reflective practice

A year ago, Angela left the classroom to spread one idea: we were never meant to teach alone. This is the personal story behind that conviction — how a shared office in Indonesia changed everything, how losing it in South Africa proved community isn't automatic, and why, twenty years in, she still believes one trusted colleague is where it all begins.

Every teacher has one. The student who stays with them through summer — the one they wish they could have done differently for. This post is an invitation to name that student, sit with what they taught you, and take one step forward. Because the guilt isn't the problem. The silence is. And you were never meant to figure it out alone.

A year into leaving the classroom, here's what I've learned: no one does anything worthwhile alone. This summer, I'm noticing it everywhere — on playgrounds, in restaurants, at airports. Systems that hum without a director. Communities that form without a memo. If it's true out there in the world... why are so many teachers still trying to do it alone in their classrooms?

What if one quiet minute could change a school? This post is a love letter to the blue-sky thinkers in education — the teachers who dare to dream, and the colleagues who say "sure, let's try." As the year winds down, it's worth asking: what ideas stayed with you this year? And what are you doing with them now?

I was certain. The system agreed. And we were both wrong. This is the story of my son Xavier and his classmate Hyun Ki, two boys whose Grade 2 reputation followed them straight into Grade 3, because Margie and I built a belief together and never thought to challenge it. What happened next is the best argument I have for why learning communities need more than two voices in the room.

I didn't notice I was missing her until the third time it happened. Michiko was a good kid — easy to overlook, and I was overlooking her. This is the story of what I did when I realized I couldn't fix it alone, and what a Japanese airport taught me about why one teacher is always a single point of failure.

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.