching out to a mentor.

    One postdoc Naledi worked with wanted to keep his career options open. In response, he began carving out one hour a week to set up informational interviews with alumni in biotech and communication careers, learning which skills were in demand. With that insight, he added a side project that strengthened his technical skills, focused on service and leadership opportunities to communicate science, and kept his network apprised of his progress.

    In Dinuka’s case, addressing the change meant testing what was still possible before making a decision. He clarified expectations with new leadership, re-aligned priorities and gave the situation space to evolve. When it became clear that the trajectory no longer matched his values or goals, he made the intentional choice to step away. That decision, though difficult, came from a place of calm rather than crisis.

    Addressing change when the future is unclear means shifting from awareness to iterative forward motion, using your definition of integrity as your compass.

    Reflection Prompts:

    • What is one small, concrete step you can take this week to move forward?
    • If you imagine the best version of this situation a year from now, what would need to happen between now and then?
    • How can you act with integrity even when you can’t control outcomes?

    Appreciate Achievements

    The final step, often overlooked, is to appreciate achievements. Many wait for a situation to resolve before celebrating. But change often unfolds over a long arc, and there may never be a moment when everything “returns to normal.”

    That means recognizing that even small wins are a big deal. Did you talk to a friend to process your situation? Celebrate. Did you update your CV? Celebrate. Did you gain greater clarity about your direction? Celebrate!

    Shifting from celebrating only outcomes (a publication, a job offer, a raise) to also celebrating progress, milestones and effort helps sustain momentum and motivation.

    When Dinuka finally left that role, he felt grounded. He appreciated the mentors who guided him, the colleagues who supported him and the lessons learned in difficulty. He celebrated not the exit itself, but the growth that came with it. That sense of gratitude transformed what could have been resentment into renewal.

    Appreciating achievements is not self-indulgent; it is strategic. It focuses attention on what you have accomplished despite uncertainty, which builds confidence to keep going.

    Reflection Prompts:

    • What progress have you made in the past month that you haven’t acknowledged?
    • Whom can you thank or recognize for supporting your journey through change?
    • How do you remind yourself that growth often looks like struggle before success?

    Why Straight A’s Matter

    Taken together, the A’s—acknowledge and accept, assess, address and appreciate achievement—form a road map for agency. We may not control personal setbacks, professional disappointments, shifting organizational priorities, unfair practices or political turbulence. But with every new challenge, we can start responding intentionally, identifying where we can still move.

    Our experiences reinforced that agency is learned through practice. The Straight A’s provide both structure and language for something many of us attempt intuitively: turning uncertainty into direction. The framework accepts complexity and teaches us to meet it with clarity and integrity.

    By practicing the Straight A’s, we build the muscles of agency and leadership. If we teach the next generation of leaders these approaches as part of their training and development, they will be prepared to lead skillfully in a world where the only constant is change.

    Naledi Saul is director of the Office of Career and Professional Development at the University of California, San Francisco, She coaches and frequently presents on people management and managing-up skills for higher education and biomedical audiences.

    Dinuka Gunaratne (he/him) has worked across several postsecondary institutions in Canada and the U.S. and is a member of several organizational boards, including Co-operative Education and Work-Integrated Learning Canada, CERIC—Advancing Career Development in Canada, and the leadership team of the Administrators in Graduate and Professional Student Services knowledge community with NASPA: Student Affairs Administrators in Higher Education.

    They are both members of the Graduate Career Consortium, an organization that provides an international voice for graduate-level career and professional development leaders.

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  • Teach For America Partners with Aspen Institute to Add Policy Training for Rural Educators

    Teach For America Partners with Aspen Institute to Add Policy Training for Rural Educators

    A Teach for America teacher works with a student. Teach for AmericaTeach For America has partnered with the Aspen Institute’s Policy Academy to expand leadership training for rural educators.

    The collaboration adds a four-part policy impact series to TFA’s Rural School Leadership Academy, a yearlong fellowship now in its 13th year. The new curriculum aims to help rural educators influence education policy at the state and national levels while addressing challenges in their local schools.

    Seventy fellows will participate in the policy training this year, learning to connect classroom issues to district and state-level decision-making. Past participants requested more tools to influence the systems affecting rural students, according to TFA.

    “RSLA was created to walk alongside those leaders—helping them grow, connect, and see what’s possible,” said Casey DeFord, managing director of alumni career advancement and field integration at Teach For America. “Our partnership with the Aspen Institute will deepen RSLA’s impact by equipping fellows with the policy skills needed to drive lasting change.”

    The Rural School Leadership Academy selects a cohort of educators annually to receive career development through virtual learning, in-person gatherings, school visits and personalized coaching. The program serves educators at various career stages, from aspiring leaders to experienced principals.

    Betsy Cooper, director of the Aspen Policy Academy, said rural educators bring valuable expertise to policymaking.

    “This partnership will enable educators to address unique challenges in their schools through policy entrepreneurship,” Cooper said.

    Participants who complete the program will receive a co-branded certificate from both organizations.

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  • Can VR Teach Students Ethics?

    Can VR Teach Students Ethics?

    Virtual reality courses have become more common, thanks to the development of new classroom applications for the software and the increased affordability of VR and augmented reality technology for institutions. A 2025 survey of chief technology officers by Inside Higher Ed and Hanover Research found that 14 percent of respondents said their institution has made meaningful investments in virtual reality and immersive learning.

    Past research shows that VR activities benefit student learning by making the classroom more engaging and encouraging creative and entrepreneurial thinking.

    A group of faculty at Pepperdine University in California adapted virtual reality content to teach undergraduates about ethical systems in a practical and applied setting.

    Their research study, published in the Journal of Business and Technical Communication, showed that students who used VR in a case study had a heightened emotional response to the material, which clouded their ability to provide a measured analysis. By comparison, students who watched a straight video about the same case not only expressed empathy for the subjects but also maintained a clear view of their situation.

    How it works: The research study evaluated student learning over the course of two semesters in 2023. Students were presented with three variations of a case study related to the Malibu Community Labor Exchange, a nonprofit organization that helps day laborers and individuals without housing secure work. Students read a news article and watched a VR video or watched a standard video about the lives of workers at the MCLE, which provides a variety of opportunities for individuals in the Los Angeles region. Some watched both VR and a standard video.

    Course content focused primarily on the workers, their personal lives, their role in addressing wildfires in Malibu and the risks they face in fighting fires.

    After watching the materials, students had to connect the ethical questions presented about MCLE’s mission and workers’ conditions with a previously taught lesson about ethicists and their ethical systems, as well as write a recommendation for the organization.

    Faculty reviewed students’ responses to identify whether they exhibited appropriate reasoning about ethical systems and whether their recommendations reflected their ability to interpret the content.

    The takeaways: In their reflections, students underscored the way videos exposed them to someone else’s circumstances and realities, saying the content felt very authentic. But those who used VR were more likely to say the format was distracting than those who saw only videos.

    Students who watched the standard video said it helped them expand their understanding of the organization, its members and the context of the work in an emotional and logical way. They wrote that they felt empathetic and had a richer sense of the work being done.

    “The video was very raw. It didn’t glamorize or have fantastic editing. It showed us exactly what it is like for these workers,” one student wrote.

    For some students, the VR video was more powerful because it was more “shocking and realistic than seeing the video in normal format,” one course participant wrote. Instructors noted students were almost too personally affected by the first-person vantage point to talk about the organization and the ethical systems from an objective or factual perspective.

    Students who watched only the VR were also more likely to conflate the experience with reality, calling it a “true view” instead of a representation or interpretation of events; students who watched a standard video as well as the VR version had a more balanced perspective.

    Based on their findings, researchers suggest that using both standard and VR videos that require students to reflect, analyze and recommend solutions can increase students’ “practical wisdom,” or balancing cognition and emotion for ethical action, as researchers defined it.

    “Rather than assuming that students know how to critically evaluate visual messages and their emotions, we need to intentionally teach students how to develop visual literacy and practical wisdom, especially by using VR video,” researchers wrote in the article.

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