Past Managing Editor

Students Take the Lead at Teravista Elementary’s Leadership Day

David George — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 14:47:21 +0000

Students Take the Lead at Teravista Elementary’s Leadership Day

At Round Rock ISD’s Teravista Elementary, leadership is lived every day. On Leadership Day, students take center stage, guiding visitors through a campus where their voice and their growth shape the learning experience from classroom to classroom.

Visitors arriving at Teravista Elementary’s Leadership Day are greeted by students. They welcome guests at the front of the Round Rock ISD school and guide them through the building with confidence that feels both practiced and genuine. A fifth grader pauses to hold the door and offer directions. Another checks a list and leads a small group toward a classroom, speaking clearly and making eye contact as they walk.

Inside, the dynamic continues. Students stand beside their desks or at the front of the room, ready to explain what they are learning. In some rooms, students flip through leadership binders with visitors, pointing to charts and reflections that document their growth over time. In others, they describe classroom roles and how those responsibilities help the entire group function more effectively.

It does not take long to realize that this is not a typical campus event. Students are not waiting to be called on. They are leading conversations, and the adults in the room are listening.

For many visitors, Leadership Day offers a first look at what it means for students to take ownership of their learning and their role in a school community. The experience is intentionally student-led from beginning to end, giving guests a clear view of how leadership is embedded in daily life at Teravista.

Principal Michael Wakefield sees the event as a reflection of the school’s broader mission.

“As a Leadership Academy, our focus for our students is to learn, love, and lead,” Wakefield said. “Leadership Day is an opportunity for students to show parents and visitors their leadership binder, talk about their classroom jobs, and share the ways they lead every day.”

Teravista’s designation as a Leadership Academy is tied to its implementation of the Leader in Me framework, a model developed by Stephen Covey and expanded through a partnership with Franklin Covey. The framework adapts the principles from The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People into age-appropriate practices that help students build leadership and interpersonal skills over time.

That sense of ownership is something students recognize as well. Kenny, a fifth grader participating in the event, described Leadership Day as a chance to demonstrate what students are capable of when they are given responsibility.

“It’s a day to show that you’re a leader,” he said. “Everyone can see what you can do.”

Students prepare for that moment in advance. They practice their roles and work together to ensure the day runs smoothly, and that preparation reflects the same habits students use throughout the year.

Fourth grade teacher and longtime Region 13 ATPE volunteer leader Stephanie Stoebe said that sense of purpose is what makes the day stand out.

“There are a lot of people coming through in a short amount of time,” she said. “The kids understand that they are representing the school, and they rise to that expectation.”

Leadership Day draws a wide audience, from parents to educators, all coming to see the model in action. Visitors move through classrooms in small groups, spending time with students as they explain their learning and share their progress.

By the time visitors leave their first classroom, the pattern is clear. Students are leading and reflecting on their own learning in ways that feel natural to them. Leadership Day simply brings that work into view.

A Culture Built Over Time

What visitors see on Leadership Day reflects more than a single event. It represents years of intentional work and a shift in how the campus approaches teaching and learning.

Teravista’s leadership journey began more than a decade ago with a single classroom. During the 2010–11 school year, fifth grade teacher Rachel DiCarlo began introducing her students to The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, the leadership framework developed by Stephen Covey.” The change did not go unnoticed.

“People started seeing that her fifth grade students were making better choices and showing stronger behavior,” said second grade teacher Natasha Zirlott. “Other teachers began asking what she was doing differently.”

Curiosity turned into action. DiCarlo attended a Leader in Me symposium on her own time and returned with ideas she shared with colleagues. Interest spread across the campus, and teachers began exploring how the habits could shape their own classrooms.

“At first, we were introducing it informally,” Zirlott said. “But it didn’t take long for us to realize that if we were going to do this, we needed to do it the right way.”

That decision led to a formal partnership with Franklin Covey and the start of Teravista’s Leader in Me journey in 2011. The work that followed required consistency and commitment. Over time, the campus built a shared language and a set of practices that extended across grade levels.

In 2014, Teravista earned Lighthouse status, recognizing the strength of its implementation. Nearly a decade later, the school reached Legacy status, placing it among a small group of campuses worldwide that have sustained the model at the highest level.

Lighthouse status is awarded to schools that demonstrate strong, sustained implementation of the Leader in Me framework, including measurable academic growth and a clear leadership culture across the campus. Legacy status represents the highest level of recognition, indicating that leadership practices are deeply embedded and sustained over time, with students consistently taking ownership of their learning and leadership roles.

For fourth grade teacher and ATPE member Stephanie Claypool, that progression reflects a gradual but meaningful shift in ownership.

“It starts as teacher-guided, then becomes student-guided, and now as a legacy campus, students are basically doing everything, and the adults are facilitating.”

Stephanie Claypool

Fourth grade teacher & ATPE member

Leadership is introduced early and reinforced often. Younger students begin by learning what it means to be responsible for themselves and respectful of others. As they grow, they take on more responsibility, setting goals, tracking progress, and contributing to the classroom community in more visible ways.

The expectations are consistent across the campus, which Claypool sees as essential.

“We are very intentional,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what classroom they go into. We are all using the same language and building those habits year after year.”

Wakefield described that consistency as one of the defining features of the school’s culture.

“We teach the ‘7 Habits’ in everything that we do,” he said. “It is in the environment. You can see it everywhere.”

That belief carries through every classroom and every grade level. By the time students reach Leadership Day, they are not stepping into something new. They are stepping into something they have been practicing for years.

Leadership in the Classroom

In Stoebe’s fourth grade classroom, leadership is not set aside for a specific time of day. It shows up in the middle of instruction, woven into the way students think and speak as well.

During a reading lesson, students are asked to look closely at a character’s decisions. Instead of focusing only on plot, Stoebe pushes them further.

“When we analyze a character in a story, I’ll ask the kids what habit that character could have used to make a better decision,” she said. “And they’ll tell you. They’ll say, ‛He didn’t work well with others,’ or ‛He didn’t think about what would happen next.’”

Moments like that turn abstract ideas into something students can apply, and the same approach carries into other subjects. In science, students examine how classification works and how scientists make decisions based on evidence. Stoebe connects that thinking back to the habits, helping students see how planning and reflection shape real-world work.

“It’s critical for me that we apply it in everything we do,” she said. “If we’re serious about this, then it has to show up in the way we teach and the way they learn.”

Over time, that consistency changes how students approach their work.

“You can hear it in the way they talk,” Stoebe said. “They’re thinking about what they need to do next. They’re making decisions as they go. It becomes part of how they learn.”

That mindset extends beyond academics and into everyday interactions. Stoebe described a moment on the playground when two students collided while playing. One student was upset, and the other was hesitant to approach the situation. Instead of simply stepping in to resolve the issue, Stoebe used the moment as an opportunity for reflection.

“I asked him what happened and how he was feeling,” she said. “We talked through it. The habit of seeking to understand first, that’s something they can use right then.”

Those conversations help students develop the ability to manage conflict and communicate more effectively.

“We’re not just telling them to stop and behave,” she said. “We’re helping them think through their actions and what they want to do differently.”

The impact becomes more visible over time. Stoebe recalled a student who entered her classroom reluctant to write and unsure of his abilities. On a previous assessment, he had written only a few words before giving up. Through consistent encouragement and opportunities to take ownership of his work, that began to change. He started writing during creative time, experimenting with ideas and building confidence.

“Now I have to tell him to stop writing so we can move on,” she said. “He’s one of the strongest writers in the class.”

And that growth is not limited to one student. Across the classroom, students are learning how to successfully set goals and adjust their efforts to achieve them. They begin to see themselves as capable of improving, which shapes how they approach challenges.

The same principles show up across the campus. In music, students learn to practice with purpose and to contribute to a larger group. Music teacher Kristina Caffey sees the habits as a natural fit for her subject.

“We focus on putting first things first when it comes to practice,” she said. “And when students perform together, they have to think about how to work as a group and support one another.”

In art, students take a similar approach.

“The art classroom is a place where leadership and creative expression come together,” art teacher Michelle Dickens explained. “Students plan their work, take initiative, and collaborate on projects that become part of the school.”

One example is the fifth grade legacy project, where students work together to design and create a large-scale piece that remains on campus for future classes to see. That kind of work reinforces a sense of ownership that extends beyond individual assignments.

Tracking Growth and Ownership

In classrooms across Teravista, leadership becomes visible in a very concrete way. The most recognizable place to see that is in the leadership binder each student keeps from year to year. By the time students reach the upper grades, those binders have become a catalog of their journey, telling their unique story through their work.

“It’s like a portfolio,” Claypool said. “They can look back and see how much they’ve grown from where they started.”

For students, that growth is not abstract. It is something they can flip through and point to.

“It’s basically like a memory of everything you did,” said Kenny, a fifth grade student. “It has your goals and your celebrations and all your work.”

During Leadership Day, those binders become a centerpiece of conversation. Students open them for visitors and walk through their progress, explaining how they set goals and what they have done to reach them.

That process begins with what the school calls wildly important goals, or WIGs, a framework that helps students focus on a single, measurable priority. Each grade level focuses on a key academic area.

“We’re working on math this year,” Kenny said. “We track our goals and see if we’re getting closer.”

That daily tracking builds a sense of accountability that grows over time. Wakefield described how that process plays out: “I was talking to a second grader whose goal was to grow in reading. He had decided how he was going to get there, and he was tracking it every day. You can see in his binder whether he’s meeting his goal or not.”

Students do not track their progress in isolation. They talk about it with classmates and reflect on what is working. If they are making progress, they can see it build over time. If they are not, they begin to think about what needs to change, and that reflection is part of the process.

“You can look back and realize what you’ve accomplished,” Stoebe said. “And if you’re not where you want to be yet, you start thinking about what you can do differently.”

The visibility of that growth matters. Instead of waiting for a report card or a test score, students see their progress unfold day by day. They begin to connect effort with results in a way that feels immediate. For some students, that realization becomes a turning point. Stoebe described how students respond when they begin to see their progress clearly.

“They open that binder, and they see all the days they met their goal,” she said. “They’re proud of that. It means something to them.”

The binder also includes personal reflections and moments of achievement that students choose to highlight. It becomes a place where they can see not only what they have learned, but who they are becoming.

Finding a Voice

As students move through Teravista’s leadership model, one idea begins to stand out: They are encouraged to find their voice.

The concept builds on the foundation of the “7 Habits,” asking students to take what they have learned and apply it in a way that reflects who they are. It is about confidence, as well as purpose. For Stoebe, that idea resonates on a personal level.

“If you don’t have a voice in what you’re doing, why do it? That’s what leads to confidence. That’s what leads to creativity. It’s what helps you figure out where you want to go.”

Stephanie Stobe

Fourth grade teacher & ATPE member

In her classroom, that shift is often gradual. Students do not always arrive ready to speak up or take risks. Some hesitate and others doubt their abilities. Over time, those barriers begin to change. Wakefield has seen that same kind of transformation across the campus.

“We have students who come in very quiet,” he said. “And over time, they find their voice.”

He recently observed a moment that captured that change. In a second grade classroom, a student who had been selectively mute began speaking and leading in front of others.

“It gave me goosebumps,” Wakefield said. “To see that kind of growth, that confidence, that willingness to step forward.”

Those moments are not isolated. Claypool described a student who struggled with behavior and engagement before beginning to see himself differently through leadership opportunities. At first, the student was unsure of his place in the classroom. He tested boundaries and had difficulty staying focused. Over time, something shifted.

“He started to realize that he could still be a leader,” Claypool said. “Even if he had a bad day, he could come back the next day and start fresh.”

That mindset changed how the student approached his role in the classroom. When he ran for a leadership position, he did not win. Instead of becoming discouraged, he reflected on the experience.

“He told me, ‘I just wasn’t ready yet,’” Claypool said.

The following year, he tried again. This time, he earned the role. And the change did not stop there.

“He started mentoring other students,” she said. “He saw growth in himself and wanted to help others do the same.”

For teachers like Zirlott, those moments reinforce a broader belief about students.

“Every child has something to contribute. There are many different types of leaders, and this helps students recognize that in themselves.”

Natasha Zirlott

Second grade teacher and atpe member

That recognition extends into how students interact with one another. When conflicts arise, students are encouraged to express their feelings and listen carefully to others. They practice articulating their perspective and working toward a solution.

“We’re teaching them how to solve their own problems,” Zirlott said. “When they can do that, you see their confidence grow.”

For students, finding their voice does not always mean speaking in front of a crowd. Sometimes it shows up in quieter ways. Kenny sees it in the choices students make.

“You get to choose what you want to do,” he said. “That’s important because you’re you, and you get to make your own choices.”

That sense of ownership shapes how students view themselves. They begin to see that their ideas matter. They learn that their actions have an impact. They understand that they have a role to play in their classroom and in their community, and over time, those lessons build into something lasting.

Leadership on Display

By the time Leadership Day is in full swing, the purpose behind it becomes clear. What visitors are seeing did not begin that morning. It has been building over time in classrooms and in the daily routines that shape how students approach their learning.

“If a normal school day feels like a rehearsal, Leadership Day feels like opening night,” fifth grade teacher Holly Holubec-Brewer said. “Students are the experts, and it is their time to shine.”

Students are not repeating memorized lines or following a script. They are speaking from experience. They understand the systems they use, and they can explain why those systems matter. For Kenny, that sense of ownership is what stands out most.

“It’s a day to show that you’re a leader,” he said. “Everyone can see what you can do.”

That awareness shapes how students carry themselves throughout the day. They speak with intention and respond thoughtfully when visitors ask questions. For Wakefield, those moments capture the purpose of the work.

“We want people to see that this is real,” he said. “We want them to see what our students are capable of.”

Visitors leave with a clearer understanding of what student ownership can look like when it is developed over time. Parents see how their children are growing, not only academically, but also as individuals. Educators from other schools observe how the model works in practice and consider how it might apply in their own classrooms.

At Teravista Elementary, leadership is expected of every student. Students take ownership of their growth and their behavior. They learn how to make decisions with purpose and how to support one another. They begin to understand that their voice matters. They learn to lead. And on Leadership Day, they show exactly what that looks like.

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Vickiela Wright leads with heart, and Texas is listening

David George — Thu, 29 Jan 2026 16:55:24 +0000

Vickiela Wright leads with heart, and Texas is listening

Named 2026 Texas Teacher of the Year, Clear Creek ISD ATPE member and fifth grade teacher Vickiela Wright is using her platform to elevate student voice and champion the belief that learning begins with confidence and care.

When Vickiela Wright learned she had been named Texas Teacher of the Year, she responded with gratitude and a renewed sense of purpose.

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Wright said. “But you get this award, and you continue to work. It hasn’t changed who I am as an individual.”

Wright teaches fifth grade English language arts and social studies at McWhirter Elementary School in Clear Creek ISD. Now in her 16th year as an educator, she also serves as a grade-level instructional coach and team lead, as well as a mentor to fellow teachers. The Teacher of the Year honor brings a statewide, and now national, platform, but the work behind it has been building for years.

“You can’t teach a student until you have met them here,” Wright said, pointing to the heart. “Once you meet them there, everything else follows.”

That belief was shaped long before Wright ever stepped into a classroom as a teacher.

Finding her voice

Wright was raised in Chicago by her great-grandmother, who was born and raised in Puerto Rico and pulled out of school at 13. Despite never completing her own education, Wright’s great-grandmother held an unwavering belief in its power.

“She had this deep belief that if you had an education, you could do anything in the world,” Wright said. “She’s my biggest inspiration.”

By third grade, Wright already knew she needed more from school than she was receiving. “I didn’t fit the cookie-cutter mold,” she said. She remembers struggling to read and stealing a basal reader because she wanted access to the stories inside. Growing up in low-income housing, she could feel assumptions being made about what students like her could become.

“From that point, I started to realize that I need more; I want more,” she said.

That relationship with school did not fully change until high school, when Wright joined JROTC and met First Sgt. Harper. “He told me, ‘I see something in you, and you can do anything you put your mind to,’” Wright said. “He invested in me in ways that I never thought anyone would.”

The structure and belief Harper provided reshaped her view of education and clarified her path forward. “Because of these two people who had poured so much into me, I needed to go and pay it forward,” Wright said.

Leading by listening

Today, Wright’s classroom philosophy centers on listening before leading.

“If we slow down and we listen to our students—not what we want them to say, but what they actually have to say—you gain this whole different experience,” she said. “You gain this whole different view of what that student needs.”

That approach guides how she teaches literacy. Wright is quick to acknowledge that today’s students engage with the world differently than those she taught even a decade ago.

“These students aren’t the students that we were teaching 10 years ago,” she said. “My students are in love with social media, songs, and TikTok.”

Rather than resist that reality, Wright builds instruction around it. “Students love to write,” she said. “I let them write the things that they want to write about, and then I work to restructure it to fit within the curriculum. It’s all about choice.”

In practice, that might mean connecting a favorite song to a reading assignment or allowing students to start with personal interests before guiding them toward academic goals. The engagement comes first, Wright said, and everything else builds from there.

A classroom built on trust

Choice extends beyond writing assignments and into the physical space of Wright’s classroom.

“This year I made huge changes,” Wright said. “One of the biggest changes that I knew that my students needed was flexible seating.”

After asking students what helped them learn best, Wright worked with them to test seating options and ultimately replaced every seat in the room with support from the campus PTA. Students can now choose where they sit and transition between standard and more comfortable seating. Wright also created a cozy reading corner and adjusted lighting to create a calmer environment.

“When they come to my classroom, I want them to feel like it’s their second home,” she said.

That comfort is paired with responsibility. Students help manage classroom systems and learn how to advocate for themselves. “They know they’re allowed to get up and relocate to get their best learning,” Wright said. “We all learn differently, and I want them to know that I see them.”

Wright said this sense of ownership builds leadership early and prepares students to make thoughtful decisions about their learning.

Growth through reflection

Wright credits National Board Certification with deepening her practice and sharpening her focus on the whole child.

“National Board has changed my life,” she said. After more than a decade in the profession, the process pushed her out of her comfort zone and forced her to reflect more intentionally. “You take a really deep look into the student as a whole so that you are able to push the student to grow. No two students are alike.”

That lens shapes her leadership beyond the classroom. As a team lead and instructional coach, Wright said discussions always start with the student. “Before student data, how’s the student feeling? What’s going on with the student?” she said. “It’s all interconnected.”

Even challenges like shifting expectations and increased technology use are framed as opportunities. “Our pendulum is always swinging,” Wright said. Rather than viewing that as a setback, she sees it as a reminder that teaching requires constant growth. “It’s really a time for me to grow and learn how to use technology more to my advantage,” she said.

Don’t stop believin’

The culture Wright has built with her students is grounded in optimism and shared belief. Asked what her students have taught her this year, she smiled. “Don’t stop believin’,” she said.

Students write affirmations to themselves during exams and fill their folders and notes with encouragement. Wright keeps a folder her students customized for her filled with messages reminding her to speak confidently and keep going.

“There are hard days for me too,” Wright said. “But when you walk into that classroom and you’re hit with some hugs and some ‘You got this,’ that completely changes the trajectory of the day.”

Outside the school day, Wright sponsors Student Council and leads extracurricular initiatives, such as Chill and Chat and Spirit Squad, often giving up her lunch period to build relationships with students. “Chill and Chat gives them that time to connect,” she said, particularly for students who may feel isolated or new to campus. The space has also sparked student-led clubs and leadership opportunities.

“We don’t set limits,” Wright said. “Anything that you put out there for a student to do, they can reach it.”

As Texas Teacher of the Year, Wright is using her platform to advocate for what teachers need beyond supplies. “I’m talking about the trainings,” she said. “What we were doing five years ago, it’s not going to work for these new students.”

She also wants decision-makers to hear teachers’ full stories. “The most beautiful part about this is being able to share my journey,” Wright said. “My journey is the journey of a lot of other teachers out there, too.”

Back in her classroom, the recognition has made Wright something of a celebrity. Students Google her and jokingly offer pens for autographs when visitors arrive. Wright laughs and gently redirects the attention.

“I tell them this isn’t just my work,” she said. “This is all of us.”

For Wright, the honor does not signal a finish line. It signals a wider reach, rooted in the same belief that has guided her from the beginning: Meet students where they are, listen first, and don’t stop believing in what they can become.

David George

Past Managing Editor

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When a Joke Isn’t a Joke: Why School Threats Demand Serious Attention

David George — Thu, 29 Jan 2026 16:53:13 +0000

When a Joke Isn’t a Joke: Why School Threats Demand Serious Attention

Threats in schools may be rising, and responses are rarely simple. Educators and students share how campuses assess risk and protect learning when safety concerns disrupt the school day.

On a school morning like any other, disruption often begins quietly. A message appears on a phone. A screenshot circulates. A post is forwarded to a group chat. Within minutes, the routine rhythms of a campus begin to break down.

Administrators move quickly behind closed doors. Teachers receive instructions to hold students in place. Law enforcement arrives. Students wait in classrooms or hallways. Parents refresh their phones, scrolling through social media while trying to separate rumor from reality.

Sometimes the threat turns out to be a hoax. Sometimes it originates hundreds of miles away. The disruption and fear, however, are always real.

Across Texas, schools are confronting a rise in threats that blur the line between impulsive remarks and genuine danger. Increasingly, students describe these moments as jokes. Educators and safety experts know better.

“A threat is a threat,” said Kathy Martinez-Prather, Ph.D., director of the Texas School Safety Center at Texas State University. “It doesn’t matter how it was intended or where it was made. Every single one has to be taken seriously.”

A shifting landscape

Martinez-Prather has been with the Texas School Safety Center since 2007 and served as its director since 2015. She came into the role not as a school safety specialist but as a researcher tasked with solving a specific problem.

“My first assignment was figuring out statewide data collection for school safety audits,” she said. “At the time, I wasn’t aware of much related to school safety. The law had passed, and they needed someone who understood data.”

That work quickly expanded. As districts began submitting safety and security information, patterns emerged, and so did new questions. How were schools using the data they collected? What changed on campuses as a result?

“We focus on research with relevance,” Martinez-Prather said. “Research that informs practice. If it doesn’t translate into training or resources districts can actually use, then we haven’t done our job.”

Over the past two decades, the center’s work has grown alongside school districts’ responsibilities. Today, it provides training and technical assistance to public school districts and charter schools across Texas. That includes training school behavioral threat assessment teams and reviewing emergency operations plans.

As the work has expanded, so has the nature of threats themselves. Martinez-Prather observed that technology has fundamentally changed how threats spread and how quickly they escalate.

“We talk a lot about student safety and rightly so,” Martinez-Prather said. “But we also have to ensure that educators feel safe, because if they don’t, they’re not going to be effective in the classroom.”

Kathy Martinez-Prather, Ph.D.

Director of the Texas School Safety Center at Texas State University

“Social media allows information to be shared at the push of a button,” she said. “Historically, after a highly publicized act of violence, we see what we call a contagion effect. Threats increase around anniversaries and major events.”

What has become more prominent in recent years is the rise of swatting and hoax threats aimed at K-12 schools. These false reports, often made anonymously, are designed to provoke a large law enforcement response and incite fear.

“These incidents disrupt learning, create emotional distress, and put a strain on emergency response systems,” Martinez-Prather said. “Even when they’re determined to be false, the experience is real for the people who lived through it.”

Texas districts have felt that impact acutely. In 2022 and 2023, law enforcement agencies responded to waves of false shooter reports across the state, triggering lockdowns and evacuations in both large urban districts and smaller rural communities.

“There’s a psychological toll that doesn’t just disappear once you say it wasn’t credible,” she said.

Prevention, not just response

While emergency response often captures public attention, Martinez-Prather is quick to emphasize that prevention sits at the center of the Texas School Safety Center’s mission. Although Texas State University also houses the Advanced Law Enforcement Rapid Response Training Center, which focuses on response, the School Safety Center concentrates on what happens long before a crisis unfolds.

“Our emphasis is prevention,” Martinez-Prather said. “Behavioral threat assessment, early intervention, and making sure systems work together instead of in silos.”

Threat assessment, she explained, is not about predicting violence based on appearances or stereotypes. It is a structured process that looks at behavior and context to determine appropriate intervention.

“You don’t have to wait for a threat to be made to act,” she said. “Behavior tells us a lot.”

Teachers often notice those signals first. Subtle shifts in behavior or engagement may not be alarming on their own, but together they can point to a student in crisis.

“Teachers interact with students every day,” Martinez-Prather said. “They have information that administrators might not see, and that makes them critical partners in prevention.”

That role has grown as safety concerns have become more urgent for schools.

“School safety used to be a backseat conversation,” she said. “Now it goes hand in hand with academic achievement. Students cannot learn if they do not feel safe.”

A new message takes shape

As threats increased, districts began asking the Texas School Safety Center for help educating students directly. Those requests led to the launch of the center’s first public awareness campaign, Threats Are No Joke, in August 2025.

“We were getting calls from administrators and school police officers asking if there was anything we could do to help educate students,” Martinez-Prather said. “We didn’t want to sensationalize the issue. We wanted to educate.”

The campaign’s messaging targets students from fourth through 12th grade, along with parents and educators. Its central public service announcement shows how a single message can escalate quickly, triggering fear and a full law enforcement response.

“One of the biggest misconceptions we hear is that students think they can joke about these things,” Martinez-Prather said. “They don’t understand that even sharing a threat can have consequences.”

The campaign includes more than a video. Toolkits provide classroom guides, parent conversation starters, posters, social media graphics, and templates districts can adapt for local use.

“We knew a video alone wouldn’t be enough,” she said. “Schools needed resources they could actually use.”

For Sebastian Salazar, a 17-year-old senior at Veterans Memorial Early College High School in Brownsville, the campaign’s message hit close to home.

“Sometimes people say things, and you don’t actually know if they mean it or not,” Salazar said. “A lot of students think it’s a joke, but sometimes it’s not.”

Sebastian Salazar

Senior at Veterans Memorial Early College High School in Brownsville

“Sometimes people say things, and you don’t actually know if they mean it or not,” Salazar said. “A lot of students think it’s a joke, but sometimes it’s not.”

Salazar serves as a Texas School Safety Center Teen Ambassador, a role that allows students to design safety-focused initiatives in their schools and communities. His interest in safety was shaped early by his father’s career in the Border Patrol.

“Safety was always a big priority in my household,” he said. “By the time I was five, I was learning run, hide, fight.”

At his school, Salazar founded a student-led group, the Students Know Committee, focused on school safety and teen mental health. The group operates on a simple premise: students often know what is happening on campus before adults do.

“We’re kind of the ears of the school,” he said. “We hear things first.”

Sebastian Salazar participates in the production of a public service announcement for the Texas School Safety Center’s “Threats Are No Joke” campaign.

Members of the Students Know Committee distribute stress-relief bags during finals week to support student well-being.

Peer-led efforts like this finals-week outreach are part of how students support a safer, more connected campus.

After speaking at the 2025 San Antonio School Safety Conference, Sebastian Salazar poses with fellow Texas School Safety Center Youth Advisory Board members.

That perspective becomes critical when threats circulate among peers or are dismissed as humor.

“There was a threat at my school where someone even gave a date,” Salazar said. “A lot of students joked about it. That really scared me, because that’s how people get caught off guard.”

He believes peer-to-peer messaging is essential.

“PSAs like this are eye-opening,” Salazar said. “They make students realize there are real consequences to what they say.”

Reporting threats, especially when friends are involved, remains one of the most difficult challenges.

“A lot of people see it as snitching,” he said. “But it’s really not.”

Salazar frames reporting as protection for everyone involved.

“It’s better for them to talk to a counselor than to end up talking to a police officer later,” he said.

Inside the administrator’s office

For educators responding to threats, preparation often collides with reality.

Allyson Haveman retired in June 2025 after 39 years in Texas public education, including more than two decades as a campus administrator. Her career included time at alternative campuses, the Lubbock County Juvenile Justice Center, and Lubbock High School, where discipline and safety were constant responsibilities.

“When something went wrong, it was threats to kill a teacher, threats to kill another student, or threats of violence,” Haveman said. “That happened all the time.”

Responding required a careful balance of urgency and judgment.

“You isolate the student, you get law enforcement involved, you call the parent, and you investigate,” she said. “You don’t assume. You don’t minimize.”

That investigation involved retracing events, reviewing camera footage, speaking with teachers and witnesses, and closely observing the student.

“You watch body language; you listen carefully,” Haveman said. “You’re trying to understand whether this is an angry kid popping off or something more serious.”

Even when a threat turned out to be impulsive, the response could not be casual.

“You still have to look into it,” she said. “That’s part of keeping people safe.”

Haveman also emphasized how discipline decisions affect classroom trust.

“If a kid is removed from a classroom, sending them right back sends the wrong message,” she said. “It undermines the teacher and the learning environment.”

The toll on educators

Threats do not exist in isolation from the people tasked with managing them. For teachers and administrators, each incident adds strain to an already demanding job.

Haveman said the emotional weight of handling threats often accumulates quietly, especially for educators who spend years responding to crises that rarely make headlines.

“There’s a psychological toll that comes with this work,” Haveman said. “You’re always on alert, always thinking about what could happen next.”

That vigilance extends beyond school hours. Administrators replay events and anticipate how students might react when they return to campus, even when a threat turns out to be unfounded.

“We don’t want people second-guessing whether they should report something,” Haveman said. “If something feels off, it needs to be addressed.”

Allyson Haveman

ATPE MEMBER

“You don’t just flip a switch and go back to normal,” Haveman said. “You still have to show up the next day and be steady for everyone else.”

The stress can also be physical. Haveman described multiple occasions where she was injured while intervening in fights or volatile situations.

“I’ve been hurt breaking up fights,” she said. “And I’m not unique in that. A lot of educators have stories like that.”

Martinez-Prather said these realities underscore why educator well-being must be part of any serious school safety strategy.

According to Martinez-Prather, repeated disruptions and investigations can erode a teacher’s sense of stability, even when no violence occurs.

“It creates anxiety. It disrupts the learning environment,” Martinez-Prather said. “Over time, that matters.”

Haveman said the strain deepens when teachers feel their concerns are not taken seriously or discipline decisions appear inconsistent.

“When teachers don’t see follow-through, it affects trust,” she said. “They start wondering if it’s worth speaking up the next time.”

Haveman warned that hesitation can be dangerous.

“We don’t want people second-guessing whether they should report something,” Haveman said. “If something feels off, it needs to be addressed.”

Building trust

When a threat emerges, fear rarely stops at the classroom door. Parents and caregivers experience their own surge of anxiety, often fueled by incomplete information and rumors that spread quickly online.

Haveman recalled incidents where parents rushed to campus during lockdowns, driven by a need to see their children and regain control of an uncertain situation.

“I understand that instinct,” Haveman said. “If it’s your kid, you want to be there.”

Those moments, she said, also require trust in the systems schools have put in place.

“If there’s an active threat or an investigation underway, we need space to do what we’re trained to do,” Haveman said. “Parents showing up can actually make things more complicated.”

Part of the tension comes from mismatched expectations about how quickly situations can be resolved.

“This isn’t television,” Haveman said. “You don’t solve these things in 15 minutes.”

Investigations often involve coordination with law enforcement to determine whether a threat is credible. That process takes time, even when schools are acting decisively.

Martinez-Prather warned that misunderstandings about the process can erode trust.

“People sometimes assume that if they’re not hearing details right away, nothing is happening,” she said. “In reality, a lot is happening behind the scenes.”

And communicating that reality to families is not always straightforward.

“Transparency has to be balanced with safety,” Martinez-Prather said. “And that balance isn’t always visible from the outside.”

Haveman emphasized that trust is built long before a crisis occurs, through consistent communication and relationships.

“If families trust the school on an ordinary day, they’re more likely to trust us on a hard day,” she said.

A shared responsibility

Across different experiences, the message is similar: communication and trust play a critical role in prevention.

“School safety is a daily effort,” Martinez-Prather said. “It is not something you think about only after something happens.”

For Salazar, the message to students is both empowering and urgent.

“You do not need a title to make a difference,” he said. “Just being a student means you can speak up.”

For Haveman, it is a call for dialogue over outrage.

“If something feels wrong, come talk to the school,” she said. “Have a conversation.”

The Threats Are No Joke campaign will continue rolling out resources at key points during the school year, including before breaks and during periods when threats historically increase. The Texas School Safety Center plans to study how districts use those materials and refine the messaging with continued student input.

The message itself remains simple.

“If it feels uncomfortable, report it anyway,” Martinez-Prather said. “It is always better to say something.”

Because in Texas classrooms, words carry weight, and the cost of dismissing a threat as a joke can be far higher than anyone expects.

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Pathways to Possibility: Inside Texas’ Creative and Community-Driven Special Education Programs

David George — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 20:43:37 +0000

Pathways to Possibility: Inside Texas’ Creative and Community-Driven Special Education Programs

Special education programs across Texas are redefining what’s possible for students with disabilities. From classrooms that double as bakeries to community partnerships and family-run shops, educators are helping students build confidence, independence, and meaningful futures.

Teachers across Texas work every day to help students, regardless of ability, grow into confident, capable adults. For many students with disabilities, that journey does not end at graduation. It continues with the guidance of educators who build independence through opportunity, trust, and community.

From a life-skills campus in Deer Park to a family-run shop in the Rio Grande Valley and a bakery in Anna, districts across the state are turning transition programs into pathways of possibility. These programs are helping young adults with disabilities develop job skills, social confidence, and self-advocacy while forging meaningful partnerships between schools and local businesses.

Deer Park ISD: Learning Independence by Living It

For Heather Traxler, the day does not start in a traditional classroom. It begins in a space that looks more like an apartment, complete with a kitchen, bedroom, and living room where students practice everyday routines. This is Deer Crossing, Deer Park ISD’s 18-plus transition program designed for adult students with disabilities who have completed their academic requirements but still need support mastering life and work skills.

“We treat our students like adults because they are adults,” Traxler says. “They have to learn who to go to for help, what to do in an emergency, and how to handle transportation.”

Heather Traxler

Heather Traxler is a special education teacher and lead instructor for Deer Park ISD’s Deer Crossing transition program.

Traxler’s journey into this work began with a love for hands-on learning. “I started out as a job trainer at the high school,” she says. “I really loved working with the students and being out in the community with them. That encouraged me to get my certification in special education. A position opened in the 18-plus program, and I’ve been here ever since. I just love this part of special education.”

Her supervisor, Stephanie Rainer, came to the field through a lifetime of experience across the educational spectrum. “I was a special education major right out of high school,” she recalls. “I’ve taught everything from early childhood to junior high and even served as an assistant principal. But I missed working directly with students. That’s what led me to my current role as special education coordinator for our secondary level.”

Together, the two women have built a model program that balances practical skills with personal growth.

William Woodruff, 19, working as a cashier at CVS.

William also stocks the shelves, helps unload delivery trucks, and keeps the store organized and looking nice.

Bethany Monroe, 20, has worked at Bubba's 33 for a year and a half. She measures, packages, and seals cheese for making pizzas.

Bethany also helps measure other ingredients such as sugar, flour, and fruit, and occasionally rolls silverware when needed.

Sherwin James, 20, has worked at a locally owned restaurant for a year and a half. Here he is preparing and making dough for an in-house cake.

Sherwin also cooks, bakes, plates food, and checks inventory. Fun fact: he makes the best banana pudding.

Real Work, Real Skills, Real Life

Deer Crossing serves adult students who have met their high school graduation requirements but still need support to transition successfully into adult life. Rainer explains: “We focus on helping our students develop self-help and employability skills so they can become independent adults within the community. That includes everything from hygiene and household routines to job training and self-advocacy.”

The program’s building, repurposed from an older district facility, is a microcosm of the adult world. Students rotate between workspaces that include a kitchen for meal preparation, a laundry area, and stations where they create crafts and holiday decorations to sell at local events.

“The ultimate goal is independence,” Traxler says. “We start by training them in environments we can control, but we fade our support over time. Eventually, they are out there working on their own. We are still nearby if they need us, but we want them to be able to do it themselves.”

Rainer adds that no two students’ goals are exactly alike. “Some students are learning job skills like rolling silverware at a restaurant or stocking supplies at a store. Others are working on social skills or self-advocacy, knowing how to ask for help or what to do when they are finished with a task. We even make visual schedules for students who need reminders of each step. It’s all about what that individual student needs to be successful.”

“When a business hires one of our students, everyone wins. The student gains independence, the business gains a reliable employee, and the community gains awareness of what inclusion really means.”

Stephanie Rainer

Stephanie Rainer serves as Deer Park ISD’s secondary special education coordinator, supporting programs that promote inclusion and lifelong learning.

Fostering Independence and Confidence

Beyond job skills, the Deer Crossing team sees self-advocacy as the foundation for independence.

“We treat our students like adults because they are adults,” Traxler says. “They have to learn who to go to for help, what to do in an emergency, and how to handle transportation. We start with a lot of support and slowly back away. At first, we might walk in with them. Then we’ll wait outside, and then eventually we just drop them off. It’s about building confidence step by step.”

Rainer says real progress happens when families and educators pull in the same direction, a partnership she considers essential to every student’s long-term growth.

“We start talking to parents early, usually when their kids are sophomores or juniors,” Rainer says. “We ask, ‘What do you see your child doing after graduation? What are your hopes?’ Some parents are nervous, and that’s natural. They’ve spent years in a structured school environment where their child has constant support. But we show them data, we show them progress, and, most importantly, we show them what their kids can do.”

Traxler believes that collaboration with families is what transforms classroom lessons into lifelong skills for students.

“There are a lot of meetings, a lot of conversations,” Traxler says. “We have to frontload families, prepare them, and prove that their child is capable. It’s one of the hardest parts but also one of the most rewarding.”

When the conversation turns to student success, Traxler points to one story that reminds her why this work matters so deeply.

“We have a student who works in the kitchen at a local restaurant,” Traxler says. “He’s been there for over a year now, and he’s even earned a raise and extra vacation time.”

Rainer adds: “His attention to detail made him a perfect fit for the job. He makes sure every order is correct before it goes out. That strength helped him earn more responsibility, and it shows how valuable these skills are in the real world.

PSJA ISD: Pathways Toward Independence

In Pharr-San Juan-Alamo ISD, Robin Hernandez leads a program that takes the word “pathway” quite literally. As administrator of Pathways Toward Independence, Hernandez helps students with disabilities ages 18–22 bridge the gap between high school and adult life through employment, entrepreneurship, and community involvement.

Established during the 2015–2016 school year under the leadership of Ms. Veronica Quintana, the program is now in its second year under Hernandez, who brings 13 years of educational experience, including service as a CTE and early college director.

“I think that’s what sparked some of the ideas we’ve started here,” Hernandez says. “We wanted to create real opportunities for students to gain work experience and, if possible, even run their own businesses.”

“Disability doesn’t mean inability. These students have so much potential. We just have to keep creating the pathways.”

Robin Hernandez

Robin Hernandez is the administrator for Pharr-San Juan-Alamo ISD’s Pathways Toward Independence program.

PTI students split their days between classroom instruction and hands-on job training at more than two dozen local businesses.

“We have partnerships with Gold’s Gym, local restaurants, city libraries, even wedding venues,” Hernandez explains. “Our students learn to sanitize equipment, manage supplies, greet customers, and work in teams. The goal is for them to build confidence while learning what’s expected in a professional environment.”

Among PTI’s most successful innovations is the PSJA Family Shop, a student-led business located on the PTI campus. The shop sells district-branded merchandise and handmade items created in PTI’s vocational classes and is is open to the community from 11:30 a.m. to 6 p.m., Monday through Friday.

“It’s completely run by the students,” Hernandez says proudly. “They answer phone calls, greet customers, take payments, and track inventory. When we run low on supplies, they make the lists, reorder, and restock. It’s a safe space where they can make mistakes and learn from them.”

The shop is located off campus near the district football stadium, providing easier access for customers. There, students train in sublimation printing, edible-image baking, floral design, and product assembly.

“We have students who make sugar cookies with edible images, students who design T-shirts and wreaths, and others who assemble custom gift baskets,” Hernandez says. “They’re learning every part of the process, from production to presentation to customer service.”

These skills carry over to their job-site experiences across the community. “The goal is that when they walk into a real workplace, they already know how to follow directions, communicate with coworkers, and manage their time,” Hernandez explains. “It’s about making sure they’re ready to thrive, not just survive.”

Students Santigo, Carolina, and Erandi work as a team to create a wreath order for a campus.

Gabby Porraz, Class of 2025 graduate, proudly receives her entrepreneurship business card from her mother, Alicia Lopez. Joining in the celebration are Superintendent Dr. Alejandro Elias and Principal Robin Hernandez at the PTI 2025 Graduation Ceremony.

First-year student Vida Hernandez beams with excitement as she contributes to PTI’s Edible Image student-led business.

PSJA ISD proudly celebrates the grand opening of the PSJA Family Shop in October 2025.

Seeing Ability, Not Disability

A key component of PTI’s success is the district’s collaboration with local and state partners, including Workforce Solutions, the Texas Workforce Commission, and the Valley Association for Independent Living. These organizations provide workshops, paid internships, and transition counseling.

“We have a vocational rehab counselor who helps connect students to summer earn-and-learn programs,” Hernandez says. “They get paid internships where they can build skills and make professional connections. It’s huge for their confidence.”

Hernandez and her team track each student’s progress carefully, ensuring that every classroom lesson connects to real-world growth.

“When I first got here, students were mostly being placed in jobs after graduation,” she says. “Now, we’re placing them before graduation and providing job coaching for three months so they’re ready to succeed on their own. Last year, four of our students were already earning paychecks before they even walked the stage.”

Hernandez shares a story that she says represents what the program is all about. “Juan started with us doing job-site training at the library. He learned the routines, met the staff, and really took pride in his work. Eventually, he got offered a real job at another library in a neighboring city.

“We worked closely with his mom and the librarian to make sure it was a good fit. By the time he graduated, he didn’t need us checking in every day. He was thriving. Now he comes back to visit and tells other students, ‘You can do it, too.’”

Hernandez says that one of the biggest challenges is helping students and families embrace independence.

“A lot of our students come from high school environments where they’re escorted everywhere,” she says. “When they get here, we tell them, ‘You can go to the restroom by yourself. You can handle the kitchen equipment safely. You can make choices.’ For some of them, that’s the first time they’ve ever been told they can.”

Just as students learn new skills, parents often face a transition of their own, adjusting to a new sense of independence in their child.

“Some families are hesitant at first; they’re scared to let go,” Hernandez says. “But once they see their child earning a paycheck, talking about work, or buying something for themselves, everything changes. They start to see their child as an adult.”

Hernandez is already thinking about what comes next, determined to keep raising the bar for her students and her program.

“Our next goal is connecting students to college-level certificates and continuing education,” she says. “One of our current students is taking cybersecurity classes part time. We want to open that door for more students who have the ability and interest. Disability doesn’t mean inability. These students have so much potential. We just have to keep creating the pathways.”

Anna ISD: Baking Skills, Confidence, and Connection

In Anna ISD, north of Dallas, an unassuming classroom smells like freshly baked sourdough bread for good reason. Inside, students in the district’s life-skills and 18-plus programs are hard at work kneading dough, checking timers, and packaging loaves for sale through Coyote Confections, a bakery business run entirely by students with disabilities.

The project was founded by special education teacher Karen Grace, who began baking with her students as a simple life-skills activity. When the bread started winning rave reviews from staff, the idea grew into a business that now reaches across the community.

“Karen just started with a regular kitchen oven in her classroom,” says Dr. Jacob Fischer, Anna ISD’s director of special education. “People loved the bread. She saw how much the students were learning—from following recipes to managing money—and decided to turn it into something bigger.”

With support from the district, Grace secured a grant to purchase a commercial oven and expanded the operation.

Lexi Waites chops jalapenos for the jalapeno and cheddar cheese sourdough loaf.

Anna Fest sign on Oct. 4, 2025. Coyote Confections students made and sold 114 loaves at this community event.

Instructor Victoria Sebesta teaches the shaping process to Carter Petty, Braylan Cooper, and Naomi Smith.

Instructor Karen Grace, Lexi Waites, Braylan and Jaylan Cooper sell bread at Anna Fest.

Substitute Rhonda Waites, Jose Delgado, Jaylan and Braylan Cooper, and Peer Partner Abbey weigh and measure ingredients for sourdough inclusions.

“We helped retrofit the classroom to include stainless steel prep tables, mixers, and a point-of-sale system with iPads,” Fischer explains. “Now the students bake more than a hundred loaves for community events and pop-up shops. They’re learning real business and communication skills.”

Audrey Earley, Anna ISD’s assistant director for special education, has worked in the district for two decades and has seen firsthand how projects like Coyote Confections change lives.

“These programs give students a sense of ownership,” she says. “They’re not just participating; they’re producing something meaningful. They take pride in what they make, and that confidence carries over into everything else they do.”

Grace’s class operates much like a small company. Students work in teams, rotating through stations for mixing, shaping, baking, packaging, and handling sales. “They even designed labels and logos,” Fischer says. “It’s amazing how professional the operation has become.”

Coyote Confections’ success has led to new community partnerships that give students even more ways to apply their skills.

“We do pop-up sales at local banks and community events,” Fischer says. “People ask where they can buy the bread next. It’s become something the town looks forward to.”

Audrey Earley

Audrey Earley is the assistant director of special education for Anna ISD and has served in the district for more than 20 years.

Overcoming Barriers Together

For Fischer and Earley, Coyote Confections serves as a bridge between special education and the wider community, giving students a way to apply classroom lessons in real-world settings.

“Our students are out there interacting with customers, taking payments, and answering questions,” Earley says. “It’s hands-on experience they can’t get from a worksheet.”

The bakery’s success has helped Anna ISD strengthen its entire transition framework. Students in the district’s 18-plus program, which Grace now leads, learn life and work skills in a simulated apartment setting before branching out into community employment.

“Karen has turned that classroom into a full environment,” Earley says. “There’s a kitchen, a café-style table, a business corner, and even a living area. Students practice everything from making resumes to managing household chores. Then they go out and apply those skills at real job sites.”

Fischer adds: “We partner with coffee shops, city offices, pet stores, and even the food pantry. The goal is for each student to find something that fits their strengths.”

Some of the most moving success stories come from students with significant disabilities. Fischer recalls one young man with autism who once refused to leave his house.

“He wouldn’t come to school for almost a year,” Fischer says. “With a lot of home visits, therapy, and patience, we got him back. Now he’s delivering bread to offices, greeting people, and handling transactions on an iPad. The growth is incredible.”

Parents often notice the transformation most clearly, watching their children grow more confident, capable, and eager to take on new challenges.

“We’ve had families tell us, ‘My child gets up excited to go to school again,’” Earley says. “They see their kids not just learning but belonging.”

“It’s about seeing ability, not disability,” Fischer says. “When we focus on what students can do, the results are amazing.”

Dr. Jacob Fischer

Dr. Jacob Fischer is the director of special education for Anna ISD, where he oversees programs supporting students from early intervention through transition.

A Shared Vision Across Texas

From Deer Park to Pharr to Anna, these programs may look different, but they share a unifying mission: empowering students with disabilities to live, work, and thrive with independence and dignity. Each success story begins with educators who refuse to accept limitations and communities willing to open their doors.

“It’s about seeing ability, not disability,” Fischer says. “When we focus on what students can do, the results are amazing.”

When she reflects on what drives her work, Hernandez says it all comes down to purpose and the belief that success should be defined by growth.

“Every time one of our students gets hired, or even just realizes they can do something on their own, that’s a victory,” she says. “We’re not just teaching job skills. We’re teaching confidence, self-worth, and possibility.”

Rainer from Deer Park agrees. “We want people to understand that these students can contribute. They have value. They just need a chance to show it.”

Across Texas, that chance is coming to life in the hum of a kitchen oven, the buzz of a community shop, and the steady rhythm of students finding their place in the world.

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Building the Teacher Pipeline: Corpus Christi ISD’s Associate Teacher Program Opens Doors for Future Educators

David George — Wed, 24 Sep 2025 15:07:10 +0000

Building the Teacher Pipeline: Corpus Christi ISD’s Associate Teacher Program Opens Doors for Future Educators

From paraprofessional to teacher of record, 2025 ATPE Charles Pickitt Associate Educator of the Year Award winner Ashlee Galvan found her calling through Corpus Christi ISD’s innovative Associate Teacher program. With mentorship from leaders like fellow ATPE member Diana Ybarra, she’s proof this program is transforming lives.

On the first morning in her own classroom, Ashlee Galvan found herself surrounded by the buzz of students, the hum of a new school year, and the quiet disbelief that she had finally made it. After years of working in education as a paraprofessional and intervention aide, she was now the teacher of record.

The journey had been long and often frustrating.

“I had over 150 credit hours in education,” Galvan says, shaking her head. “But I lost them all when I switched universities. My advisor finally told me, ‘You only need a minimum number of credits to graduate, then you can pursue alternative certification.’ That wasn’t the route I wanted at first, but it was the fastest way into the classroom. And then Corpus Christi ISD launched this associate teacher program at the exact right time. It was like the door opened for me.”

Galvan, an ATPE member, had been waiting for that opening. Teaching wasn’t new to her; she had taught in childcare centers in Austin and San Antonio, later worked as a pre-K paraprofessional in Corpus Christi, and spent three years providing math and reading support in intervention classes. But she wanted the responsibility, and the joy, of leading a classroom of her own.

“I was kind of forced into it, I guess,” she admits. “But it ended up being a great opportunity. This program let me finally step into my own classroom while I worked on certification. That was life changing.”

Why the Program Matters

The Associate Teacher program is Corpus Christi ISD’s answer to a challenge that districts across Texas wrestle with: how to recruit, prepare, and retain teachers in the face of shortages and high turnover. By creating a pathway that allows individuals with bachelor’s degrees to take full-time teaching roles while pursuing alternative certification, CCISD is betting on people who feel called to the classroom but lack traditional credentials.

For Diana Ybarra, CCISD’s recruitment and retention coordinator and a longtime ATPE member, the program is more than a strategy to fill vacancies. It is part of a larger vision to grow teachers from within.

“Our goal is not just to recruit but to retain,” Ybarra says. “We want teachers to feel empowered, to know they have support, and to see a clear pathway to certification and beyond. If you invest in people, they will stay and grow.”

Ybarra speaks with the authority of experience. She has spent 24 years in the district, including 13 as a classroom teacher and several more as an assistant principal and principal. In her current role, she oversees first-year teacher training, mentorship, and support for associate teachers. To her, the new program is already paying dividends.

“You can see the difference in classrooms,” she insists. “When you give teachers the right support, they not only survive, they thrive. That’s what makes this program work.”

What Makes an Associate Teacher Different

Parents might assume that an associate teacher is just another name for a substitute or paraprofessional. But Galvan is quick to set the record straight.

“As an associate teacher, I’m a 100% teacher of record,” she says. “I handle IEPs, do lesson planning, parent communication, everything a certified teacher does. The only difference is I don’t get the full pay yet. But I’m paid more than a paraprofessional or substitute, and I get all the benefits, including insurance, leave, and professional development. I’m a full-time staff member.”

That level of responsibility can be intimidating for someone new to the profession. But it is also what gives the role its meaning.

“These teachers are not temporary fill-ins; they are leaders of their own classrooms from day one,” Ybarra explains. “That responsibility can feel overwhelming, especially for someone coming from a non-education background. But with mentorship and accountability, they build the confidence and skills they need to be successful.”

Support Built Into the System

CCISD built the program around one idea: No associate teacher should ever feel like they are doing this alone. That’s why the mentor system is at its core.

“The mentors are the lifeline,” Ybarra emphasizes. “They’re on campus with you, day in and day out. That accountability and relationship building are what make the difference.”

Mentors are paired carefully, often by grade level or content area, and they are expected to meet with their associate teacher weekly. They observe lessons, provide feedback, and even step in to model effective classroom routines. To ensure accountability, they complete logs documenting when they met, what was discussed, and what action steps were taken.

“This isn’t just about checking a box,” Ybarra says. “If a teacher is struggling with transitions, the mentor can step in, demonstrate, and then coach them through it. It’s immediate and practical.”

Galvan has leaned on that support often.

“My mentor checks in regularly, and my grade-level chair and instructional coach are always available,” she says. “I’ve also had visits from district staff. The feedback can feel constant, but honestly, it’s what keeps me on track. They want us to succeed.”

Learning the Ropes

Even with support, Galvan says there were moments she felt unprepared.

“No one tells you the small but important things: how to take attendance, input grades, set up MTSS groups,” she says. “Luckily, my mentor and team stepped in to help. Without that, it would’ve been really difficult.”

That learning curve is steepest for mid-year hires, who miss the orientation and planning days in August.

“When you start at the beginning of the year, you get PD days and team planning time,” Galvan says. “But when you’re hired mid-year, you don’t get the same orientation. More coaching for those of us who started mid-year would make a big difference.”

Ybarra said the district has worked to fill those gaps. After surveys showed that mid-year hires felt adrift, CCISD added spring trainings focused on classroom management and practical skill-building.

“It’s not enough to hand someone a binder of instructional guides,” she says. “We’ve learned to break training into bite-sized sessions and focus on real scenarios, such as how to start a lesson, how to transition smoothly, and how to project confidence in front of a class. Those things matter just as much as knowing the curriculum.”

More Than Just a Job

For Galvan, teaching has never been just a job.

“From a very young age, I knew I wanted to be a teacher,” she recalls. “My family thought I was crazy and told me to be a doctor or something more practical. But teaching always felt right. I grew up in a low-income area, and everything was stacked against me. I wanted to break the cycle and help kids like me.”

That sense of purpose has carried her through long days and difficult moments.

“One mom told me her daughter, who struggled with self-confidence, started using emotional regulation strategies we practiced in class at home,” Galvan says. “Another student with behavior issues came to my class, and instead of sending him to the office, I greeted him with a hug every morning. By the end of the year, his mom was amazed at his progress. Those moments validate the work.”

Ybarra hears stories like that often, and she sees them as proof of the deeper truth.

“This is not just a job,” she stresses. “It’s a calling. The teachers who thrive are the ones who pour their hearts into it. They may feel exhausted some days, but they keep going because they know they are making a difference.”

“This program gives people the chance to change careers and pursue teaching. It creates a pathway for individuals who feel called to the profession, even if their degree is in something else. The mentorship, the community, the structure—it makes all the difference.”

Ashlee Galvan

Ashlee Galvan is a 2025 ATPE Charles Pickitt Associate Educator of the Year and a proud member of ATPE.

“Our goal is not just to recruit but to retain. We want teachers to feel empowered, to know they have support, and to see a clear pathway to certification and beyond. If you invest in people, they will stay and grow.”

Diana Ybarra

Diana Ybarra is the recruitment and retention coordinator for Corpus Christi ISD and a longtime ATPE member.

No Lack of Challenges

The work of an associate teacher mirrors that of a certified teacher in every way, except in salary.

“We do the same work as certified teachers, but we don’t receive the same pay,” Galvan says. “That’s tough. You really have to remind yourself you’re working toward something bigger.”

For many associate teachers, the pay gap is the most significant challenge. They grade papers late into the night, make parent phone calls, prepare lessons, and attend professional development sessions, just like their certified peers. But the paycheck does not yet match the workload.

Ybarra acknowledges the frustration but emphasizes the long-term payoff.

“Once associate teachers are certified, more doors open,” she says. “Many of them move quickly into leadership roles because of the foundation they built here. We’ve seen teachers who, within two years, are being tapped for grade-level leadership or campus committees. The experience accelerates their growth.”

Mentorship That Changes Lives

Galvan says she has always gravitated toward mentoring others.

“Even in childcare centers, I was the one training new hires,” she says. “Helping others is part of who I am. One day, I’d love to mentor associate teachers myself. I think going through this program will make me a better mentor because I’ll understand the struggles firsthand.”

Ybarra sees that as the natural progression.

“You may be a great leader, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be a great mentor,” she observes. “A mentor walks alongside you. They teach you how to fish instead of handing you the fish. That’s what builds lasting capacity.”

She says the district has already seen associate teachers take on leadership roles earlier than expected, thanks to the skills and confidence they gain in the program.

“That’s the power of mentorship,” she says. “It doesn’t just prepare you for today’s lesson plan—it prepares you to guide others in the future.”

A Model for Other Districts

CCISD’s Associate Teacher program is attracting attention beyond Corpus Christi. Teacher shortages are not unique to the Coastal Bend, and districts across Texas are searching for solutions.

“I met other recruitment and retention coordinators at a training this summer, and we compared notes,” Ybarra says. “They wanted to know what we were doing with accountability and mentor systems. I think other districts can learn a lot from this model.”

Galvan said the program’s appeal is simple.

“This program gives people the chance to change careers and pursue teaching,” she says. “It creates a pathway for individuals who feel called to the profession, even if their degree is in something else. The mentorship, the community, the structure—it makes all the difference.”

ATPE as Another Layer of Support

Beyond district support, both Galvan and Ybarra credit their ATPE membership with helping them feel connected and supported in the profession.

“Summit was my first big ATPE event,” Galvan recalls. “It was eye-opening to see so many educators from other districts. People like [Region 2 ATPE President] Jackie Hannebaum check in on us and offer support. She makes you feel like you’re the only one she’s looking out for, even though she does that for everyone. That kind of connection and support means so much.”

Ybarra said she sees ATPE as a vital safety net.

“Being part of ATPE connects you to a network of people who understand what you’re going through,” she says. “It’s another layer of support—whether it’s legal guidance, professional resources, or just knowing someone has your back.”

Advice for the Next Wave

As the program grows, both educators say they hope more aspiring teachers will take the leap.

“Be patient,” Galvan says. “The pay might not be what you want, but remember you’re working toward certification and something bigger. Communicate, be open-minded, and don’t be afraid to ask for help. People will give you their time if you ask.”

Ybarra added that preparation and openness are key.

“Plan ahead, manage your time, and be open to feedback,” she says. “Don’t take it personally; it’s about growth. Most of all, remember it’s not your classroom. It’s the students’ classroom. They’ll always remember how you made them feel.”

Investing in the Future

In Ybarra’s eyes, the Associate Teacher program is more than a hiring strategy. It is a long-term investment in both educators and students.

“We are setting up the next generation of students for success, and at the same time, we’re building the next generation of teachers and leaders,” she says. “When you invest in human capital, you change lives not just for today but for years to come.”

For Galvan, that investment has already paid off.

“Teaching has always felt right for me,” she says. “Now I finally have the chance to do it, and I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

David George

Past Managing Editor

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The ATPE Podcast: Miscellaneous Types of Educator Leave

David George — Thu, 28 Aug 2025 17:01:59 +0000

The ATPE Podcast: Miscellaneous Types of Educator Leave

In this episode of The ATPE Podcast, ATPE Managing Attorney Lance Cain wraps up our three-part series on educator leave, focusing on assault leave, civic duty leave, military leave, administrative leave, and more.

August 28, 2025

From jury duty to military service, educators may encounter unique situations that require time away from the classroom. But what happens if you are injured while breaking up a fight at school? Can a district require you to use personal leave when you are called for jury duty? How long can you be absent for military service and still return to your job with full benefits?

These are just a few of the questions educators may face when it comes to lesser-known types of leave. Knowing how they work and what protections are available can make all the difference in a difficult situation.

In this episode of The ATPE Podcast, ATPE Managing Attorney Lance Cain discusses assault leave, civic duty leave, military leave, administrative leave, and more. He explains what the law requires, what districts may offer at their discretion, and what educators should keep in mind if they ever need to use these forms of leave.

The legal information provided here is accurate as of the date of publication. It is provided here for informative purposes only. Individual legal situations vary greatly, and readers needing individual legal advice should consult directly with an attorney. Please note: Rights based on the Texas Education Code may not apply to all. Many Texas Education Code provisions do not apply to public charter schools, and public school districts may have opted out of individual provisions through a District of Innovation plan. Eligible ATPE members may contact the ATPE Member Legal Services Department.

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The Force Is Strong with Vicki Rowe: Celebrating a Lifetime of Teaching Excellence

David George — Thu, 07 Aug 2025 16:09:17 +0000

The Force Is Strong with Vicki Rowe: Celebrating a Lifetime of Teaching Excellence

After 42 remarkable years shaping minds, Taylor ISD’s Vicki Rowe has earned the prestigious H-E-B Lifetime Achievement Award. We sat down with her to celebrate this honor and reflect on her inspiring career.

August 7, 2025

With 42 years in education and a deep-rooted love for teaching, Vicki Rowe has left an indelible mark on countless students, both in her native Minnesota and her adopted home of Taylor, Texas. Nicknamed affectionately “Yoda” by her students and colleagues, Rowe combines wisdom, compassion, and a commitment to academic excellence. This year, her remarkable career was honored with H-E-B’s prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award, a recognition reserved for educators who truly transform lives. We sat down with Vicki to reflect on her journey in the classroom, the lessons she has learned, and the legacy she hopes to leave behind.

Tell us about yourself.

I was born and raised in Minnesota, and that is where I began my teaching career. After graduating from Bemidji State University, I went straight into the classroom at Bemidji High School, where I taught for 17 years. It was a wonderful place to grow as a teacher and build a foundation for my philosophy and passion for education.

Eventually, life brought some changes. My husband received a job opportunity in Texas, and we made the move. For a few years, I stepped away from the classroom and worked as the education director for NAMI Texas, a nonprofit focused on mental health education and advocacy. While that role was meaningful and aligned with my values, I found myself missing the energy of the classroom, the daily interactions with students, and the joy of seeing young minds grow.

That longing brought me to Taylor High School, where I have been teaching ever since. I currently teach Academic Decathlon, sophomore honors English, and AP English Literature. Until recently, I also served as the UIL coordinator. Being back in the classroom reignited my purpose. I am so grateful to be part of a school community where I can continue to challenge and support students as they grow into thoughtful, capable individuals. Teaching has never been just a job to me. It has always been a calling, and I am thankful every day that I answered it.

What was it like hearing your name announced as the winner of the Lifetime Achievement Award by H-E-B?

It was one of those moments that just stops you in your tracks. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat, and honestly, I was in complete shock. Hearing my name called was overwhelming, but also deeply affirming. I was incredibly honored to receive the award, especially knowing how much it would mean to my school, my students, and our community. Teaching is often a quiet, behind-the-scenes profession, so it is humbling when someone recognizes the work that you pour your heart into every single day.

What inspired you to become an educator in the first place?

My path to becoming a teacher started when I was very young, though I did not realize it at the time. Like many children, I had a list of dream careers. First, I wanted to be a ballerina, but I quickly discovered I did not have the right body type. Then, I decided I wanted to be an orchestra conductor. I would listen to records and stand in front of my imaginary symphony, conducting the same piece of music over and over. Eventually, the record got scratched from so much use, and I had to let that dream go too.

But one Christmas changed everything. I was around 6 or 7 years old, and I received two gifts that I believe planted the seed for my future. One was a Suzy Smart doll, which came with a chalkboard and could say simple words like “cat” and “dog.” The other was a college sweatshirt from the school where my older brother was studying to become a teacher. He gave matching sweatshirts to my sister and me. I spent hours “teaching” my Suzy doll everything I knew. She could spell and recite nursery rhymes like “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” and in many ways, she was my very first student.

Not long after, I had another formative experience. The mayor of my hometown lived right across the street from us, and one day he asked if I would be willing to help his wife in her Head Start classroom. I agreed, not really knowing what to expect. There was one little boy in the class who never spoke and seemed very withdrawn. I remember sitting with him and asking if he had a dog. That simple question made his entire face light up, and he began to open up to me. That moment of connection—watching a child come alive just because someone saw him and cared—left a permanent mark on me.

Even now, the greatest joy I have in teaching comes from moments like that. When a student understands something for the first time, or when I tell them I am proud of them and I see it land in their heart, it is powerful. Those moments never get old. They are why I keep showing up, year after year. It has truly been a good life and a good career.

Tell us about your teaching philosophy.

At its core, my teaching philosophy is built on two essential principles. First, we must design and deliver high-quality lessons that truly engage students and help them grow as learners. Second, we must focus on building meaningful relationships with our students. These are the only two things we can truly control in education, but they are also the most powerful.

If we cannot reach a student emotionally—if we cannot connect with their heart—we will never fully engage their mind. That connection has to come first. It is about trust, respect, and showing students that they matter, not just as learners, but as people. I believe a student’s willingness to take risks and push themselves academically begins with a sense of safety and belonging.

At the same time, lesson design matters. Students need to feel challenged, curious, and inspired. I spend a lot of time thinking about how to bring content to life, how to make it relevant, and how to ensure that every student sees themselves in the work we do. I also try to maintain a sense of humor and joy in my classroom. Learning should be something students look forward to, not something they endure. A little laughter can go a long way in breaking down barriers and building a classroom culture where everyone feels welcome.

This balance between academic rigor and emotional support has guided my entire career. I do not think you can truly teach one without the other. A student who feels seen and respected is much more likely to rise to the challenges you place before them. That is what I aim to create in my classroom every single day.

What do you think are the essential traits of an effective educator today, and how do you demonstrate them to your students?

To be a great educator today, you have to be both a master of your subject and a master of human connection. It is not enough to simply know your content. You have to understand your students—who they are, where they come from, and what they need from you, not just academically but emotionally. You have to be flexible, creative, compassionate, and resilient. Most importantly, you have to believe in every student’s potential, even when they cannot yet see it themselves.

My students and colleagues have affectionately called me “Yoda” for years, and I take that as the highest compliment. Like the wise Star Wars character, I try to blend knowledge with emotional insight. I focus on the heart and the mind together because I know that is where true learning begins. Every student is different, and so are the ways they learn best. That is why I use a variety of teaching methods and always offer my students choices. They deserve the freedom to engage with content in ways that speak to them personally.

My classroom environment reflects that philosophy. Student work is proudly displayed alongside trophies, plaques, and photos of our award-winning Academic Decathlon and UIL Spelling teams. I also hang prints of classic artwork that connect to the museums my students and I have toured together. The room tells a story of achievement, beauty, and intellectual curiosity. I want students to walk in and feel that they are in a space where learning matters—and where they matter.

But even more important than the physical space is the emotional space. Students know that Room 2064 is a safe place, a space where trust, laughter, and respect are woven into every lesson. Former scholars return and talk about how it always felt peaceful in my room. That is not by accident. I show up consistently. I keep my door open early and late. I make it clear that I am here for them, ready to teach, support, and walk alongside them as they figure out their future.

Once a student enters my classroom, they become my “scholar,” and that title does not expire. It does not change with graduation or even with time. It is a term of endearment and respect that reflects my belief in who they are and who they can become.

Looking back on your career, which accomplishment means the most to you?

When I reflect on my career, the achievement I feel most proud of isn’t an award or a title—it’s the relationships I’ve built with my students and the impact I’ve had on their lives. Each year, my AP classes include students with diverse backgrounds and unique challenges. Names like Ruiz, Martinez, Yanez, Gonzales, and Cruz often appear on my rosters, and many of these scholars are still learning English when they walk into my classroom. It amazes me how these young people, many from economically disadvantaged families, trust me enough to take on the challenge of advanced coursework. They know that my classroom is a safe place where they are valued, supported, and believed in.

One of the things I’m most proud of is how many of these students become college-bound, often being the first in their families to apply. I see myself as a bridge to a future they might not have imagined before, and I work hard to instill in them the confidence that they can succeed. I tell them, sometimes jokingly but with a lot of love, that I will haunt them if they don’t go to college. But behind the humor is my deep belief in their potential.

To inspire my current students, I started a “Where Are They Now?” feature in my classroom. I reached out to former scholars through social media, asking if they would share their stories and advice. The response was overwhelming—nearly 200 former students replied, many offering to let me share their photos and journeys. Each week, I highlight one of these alumni, showing my current scholars the many paths success can take. Some have gone on to earn doctorates, work in medicine or journalism, or serve in the military. Others have taken on roles in political organizations or education. These stories provide real hope and motivation for my students, showing them what is possible.

What I thought would motivate my students has also motivated me. Knowing that my former scholars are contributing positively to the world fills me with pride and hope. Despite the obstacles many of them have faced, they continue to push forward and make a difference. That resilience and courage are the true markers of success in my book. So, while I am grateful for awards, it is the growth and achievements of my scholars that are my greatest accomplishment.

How do you define and measure success for yourself and for your students?

Success for me goes beyond test scores or grades. While those can be important indicators, I define success in terms of what I call “teacher moments.” These are the powerful instances when a teacher realizes they have truly made a difference—not just in a student’s academic understanding but in their confidence, growth, or even their life trajectory.

One of my most memorable teacher moments involved a student who was terrified of public speaking. In September, I watched her confidently deliver a speech on Facebook Live to local and state officials, as well as executives from Samsung. She encouraged them to build their $17 billion semiconductor plant in Taylor, and despite her initial fear, she spoke with poise and passion. I don’t know if she fully understood the significance of her words, but they had a real impact. Samsung did decide to build the plant here. Witnessing her overcome fear and make a meaningful contribution was a deeply rewarding moment.

Another teacher moment came during a trip to London with students. I found two of my scholars standing in a dimly lit gallery, gazing at a rare Leonardo da Vinci sketch. The light reflected on their faces, and I saw tears streaming down one student’s cheeks. The joy and awe she felt discovering true beauty were unmistakable. Moments like this remind me that learning extends beyond textbooks, and it touches the heart and soul.

Perhaps the most touching teacher moment was when one of my students, Rose, received a full-ride Questbridge scholarship to Duke University. We had worked through the application process together, learning about the hardships she had overcome. When she came to me with the email confirming her scholarship, we hugged and cried together. At graduation, she shared in her speech how she never thought college would be possible for her. That moment of triumph and gratitude is what success truly means to me.

In the end, success is a blend of student joy, achievement, and the teacher’s role in nurturing both. These teacher moments are what make the challenges of teaching worthwhile. They show that education is not just about facts, but about awakening joy, courage, and lifelong learning.

What is next for you?

Looking ahead, my biggest hope is to leave a meaningful legacy, especially with the Academic Decathlon program I have been coaching for over 20 years. Almost every year, my teams have gone to State and consistently finished in the top three. That kind of success doesn’t happen by accident, and I want to make sure the program continues to thrive long after I retire. I want the students and coaches who come after me to remember what we built together and carry that momentum forward.

Retirement is inevitable, even if it feels far away right now. My family jokes that I will die in my classroom and that they might even build a statue in my honor, which gives you an idea of how much teaching means to me and my loved ones. I want to be remembered as someone who made a difference, who cared deeply, and who helped build something lasting in the lives of students and the community.

More than anything, I want to know that the work we started will keep going. That the students I have coached and taught will continue to grow, excel, and inspire others just as they inspired me. Leaving a legacy isn’t about fame or recognition; it’s about the impact you have on people’s lives and the positive changes that ripple out from there.

Are you excited about retirement?

Retirement brings a mix of emotions for me. On one hand, I feel a bit worried that life might feel empty without the daily rhythm of teaching and being with my students. The classroom has been my second home for so many years, and I’m unsure what it will be like to step away from that environment. It’s a natural fear to have when leaving something that has defined much of your life.

On the other hand, I am optimistic about the opportunities retirement could offer. I am eager to give back to the community in new ways, especially through volunteering. Taylor has the Educational Enrichment Foundation, which raises funds to support teachers and enhance education. I would love to be part of that foundation, maybe even serve on their board, helping to continue supporting educators and students beyond the classroom.

Many people have suggested I write a book, and I often think about the countless funny and memorable things my students have said over the years. I wish I had documented those moments because they truly are priceless. Retirement might finally give me the time to capture those stories and share some of the humor and heart from my teaching journey.

Overall, while I have some apprehensions about retirement, I also see it as a new chapter full of potential to stay involved, help others, and continue making a difference outside the classroom.

What has ATPE meant to you throughout your career?

ATPE has been like a security blanket for me throughout my entire career. Knowing there is an organization I can call that has my back provides a tremendous sense of security. Teaching can sometimes feel isolating or overwhelming, but ATPE offers support, resources, and answers when I need them most. That kind of reassurance makes walking into the classroom every day a little easier.

ATPE not only protects us by advocating for teachers’ rights and well-being but also lobbies for policies that help improve education across Texas. Their efforts on our behalf create a stronger environment for teachers to do what they love. It’s comforting to know that someone is looking out for us on a larger scale.

Beyond the professional protection, ATPE also fosters a sense of community. Knowing there are thousands of educators who stand together to make a difference is empowering. We share goals, challenges, and successes, and that shared bond strengthens all of us.

In short, ATPE has been more than just a professional association. It has been a source of strength, advocacy, and connection throughout my career, and I am deeply grateful for the role it has played in supporting me and other teachers across Texas.

Congratulations to Vicki on this well-deserved recognition. Her dedication and passion have left a lasting impact on countless students and the teaching community. We wish her continued success and fulfillment in whatever comes next.

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Breaking the Silence: Students and Survivors Lead a Movement Against Eating Disorders in Schools

David George — Wed, 06 Aug 2025 15:53:30 +0000

Breaking the Silence: Students and Survivors Lead a Movement Against Eating Disorders in Schools

One Round Rock high school student is developing a model for students and survivors to break the silence on eating disorders in schools through personal stories, advocacy, and empowerment.

For years, eating disorders have been quietly present in school hallways, cloaked in silence, shame, and misconceptions. But a new student-led movement, amplified by survivors, educators, and advocates, is creating change. With support from the National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders (ANAD), a growing group of young ambassadors and adult allies are giving voice to silent struggles and reshaping how schools approach mental health and body image. One club formed at Round Rock ISD’s McNeil High School has inspired 20 chapters in 14 states to join this movement.

Finding Her Voice

When Diya Mankotia entered McNeil High School, she carried with her a battle few knew about. Diagnosed with an eating disorder in eighth grade, she navigated what she describes as “quasi recovery,” a time when she was still consumed by food guilt, body checking, and a fear of letting go.

“I used food to feel in control when everything else felt chaotic,” Mankotia recalls. “It kind of becomes your whole identity.” My daily thoughts were preoccupied with what to eat for my next meal or how many calories I needed to burn.”

In her sophomore year, Mankotia realized recovery meant both healing and sharing knowledge with others. To create space for support and education, she founded McNeil EDSA, the first student-led eating disorder support and awareness club at her school.

“I started this club really to break the silence around eating disorders because there’s a lot of stigma, especially in high school, about what they really are,” Mankotia says. “Many people think it is just about food and are uneducated on how deadly they truly are.”

One of the most meaningful moments for Mankotia came during a school-wide campaign where she presented to over 200+ students and staff members on the prevalence and impact of eating disorders. “There was this one student who came up to me afterward and said, ‘I’ve never heard anyone talk about their struggles with this before; it’s such a relief to know I am not alone,’” she recalls. “That’s when I truly understood the impact of this work, not just for myself, but for my community.”

Rather than following a set model, Mankotia’s club focused on creating space for open conversation and peer support. “We didn’t want it to feel like a lecture,” she says. “We wanted to make it approachable. Just a place where people felt safe.”

As club president, Mankotia also saw herself grow into a leader. “I used to be really shy about speaking up,” she says. “But this taught me how to use my voice—not just for myself, but for others who might not feel ready yet.”

Sharing her personal story didn’t come easily. “I was scared of sharing my story at first,” Mankotia admits. “I don’t think I’m a super-knowledgeable person, but the experience that I had with my disorder is what makes me qualified enough to speak on it.”

Mankotia cold-emailed ANAD’s community engagement director and immediately began collaborating on ANAD’s Student Ambassador Program. “It was perfect timing,” she says, “because they were in the process of developing a school-based prevention ambassador program and wanted my perspective as a youth.”

What began as a single school club at McNeil High School has now grown into a nationwide movement, with over 25 student-led chapters across 17 states. Led by Mankotia, the once school-based club has transformed into Project EDSA, and in just three months, has brought together over 80 volunteers from 13 countries. Project EDSA equips students with ready-made toolkits, resources, and guidance to launch their own mental health clubs, making support and education more accessible in schools around the world.

“You don’t have to have a fully elaborate plan to create change. It really takes one person starting a conversation. Even small steps in the beginning can take you to where you want to be.”

Diya Mankotia

Founder of Project EDSA and a national student ambassador with ANAD, where she leads youth-driven efforts to raise awareness about eating disorders in schools.

From Survivor to Advocate

When Jason Wood was diagnosed with an eating disorder in 2020, his first emotion wasn’t relief; it was anger.

“I was kind of mad that I could have battled an eating disorder for 20 years and not even really realized it,” he says. “It had been clouded by all the stigma and misconceptions around eating disorders, especially for men.”

The diagnosis marked a turning point, leading Wood to write about his experiences as part of recovery.

“I launched a blog a couple months into recovery. I just started sharing my story, and it snowballed from there.”

That writing led to his memoir, Starving for Survival, and speaking engagements at high schools and colleges across the country. Wood quickly realized that the more he shared his story, the more others, especially men, felt empowered to speak up, too.

“There’s this double stigma for guys,” Wood says. “First, that we don’t talk about our emotions, and second, that we don’t struggle with eating disorders. The truth is, we do. And the silence around it just makes everything harder.”

Wood left his tech job to work full time at ANAD, quickly rising to director of community engagement.

“Walking away from the corporate world was scary,” he says. “But I knew this was my life’s work. I get to do something that matters, something I’m passionate about, and that never feels like just a job.”

At ANAD, Wood leads a biweekly men’s peer support group, supports survivors at every stage of recovery, and helps run the Student Ambassador Program (ASAP), which empowers high school and college students to create awareness campaigns, host events, and form peer support groups on their campuses.

“There are very few male-specific resources in the eating disorder treatment space,” Wood says. “I’ve talked to men who were asked to leave residential programs, not because of anything they did, but because their presence made others uncomfortable. It’s isolating.”

That experience fuels his passion for peer support.

“When a guy joins a general support group, he’s often the only one there. It feels like no one can relate,” he explains. “But when you’re in a room full of people who just get it, who understand what it’s like to live in a society that tells men to stay quiet, it’s healing.”

Wood is also open about how complex recovery can be, especially when other mental health conditions are involved.

“For me, OCD and trauma were deeply tied to my eating disorder,” Wood shares. “I was constantly trying to follow these food rules or compulsions because it felt like the only way I could keep chaos at bay. My eating disorder was a way to manage the pain I didn’t know how to deal with.”

He recalls moments when hunger became a distraction from emotional pain.

“I figured if I could just feel hunger instead of grief or fear or anxiety, then maybe I could get through the day.”

This connection between trauma and control is one Wood believes is often overlooked.

“Eating disorders are so rarely about food. They’re about control, about pain, about trying to cope.”

At ANAD, Wood now channels those hard-won lessons into programs that offer what he wishes he’d had when he was struggling: support from people who truly understand.

“Our community is made up entirely of people with lived experience,” he says. “That changes everything. It means when someone shows up to a support group, they’re met with empathy, not confusion. We’re not just talking the talk. We’ve lived it.”

Creating Change in Schools and Beyond

Mankotia and Wood both believe educators have a unique opportunity to shape how students understand and talk about body image, food, and mental health. But too often, those conversations never start because educators don’t feel equipped or fear saying the wrong thing.

“Teachers play such a huge role in students’ lives,” Mankotia says. “They’re in the best position to notice when something’s off or to make a student feel safe. But they might not realize the impact of their words, even little comments.”

Wood agrees. One of the biggest ways educators can help is by being mindful of how they talk about food, weight, and their own bodies. Casual remarks like “I was bad today” in reference to eating dessert or jokes about needing to burn off a cupcake may seem harmless but can reinforce harmful ideas.

“Students are always listening,” Wood says. “And they’re internalizing these messages about morality and food, about how a ‘good’ body should look. That adds to the shame.”

He also encourages educators to watch for behavioral changes that may indicate a deeper issue. Repeatedly skipping meals, leaving for the bathroom after eating, increased irritability, or isolation can all be red flags. And not every struggling student fits the stereotype.

“The overachievers are the ones to look out for,” Wood says. “The ones getting straight As, in every club, always showing up. That was me. I looked like I had it together, but I was falling apart inside.”

To help educators feel more prepared, ANAD offers a multitude of free online resources, including staff training options tailored to school settings. These resources aim to build awareness and confidence without asking teachers to become experts.

“Often, it’s not about having the right answer,” Wood says. “It’s about showing up, listening, and not making assumptions based on appearances.”

Wood’s own experience drives that message home. He shares openly about how unresolved trauma and obsessive-compulsive disorder contributed to his eating disorder. For years, he used food and exercise to regain a sense of control when everything else felt chaotic.

“When I was dealing with trauma symptoms or anxiety, I’d double down on the rules,” he says. “It became a coping mechanism. If I followed all the food rules, all the OCD rituals, maybe I wouldn’t have to feel what was underneath.”

That deeper understanding of eating disorders is what drives the student ambassador program. ANAD gives students the power to lead conversations on their campuses, grounded in their lived experiences and what matters most to their peers. Mankotia found this student-led model incredibly empowering.

“There’s no playbook,” she says. “Mr. Wood helped me come up with ideas that made sense for my school. He always made it clear that my voice mattered.”

Ambassadors receive training, one-on-one coaching, and updates on current trends in eating disorder awareness. Some organize events while others create content for social media or meet with administrators about school policies. All with the goal of supporting meaningful change.

For Wood, the program’s biggest strength is the stories students bring to it. “Statistics get people’s attention, but stories keep it,” he says. “That’s what changes hearts and minds.”

That belief is guiding ASAP’s continued expansion. The team is building partnerships with other mental health and student-led organizations, such as Active Minds and The Hidden Opponent, to ensure that eating disorder advocacy is part of a broader, more inclusive movement. The next phase includes two new student ambassador cohorts, more campus outreach, and a growing emphasis on community and collaboration.

“Eating disorders isolate. But connection heals. And if we can build spaces where students and educators are working together to create that connection, that’s how we change lives.”

Jason Wood

Director of Community Engagement at ANAD, a speaker, and author of Starving for Survival, advocating for eating disorder awareness through lived experience.

Building a Movement

As the ANAD Student Ambassador Program (ASAP) enters its second year, both Wood and Mankotia are thinking bigger and more collaboratively about what’s next. Their shared vision is rooted in the belief that awareness is most powerful when personal and shared across communities.

“Eating disorders thrive in isolation,” Wood says. “But there is strength in numbers. We’re not trying to create a movement of one. We’re trying to build a community where everyone feels they have a place.”

For Mankotia, that sense of community has been essential. As one of the founding student ambassadors, she has helped shape the program and believes its real power lies in the support it provides to young advocates.

“At first, I wasn’t sure where to begin or if I was the right person to lead something like this,” Mankotia says. “But the more I spoke up, the more I realized how many people were just waiting for someone else to go first.”

The program will now have two distinct cohorts: one launching each fall and another in spring. Each ambassador will meet monthly with ANAD staff and will be asked to commit a minimum of five hours a month to their club or activities.

In addition to expanding its reach, the program is evolving to more explicitly address the diverse experiences of individuals from different backgrounds. Mankotia and Wood are focused on lifting up diverse voices within the movement.

“We need more representation,” Mankotia says. “Eating disorders don’t discriminate. Everyone’s story matters, especially those who don’t always get heard.”

For those ready to get involved, ANAD offers free resources, training, and connections.

“Change starts with a conversation,” Mankotia says. “And sometimes all it takes is one voice to spark that discussion of hope.”

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Can House Bill 6 Help Save Texas Classrooms?

David George — Wed, 06 Aug 2025 15:52:44 +0000

Can House Bill 6 Help Save Texas Classrooms?

Two veteran educators reflect on a growing crisis in Texas classrooms where rising student misbehavior and vanishing support systems are both pushing teachers to the brink and raising urgent questions about the promise of House Bill 6.

After more than three decades in education, ATPE Member Kristin Shelton has witnessed sweeping changes in the classroom. Shelton recently retired from Round Rock ISD, where she spent 32 years working with young learners in Pre-K, kindergarten, first grade, and third grade. Minus one year spent overseas on an Air Force base in Japan, nearly her entire teaching life unfolded in Texas public schools.

Shelton says she didn’t walk away from the profession because of stagnant pay or overwhelming workloads. Those were known challenges she had long accepted. For her, the tipping point came from something more immediate and more emotionally draining: student behavior.

“Most of us know about the pay going in,” Shelton says. “What people don’t realize is the level of disruption teachers are facing daily. It’s the behavior issues.”

Disruptive student behavior, according to Shelton, is not just an occasional challenge. It has become a daily obstacle that derails lessons and drains teachers’ energy. In one of her final years in the classroom, she described a student whose repeated physical outbursts toward staff went unaddressed because administrators were too overwhelmed with even more severe cases.

In another instance, her principal had to call the police on a fifth grade student and ended up pressing charges after the child damaged school property and created a safety threat.

“My pre-K student hitting my classroom assistant doesn’t get any attention because our administrators are too busy dealing with kids who are destroying property and terrifying others,” Shelton says.

She emphasizes this is not a new issue but one that has steadily worsened over the past decade. The trend became especially intense in the years following COVID-related school closures. Shelton described a period, more recently, when classrooms were evacuated up to three times a week because of a single student’s outburst. These incidents did not only stop learning in its tracks, but also they created a climate of fear among other students who had to witness it and experience emotional stress on a regular basis.

“These disruptions don’t just affect the kid who is misbehaving,” she says. “They derail learning for an entire class and breed fear in their peers.”

Across the state in Lubbock, ATPE Member Allyson Haveman has seen similar patterns unfolding among older students. Haveman retired in June after 39 years in public education, including more than two decades as a campus administrator.

For the past 11 years, she has served as an assistant principal at Lubbock High School, where she was the administrator in charge of discipline documentation and one of two administrators who handled the majority of student discipline. Prior to that, she was the principal at the Lubbock County Juvenile Justice Center, a secure residential facility for youth with serious criminal records.

In Haveman’s view, student behavior in public schools has changed significantly over the years. What was once considered unacceptable has in some cases become normalized.

“There’s been a downward spiral in respect toward educators,” Haveman says. “Kids using profanity, fighting, vaping—it was constant. And there were only two of us administrators handling most of the discipline on campus.”

Haveman described multiple incidents where students returned to school days after committing serious offenses. In some cases, these were crimes involving violence or weapons, yet students were allowed to return before schools had a plan in place to manage the risks or respond to the disruption. Staff were left asking difficult questions with no clear answers.

“We’d have a kid commit a serious offense over the weekend and then show up again on Monday,” she says. “It was like, what exactly do you expect us to do?”

Haveman believes part of the problem stems from a cultural shift. During the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, teachers were widely celebrated as essential frontline workers. That period of appreciation, she said, quickly gave way to frustration and conflict as schools reopened. Students returned to class with new behavioral challenges, and staff found themselves confronting increased defiance and a lack of boundaries.

“It was like the gloves came off,” she says. “They brought in the tiny vapes; they fought in bathrooms. And it wasn’t every student, but it was enough to change the culture of the school.”

Both Shelton and Haveman see these incidents as more than just individual behavioral problems. They reflect a broader collapse in the systems meant to support both students and educators. Teachers are being asked to manage situations that would have once involved specialized staff, such as behavior interventionists, school psychologists, or trained counselors. Instead, they are left on their own, sometimes in classrooms where learning cannot safely or effectively continue.

“The other students see these things happening,” Shelton says. “And they wonder why nothing is being done. And honestly, so do we.”

Support Systems Eroded

In earlier years of her career, Shelton experienced what effective behavior support could look like in a school. At one time, her campus had a system in place that allowed for quick intervention when an incident began to escalate. An assistant principal, counselor, or behavioral aide could step into the classroom, assess the situation, and speak with the child privately outside the room. Sometimes there were designated desks or calming areas in the hallway where students could regroup with support staff. After de-escalating and talking through what had triggered the behavior, the student could return to class more in control. It was not perfect, but it worked.

“To me, that was the absolute best thing that could ever happen,” Shelton says. “We had people who built relationships with those students, who could help them regulate their emotions and then bring them back when they were ready. And the rest of the class didn’t have to lose instruction.”

Over time, however, those kinds of systems began to disappear. Shelton said the change was gradual. Aides and behavioral support staff were not replaced when they left. Counselors were spread thinner across multiple campuses. Administrators found themselves consumed with broader duties, including testing, compliance, and safety protocols. The result was fewer adults available to intervene in moments of crisis.

“Our one school counselor cannot possibly meet with all the kids who need counseling,” Shelton says. “She’s supposed to be helping with emotional and behavioral needs, but she also has to handle testing, scheduling, and all these other things. She’s just one person.”

Without this kind of structured backup, teachers are often left alone to manage situations that escalate beyond their training or control. When a student’s behavior reaches a breaking point, Shelton said the most common response is to evacuate the rest of the class. This removes the immediate danger to others, but it also creates an environment where disruption is rewarded with attention and the classroom is effectively handed over to the misbehaving child.

“Why are our kids being pushed out into the hall while the misbehaving kid gets to just stay in there and then wreck the room even more? We were doing this up to three times a week. And the message that sends is all wrong.”

Kristin Shelton

ATPE Member

Shelton said district leaders did visit the school a couple of times to review the situation. Some changes were suggested, and teachers were given refresher training during faculty meetings. But the deeper structural issues, including lack of staff, funding, and consistent behavioral support, remained untouched. By the following school year, the conversation had quieted, but the problems persisted.

In Lubbock, Haveman described a similar erosion of long-term behavior solutions. At the juvenile justice center where she worked for 16 years, the emphasis was on counseling, structure, and accountability. Students who entered the facility received comprehensive services, including trauma-informed therapy and intensive academic support. The goal was rehabilitation, not just punishment, and there were systems in place to guide that process.

“You’d have kids that came in with absolutely no structure in their life,” Haveman says. “But they had a sleep schedule, they got nutrition, they went to school regularly, they got counseling and physical activity. You’d see them start to thrive because the support was there.”

One of the most memorable students she encountered was a teenager who came into the facility after years on the street. He was dealing with substance abuse and a chaotic home life. After detoxing and receiving counseling, he began to express a desire for a better future.

He asked how to get emancipated so he could legally separate from his parents, who were still involved in drug trafficking. Haveman and her team connected him with legal support and helped him begin a new chapter.

“That kid could see the big picture,” she says. “He knew he had a shot at a better life, and he wanted to take it. But it was only possible because the structure was in place to support him.”

Haveman sees a sharp contrast between that structured environment and what is now happening in traditional public schools. While schools have always had students facing trauma, poverty, and instability, the tools and staffing needed to respond to those needs have not kept pace.

“We used to have a system where there was room to intervene,” she says. “Now it feels like we’re putting out fires every single day.”

Can House Bill 6 Make a Difference?

The challenges described by Shelton and Haveman are not unique to their schools or districts. Across Texas, educators have voiced growing concerns about student behavior, classroom safety, and the lack of effective support systems. In response to these concerns, Rep. Jeff Leach (R–Plano) introduced and passed ATPE-supported House Bill 6 during the 2025 legislative session.

House Bill 6, signed by the governor June 20 and effective immediately, was presented as a major effort to empower teachers and restore order to classrooms. At its core, the bill seeks to give educators more authority to remove students who exhibit persistent or severe misbehavior, including violence and chronic disruption. It also proposes the creation of virtual alternative education programs for students who are removed from campus and introduces new guidelines for parental involvement in discipline cases.

While these ideas sound promising on the surface, both Shelton and Haveman express cautious optimism. From their perspectives, any meaningful change will depend on whether the bill comes with the funding, training, and clarity that districts and educators need to make real improvements.

“This kind of thing sounds good when they present it,” Haveman says. “But is it going to be backed up with actual resources, or is it going to fall apart the moment there’s pushback from parents or lawsuits from advocacy groups?”

Shelton shares similar concerns. For years, she has seen legislation come and go with little effect at the classroom level. While she supports the idea of giving teachers more control over their learning environments, she believes the success of any new law will hinge on execution and whether the state will support schools with the personnel and infrastructure needed to make it work.

“Removing students is one thing,” she says. “But then what? Where do they go? Who is working with them to help them return to class in a better place? Right now, we don’t have the people to do that.”

House Bill 6 includes a provision for remote alternative education programs designed to allow removed students to continue their education off campus while receiving behavioral interventions. In theory, this offers a structured path for students to return to school without compromising safety. But Haveman, who has extensive experience overseeing discipline in both traditional and juvenile justice settings, has serious doubts about the logistics.

“Where is the money for this coming from?” she asks. “Technology costs money. Staff costs money. Curriculum costs money. Broadband access isn’t free. And you can’t just dump students into a virtual system and expect them to magically improve without trained professionals guiding them through it.”

Shelton points out that similar programs in the past have often fallen short due to lack of consistency and accountability. She worries that unless the state provides a clear framework, individual districts will be left to interpret the law in vastly different ways, potentially widening the gap between well-funded and under-resourced schools.

Both educators also emphasize that funding alone is not enough. Implementation will require thoughtful planning and buy-in from administrators, parents, and lawmakers themselves.

“If we’re really going to change something, then we all need to be on the same page,” Shelton says. “That means the Legislature can’t just pass this and walk away. They need to stay involved, and they need to listen to us.”

Haveman takes that idea even further. She believes legislators should be required to step inside schools and experience what teachers are dealing with before drafting education policy.

“They should all have to substitute teach. Spend a full day in a classroom where there’s a serious behavior issue. Try teaching while you’re being cursed at or threatened. Then tell me what tools you think teachers really need.”

Allyson Haveman

ATPE Member

Another area of uncertainty involves how this new legislation will apply to students in special education or other protected populations. Haveman, who has navigated those complexities for years as an administrator, is especially concerned that uneven enforcement could lead to new problems.

“If this isn’t clear and consistent across all districts, it’s going to cause more confusion,” she says. “We need uniform standards, not policies that change from one region to another.”

For both teachers, House Bill 6 presents a possibility, but not a guarantee, of progress. If implemented well, it could bring long-overdue relief to educators struggling under the weight of classroom disruptions. But if rolled out without sufficient training, oversight, and funding, it risks becoming yet another symbolic gesture that fails to address the real issues at hand.

“We’ve seen laws come through before that sounded great but didn’t fix the problem,” Shelton says. “This time, if they’re serious, they need to follow through.”

What Teachers Really Need–and the Path Ahead

While House Bill 6 aims to grant educators more authority over discipline, both Shelton and Haveman stress that laws alone cannot solve the deep-rooted challenges schools face. Their combined 70 years in education reveal that sustainable change requires resources, professional development, and systemic support to address the underlying causes of behavior problems.

Shelton, who worked in prekindergarten and elementary classrooms, highlighted that behavior issues are often symptoms of larger unmet needs. “You can’t just kick kids out of class and expect them to succeed,” she explains. “Many of these kids are dealing with trauma, unstable homes, or mental health issues that we don’t have the staff or programs to address.”

Her classroom experience showed her that successful discipline relies on a combination of clear expectations, consistent consequences, and positive relationships with students and families. But as she notes: “When you’re overwhelmed with 25 or 30 kids, and half of them have serious behavioral or emotional challenges, you need help. Not just from the administration, but from counselors, social workers, and trained support staff.”

Haveman echoes this view with a focus on safety and structure. Students who have experienced neglect or trauma require stability and intensive counseling to change behavior. “You can’t treat these kids like you treat the average student,” she says. “They need consistent routines, clear boundaries, and adults who will hold them accountable while also providing support.”

She points to examples from the juvenile justice center where she worked, where students received intensive counseling and education in a secure environment. “Some of those kids never had a structured day before they got there,” she says. “We had to build that from scratch with proper nutrition, sleep schedules, schoolwork, counseling, and physical activity. That’s what it takes to get these kids functioning.”

Both educators emphasize many traditional schools lack the resources to provide such comprehensive services. They worry that without funding for counselors and mental health professionals, teachers will be left with the same difficult students but fewer tools to help them succeed.

Shelton also points out that time is a precious and limited resource for teachers. “Teachers are being pulled in every direction,” she says. “Planning lessons, grading, attending meetings, dealing with behavior issues—it’s a lot. We need protected time in the school day to focus on teaching and interventions. Behavior problems steal away from that.”

Effective training is critical. “If lawmakers expect teachers and administrators to enforce new discipline rules, then everyone needs to be trained on what those rules really mean and how to apply them fairly and consistently,” Haveman says. “It’s not enough to pass a law and hope for the best.”

In the end, Shelton and Haveman remind us that laws can set a framework, but real change happens when teachers, parents, administrators, and policymakers work together with adequate resources to create safe and supportive learning environments. House Bill 6 is a critical step toward that goal but achieving it will require commitment and collaboration at every level.

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Bringing Learning to Life: How Puppets and Masks Empower Students and Spark Engagement

David George — Tue, 20 May 2025 14:10:50 +0000

Bringing Learning to Life: How Puppets and Masks Empower Students and Spark Engagement

In classrooms across Texas, puppets and masks are doing more than just entertaining; they are also inspiring joy. Meet two educators who are using these creative tools to turn everyday lessons into moments of connection, courage, and self-discovery.

When the lights dim and the curtains rise in a traditional theater, the magic of performance takes center stage. But for a growing number of Texas educators, that same magic is happening far from the auditorium, inside everyday classrooms.

In a special education class in Plano, a puppet helps students practice empathy and friendship. In a middle school drama room in North Lamar ISD, handmade masks help teens express feelings they’re not ready to share aloud. These aren’t just theater props; they’re powerful tools used by passionate educators such as Katy Matthews and Cassandra Rogers to engage students in ways that are meaningful, creative, and emotionally resonant.

At first glance, puppets and masks might seem like relics of preschool circle time or high school plays. But in the hands of these dedicated teachers, they become vehicles for connection, bridges for navigating complex emotions, and tools for inspiring joy.

With student mental health and classroom engagement top of mind for many educators, puppets and masks are finding fresh relevance. They offer not only a way to liven up a lesson but also a path toward healing, confidence, and community. For the teachers who embrace them and the students who respond, the transformation can be unforgettable.

A Playful Way to Teach Serious Lessons

Katy Matthews, a special education teacher in Plano ISD, has spent nearly two decades helping students navigate both academic and social challenges. Because every child’s needs and learning styles are unique, she’s found that puppets can be especially effective in bringing social-emotional lessons to life.

“I’ve mainly used puppets when I teach social skills—things like role-playing or having the puppet teach the lesson,” Matthews explains. “The younger kids love talking to the puppets and acting out, ‘This is what I would do in this scenario.’ It makes the lesson more engaging, more concrete.”

Puppets give students a way to interact with tough subjects without the pressure of direct conversation. Matthews often finds that children who are shy or hesitant to speak up will open up more easily when a puppet is involved. “They’ll talk to the puppet before they’ll talk to me or to the class,” she says. “It becomes a kind of buffer.”

“The puppet made it feel like a game. And suddenly, she wanted to read aloud so the puppet could ‘learn,’ too. It created a positive cycle where she became the teacher, and that built her confidence.”

Katy Matthews

Special education teacher, Plano ISD

Over the years, Matthews has amassed a small collection of finger and hand puppets of all shapes and sizes that she integrates into lessons. She might use a puppet to read part of a story aloud or act out a conflict between characters so students can brainstorm solutions together. “It becomes second nature for the kids,” she says. “They don’t even realize they’re learning because they’re having fun.”

But she’s also careful to tailor her approach to each child. “I have some third grade boys right now who aren’t into puppets, so I don’t push it,” she explains. “But I had a student a few years ago who was way into puppets, and they really motivated her. She even started bringing her own from home and using them to work through situations that were hard for her to talk about otherwise.”

Matthews has seen firsthand how this kind of imaginative play builds emotional awareness and problem-solving skills. “We’re not just playing,” she says. “We’re learning how to be a friend, how to handle frustration, how to speak up in a respectful way. Puppets are just the tool, but the growth is very real.”

Building Confidence Behind the Mask

Cassandra Rogers, a middle school drama teacher at Stone Middle School in North Lamar ISD, knows that stepping onto a stage can be a daunting experience for students, especially those who are shy, anxious, or new to theater. That’s why she turns to puppets, shadow play, and masks as a bridge between students and self-expression.

“For sixth and seventh grade, I use puppets and shadow puppets as a way to help kids build confidence,” Rogers says. “It’s not them on stage—it’s the puppet. That gives them a creative outlet while feeling protected.” This small but powerful layer of separation allows even the most hesitant students to participate, experiment, and perform without fear of judgment.

In her classroom, cardboard silhouettes and paper sack puppets take on lives of their own as students write scripts, rehearse dialogue, and explore character development. The puppets become stand-ins for emotions and perspectives the students might not feel ready to express on their own. “It’s amazing how much they’ll reveal through their puppets that they wouldn’t say directly,” Rogers says. “It gives them emotional distance, and that creates safety.”

By eighth grade, Rogers invites students to delve into the rich traditions of global theater. They study dramatic forms such as Japanese Kabuki and Italian commedia dell’arte, then create their own masks to embody different characters and archetypes. “They really enjoy the creative process, but they’re also diving deep into culture, history, and symbolism,” she says.

The projects often lead to unexpectedly profound conversations. “We talk about how emotions can be expressed through color, symbolism, and exaggerated features,” Rogers says. “The students start to realize that people across cultures and centuries have shared the same kinds of fears and hopes. It’s powerful.”

One lesson in particular stands out in Rogers’s memory: a mask-making project inspired by Kabuki theater. As the students crafted dramatic, expression-filled masks, Rogers prompted them to reflect on the “masks” they wear in everyday life. “We had a really emotional discussion about how we sometimes hide our true feelings—like putting on a smile even when we’re struggling inside,” she recalls.

The insights that emerged were deeply personal. “Several students said they felt misunderstood or invisible at school,” Rogers says. “But behind the safety of a mask, they were able to share those feelings openly. It became a space where students could be vulnerable, honest, and ultimately, more connected to each other.”

For Rogers, the goal goes far beyond theater technique. “I’m teaching kids how to understand themselves and others,” she says. “The stage is just the setting, but the real drama is in the self-discovery that happens along the way.”

More Than Make-Believe

Both Matthews and Rogers are quick to clarify that their classrooms aren’t about putting on shows. They’re about creating safe, imaginative spaces where students feel seen, heard, and understood. Puppets and masks aren’t props for entertainment; they’re tools for connection, empathy, and growth.

Matthews recalls how one of her students who faced significant challenges with reading lit up the moment a puppet entered the lesson. “She struggled with reading, but if I used a puppet, she was more willing to engage,” Matthews says. “It was motivating for her.” With a puppet in hand, the student was no longer just facing a tough task—she was helping a character sound out words and offering support instead of feeling pressure. That shift in perspective turned a source of frustration into a source of pride.

“The puppet made it feel like a game,” Matthews explains. “And suddenly, she wanted to read aloud so the puppet could ‘learn,’ too. It created a positive cycle where she became the teacher, and that built her confidence.” Moments like these, Matthews says, are small but powerful reminders that learning doesn’t have to look traditional to be meaningful.

For Rogers, the most impactful moments often unfold in the subtle ways students learn to include and uplift one another. She fondly remembers a time when her class was working on a Harry Potter-themed skit. A student with special needs, who adored the fantasy world, watched from the sidelines with growing excitement. Without prompting, his classmates rewrote part of the scene to include him as a character.

“It showed me how powerful these creative tools can be in building empathy. When students are pretending to be someone else, whether through a puppet or behind a mask, they start to understand what it means to walk in someone else’s shoes. And that understanding doesn’t end when the performance does.”

Cassandra Rogers

Middle school drama teacher, North Lamar ISD

“They created a whole moment just for him, with a wand and everything,” Rogers recalls. “It was such a neat moment—spontaneous, thoughtful, and completely student-led.” The skit wasn’t about getting every line perfect—it was about making sure everyone had a role to play.

“It showed me how powerful these creative tools can be in building empathy,” she says. “When students are pretending to be someone else, whether through a puppet or behind a mask, they start to understand what it means to walk in someone else’s shoes. And that understanding doesn’t end when the performance does.”

Whether it’s a kindergartner learning to navigate social cues through a puppet or a teenager reflecting on identity behind a handmade mask, both educators agree: These tools open the door to conversations and transformations that might not happen otherwise.

A Creative Path Forward

For educators curious about experimenting with puppets or masks, both Matthews and Rogers offer the same welcoming message: You don’t have to be an artist or performer to make a meaningful impact. What matters most is creating opportunities for students to connect, reflect, and grow.

“You don’t have to go all in right away,” Matthews says. “Try one small thing. If that works, you can build on it.” She often starts with simple finger puppets during storytime or short, low-pressure role-play scenarios during social skills lessons. “Sometimes we have grand ideas, but if it’s overwhelming, it loses its effectiveness. The key is to meet your students where they are.”

That might mean using a single puppet to model a conversation or letting students create their own characters with paper bags and markers. What seems small on the surface can open the door to big learning moments, especially for students who don’t always feel comfortable speaking up in class.

Rogers echoes that approach and adds that educators should give themselves permission to feel unsure. “It’s okay to be scared and brave at the same time,” she says. “I tell my students that all the time.” In her classroom, she focuses first on building trust. Once students feel safe, she finds that they naturally begin to embrace the creative tools she introduces.

“You don’t need a theater background or a big budget,” Rogers adds. “Start with something simple like having students design paper masks that represent different emotions. Use that as a springboard for conversation.” The real magic, she explains, happens when students start to make connections between their creative choices and their personal experiences.

Whether the goal is to teach empathy, encourage risk-taking, or give students an outlet to process their feelings, puppets and masks offer more than just a fun break from routine. They become mirrors and windows—tools that allow students to see themselves more clearly and understand others more deeply.

“They give students a voice, a shield, and a stage to express who they are,” Rogers says. “And sometimes, that’s exactly what a young person needs to feel like they belong.”

Inspiring Joy in the Classroom

In a time when many educators are facing burnout, behavioral challenges, and learning gaps, these creative strategies offer something deeper. Whether it’s a puppet making a child laugh during a tough day or a handmade mask helping a teenager articulate hidden emotions, these simple tools remind us of the transformative power of play.

As Rogers puts it, “Middle school is hard. But with the right support, students will try things they never thought they could. And that’s when the magic happens.”

For teachers seeking fresh ways to connect, puppets and masks may seem old-school, but they’re helping students tell stories, take risks, and, most importantly, feel seen.

In this video from Rogers’ class, students perform their own creative retelling of The Three Little Pigs using handmade puppets. After designing their characters, they added a fun twist to the classic tale—complete with a surprise ending!

David George

Past Managing Editor

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Log in to the ATPE Online Community to communicate with educators from across Texas on this article and much more. Explore the community today!

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