Reaching our students requires us to see our students.

Creating a reality where the magic in school exists for students starts with what we see. This vision appeared during my second year in education. After graduating from college at James Madison University (Go Dukes!) I had two choices: move back to New Jersey for a remote job or head to New Orleans with Teach For America. 

I chose the latter and found myself at an elementary school called KIPP Central City Primary. Our school had a unique layout shaped like a square with an opening in the center. So in the early morning, you could catch the pink sky over the Superdome and the city.  

During my second year there (I'll save the first year's stories for another post), I was an interventionist and co-teacher in first grade. They loved read-aloud books, especially those about Pete the Cat. My mother brought Pete the Cat and His Cool Blue Magic Sunglasses during one of her visits. 

In this book, Pete's having a difficult time; nothing goes his way until he runs into a frog. This frog gives him a pair of cool blue magic sunglasses. He tells Pete that when he puts them on, all his problems and worries will disappear. So, Pete puts these sunglasses on, and it works! The birds are singing, the sky is bright, the sun is shining, and everything's alright.

Tragically, Pete's glasses break. He is devastated. Suddenly, a wise owl appears and gives him advice. He says, "Pete, you don't need magic sunglasses to see things in a new way. Just remember to look for the good in every day." 

At that moment, tears began to well up in my eyes. It reminded me of a quote that grounds my purpose as an educator:

"I believe all educators if they are to become effective teachers of their students, need to confront tough questions about their identities and motivations; they need to think about why they do things as they do and ask if there might be a better way of reaching their students; they need to reflect on how a word gesture or an action might inspire or wound for life. Simply learning the 'tricks of the trade,' or the latest strategy or fad is not enough to keep teachers engaged and successful in their work."

-Sonia Nieto

The challenges that make me want to keep those glasses on are the tough questions about my identity and motivation, reflecting on why I do things as I do, or how a word, gesture, or action might inspire or wound a scholar for life. However, taking them off always leads to a better way of reaching them. 

Reaching our students requires us to see our students. To look beyond the shade, we have to remove our sunglasses. At that moment in my educational journey, I saw Jarnell. 

The first time I met Jarnell, he sat at my U-Table in August with a big smile that showed two missing front teeth. He began first grade at a Kindergarten level in all subject areas. Many teachers would describe him as "busy." Throughout the school day, you could find Jarnell flying his pencil in the air like an airplane or making tall towers with his Unifix cubes. His name was heard repeatedly as a reminder to focus and stay on task. The task of supporting him in math confronted me as his interventionist. 

As his interventionist, though, Jarnell pushed me to think outside the box to make my lessons more fun and meet his needs. For example, we used a magic marker and bag of numbers to fill in our missing hundreds chart or physically ate the cookies to understand the subtraction action. If Jarnell was engaged, I knew I could pat myself on the back for lesson planning. 

Soon the pencil airplane flew down on his paper to represent the strategy he used to solve with what used to be cube towers. Frequently he would say, “Ms. Luciano, the magic bag told me the number!" I consistently responded, "No, Jarnell, your brain did that, and I'm so proud of you." One day, he finally looked at me and asked, "Why do you always tell me you are so proud of me?"

In May, Jarnell stood across from me at my U-table with a big smile that showed all his teeth. This time, he held a goals sheet in front of him with a sticker in each box. He achieved mastery of both Kindergarten and first-grade math standards. I often reflect on the outcome if I had not seen Jarnell that year, but more importantly, what would he have not seen within himself?

As educators, there are days when we want to keep our cool, blue, magic sunglasses on to hide the realities in front of us. But if we want to be bold enough to discover what other educators may choose to deny, we must take them off. We must confront the difficult questions about our identities and intentions, the why behind our actions, and how even the slightest interaction might encourage or discourage a student. 

I could have seen Jarnell as busy or brilliant; it all mattered whether or not I had those sunglasses on. From my perspective, Jarnell was brilliant, and his brilliance helped me discover a better way of reaching my students. 

The next time you need to put those cool, blue, magic sunglasses on, I urge you to consider the following question: if we do not see a student, what would they not see within themselves?

Every afternoon to this day, I reflect during my commute home. Rarely do these reflections include how I can teach two-syllable words or place value differently. Instead, I consider my interactions with students, my words, gestures, and actions, and whether or not they inspired or wounded someone. Reaching our students requires us to see our students; to do that, we must be willing to see ourselves first. 

Then, I hear the words of the wise owl reminding me again as it says, “Ms. Luciano, you don't need magic sunglasses to see things in a new way. Just remember to look for the good in every day." And the good always centers on how I will connect with my students in even better ways tomorrow. 

So, when you take off your sunglasses, what do you see?