At a recent staff meeting, my principal recommended Troublemakers by Carla Shalaby, a book she said would add perspective to how we think about our students. I added it to my audiobook queue, not thinking much of it at the time. But as I started listening during my daily commutes, it quickly became one of those books that sticks with you. I found myself nodding along, reflecting, and at times, feeling a little uncomfortable, in the best way.
The book introduces us to four young children, Zora, Lucas, Sean, and Marcus, who are each labeled as “troublemakers.” They resist authority in different ways and find themselves in classrooms that often expect more conformity rather than making space for their unique voices.
As I listened, I couldn’t help but think about students I’ve taught over the years, and even a few in my current school. Zora’s strong sense of self reminded me of a student who pushes back during group work when things feel too rigid. Marcus’s open defiance felt familiar too, the kind of student who tests boundaries because they’re looking for real choices, not just directions to follow. Lucas and Sean made me think of students who interrupt “on-task” time with questions that challenge what’s being taught or how it’s being taught.
These stories really made me pause and reflect on my own practice. They pushed me to think about how much space I create for student voice and autonomy in the day. One idea that stayed with me is Shalaby’s suggestion that “trouble” is often a signal, one that points to unmet needs for autonomy, belonging, or connection. It made me ask myself: am I shutting down these moments, or am I creating space for them?
Another idea that really resonated with me was “learning school.” Shalaby describes this as the hidden curriculum students have to figure out in order to succeed, not academics, but how to be in school. Things like knowing when to speak, how to sit, what kind of curiosity is acceptable, and how to show compliance in ways that adults expect.
This hit home because we see it every day. Students who are incredibly bright, curious, and passionate, but they struggle, not because they can’t learn, but because they haven’t quite “learned school.” They don’t always fit the mold of what we think a “good student” looks like, quiet, neat, and compliant. And yet, they’re often the ones asking the most thoughtful questions or standing up when something feels unfair.
Shalaby reminds us that these students aren’t the problem. Instead, it’s the system that doesn’t always recognize their resistance as something valuable, something that can actually reflect courage, identity, and a strong sense of justice.
And this is where I think it’s important to pause and acknowledge something: as educators, we do work incredibly hard to create spaces for individuality and creativity. We care deeply about our students and want them to feel seen and heard. But the reality is, we’re also managing large class sizes, tight daily schedules, the school’s schedule of events and parent communication, and the responsibility of covering curriculum expectations and much much more. In trying to balance it all, it’s easy to lose time and space for individuality and creativity to naturally surface. Many times we end up following a tight timeline just to get through the day. That gap isn’t about a lack of effort, it’s about the system.
And that’s where the real tension lies for us as educators. We want students to think critically and be themselves, but sometimes the structure of school rewards conformity more than creativity or individuality. This book has definitely shifted how I respond when a student pushes back or bends the rules. Let us see those moments as less as disruptions and more as opportunities, to connect, to listen, and to better understand what that student might need.
Let’s continue to rethink not just what we teach, but how we create our learning spaces, emotionally, culturally, and socially. I invite you take a moment to reflect on these questions and consider where small shifts in your approach might make a difference.
Reflections:
When a student challenges directions or routines, how do I usually respond and what might that behaviour be trying to tell me?
In what small ways can I create more space for student voice, choice, or curiosity within my current schedule?
Are there moments in my classroom where I might be prioritizing compliance over connection and how could I shift that balance, even slightly?
