We often say, “Stick with it, persevere, and it will be worth it.” But what if it’s not? What if they have it wrong? What if we have it wrong, that the structures we’ve built into our educational redesigns aren’t quite right? Feeling uncomfortable? Good. Hold that discomfort because we are not yet on track.
Yes, there is real innovation in K–12 education but we must be wary of modernization that amounts to little more than rinse, repeat, and rebrand. Still, we keep repackaging familiar designs under the assumption that we know what we’re doing, don’t we?
As muscle and mental labor are increasingly replaced by modern technology, a significant portion of our workforce stands on the brink of obsolescence. Yet we continue asking high school students to complete “fill-in-the-blank” French vocabulary sheets, colour-code maps, and handwrite essays on novels chosen by adults, tasks that fail to prepare them for the realities of a rapidly evolving world.
Even with our growing understanding of diverse learning needs, access to technology is still treated as a privilege rather than a necessary tool for equity. We question the authenticity of a student typing responses in a Word document simply because handwriting is difficult for them. That student then spends hours painfully handwriting responses. While we advocate perseverance and position failure as integral to character development, adolescent mental health concerns are escalating at unprecedented rates.
Despite the dramatic reduction of entry-level white-collar jobs and AI’s growing ability to understand and generate human speech, problem-solve, and produce clear, concise writing in seconds, we continue to cling to traditional schooling models that prepare students for a professional world that no longer exists. Meanwhile, AI continues to expand and rapidly change the world around us, while we waste time debating its place in education.
Furthermore, research consistently positions the early years as critical for long-term healthy human development, yet this stage remains underfunded and often treated as peripheral in high-level educational planning.
If this collection of realities makes you uncomfortable, good. It means we’re ready to challenge the status quo and rethink the business of education.
The disconnects are extensive, and human energy is finite. There is constant pressure to deliver, and balancing instructional practices with formative assessment can’t be an afterthought. It must be the driver. Let’s use it to start meeting students where they are, in real time. This isn’t acquiescing or lowering the bar. It’s about being honest and responsive, raising the level of educational improvement now.
This spin is advocating for more brave, bold educators willing to lead, tell the stories of real change, ask tough questions about classroom design and push for systemic transformation. Still feeling uncomfortable? Good. Ask yourself what you’re defending, and who gets left behind when we don’t change.
Discomfort is a catalyst for growth. The provocations in this spin reflect my ongoing observations and wonderings about how we can improve our approach to equipping students with the skills they need for the future, without personifying the messy mantras of struggling through difficult things because it is just part of learning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not promoting bubble wrapping and helicoptering in to save students from the difficult edges of new skill acquisition, the uncertainty of learning curves or the big human emotions that flood our minds when things get rough. I understand learning is tough, but we make it more difficult with arbitrary, dated, rigid learning conditions and educational objectives that refuse to meet students where they are. It doesn't have to be this complicated, so let’s step back, slow down, simplify and get back to the beauty of designing impactful, human centred learning.
Again, discomfort is a catalyst for growth. The provocations in this piece reflect my ongoing observations and questions about how we can better equip students with the skills they need for the future, without glorifying the messy mantra that struggling through hard things is always good because it’s part of learning.
It doesn’t have to be this complicated. Let’s step back, slow down, simplify, and return to the beauty of designing impactful, human-centered learning.
Space matters. There is so much stuff in our classrooms. Less is more, so let’s get real about what is truly needed, and why. Stop the wish lists for “this and that” and get creative with what you already have. Explore strategies like Reggio Emilia’s Remida. Think deeply about what our students need, and invest in the human touch rather than more commercially mass-produced things.
Open up learning spaces: get rid of all the desks, chairs, and tables. Be strategic with your furniture and create workstations. Make room for movement, real physical movement. Physical literacy practices cost nothing, yet their impact on brain development and cognitive retention is priceless.
Invest your time and energy here. If you stick with it and are strategic, you will see marked improvements in behaviour and focus.
Passion is everything. If you don’t feel it, then quite frankly, don’t bother. Name your hopes and dreams for your students. If you don’t have any, then you’ve got a problem. This work is just as much about care and compassion as it is about heavy cognitive loading and lifting.
Many moons ago, I had a senior leader tell me he hated when educators tossed around the word “passion.” He said it didn’t fit in our work and was best left in Harlequin romance novels. I now realize he didn’t understand how we, as educators, define passion.
Passion is that drive coming from your soul to do better for students, to get it right even when the system or structures don’t align with what your students need. It’s that feeling that haunts you because you know there’s a better way to support all types of learners at all ages. It’s that willingness to take redesign risks so your students find home in their school day and see themselves in your content, concepts, and pedagogy.
I understand that part of life includes doing things you have to do, but these peripheral tasks cannot be the drivers in education. The driver is passion, and a deeply rooted ethic of care and compassion for all the students you are entrusted with.
Keep it real. Mother Nature is the greatest regulator. While we talk a lot about self-regulation in education, we often overlook the impact of co-regulation, or mutual regulation. In social learning environments, a human’s capacity to regulate depends on what and who is around them.
In human-made environments, the design of space must be a thoughtful construction where colour, materials, and learning experiences are balanced with appropriate stimulation levels to reduce distraction so students can focus on what matters most. Instead of loading up more stuff and programs, find ways to learn outdoors. If you can’t be outdoors, then bring the outdoors in.
Use the “Why am I learning this?” filter. Design for real life. Human-centric learning designs require asking questions about purpose and articulating these questions in real time in classrooms. Core foundations in literacy and numeracy are the base. Be explicit with students and families about why these skills are the building blocks for learning, and create the optimal conditions for deep learning to happen.
It doesn’t have to be that complicated and it is ok to feel uncomfortable. We can do better, and we have to. If something isn’t working, don’t stick with it. Change it. Find a way to meet students where they are. Design for their future lives by filling their current lives with curiosity, care, and appropriate challenges in our classrooms.
A trusted colleague recently shared some feedback with me about my spins, specifically about appreciating my shorter, punchy spins. This messy rant is for you my dear neighbour, as we remain committed to doing better in real time for right now and tomorrow.