Author: Preeti Deokharan

As we step back into our classrooms, I invite you to join me in a different kind of shift. Rather than doing more, focus on doing better in just one area you’ve already started. Maybe it’s something personal in your own practice, or maybe it’s connected to your class.

Like any change, this starts with reflection. Think back over the past year. What have you done that feels good and sustainable? What did you introduce that you genuinely love? Maybe you started something and slowly let it go. Now is the perfect time to bring it back and give it another real chance.

This type of shift requires an intentional pivot in our daily routines. For me, the big focus this year is student independence in the junior grades that I support. When we solve every problem for our students, we unintentionally teach them that they need us for everything. To break that cycle and reclaim my own attention, I’m leaning heavily into a classic strategy.

The “3 Before Me” rule. It sounds simple, but it can create a great shift in your classroom. “3 Before Me” is a strategy I’ve used before and one I get genuinely excited to introduce each year, but if I’m honest, it’s also one I tend to forget to consistently reinforce over time. So this year I aim to be intentional. I will teach, model, and remodel, and use anchor charts to remind myself and my students how to use it.

Here is how it will work. Once I’ve explained the task and addressed any questions, students will try the following before coming to my desk with a “how-to” question:

Check in with themselves: Check the board, the rubric, or their own notes.

Ask a Peer: Ask a neighbour for clarification.

Refer to a Resource: Look at a mentor text or a classroom anchor chart.

If a student comes to me with a question, I’ll hold up three fingers to check if they’ve done their “3 Before Me.” If not, I’ll kindly send them back to give it a try first; if they say yes, I might ask which peer they talked to or what resource they checked, just to keep the habit strong.

What makes this work for my students is that it builds confidence and fosters critical thinking. Students come to see that they can find answers on their own instead of always turning to the educator for answers. And for the educator, it reduces the constant interruptions and quick-fix questions, creating the time needed to support students more intentionally and meaningfully. It creates space for you to facilitate small groups or have deep, one-on-one check-ins with students who truly need your expertise.

As we use the “3 Before Me” strategy, we need to make sure it actually fits the learners in front of us, especially our multilingual learners and students with special education needs. That means teaching it clearly and visually. Try using simple anchor charts with icons, step cards on desks, and sentence stems like, “Can you explain this step?” or “I don’t understand this word.” Model what asking a peer actually sounds like before expecting students to do it independently. And remember, the number doesn’t have to be rigid. For some students it might be “1 Before Me” or “2 Before Me.” Build in safe exceptions for when a student is truly stuck or overwhelmed. When we scaffold it properly and choose peer partners intentionally, “3 Before Me” becomes a tool for building confidence and independence, not a barrier.

Changing your classroom culture is like breaking any old habit. It feels clunky at first. You will have to revisit your expectations and set new goals with your class. You’ll have to resist the urge to give the quick answer and you’ll have to gently point back to the “Ask 3” poster.

But remember this. Every time you don’t answer a question that a student could solve themselves, you are gifting them a bit of autonomy and gifting yourself the energy to be the inspired, present teacher you want to be.

As you look at your calendar for the coming weeks, begin by asking yourself. What is one task I do daily that my students could actually do for themselves? Where am I “performing” teaching rather than “facilitating” learning?

I invite you to make this year the year of the sustainable teacher.

As both a teacher and a parent, I get to see what engages children including my own. Lately, my daughter has been bursting through the door with this excitement, arms waving, cheeks flushed, words tumbling out faster than I can catch them.

And every time, her stories follow this simple but exciting pattern. A picture book they read in class. The outdoor adventure that connected to it and the research they did afterwards to answer the many questions they came up with.

Watching her connect all those pieces has reminded me, more clearly than ever, how powerful picture books and outdoor time truly are.

My daughter will start by telling me about the picture book of the day. Maybe something about forest animals or changing seasons. But it’s really what comes after the story that shows the power of those pages. She talks about the characters, the setting, and the questions the book planted in her mind.

As a teacher, I know picture books can spark inquiry.
As a parent, I get to see that spark ignite in my own child.
Then comes the outdoor stories. Her absolute favourite part.

Her class has been exploring the forested trails behind the school, and hearing her describe it feels like listening to a nature documentary narrated by a very excited five-year-old. She tells me about following the path, spotting tracks in the mud, and crouching down to look closely at “real evidence,” as she calls it.

Recently she came home thrilled about finding animal scat on the trail . “We found ‘clues’, Mom!” and she continued to explain the different lines pressed into the dirt and snow that a muskrat had dragged cattails and sticks to the pond. She explained it like she had been on a wildlife expedition. And honestly? Her excitement was contagious.

After their walk, she said they went back inside and looked up muskrats on Google, because, of course, she had a hundred questions. And the facts she learned came flying at me as soon as she got in the car. She told me these things with such joy that I couldn’t help but smile. The book gave her the curiosity, the forest gave her the evidence, and the research gave her the answers. That combination of story + exploration + information is what made the learning so powerful.

Watching her experience all of this has reminded me, both as a teacher and a parent, that these simple ingredients aren’t extras, they are the driving force for deep, joyful learning.

We don’t need elaborate materials or hours of planning. Sometimes all it takes is a story, a walk through the trees, and the chance to follow a question wherever it leads.

When my daughter comes home overflowing with enthusiasm, talking about trails, animal scat, muskrat homes, and underwater facts, it’s impossible not to see the magic. It is clear that picture books and outdoor time don’t just teach. They invite curiosity and make learning come alive.

This year, a part of my roles is serving as a Kindergarten Planning Time teacher. It’s a unique position, one where I drift between classrooms, slipping into the children’s day like a background melody. I’m not their “main” teacher, yet I’m a constant presence. And over the months, I’ve realized something powerful.

We talk so much about academics, routines, and expectations, but underneath all of it is something deeper. That is, what children come to believe about themselves, their inner voice. The one that will one day whisper encouragement before a big test, calm them when they are overwhelmed, or remind them that they are capable and loved.

Since September, I’ve watched a quiet transformation. When I enter a classroom now, the children greet me with familiarity, comfort, and joy. They know me. They trust me. Many of them open up in ways they didn’t at the start of the year.

It made me realize:

Even in a short period of time, even in a shared role, even in just one period a day, we matter.

Our tone, our consistency, our reactions, our presence… all of it becomes part of a child’s internal narrative.

There’s one moment that has stayed with me this year, one I think about often.

In September, every time I walked into one particular Kindergarten class at the end of the day, one little girl started to cry. It wasn’t about me; it was about the clock. My appearance signaled one thing to her:

It’s almost home time.

And for her, that transition felt overwhelming.

Every day, she cried.

Not loudly, not dramatically, just an overwhelming feeling that sat in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

I sat with her. I talked to her. I told her she was safe, that she was okay, that she was brave. In the beginning, she would repeat it back to me as a question.

I didn’t push her. I just showed up consistently with the same calm voice, and gave her the same gentle reassurance.

And slowly, so slowly at first, her inner voice began to change.

Where there was once panic, she started to build predictability.

Where there was fear, she began to find comfort.

Where there were tears, she began to show quiet strength.

Now, months later, she no longer cries when I walk in. Instead, she greets me, accepts that it’s almost home time. She gets ready calmly. She smiles. She chats. She knows she’s okay. She knows she’s brave.

And somewhere inside her, a new inner voice has formed. A voice that sounds a little bit like her… and maybe just a little bit like the reassurance she heard from me all those times.

“This is routine. I can handle this. I’m brave.”

This experience reminded me that how we greet a child becomes how they learn to greet themselves.

How we respond to their fear becomes how they learn to handle fear.

How we speak to them becomes their self-talk when we are not around.

We are not just teaching curriculum.

We are teaching self-regulation. Resilience. Self-talk.

We shape their inner voice, one moment, one connection at a time. And sometimes, it’s the smallest roles, the smallest windows of time, that make the biggest impact.

For several years now, I’ve had the privilege of being part of our school’s Eco Committee, working alongside passionate staff and students to make small but meaningful changes for our planet. This year, I had the opportunity to reflect on ‘why’ this work matters so deeply to me. I realized that my connection to nature has been a constant thread throughout my life — even as far back as grade 3, when I was proudly part of our school’s “Green Team.” Back then, we promoted recycling, reminded classmates to turn off the lights, and helped bring life back to our school courtyard. Looking back, it’s clear that this early spark for environmental stewardship has continued to guide me ever since.

Being an Eco Lead this year has been an inspiring journey of meaningful learning, connection, and discovery. Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a professional development session hosted by Peel Eco Schools in partnership with Toronto Region Conservation. The experience was rich with practical strategies and heartfelt perspectives from the Outdoor Education Team and members of the Indigenous Education Team. 

One of the resources shared was the book Treaty Words: As Long as the Rivers Flow by Amiee Craft, a powerful resource to incorporate Indigenous voices and histories into our eco work. It reminds us of the importance of our relationship to the land. A line that truly resonated with me from the book was, “she knew it was a privilege to be there”—on the land, witnessing the transitions of nature and understanding our role within those relationships.

Our afternoon was spent intentionally preparing for our outdoor space. We used materials like milk bags and newspapers to create our very own sit spots. Once we entered our outdoor space and found our quiet sit spots, we took time to reflect on our responsibility to the land. It made me think deeply about how we have a duty to care for it, to leave it as we found it, and to ensure that our presence honours the delicate balance of nature. This sense of responsibility is a living practice rooted in Indigenous teachings about respect, reciprocity, and renewal, a perspective beautifully shared through Treaty Words.

We settled into “sit spots”. Special places where we can pause, observe, and connect deeply with nature. As I sat in my spot, despite the busy sounds of traffic on Hurontario to my left and a construction truck repairing pavement to my right, I was amazed at how slowing down made me feel. I noticed the beauty in the grass, how a spider delicately moved from one leaf to the next using its web, and the countless ladybugs dotting the greenery like little jewels. After a quiet 10 minutes of connecting with the land, we were equipped with macro cameras that allowed us to zoom in on the tiniest details of life around us. The macro cameras took a simple, tiny flower that I might normally overlook and revealed stunning close-ups of vibrant colors, intricate textures, and miniature structures. A hidden world of wonder right at my feet! That tiny flower is now the wallpaper on my phone. A small reminder that even amongst the noise and hurry, there’s a world of hidden wonders waiting right at my feet.

Sit spots are more than just a quiet place outdoors. They are invitations to practice mindfulness and patience, encouraging us to observe the environment with all our senses, seeing, smelling, feeling, and even tasting where safe and appropriate. This kind of connection nurtures respect for living things and fosters a sense of belonging within the natural world.

I encourage every educator and student to find their own sit spot. Whether it’s a patch of grass at school, a local park, or a garden corner at home, taking time to slow down and really notice the smallest creatures and plants can bring unexpected joy and a renewed sense of care for the environment.

Let’s all continue to nurture our connection to nature,  because when we look closely, listen deeply, and feel fully present, we discover that the world around us is alive with stories, beauty, and lessons waiting to be learned.

As educators, we understand the importance of representation in the books we offer our students. Many of our classroom libraries have stories that reflect diverse cultures, identities, and experiences, however, one area that continues to be underrepresented is people with disabilities.

Books that portray characters with visible and invisible disabilities are not only valuable for students who share those experiences, but also for building empathy, awareness, and inclusion among all readers.

Think about it. Have you ever seen a student’s eyes light up because a character in a story uses a wheelchair, just like them? Or because the main character uses an AAC (augmentative and alternative communication) device to speak, just like their sibling? That moment of recognition can mean everything.

When students see characters who move through the world in a similar way, whether navigating hallways in a wheelchair, facing anxiety in a noisy classroom, or interpreting social cues through the lens of autism, it can validate their experiences. It tells them, You belong here. Your story matters. On the flip side, when these characters are missing, it can send an unintended message: You don’t belong in stories.

Books about disability are for everyone. Why? Because inclusive literature builds empathy, challenges stereotypes, and opens the door to meaningful conversations around inclusion, fairness, and everyday kindness.

But here’s the thing, even with a growing awareness of diversity in publishing, books that accurately and respectfully depict characters with disabilities remain limited.

So what can educators do? Evaluate and choose your books accordingly. The resource by Chloë Myers and Hank Bersani Jr. offers practical ways for evaluating whether children’s books challenge or reinforce ableist thinking. Consider the following questions to determine if the book is a good fit for your library.

Does the book promote ableism by ignoring people with disabilities? Does the book address a diverse range of characters, including children of various ethnicities, abilities, and backgrounds? For example, do the images show children in wheelchairs, wearing hearing aids or using portable oxygen tanks?

Do the illustrations promote ableism by addressing disability in stereotyped ways? For example, does the book show children with various abilities, taking on roles like playing basketball, playing on swings, climbing, singing, making choices using pictures and assistive devices?

Who in the story has agency? Are people with disabilities always the recipients of the efforts of others or are they portrayed with value? For example, are the characters depicted as engaging and contributing to their community? Does it show their abilities and strengths rather than focusing only on their limitations?

These questions are not about canceling books. They are about becoming more intentional with our choices. Every book you choose has the power to shift thinking, shape self-concept, and build understanding. Begin by exploring a title a month. Consider involving your students. It is okay to say, “I’m trying to find books that do a better job of representing all kinds of people. Let’s explore together.”

My second year as an ISSP teacher feels very different from the first. The fog of uncertainty has lifted. This year, I know more about what the role entails and what is expected of me. There’s more of a sense of calm because the work feels clearer and more structured. But even with that clarity, one large mountain stands in front of me: confidence.

For me, finding my confidence again has proven to be one of the hardest parts of this journey. In our bi-weekly meetings, I often feel like I’m running a marathon before I even begin to speak. Instead of focusing on the conversation in the moment, my mind starts racing as I overthink what I’ll say next. And when I finally do share, I worry that my nerves are louder than my words. It instantly takes me back to my time in school and my fear of speaking in front of large groups.

In moments like this, I would often engage in self-talk, reminding myself to breathe and that in many other situations, I am confident.

After a recent meeting, I reflected on why I felt so unsettled and how I might approach it differently next time. That reflection brought me back to my teaching practice in my classroom, where I often guided my students through their own nerves, helping them manage stress and anxiety before presentations.

I know that building confidence applies to us all. As adults, we can find ourselves in new roles or situations that challenge us and bring out our insecurities. It’s something our students experience too. Just like me, they worry about saying the wrong thing, stumbling over words, or being judged. If I want to climb my own mountain of confidence, I also want to help my students climb theirs.

Here are a few strategies I’ve leaned on in my personal journey and in the classroom, even more so recently for myself, to boost confidence and presentation skills.

Firstly, Normalize Nerves

I remind myself and my students that nerves are normal and even useful. They mean you care about what you are sharing. To help normalize this, I talk about it openly with my students. I sometimes even admit that I still get nervous speaking in front of others. When students see that everyone gets nervous, it removes some of the stigma and pressure to be “perfect.”

Remember to Practice in Small Steps

Instead of jumping straight into a full presentation, I often present to my colleagues or record myself. I then use my reflections or feedback to improve myself. In the classroom, I would create small group opportunities. A chance to turn-and-talk or read a single sentence aloud. Gradually, these small, low-pressure moments help us get comfortable with speaking in front of others.

Use Preparation as a Confidence Tool

This tip has been the most helpful to me. I like to write out what I want to say before meetings. I create a script from the moment I know I have to speak to the last sentence I will have to say. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I don’t use it. Why? Because I know nothing goes as scripted, and by that time, I am more confident that I know what I want to say. However, in the nervous moments leading up to the event, it reminds me that I am prepared, and if I get so nervous, I just have to look at my paper and find my thoughts. I encourage students to script or outline their thoughts as well. Some need cue cards, others prefer mind maps. Simply knowing there is a plan to fall back on helps ground my confidence.

Celebrate Every Attempt

I make it a point to celebrate effort over polish. My shaky voice or mispronunciation is still progress worth acknowledging. Confidence grows when we feel safe to try again, not when we feel judged for not being perfect the first time. After my presentations, I truly value the moments my colleagues recognize my efforts and support me by praising what I have done well. That recognition motivates me to keep trying and to continue facing my nerves.

Honestly, nerves might always be part of my story, but so is growth. By preparing, staying present, practicing, and celebrating progress, I know I can keep moving forward. And maybe confidence isn’t a single mountain to conquer, but a path I keep walking, not running, one steady step at a time.

 

This summer, I basked in the Ontario sun, enjoyed lake walks and quality family time. I listened to novels for fun, caught up with friends, and snuck in a little Netflix marathon. Like many of us, I treasure summer as a chance to rest, recharge, and spark new creativity. Still, it didn’t take long before teaching crept back into my thoughts. Soon, my feeds were filled with educator tips, last year’s wins and lessons replayed in my mind, and a growing list of books, podcasts, and webinars I wanted to squeeze in before September.

As the calendar edges toward a new school year, I begin to ask myself the same questions, What do I want to do better, what do I want to repeat and what do I want to let go of for myself and my students? Setting a goal each year has become a tradition, one that keeps me motivated and focused on growth. 

In my earlier years of teaching, this happened almost without thinking. I would start the year eager, excited to dive into what I wanted to accomplish. But after stepping into a new role last year as an In-School Support Program Teacher, my reflections shifted. While I still work with many of the same students, the experience feels very different from being a classroom teacher. This summer, my reflections centred on what worked and what didn’t in my intensive support groups, where I felt less confident, and how I could better prepare myself with the knowledge and skills to support those areas.

To make this process energizing instead of overwhelming, I’ve built a strategy for goal-setting that feels both personal and fun. First, I reflect and celebrate. I journal my favourite memories from the past year, what made me proud and what I wish I had tried. Looking back on progress gives me momentum to keep going. Then I write down bold goals, “Every student feels heard and seen,” and then break them into manageable steps, weekly check-ins, and more student-choice projects. After that, I talk about my goals with teacher friends. Their perspectives spark fresh ideas and help me see new possibilities. Lastly, colourful sticky notes on my desk remind me of my goals and offer little bursts of encouragement. These small, bright cues keep me inspired day to day.

Each September feels like flipping to a new chapter. This year, I’m focusing on building a more inclusive environment, prioritizing wellness for myself and my students, and weaving joy into everyday moments, whether through silly games, a shared laugh, or a new storytime tradition. By setting goals with intention and heart, I’m ready to welcome the year with excitement.

As teachers, we are natural collectors. We save things “just in case”. A lesson plan, a folder of half-used stickers, a set of bent booklets, because we might need them one day. I recently found myself doing just that. While switching grades, I decided it was time to declutter my classroom. I filled six whole boxes for donation and felt proud of my progress. But then I looked around and realized… I still had six boxes of stuff I couldn’t part with. I told myself I’d go through them again at home, that I would definitely use some of it “one day.”

But when I got home, those six boxes went straight to the basement. And they stayed there. For months. Untouched. Collecting dust.

Then, life stepped in with a not-so-subtle lesson: a water leak. Yep, right where those boxes were stacked. Some things were ruined, others were salvageable, but honestly? The real surprise was how relieved I felt to finally let it all go. What I realized in that soggy, musty moment was that  I did not need to save all that stuff. I wasn’t using it. I wasn’t going to use it. And I definitely didn’t miss it.

The “I might need it one day” mindset comes from a good place. We save things because we want to be ready for the unexpected grade change, student, the last-minute lesson, the what-if moment. But if we’re keeping everything, we’re often using very little of it well. Clutter makes it harder to find what we do need. 

Now, when I pick something up and think, “I might need this,” I ask myself, Have I used it in the last year? Would I even notice if it disappeared? Is this helping my students today? If not, I let it go. However, decluttering doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing job. Start with one drawer. Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Sort things into three piles: keep, donate, recycle. Be honest with yourself. If you forgot you had it, you probably don’t need it. Digitize what you can, let go of the guilt, and celebrate the space you reclaim.

Letting go of the “just in case” isn’t easy, but it’s freeing. So next time you’re tempted to keep something “just in case,” remember this, you are not throwing away your creativity or your effort.
You are choosing to carry less, so you can focus more on what truly supports your teaching today.

And if a box or two does make it home… maybe don’t store it near any pipes. 

When I think about student success, I often think about academic achievement first. But strong learning skills are just as important for every learner. This year, in my new role, I have noticed that, regardless of a student’s abilities or background, learning skills is a common area where my students need support. More specifically in taking initiative. Initiative isn’t just about asking questions and showing your curiosity of learning. It’s about acting on ideas, seeking out opportunities, making decisions that support growth, and advocating for oneself.

I remember a student once shared, “I don’t have initiative. It’s hard for me to speak up.” Another student said it came naturally to them, describing initiative as “helping someone.” They were both right. Initiative can look different for everyone. I think at its core, it is about communicating needs, making decisions that support your growth such as asking for help, and being willing to take risks.

In my primary and junior classrooms, I would dedicate time, multiple times throughout the year, to explore all the learning skills, focusing on one each week. We would discuss what each skill was, what it looked like in action, and how it could help them succeed both in and out of school.

For all students, building initiative lays the foundation for independence, resilience, and learning. When students learn to take initiative, they become more engaged in their education and are better prepared to handle challenges. So how do we encourage and support taking initiative?

This year I found myself supporting in writing Individual Education Plans (IEP) goals for students in the gifted/enhance learning program, specifically in the area of learning Skills and taking initiative. The goals focused on seeking enrichment opportunities beyond the classroom and developing self-advocacy skills by expressing preferences for demonstrating work in alternative ways. Other goals included focusing on communicating understanding of the task and advocating for preferred method of demonstrating knowledge with more independence.

One way you can support goals such as these are by creating a classroom culture that nurtures self-advocacy and initiative. For example, we can offer students choice in how they learn and demonstrate understanding. In the classroom, that might look like allowing them to decide whether to create a poster, record a video, or write a report for a project honors their individual learning styles and encourages decision making. Another important strategy is asking open-ended questions that prompt students to reflect on their needs and preferences. Questions like, “How can you show me what you’ve learned in a way that works best for you?” or “What do you need to feel successful in this task?” invite students to think critically and advocate for themselves. We can also prompt and encourage students to get involved in and out of classroom initiatives that might be of interest to them.

Integrating self-advocacy and initiative into everyday learning makes these skills more tangible and relevant. Integrating a task such as “My Learning Journal”, where students reflect on their favorite ways to learn, challenges they’ve overcome, and what helps them succeed, help students understand themselves better and practice articulating their needs and preferences. Throughout the reflections, asking guiding questions such as, “What does this page say about how you learn?” or “How can you make this journal truly yours?” will deepen engagement and ownership.

Teaching initiative is not only about giving students a voice-it’s about helping them discover and use it. By creating opportunities for choice, asking thoughtful questions, and integrating self-expression into classroom activities, we nurture confident learners who are prepared to advocate for themselves throughout their educational journey and beyond.

 

 

In part one of this blog, I shared two valuable strategies to help you welcome a student candidate into your classroom. From my experience, the following three strategies help to set the tone and further create a positive learning experience for everyone in the classroom.

By welcoming teacher candidates into your classroom, you are passing on your knowledge and expertise, and also fostering a culture of collaboration, growth, and lifelong learning. The effect of your mentorship will go far beyond your own classroom, shaping the next generation of educators and enriching the lives of students. So, open your door, share your wisdom, and take pride in the role you play in building the future of our profession. 

When a candidate is welcomed in your room, all eyes are on you and how you do your job. So remember, your professionalism sets the tone for theirs. Whether it’s how you interact with colleagues, communicate with parents, or handle challenging situations in the classroom, your actions are shaping their understanding of what it means to be an educator. Be intentional about modeling the qualities you want them to emulate.  

To help your student candidate grow and develop, remember to encourage reflection. Ask  questions like; What do you think went well in that lesson? How did you connect with students today? What would you do differently next time? Reflection is such a critical skill that will serve them throughout their career as they continue to grow as educators.  

One of the most valuable things I can remember from my own teacher candidate experience is everything that I learned beyond teaching the curriculum. One of the most important things we can teach teacher candidates is what “isn’t” covered in college courses. The aspects of teaching that only experience can reveal. These include things like, building relationships with students and families, managing diverse classroom dynamics, classroom setup, displaying student work, navigating school politics and culture, balancing work-life responsibilities and staying resilient in the face of challenges. So remember to include and encourage your candidates to be present in these experiences. 

We all learned these skills from mentors, from observing other educators, and from trial and error over time. By sharing our experiences and insights with teacher candidates, we give them a head start on developing these important skills. So invite that student teacher into your room. Share your wisdom, offer your guidance, and watch as they grow into the kind of educator you’d want teaching your own child.