Schools Are Not Factories: A Critical Approach for New Teachers

Teaching today is shaped by profound pressures and profound possibilities. New teachers are often handed an overwhelming list of strategies, tools, and techniques and told that their effectiveness depends on how well they “manage” classrooms, implement programs, raise test scores, or integrate technology (Au, 2011; Nichols & Berliner, 2007). Yet the real work of teaching is far more human, relational, and communal than any checklist suggests. Classrooms are living social environments; they reflect the communities, histories, and structural conditions in which they exist (Darling-Hammond, 2010; Ladson-Billings, 2006). Students arrive carrying rich identities and sometimes contradictory responses to schooling, a result of navigating complex social realities shaped by inequity, cultural experience, and institutional pressures (Nasir et al., 2020; Noguera, 2008). This guide offers a different starting point: an invitation to see teaching not as mastering techniques, but as understanding and shaping the conditions for collective inquiry, trust, and growth. It encourages new educators to recognize both the limits and the possibilities of their role, to see themselves as part of a larger community of learners, and to build classrooms rooted in dignity, curiosity, and justice (Bryk & Schneider, 2002; Freire, 2018).

Students collaborating in a dynamic learning environment

Begin With the Real Conditions of Your Classroom

New teachers are often told that effective practice begins with choosing “the right” resources, strategies, or technologies. This advice, while well-intentioned, subtly assumes that teaching is primarily about selecting and applying techniques. It treats classrooms as neutral containers, as though the teacher’s job were simply to populate them with appropriate materials and manage student behavior toward predetermined ends.

A more grounded and modern perspective begins instead with the real conditions you inherit when you walk into a classroom. These conditions are not obstacles to good teaching. They are the starting point of good teaching. They are social, material, emotional, historical, and institutional.

Internal Conditions: The Human Landscape of the Classroom

Internal classroom conditions involve the lived experiences, histories, and relationships present among students and between students and the teacher. These include:

1. Students’ prior knowledge and experiences

   Students come with different academic backgrounds, linguistic repertoires, and ways of making sense of the world. These variations shape how they participate, what they value, and how they respond to instruction (Gay, 2018; Ladson-Billings, 2021).

2. Classroom culture and norms

   Classrooms already have rhythms, patterns, and habits, sometimes visible, sometimes tacit. Students’ relationships with each other, expectations about participation, and collective memories of previous teachers all shape how learning unfolds (Cohen et al., 2014).

3. Emotional climate

   Students’ identities, self-perceptions, and experiences with schooling, especially experiences of marginalization, directly influence engagement and trust (Nasir et al., 2020).

4. The teacher–student relationship as an authority relationship Teaching always involves a relationship of authority, but not all authority operates the same way. Authority can be:

a.) positional, where students comply because of institutional role,

b.) relational, where authority emerges from trust, credibility, and care (Bryk & Schneider, 2002), or

c.) co-constructed, where students participate in shaping classroom expectations.

Understanding the nature of this authority relationship is critical, because it directly shapes classroom dynamics, levels of participation, and the emotional safety needed for intellectual risk-taking (Biesta, 2015). Recognizing internal conditions shifts the question from “Which strategy should I pick?” to “Who are these students, and what do they need right now?”

External Conditions: The Structures Surrounding the Classroom

Classrooms are located within larger systems. Schools, districts, communities, and policy environments shape what teachers can do.

External conditions include:

• School policies, routines, and organizational patterns

Testing schedules, pull-outs, pacing guides, and daily disruptions all influence whether instruction is sustained, fragmented, or rushed (Au, 2011).

• Curriculum platforms and required technologies

In many schools, digital systems (e.g., adaptive learning platforms, surveillance technologies) structure how students demonstrate learning and how teachers track progress. These systems privilege certain forms of learning while obscuring others (Williamson, 2021).

• Community histories and material realities

Neighborhood histories, resource inequities, housing stability, employment patterns, and exposure to environmental stressors all shape students’ readiness to learn and their relationship to school (Warren, 2018).

• Policy environments and accountability systems

Standardized testing, teacher evaluation systems, and district mandates put pressure on classrooms in ways that shape instructional choices, often narrowing curriculum and reducing time for inquiry (Nichols & Berliner, 2007).

These external conditions are not separate from teaching. They are part of the everyday environment that teachers and students must navigate. A modern approach recognizes that no pedagogical strategy can be understood apart from the structures that surround it.

Why Starting With Real Conditions Matters

Beginning with real conditions does not limit what you can do. It clarifies what is possible and ensures that instructional decisions:

support real students, not hypothetical ones;

respond to the actual opportunities and constraints you face;

acknowledge the interpersonal and structural forces shaping learning; and

avoid blaming yourself or students for challenges rooted in larger systems.

When new teachers understand the conditions of their classroom, the work of selecting resources or strategies becomes purposeful rather than mechanical. Instead of relying on generic “best practices,” teachers design learning experiences that resonate with their specific human and institutional context. Teaching becomes a responsive, relational, and context-aware profession, not an exercise in managing techniques.

Treat Learning as a Social Process, Not an Individual Task

New teachers are routinely introduced to an instructional world organized around individual tasks, individual data points, and the search for the “right” tools: a graphic organizer, a scaffold, a platform, a behavior chart, an app. This creates the impression that learning is something that happens inside each student’s head, and that the teacher’s role is to identify and deliver the perfect support to each isolated learner.

But decades of research show that learning is fundamentally social, shaped not only by students’ individual cognition but also by their interactions, relationships, participation in community, and shared problem-solving (Sfard, 1998; Lave & Wenger, 1991). A modern approach to teaching begins by acknowledging this social character and leveraging it toward richer, more humane classroom practice.

Learning Emerges Through Interaction, Not Isolation

Students rarely learn in solitude. Even when working “independently,” they draw on cultural resources, linguistic repertoires, peer perspectives, and collective histories (Gutiérrez & Rogoff, 2003). The tools we give students, such as organizers, platforms, sentence stems, matter far less than the social activity in which those tools are taken up.

Rather than asking whether a learning tool is “research-based,” it is more useful to ask:

How does this tool structure student interaction?

Does it open space for shared inquiry, or isolate students into parallel tasks?

Does it help students learn from each other, or simply capture data points about them?

This shift redirects pedagogical attention from materials to relations, from designing tasks to designing collective activity.

Learning as Participation, Not Just Acquisition

Traditional frameworks treat learning as the acquisition of skills or concepts, but sociocultural theorists describe learning as participation in shared practices and communities of meaning (Lave & Wenger, 1991; Rogoff, 2003). From this perspective, what matters most is not whether a student “got” the content after a scaffold, but:

how they engaged with peers,

how they contributed to collective problem-solving,

how their identity as a learner grew through participation.

This reframing encourages teachers to:

Observe how students take up roles in group discussions.

Notice who speaks, who hesitates, and why.

Attend to how students orient toward each other and toward shared tasks.

The teacher becomes a facilitator of socially meaningful activity, not a distributor of discrete supports.

The Centrality of Relationships in Learning

Strong teacher–student and peer relationships are not “extra,” they are the medium through which academic learning travels (Hamre & Pianta, 2006; J. Y. Lee, 2012). Belonging, trust, and mutual respect shape whether students take intellectual risks, ask questions, or seek help.

When we focus too heavily on tools, we risk neglecting the relational foundation that makes any tool effective. Conversely, when we attend to relationships:

students feel known, seen, and valued;

classroom talk becomes more authentic;

peer collaboration deepens;

discipline becomes less about control and more about shared norms.

Every tool functions differently in the hands of students with strong relational bonds than in environments where trust is thin. The teacher’s relational posture toward curiosity, humility, respect, is itself a pedagogical resource more powerful than any software.

Seeing the Social Dynamics Beneath Participation

Patterns of participation are rarely random. They follow predictable lines shaped by:

status dynamics,

racial/linguistic hierarchies,

gender norms,

ability labels,

friendships and conflicts,

students’ prior experiences with schooling.

These social dynamics influence who volunteers answers, who shrinks back, who helps peers, and who withdraws when challenged. New teachers often look for strategies to “get everyone involved,” but the more useful question is: “What social forces are shaping participation, and how can I shift those conditions?”

For example: A quiet student may speak more when paired with a trusted classmate. A dominant student may contribute more thoughtfully when given a specific collaborative role. Students marginalized by academic narratives may engage more deeply when tasks connect to their lived experiences. Teaching becomes a process of designing social arrangements that produce equitable participation, not simply adding scaffolds.

Moving From “Picking Tools” to “Creating Conditions”

When teachers see learning as a social process, the task of resource selection becomes secondary to the design of the conditions in which learning happens:

How are students grouped, and why?

What norms define talk, help, and disagreement?

What shared problems are students working on?

How are cultural and experiential resources brought into the classroom?

Where is there space for collective meaning-making?

Tools matter only insofar as they serve these deeper purposes.

Teaching becomes less about What should I assign today? and more about: “How do I shape a learning environment where students can think, talk, struggle, and succeed together?”

Recognize That Students Come With Contradictions, And That’s Not a Problem

New teachers often encounter student behavior that seems inconsistent: a student who is talkative one day and withdrawn the next; a student who cares intensely about grades but shows little interest in learning; a student who displays brilliance on one task and complete disengagement on another. When teachers are unprepared for these contradictions, they may interpret them as signs of laziness, disrespect, or deficits in character or motivation.

But contradictions are normal, not deficiencies. They are expressions of how students navigate the complex realities of schooling. Realities shaped by social inequities, cultural histories, structural barriers, and students’ lived experiences. Rather than asking, “What’s wrong with this student?” a more generative stance asks, “What is this student responding to, and what does this response reveal about their conditions?”

Student Motivation Is Not a Fixed Trait

Many teacher-preparation frameworks treat “motivation” as something students possess in greater or lesser amounts, which teachers must “increase” using strategies or tools. But research shows motivation is not an inherent property. It is situational, shaped by context, experience, and the perceived purpose of school (Deci & Ryan, 2000; Walton & Wilson, 2018).

Students may:

care deeply about their future but distrust school as an institution,

value learning in general but find classroom tasks inauthentic,

crave psychological safety but avoid participation to protect themselves.

These are not contradictions in the student, they are contradictions in the conditions in which the student is asked to learn. A modern teacher recognizes that motivation emerges from relationships, relevance, and perceived fairness, not from student traits.

Contradictions Are Rational Responses to Historical and Structural Conditions

Students’ seemingly contradictory behaviors often reflect the structural conditions shaping their lives. For example: When students are disengaged from decontextualized tasks, they may be asserting their agency within a system they experience as prescriptive or irrelevant (Moll & Ruiz, 2002). When students prioritize grades over learning, they are responding rationally to a system that rewards compliance and penalizes risk (Au, 2011). When students resist authority, they may be navigating experiences of marginalization, surveillance, or inequitable discipline practices (Noguera, 2008).

Understanding these dynamics prevents teachers from internalizing deficit narratives about students, helping them instead see behavior as informative data about the student’s lived conditions.

Students Hold Multiple, Sometimes Conflicting, Identities, And They Are All Real

A student can be simultaneously:

a dedicated caretaker of siblings,

a talented mathematician,

exhausted from late-night responsibilities,

skeptical of institutional promises,

deeply creative,

and wary of showing vulnerability.

Students bring multiple identities into the classroom, shaped by their communities, cultures, and histories (Nasir et al., 2020; Holland et al., 1998). These identities do not align neatly, and that is not a failure. It is part of being human. New teachers benefit from remembering: Contradictions in identity are not evidence of inconsistency; they are evidence of complexity.

Reframing Contradictions as Entry Points for Relationship-Building

Instead of interpreting contradictions as problems to solve, teachers can see them as openings: A student who avoids a difficult task may be signaling fear of embarrassment or previous experiences with failure. A student who “does nothing” during group work may not understand expectations or may be navigating social status hierarchies. A student who is highly grade-oriented may feel pressure from family or perceive grades as the only mechanism of future access.

In all these cases, the contradiction points toward a deeper story, guiding the teacher toward more empathetic, informed relational work. The question shifts from “How do I fix this?” to “What is this student trying to protect?”

Embrace Contradictions as Part of Human Development

Finally, contradictions are not obstacles. They are growth edges. They show teachers where students are negotiating identity, agency, safety, and aspiration. Leaning into this complexity allows teachers to design learning experiences that:

acknowledge students’ lived realities,

affirm their cultural and emotional worlds,

invite them into collective meaning-making, and

expand their sense of what is possible.

A new teacher who approaches contradictions with curiosity rather than judgment creates space for students to engage more deeply, take intellectual risks, and see themselves as valued members of the learning community. The contradictions students bring are not problems to be solved. They are windows into their humanity.

Understand Technology as a Tool With a Purpose, Not an Automatic Good

New teachers quickly learn that schools often celebrate new technologies. Adaptive learning platforms, behavior-tracking dashboards, learning-management systems, tablets, and AI-assisted tools, are presented as solutions to instructional challenges. The implicit message is that technology is inherently modern, innovative, and efficient, and that good teaching means integrating the latest apps into classroom practice.

But technology is not neutral. It is designed with a purpose, shaped by commercial interests and embedded within particular visions of learning and schooling (Selwyn, 2016; Williamson, 2021). Tools amplify some practices and obscure others; they create new possibilities while foreclosing alternatives. A thoughtful teacher does not ask, “How can I use more technology?” but instead, “What vision of learning does this tool embody, and does that vision match the needs of my students?”

Technology Is Not Independent of Values or Assumptions

Every educational technology carries assumptions about:

how learning happens,

what should be measured,

how knowledge should be organized, and

what counts as success.

For example: Adaptive platforms tend to treat learning as a sequence of discrete, measurable skills (König et al., 2022). Behavior-tracking software frames student conduct as data points to be analyzed, not social interactions shaped by context (Manolev et al., 2019). Surveillance tools such as screen-monitoring programs position students as potential rule-breakers needing constant oversight (Selwyn, 2021).

None of these assumptions are inherently “wrong,” but they must be recognized and evaluated based on who they serve. Technology encodes a theory of learning, and teachers must decide if that theory fits their students, their pedagogy, and their community.

Technology Can Support Understanding...or Shortcut It

Digital tools can deepen learning when they help students visualize complex ideas, collaborate creatively, or access new forms of expression (Ito et al., 2020). But the same tools can also bypass cognitive struggle or reduce learning to task completion.

Examples include: Students using apps that automatically solve math problems, bypassing conceptual reasoning. Platforms that encourage students to “grind” for points or badges rather than engage meaningfully with content (Lee & Hammer, 2011). Dashboards that focus teachers’ attention on completion metrics instead of student thinking. In these cases, technology may produce the appearance of learning without the underlying understanding.

Teachers should pay close attention to:

whether tools prompt students to think,

whether they invite conversation or suppress it,

and whether they support struggle as part of learning.

Technology Shapes Relationships, Sometimes in Unintended Ways

When technology becomes a mediator between teacher and student, it can change relational dynamics:

Automated feedback replaces human dialogue.

Communication shifts from face-to-face conversation to digital messaging.

Monitoring tools create a dynamic of suspicion rather than trust (Hope, 2016).

These relational shifts matter because relationships, not devices, are the core medium of learning (Hamre & Pianta, 2006). A teacher must ask:

Does this tool help me connect with students, or does it put more distance between us?

Does it build trust, or does it communicate distrust?

Does it support collaboration, or isolate students at screens?

Critical reflection helps ensure technology supports rather than weakens the relational foundation of the classroom.

Technology Can Produce Inequities Even When Aimed at Innovation

Educational technologies often reproduce or intensify existing inequities, despite promises of personalization or access (Reich, 2020).

These inequities appear in several ways:

• Datafication and surveillance disproportionately affect marginalized students

Tools that track behavior, attendance, or engagement often do so in ways that target students already under scrutiny (Manolev et al., 2019).

• Algorithmic decision-making can reinforce bias

Adaptive learning systems may unintentionally replicate inequitable assumptions about ability or readiness (O’Neil, 2016).

• Platform access is uneven

Students with limited connectivity or digital literacy are disadvantaged by assignments that assume constant access (Reich, 2020).

Understanding these dynamics helps teachers avoid uncritical adoption of technologies that may harm the very students they aim to support.

Using Technology Purposefully Means Centering Human Learning, Not Digital Efficiency

The question for teachers is not whether to use technology, but how and why.

A purposeful approach:

starts with learning goals, not features;

centers conversation, collaboration, and meaning, not dashboards;

treats tech as supplementary, not foundational;

uses digital tools to extend student agency, not constrain it;

evaluates tools based on how they shape relationships, thinking, and participation.

The goal is not to make technology invisible, but to ensure it serves human learning rather than replacing it.

Reframing Classroom Management as Community-Building

New teachers are often taught that classroom management is primarily about establishing control, enforcing routines, and maintaining order. Management frameworks frequently emphasize compliance, silence, and efficiency. They implicitly frame students as potential disruptions and teachers as technicians whose role is to prevent misbehavior through rules, consequences, and procedures.

But classrooms are not factories. They are human communities. And students’ behavior cannot be separated from the social, material, and institutional conditions in which they learn. A modern approach sees “classroom management” not as a system of control but as the ongoing work of building and sustaining community. Work that is both relational and collective, both inside and beyond the school walls.

Classroom Management Begins With Understanding Students' Conditions, Not Correcting Their Behavior

Standard approaches assume that misbehavior arises from deficits—poor motivation, lack of self-regulation, “attitude.” Research overwhelmingly contradicts this.

Students’ behavior is shaped by:

access to resources,

prior experiences with institutional authority,

trauma and stressors,

cultural norms around communication,

relationships with peers and adults, and

perceptions of fairness and safety (Gregory & Fergus, 2017; Milner, 2018).

These are structural, not individual phenomena. When teachers approach management as behavior correction without understanding these conditions, they risk misinterpreting rational reactions to inequitable systems as personal flaws.

Trust and Belonging Are More Powerful Than Rules

Educational research is clear: strong relationships, trust, and belonging reduce challenging behaviors far more effectively than compliance-based systems (Bryk & Schneider, 2002; Hamre & Pianta, 2006). Students engage more deeply and behave more responsibly when they feel:

respected,

seen and known,

safe from humiliation,

connected to peers, and

confident that their voices matter.

No consequence system can substitute for relational trust. Community-building creates the psychological safety needed for learning.

Management Is Collective, Not Individual: Students Shape Each Other’s Behavior

Traditional behavior charts, token economies, and individualized disciplinary plans treat behavior as something each student must control independently. But classrooms are inherently social ecologies. Students respond to peer expectations, group norms, shared histories, and the emotional climate.

A modern approach acknowledges that:

disruptive behavior often spreads when social norms are unclear or unjust;

collaborative routines reduce misbehavior by giving students meaningful roles;

collective problem-solving helps students develop agency and responsibility.

Community-building means designing environments where students co-create norms, not simply follow teacher-imposed rules (Cohen et al., 2014).

Institutional Obstacles to Community-Building: What New Teachers Need to Know

Even the strongest relational practice can be undermined by structural factors outside a teacher’s control:

high-stakes testing pressure that reduces time for community-building;

scripted curricula or pacing guides that limit relational flexibility;

chronic interruptions, pull-outs, and institutional fragmentation;

overcrowded classrooms or inconsistent staffing;

behavior policies with punitive or exclusionary logics;

inadequate mental health supports;

digital surveillance tools that frame students as risks to be controlled (Hope, 2016).

These are not failures of individual teachers, they are systemic obstacles.

Recognizing these conditions helps new teachers understand:

why community-building is difficult,

why “behavior problems” persist even in well-run classrooms,

and why teacher burnout is often rooted in structural contradictions rather than personal shortcomings.

The Classroom Is Not an Island: Community-Building Requires Collective Action

Teachers are often told to “fix” classroom climate individually, but no single teacher can overcome structural inequities alone. Real community-building requires collective efforts among:

educators working together to redesign school norms and policies,

families and communities advocating for equitable resources,

students participating in democratic decision-making,

and the public defending public education as a common good.

Research shows that school cultures improve when educators collectively develop shared norms rooted in trust and relational justice (Theoharis, 2007). Likewise, social movements that center community voice and educational justice are crucial for creating the external conditions in which classrooms can thrive (Warren, 2018).

A modern definition of classroom management recognizes that learning environments are not produced by individual teachers alone. They are shaped by collective agency within and beyond the school.

Classroom Community-Building Is a Political as Well as Pedagogical Act

To treat classroom management as community-building means taking seriously that public education is a public responsibility. When students are denied stable housing, equitable funding, healthcare, and safe communities, learning conditions suffer (Darling-Hammond, 2010; Warren, 2018). When schools are overpoliced or under-resourced, behavior issues are symptoms of social neglect, not individual failure (Noguera, 2008; Gregory & Fergus, 2017). Research consistently shows that inequitable conditions, such as poverty, segregation, underfunding, and punitive systems shape student behavior long before they enter the classroom (Ladson-Billings, 2006; Berliner, 2013).

A modern teacher understands that:

defending students means defending their rights,

building classroom community means advocating for structural supports,

and teaching is inseparable from participating in a broader struggle for a humane and democratic public education system (Freire, 2018; Theoharis, 2007; Fabricant & Fine, 2015).

Teachers do not need to become activists overnight. But they do need to understand that classroom community-building is fragile when the broader community is under strain, and strong when educators and communities work together toward justice and shared prosperity (Bryk & Schneider, 2002; Warren, 2018).

Recognize That Your Work Is Shaped by Forces Beyond Your Classroom

New teachers often enter the profession believing that effectiveness depends almost entirely on their personal effort, skill, enthusiasm, or commitment. When lessons fall flat, students disengage, or learning seems uneven, novices frequently blame themselves. Teacher preparation programs and popular discourse reinforce this burden by suggesting that with enough creativity, dedication, or “passion,” a teacher can overcome any obstacle (Santoro, 2018).

But teaching is not an individualistic endeavor. It is shaped and constrained, by historical, institutional, and societal forces far beyond the control of any single educator (Au, 2011; Nichols & Berliner, 2007; Noguera, 2008). Recognizing this is not an excuse for complacency; it is an invitation to understand the conditions of your work more deeply and to release yourself from unrealistic, unfair, and isolating expectations.

Structural Factors, Not Personal Failure, Shape Much of What Happens in Classrooms

Research consistently shows that factors like school funding, class size, access to resources, community stability, and institutional climate have powerful effects on student learning, often more powerful than individual teacher effort alone (Darling-Hammond, 2010; Berliner, 2013). Inequities in housing, healthcare, food access, and neighborhood safety directly shape students’ ability to focus, participate, and thrive in school (Warren, 2018).

When students struggle, it is rarely because their teacher “failed.” It is more often because:

the school lacks adequate staffing or support services,

instructional time is interrupted by testing, pull-outs, or crises,

curriculum resources do not reflect students’ cultures or realities,

classroom sizes or caseloads are too large to personalize support,

mental health services are understaffed or inaccessible,

or students are navigating heavy responsibilities and stresses outside school.

Understanding these systemic influences allows teachers to respond with compassion rather than self-blame.

Accountability Systems Can Distort Teachers’ Sense of Effectiveness

High-stakes testing, teacher evaluation frameworks, and data dashboards create pressures that can make teachers feel responsible for outcomes they cannot fully control. Research shows that accountability systems often narrow curriculum, incentivize superficial learning, and produce anxiety for both students and teachers (Nichols & Berliner, 2007; Au, 2011).

When test results or data trends do not match your effort, it does not mean you are ineffective. It means the metrics themselves capture only a thin slice of what learning is, and often reflect structural inequities rather than teacher quality. Recognizing this frees teachers from internalizing the distortions of accountability culture.

Institutional Policies and Daily Routines Shape Learning in Profound Ways

New teachers often discover that schooling is tightly shaped by:

bell schedules,

pacing calendars,

mandated curricula,

tech platform requirements,

special education caseload distribution,

student pull-out programs,

discipline policies,

staffing shortages, and

the building’s organizational culture.

These routines and constraints affect what is possible during any given lesson (Cohen et al., 2014). You may have a brilliant plan, but if half the class is pulled out for testing, if technology fails, or if students arrive stressed from earlier disruptions, learning will unfold differently. This is not a reflection of your ability. It is a reflection of systemic design.

Teachers Work Within Long Histories of Inequity, Not Separate From Them

Schools in the United States reflect broader social histories: racial segregation, unequal funding, linguistic marginalization, and the uneven distribution of resources and opportunities (Ladson-Billings, 2006). These histories continue to shape:

class composition,

student experience,

disciplinary patterns,

access to advanced coursework,

and community trust in public institutions.

New teachers entering these contexts must understand that students’ responses are shaped by present realities and historical memory. Students who appear disengaged may be navigating long-standing inequities in how their communities have been treated.

Understanding this history allows teachers to respond with empathy instead of frustration, and to see themselves as part of a broader movement toward educational justice.

You Are Responsible for Your Practice, Not for Fixing the System Alone

Recognizing the limits imposed by systemic forces does not diminish your agency; it helps you apply that agency more wisely, collectively, and sustainably.

You can influence:

relationships you build,

the learning environment you create,

how students experience care and belonging,

how you design tasks and discussions,

and how you advocate within your school.

You cannot individually solve:

chronic underfunding,

systemic racism,

testing mandates,

housing instability,

public-health crises,

or national educational policy.

When teachers internalize responsibility for systemic problems, burnout accelerates (Santoro, 2018). When teachers recognize the structural nature of these challenges, they can join colleagues, families, and communities in collective action that strengthens public education and expands what becomes possible inside the classroom.

Teaching Is Collective Work: You Are Part of a Larger Community of Educators and Families

Instead of bearing the weight alone, teachers can join with others:

grade-level teams,

unions and professional associations,

parent organizations,

community groups,

public defenders of education,

and student organizations advocating for fairness and dignity.

These networks help teachers share knowledge, advocate for better conditions, and push back against harmful policies, work shown to improve school environments and teacher well-being (Theoharis, 2007; Warren, 2018). A modern understanding of teaching sees it not as heroic individual labor but as collective effort toward a shared public good.

Build a Practice Rooted in Inquiry, Not Answers

New teachers are often encouraged to focus on producing the “right answers” from students and ensuring that students demonstrate mastery in measurable ways. This orientation is reinforced by many of the structures surrounding public schooling: high-stakes testing, reward/punishment discipline systems, behavior point trackers, adaptive learning dashboards, and tightly scripted curricula. These systems often position learning as something that can be captured, quantified, and verified, rather than something that must be explored, questioned, and experienced collectively.

Yet decades of research show that deep learning develops through inquiry, not compliance. Inquiry involves curiosity, exploration, open questions, intellectual risk-taking, and meaningful struggle, capacities that grow only in environments where students feel safe, respected, and free to think (Engle & Conant, 2002; Ladson-Billings, 2021).

For students who have historically been subject to surveillance, exclusion, and biased discipline, including Black, Brown, Indigenous, multilingual, and disabled students, spaces for inquiry are especially vital (Nasir et al., 2020; Noguera, 2008). But these are the same students who are most frequently constrained by rigid accountability structures, “no excuses” discipline policies, and deficit-oriented pedagogies.

A modern teacher must learn to cultivate inquiry within these conditions but also develop a vision for transforming them alongside colleagues, families, and communities.

Inquiry Is a Stance, Not a Set of Strategies

Inquiry does not require elaborate project designs or expensive materials. It begins with a stance:

Ask questions before offering explanations.

Invite students to share their thinking before evaluating it.

Value sense-making over speed.

Encourage multiple approaches, not just the authorized one.

Frame mistakes as evidence of thinking, not failure.

This stance shifts the classroom from a place where students must “get it right” to a place where students can figure things out together. Research shows that when students feel ownership over their learning, engagement and achievement rise, particularly for students historically marginalized in schools (Engle & Conant, 2002; Bang et al., 2017).

Inquiry Requires Psychological Safety, Especially for Students Under Surveillance

Reward/punishment regimes, including clip charts, ClassDojo points, early-bird badges, and demerit systems, send subtle messages:

Your value is based on compliance.

Your mistakes have public consequences.

Your thinking matters less than your behavior.

Someone is always watching.

These regimes disproportionately target minoritized students and amplify unequal power relations in classrooms (Annamma et al., 2019; Manolev et al., 2019). Under such conditions, genuine inquiry becomes risky: students avoid speaking up, asking questions, or showing uncertainty for fear of punishment, embarrassment, or misinterpretation.

To counter this, teachers can:

Use private check-ins instead of public evaluations.

Respond to mistakes with curiosity (“Tell me more about what you were thinking”).

Normalize struggle and confusion as part of learning.

Celebrate intellectual risks, not just correct answers.

Reduce reliance on public behavior charts or competitive systems.

Inquiry flourishes when students feel safe enough to be vulnerable in their thinking.

Inquiry Is Especially Powerful for Students Who Have Been Marginalized

Research on culturally relevant and culturally sustaining pedagogy shows that marginalized students thrive when classrooms validate their experiences, honor their cultural ways of knowing, and invite them into complex intellectual work, not when classrooms intensify control or limit freedom (Ladson-Billings, 2021; Paris & Alim, 2017).

For many students, inquiry is a form of liberation:

It treats their experiences as legitimate sources of knowledge.

It invites them into disciplinary thinking rather than memorization.

It gives them permission to challenge assumptions, including the teacher’s.

It shifts their role from passive recipients to active meaning-makers.

These conditions are the opposite of reward/punishment structures, which tend to reduce learning to compliance and behavior management.

Inquiry Can Happen Even Within Constraining Structures, But It Requires Intentional Design

Even under testing pressures, pacing guides, and digital platforms, teachers can cultivate inquiry through:

• Open-ended questions

“What do you notice?”

“What patterns do you see?”

“What makes you say that?”

• Discussion protocols

Turn-and-talk, group problem-solving routines, math talks, Socratic questioning.

• Opportunities for students to set goals and evaluate their own work

Self-assessments and reflective journaling create spaces for internal motivation.

• Making space for student-designed problems or investigations

These practices do not eliminate structural barriers, but they carve out pockets of possibility. They signal to students that thinking, not mere performance, is valued.

Inquiry Must Be Collective, Not Just Individual

Inquiry is not an individual intellectual endeavor; it is a collective social process, built through shared struggle, debate, and meaning-making (Lave & Wenger, 1991; Gutiérrez & Rogoff, 2003).

Teachers can design for collective inquiry by:

grouping students strategically to balance participation,

ensuring multiple voices shape classroom knowledge,

valuing community wisdom and lived experience,

using group tasks that require interdependence, not competition.

This collective framing challenges the individualized metrics of standardized testing and adaptive learning platforms, which often reinforce isolation and inequity.

Teachers Need Support, and Solidarity, to Sustain Inquiry Under Pressure

Sustaining inquiry under accountability regimes is emotionally and professionally difficult. New teachers must know:

You cannot preserve inquiry alone.

You will need:

colleagues to plan with,

administrators who protect instructional time,

families who understand your goals,

community organizations advocating for equitable learning conditions,

unions or professional associations that fight for policy reforms.

Inquiry is not just a pedagogical choice; it is a collective project that requires supportive structures. The more educators work together to push back against punitive systems, the more space they create for inquiry to thrive.

Inquiry Is Not Opposed to Rigor. It Is Rigor

Too often “rigor” is confused with:

difficulty for its own sake,

overwhelming workloads,

rigid curriculum pacing, or

demanding correctness quickly.

Inquiry shifts rigor toward:

depth of thought,

quality of reasoning,

collaborative problem-solving,

intellectual flexibility, and

making connections across ideas.

This form of rigor is more equitable, more humanizing, and more enduring, especially for students historically denied access to intellectually rich learning.

Your Role Is Not to Master Techniques, But to Participate in a Living Community of Learners

New teachers often feel immense pressure to “master” teaching, to perfect techniques, manage behavior flawlessly, organize instruction efficiently, and meet every metric placed on them. Much of contemporary teacher preparation frames teaching as a technical craft: if you apply the right strategy, use the right platform, follow the right script, you will succeed.

But teaching is not a technical profession. It is human, relational, developmental, and deeply social. It is also political, in the sense that it occurs within institutions shaped by competing interests, unequal resources, and historical struggles over whose knowledge, and whose future, matters.

Your role is not to perfect a list of techniques. Your role is to participate in a living community of learners, one that includes students, families, colleagues, and the broader public.

Teaching Is Collective Work, Not Individual Performance

Teaching is often celebrated as an individual calling, as though teachers succeed or fail by personal virtue. But real classrooms run on shared labor:

colleagues planning and collaborating together,

families supporting and advocating,

communities pushing for equitable resources,

students bringing their creativity, histories, and aspirations.

Research on school improvement is unequivocal: no individual teacher, no matter how skilled, can overcome systemic inequities alone (Bryk et al., 2010). Collective capacity: shared norms, trust, solidarity, is what sustains strong schools.

Your task is not to be perfect; it is to join the collective project of making public education work for everyone.

Schools Are Sites of Power, and Students Know It

Students understand that schools are institutions of authority. They experience:

surveillance (digital and physical),

behavioral control systems,

strict codes of conduct,

zero-tolerance policies,

suppression of certain kinds of political speech,

and unequal enforcement of rules across racial and socioeconomic lines (Noguera, 2008).

Much of this control is justified under “behavior management,” but it is rooted in historical struggles over youth autonomy, racialized discipline, and anxieties about student political power (Anyon, 2005).

Students, especially Black, Brown, immigrant, and working-class youth, often learn early that independent political expression is unwelcome. This is not incidental; it reflects broader tensions over who is allowed to speak, dissent, or imagine a different future.Recognizing this allows teachers to cultivate classrooms where students practice agency, not passive compliance.

Participating in a Learning Community Means Sharing Power

New teachers often fear losing control if they share decision-making or loosen strict routines. But sharing power does not weaken authority. It legitimizes it. When students help shape norms, tasks, and discussions, they see themselves as contributors, not subjects. Teachers can:

involve students in co-creating community agreements,

give students real choices in tasks or formats,

treat students’ cultural knowledge as intellectual resources,

invite critique, debate, and disagreement,

honor student political expression within safe and respectful boundaries.

Participating in a learning community means respecting students’ developing autonomy, which strengthens rather than undermines the learning environment (Biesta, 2015).

Public Education Exists for the Public, But Not Everyone Wants It to Succeed

Teachers today face the reality that public education is under sustained pressure from:

privatization efforts,

corporate influence over curricula and technology,

austerity budgets,

voucher and charter expansion,

political interference in curriculum,

and campaigns that portray teachers as threats rather than assets (Au, 2011; Fabricant & Fine, 2015).

These pressures do more than shift resources. They reshape how teachers think about their work. They encourage:

fear of student autonomy,

overreliance on scripted curricula,

avoidance of controversial or political topics,

and a compliance-based classroom climate.

Recognizing these forces helps new teachers understand that their challenges are not personal shortcomings, they are consequences of a contested public institution. Your job is not merely to survive these pressures but to join with others in resisting efforts that undermine democratic, humanizing education.

Students and Teachers Thrive When They Build Solidarity, Not Isolation

Solidarity is not a slogan. It is a classroom practice. When teachers and students see themselves as partners in learning, not opponents in a control system, they begin to:

trust each other,

advocate for each other,

take intellectual risks,

and engage critically with the world.

This aligns with a modern, emancipatory vision of education: one where young people develop the capacity to think, question, organize, imagine, and collectively transform unjust conditions (Freire, 1970/2018; Warren, 2018).

Your authority as a teacher does not come from mastering techniques. It comes from:

your relationships,

your willingness to listen,

your ability to build community,

your commitment to justice,

and your belief in the intelligence and dignity of your students.

You Are Part of Something Larger Than Your Classroom

To participate in a living community of learners means understanding that teaching is part of a broader social project:

defending public education,

expanding democratic participation,

supporting youth political agency,

countering harmful narratives about communities,

and advocating for equitable resources.

Teachers do this through everyday decisions, how they speak to students, what questions they invite, what voices they amplify, and through collective action with colleagues and communities.

You are not just teaching content. You are helping to build the next generation of thinkers, workers, organizers, parents, community members, and leaders. Your role is not to perfect technique. Your role is to join with others in creating the conditions for genuine empowerment. For students and teachers alike.

Teaching is challenging work. Made more so by the inequities, policy pressures, surveillance systems, and market-driven reforms that shape contemporary public education (Fabricant & Fine, 2015; Williamson, 2020). No individual teacher can overcome these forces alone, and no one should be expected to. What educators can do is engage thoughtfully with the real conditions of their classrooms, cultivate meaningful relationships, design for inquiry, challenge deficit narratives, and join with students, colleagues, families, and communities in the ongoing struggle to defend and transform public education (Theoharis, 2007; Warren, 2018). Your role is not to perform perfection or carry the system on your back; your role is to participate in building democratic, caring, intellectually vibrant spaces where students feel seen and where their thinking and agency matter (Gutiérrez & Rogoff, 2003; Hamre & Pianta, 2006). When teachers teach with this consciousness, one rooted in community, inquiry, and shared humanity, they help grow the next generation not only of learners, but of people capable of imagining and creating a more just world (Biesta, 2010; Paris & Alim, 2017).