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The Backstory When I was hired in Abu Dhabi, I was told I would be joining the Grade 3 learning community team. On paper, it sounded exciting because I've done this before. In reality, it was daunting because the school was just beginning to embrace the learning community hive model as a way of teaching and learning. Our team make-up demonstrated this newness: we were four classroom teachers, supported by two learning support teachers, two instructional assistants, and a coun

Learning communities helped us break out of silos. But what’s emerging in schools now is bigger than collaboration. As we step into 2026, it’s time to name what thriving schools are actually building: a Human, Interconnected, Values-Driven Ecosystem — a living, learning HIVE. This post marks a shift in language, identity, and purpose — from community to creatio

This week I share my WHY! There comes a point when educators can’t whisper what they know is true. I’m stepping into my voice: learning communities revived my love of teaching, revealed what students truly need, and showed me how collaboration can help every child and teacher thrive. This is the work I choose, fully and unapologetically.

This year I stepped out of the classroom and bet on myself, not knowing what would unfold. What I found was clarity, courage, and a community that held me through the leap. As I supported teams around the world, I witnessed collective wins that reminded me why learning communities matter and why collaboration transforms everything. As we close the year, I am reflecting on growth, gratitude, and the power of doing this work together.

Celebration in a learning community isn’t reserved for performances, showcases, or Spirit Days. It lives in the everyday moments that help students and teachers feel seen. From a colleague bringing a morning tea to a team rallying behind a hesitant learner, celebration becomes the culture, not the event. And when it is woven into the fabric of how we work together, it strengthens belonging in ways no checklist or curriculum ever could.

The weeks before a holiday break can feel equal parts joyful and chaotic. Students are buzzing, teachers are stretched, and the calendar is packed. But learning communities don’t lose momentum—they channel it. By celebrating small wins, protecting essential learning, supporting each other honestly, and planting seeds for January, teams finish strong without burning out. A great end to the year isn’t about doing more—it’s about doing it together.

In every school, there’s a truth we don’t talk about enough: sometimes the hardest part of collaboration isn’t the work — it’s a teammate. Teaching is human, and humans bring history, fear, pride, and resistance. I once worked with a colleague who pushed against every part of our learning community model. I couldn’t change him, but I learned how to change the conditions around him. This is a story about navigating resistance, protecting the team, and doing the hard things tha

No one, except your team, sees the meetings, shared notes, or quiet compromises—but they feel the outcomes: community, consistency, safety, and belonging. The invisible work is the real work that builds trust and community.

True community isn’t measured by how we plan together, but by how we hold one another when plans fall apart. Two years ago, when I got the call that my mom didn’t have many days left, my team showed me what true community looks like. They didn’t just cover for me—they carried me.

When leadership stops being something granted and becomes something grown, the culture of a school shifts. In our final years at the Western Academy of Beijing, our team gave up our individual spaces, blurred the lines between roles, and built a community office where every voice mattered. That’s when shared leadership stopped being a structure—and became who we were.

We all have biases — even in the classroom. The difference is whether they go unchecked or are challenged. In a learning community, shared and co-teaching offers a built-in safeguard: multiple eyes, multiple perspectives, and a chance for every student to be seen anew.

In a learning community, grouping students isn’t random — it’s intentional, flexible, and designed to maximize growth, collaboration, and belonging. This week, explore how thoughtful groupings can transform learning for both students and teachers.

In a true learning community, professional development isn’t an event — it’s a way of teaching and learning together. Discover how everyday collaboration transforms teachers into continuous learners.

A hallway encounter between two brothers answers the question “Why learning communities?”—and reframes it as “Why not?” Because in a true community, no child is invisible.

A day in the life of a thriving learning community—where intentional interactions turn people and parts into a team that grows together.

Note to the reader: This post is part of a series using the People, Parts, Interactions  thinking routine from Harvard’s Project Zero . Last week, I wrote about People  as the heart of a learning community . This week, let's zoom in on the Parts . Looking at schools through a “parts” lens helps shift the conversation from “this is a great idea” to “this is actually manageable—and here’s how to do it.” Every school already has a lot of moving parts. The key is to make them vis

People are the heartbeat of a learning community. Multiple teachers and mentors give students a fuller picture of themselves. Collaboration ensures flexible support, shared observation, and real-time professional growth. When adults work together, students thrive, and the team becomes a dynamic, responsive system.

Teaching in isolation leaves students unseen and teachers overworked. Learning communities flip the script: multiple adults share responsibility, insights, and care, ensuring every child is visible and supported. Using frameworks like People, Parts, and Interactions (PPI) helps teams organize roles, structures, and collaboration. Start small, focus on the right people, and let shared practices evolve. Momentum, not perfection, creates belonging.

Language shapes how students are seen. In a learning community, “my students” becomes “our students,” classrooms become shared spaces, and every adult is a mentor. Letting go of ownership creates belonging, ensures no child is defined by reputation alone, and strengthens collective efficacy.

Sven wouldn’t speak at school, but in a robotics lab, he found his voice. Multiple adults and peers created space for observation, experimentation, and support. In a learning community, no teacher carries the responsibility alone—students are seen, supported, and given room to grow in ways one adult could never facilitate.