Voices in Motion: Learning from the Bilingual Classroom

 

Watching the CUNY-NYSIEB Teaching Bilinguals (Even If You’re Not One) web series felt like coming home to a classroom I’ve long dreamed of.  I watched all 5 episodes, hopeful that we will have more conversations and efforts as seen in each video. A place where identity isn’t trimmed to fit the margins, but is welcomed into the center of learning. As a Vincentian, a school nurse, and a culturally responsive educator, I saw my own story ripple through each scene: a story of dual identities, silenced brilliance, and the healing power of language affirmation.

What stood out to me immediately was the series’ celebration of translanguaging, not as an academic technique, but as a lived practice. In Episode 1, Sara Vogel introduces the concept of emergent bilinguals, explaining that the term centers students' full linguistic repertoire rather than framing them by what they lack. One teacher further explains, "We like to use the term emergent bilingual because it reflects the idea that all students have the potential to become bilingual, and that’s something that we value." It’s not a switch to be flipped, but a river that flows through culture, memory, and learning. Another educator reinforces this by stating, "Having different languages is only going to help them, not hinder them". What a powerful reminder that multilingualism is a strength, not a setback! I’ve seen that same flow when a Caribbean child, nervous in an exam room, finds calm when I say, “Nuh badda worry yuh sweet head wid stress” in the gentle melody of our island home.

The web series brings theory into practice with tenderness and clarity. In Episode 3, when a teacher says, 'Can you explain that to your group in Spanish, and then let’s see how we can say it together in English,' it highlights translanguaging not as a crutch, but a strategy of empowerment. Ms. Valentine reflects on this educational shift, saying, "When students speak in their home language, they are able to express themselves more fully and engage more deeply with the content". It echoes what I practice in health education, listening to an MLL student reiterate teachings given during class in both languages, understanding that they aren’t just translating, but  integrating their worldviews. What also struck me was the deliberate pacing and modeling in these videos. In Episode 5, where educators support each other in adopting translanguaging strategies, I saw the very embodiment of such wholeness as colleagues are open to listening, rather than correcting and observing, instead of assuming. That is what healing looks like in teaching and education.

Christine Sleeter’s concept of 'mirrors and windows' also resonates here. Classrooms, like clinics, must offer mirrors for students to see themselves reflected in the content, and windows into lives and languages beyond their own. The web series creates both mirrors that affirm bilingual identity and windows that expand understanding. Vividly illustrating that language is not separate from learning. Language is the vehicle and the voice to reformation and renewal in society. We are no longer speaking theory into silence. We are acting theory into affirmation.

These resources are accessible, grounded in research, and rooted in a rich and hopeful humanity. I will also share them with families, especially foreign parents who want to understand how their home language is not a barrier but a gift.

Whether you’re a teacher, a paraprofessional, or a community health worker:

• How are we making room for children’s full linguistic selves?
• Are our teachings or care practices grounded in affirmation or assimilation?
• Do your spaces invite translanguaging or subtly penalize it?

Please explore the informative podcast exploring the intricacies of code switching amongst Jews as Trump attempts his antisemitic raid: Code Switch (NPR Podcast) — A podcast about race and identity

 

“Not a Deficiency: Nurturing Language with Dignity in Every Tongue”

Reading Virginia Collier’s "Teaching Multilingual Children" felt like a gentle affirmation of what I have always known in my bones as a Vincentian, nurse, advocate, and educator.  Language is not just a tool, but a vessel for identity, love, and human connection. Her work speaks to the heart of holism, where the whole child, culturally, emotionally, and intellectually, is honored.

One quote that reverberated deeply within me reads, "Do not think of yourself as a remedial teacher expected to correct so-called deficiencies of your students". This is not merely a suggestion, but a cultural correction. It reminds me of the shame I once felt for my Caribbean accent… that Vincentian patois that was sweet sounds to our family’s ears, but grave dismissal in American classrooms. Collier demands we reframe what it means to teach language. We were never called to be the language police, but identity doulas, birthing and nursing our children in their cultural authenticity.

Collier expands, warning against the erasure of home languages, stating, "Don’t teach a second language in any way that challenges or seeks to eliminate the first language". As a school nurse, I understand this intuitively. You cannot heal a child by cutting away the part of them that feels most like home. When I hear a student slip between their home language and English, I do not correct. I lean in and allow them to guide me to a deeper understanding, celebrate every portion of their being while allowing them to feel safe, secure, and seen.

Lisa Delpit’s work, The Silenced Dialogue, echoes this need for relational teaching, particularly when she writes about the miscommunication between educators and children from culturally diverse backgrounds. Delpit urges us to listen more than we prescribe and to honor the language of power without silencing the language of identity. Her call to action reminds me that truly effective teaching and healing must begin with listening to the voices we too often overlook.

Teaching, like nursing, is not about replacing but about integrating. Collier’s guideline to "teach the standard form of English and students' home language together with an appreciation of dialect differences" aligns with holistic nursing’s core values.  Patient-centered/focused/driven care rooted in true wellness that comes from harmony and transcendence not uniformity and standardization. I bring this mindset into my practice by using bilingual health materials, incorporating cultural remedies into wellness discussions, and ensuring that my tone, gestures, and presence meet students where they are linguistically.

Her reminder that "English-language learners who can chat comfortably in English do not automatically develop the academic language skills needed to compete" is one I see played out regularly in school health workshops. A student who smiles through a puberty lesson may still not understand the written materials we hand them. A child who converses fluently may still struggle with literacy concepts embedded in care plans or consent forms. As Collier notes, the ability to navigate academic English takes five to seven years, a fact overlooked by many policies that equate casual fluency with readiness.

As a Vincentian who learned to navigate between prayerful Creole, lyrical patois, and formal English, I know the power of code-switching. When Collier asserts, "Do not forbid young students from code-switching in the classroom. Understand the functions that code-switching serves", I nodded instinctively. In our culture, code-switching is not confusion or stupidity. We are creative geniuses. It is how my aunties taught me wisdom while chatting  at the market. It is how some of my patients tell me what hurts without saying the word "pain." Educators and health professionals alike must "provide a literacy development curriculum that is specifically designed for English-language learners". We cannot simply translate words for these children to memorize and spit back at us.  As educators we have the responsibility to transform how we deliver information to our MLL students to absorb and make their own. The use of song and storytelling, a tradition deeply rooted in Caribbean, is a creative way that we can engage our students and give them something to think about and remember both in and out of the classroom.

Collier emphasizes a balanced approach to the four language skills: "listening, speaking, reading, and writing". This resonates with the integrative methods I use when discussing sensitive health topics. I don’t just read aloud a flyer about puberty. I role-play with students, providing them with creative and self-expressive materials and activities, such as sketching, journaling, or meditative reflections.  This is not extra, but essential that we take the time and effort to provide culturally relevant care and trauma-informed teaching to ALL our students. Virginia Collier invites us to see multilingual learners not as problems to solve, but as knowledge-bearers to be honored. As a Vincentian, I carry my own language history with such pride and gratitude. As a nurse and educator, I hold sacred the privilege to meet children where they are, providing them with fertile soil to plant their seeds of influence and success to one day blossom into something fruitful.

We have a call to action as teachers, school nurses, and caregivers, always self-reflecting :

• How can I honor the home language of every child I serve?
• Am I listening to what students say between their words, through silence, switching codes, or discomfort?
• Have I created a space where identity is not corrected, but protected?

Start small. Embrace and celebrate each child’s entirety. Invite their stories. Shift your lens from correction to connection.

Please explore the captivating artwork of Zun Lee’s, photography that documents the  Zun Lee’s photographic archive "Fade Resistance" documents the beauty and resilience of Black family life.
Additionally, enjoy Jamila Lyiscott’s TED Talk: 3 Ways to Speak English, reminding us that language is not neutral, but weighted with history, trauma, pride and survival: Jamila Lyiscott's TED Talk on "3 Ways to Speak English"

 

 

“The Language of Survival: Rodriguez, Memory, and Multilingual Mourning”

In Aria, Richard Rodriguez reflects on the experience of growing up in a bilingual household, navigating the complex terrain between his Spanish-speaking family and the demands of an English-dominant public life. His reflections provide insight into the struggles that many marginalized communities face when it comes to language, identity, and assimilation in American society.

Rodriguez poignantly writes, "Without question, it would have pleased me to hear my teachers address me in Spanish when I entered the classroom. I would have felt much less afraid. I would have trusted them and responded with ease" (Rodriguez, 2022, p. 34). This statement emphasizes the alienation that language can create in a space where inclusion lacks. Imagine being in a space for most of your day, lost and unable to understand the world around you. Or to be amongst a culture that is so foreign to all that you are accustomed to. The anxiety… the distress… the immediate need for escape! Nothing is familiar, comforting, or embracing of the identity and being that one may hold so dear to their heart.

For Rodriguez, the act of learning English in school was less about communication and more about carving a new identity, one that distanced him from his familial and cultural roots. He also explored the emotional cost of this assimilation, noting, "Most of all I needed to hear my mother and father speak to me in a moment of seriousness in broken suddenly heartbreaking English" (p. 35). This moment captures how painful it was to witness his parents, once fluent and expressive in Spanish, reduced to uncertain, fractured voices in English, a language that had become the barrier between their intimacy and his public self.

How many times have you heard someone say, “Learn to speak English!” or “You are in America! Learn the language!” How ignorant can it be to think that a country built and run by the diversity and beauty of many foreigners, cultures, languages, and perspectives would demand uniformity? These differences are what make us worthwhile. Being of foreign descent myself, this truly spoke volumes to me, remembering times when I was ashamed of my accent while being in this country, stigmatized as though I was behind or less than those that surrounded me. In fact, because of the Caribbean culture that I came from, I was light years ahead of most of the children in my class in academics, maturity, and spirit. I remember trying to practice my pronunciation, trying to sound more “Brooklyn” than I did a “yardie.” The days I’d rush home, feeling such peace and ease as I allowed my tongue to flow in the melody of my Vincy twang. I grew up believing that I was speaking proper language, understood by all those that loved and accepted me. The trauma of transitioning to a place where I am constantly asked to “speak English” or “if my back was still wet from the boat ride.” If I only had the awareness and understanding that I do now, back then… I would have been unashamed and unstoppable.

Rodriguez’s internal conflict is made even clearer when he says, "Only then did I determine to learn classroom English. Weeks after, it happened: One day in school I raised my hand to volunteer an answer. I spoke out in a loud voice. And I did not think it remarkable when the entire class understood" (p. 36). This quote illustrates the societal pressure to separate one’s public identity from one’s private, familial culture. In a sense, Rodriguez was taught that his family, his heritage, and his language were not conducive to success in the public sphere. As a foreigner, this is such a gut punch, encouraged to feel as though the families that we are blessed with, rooted in hard work, resilience, creativity, productivity, and determination, are somehow inferior or in need of “fixing” just because we do not fit into the limited box of American society.

Additionally, Rodriguez reflects on the growing silence between himself and his parents: "My mother and father, for their part, responded differently, as their children spoke to them less. She grew restless, seemed troubled and anxious at the scarcity of words exchanged in the house. By contrast, my father seemed reconciled to the new quiet" (p. 38). He notes the contrast further by stating, "But my father was not shy, I realized, when I’d watch him speaking Spanish with relatives" (p. 38). This reveals the divide that language created between generations and between private and public identity, a silence not just of words, but of understanding. The life and vibrancy of their home and family dynamic was slowly stripped away from them in the name of an American “dream”. As Rodriguez became more familiarized with the American way, he grew more distant and unfamiliar to his Hispanic heritage.

Rodriguez sums up his feelings of cultural loss by stating, "Matching the silence I started hearing in public was a new quiet at home" (p. 38). His acknowledgment of the tension between assimilation and cultural loss speaks to the broader question of whether true integration is possible without sacrificing one's cultural identity. The silence was not only literal but symbolic, a loss of intimacy, closeness, and connection with his family and roots.

His experience challenges the notion that assimilation always leads to greater opportunity, urging us to consider the cost of abandoning cultural roots in the name of fitting in. I can speak to such feelings, always vowing to never forget or lose where I came from. My Caribbean roots and values will always stand true to my identity. They have shaped me into much of the success that I am today. The pride that I have in my culture, along with my desire to have others see the wonder of what it means to be Vincentian, has influenced me to leave my accent just as it is, using it in spaces where it may not always be readily accepted or palatable. Coming to work with my breadfruit, ackee, saltfish, ground provisions and boiled plantains for lunch after enjoying a warm bowl of plantain porridge and seamoss in the morning. Sitting at a table filled with coffee, donuts, hotcakes with syrup, eggs, and bacon, hearing the “What is that?” as I open my containers, filled with Caribbean staples. I live in America. I work in America. I am entertained by America. But I am a Vincentian and very proud to be one in this country.

These reflections also resonate with the themes explored by Shalaby in Troublemakers, where she discusses how marginalized students are often labeled as “troublemakers” for resisting the dominant cultural expectations of the educational system. Both Rodriguez and Shalaby highlight how the dominant society often seeks to erase or suppress the cultural identities of marginalized individuals in order to create a more uniform and manageable population. Rodriguez’s own struggle with language and identity is an example of the personal toll that these societal expectations can take.

This narrative invites us to consider the role that language plays in shaping not just identity, but opportunity. As Troublemakers by Shalaby suggests, educational systems often fail to recognize the complexities of students' backgrounds, which can lead to the marginalization of those who do not conform to mainstream cultural norms. This is particularly evident in Rodriguez’s experience of being forced to abandon his Spanish language in order to succeed in a system that valued English above all else. His struggle underscores the need for educational systems that recognize and value linguistic diversity, rather than penalizing students for it.

Rodriguez’s story also ties into broader discussions about the role of language in social mobility. As he navigates the challenges of language, identity, and cultural assimilation, he highlights the profound impact these struggles have on individuals' sense of self and their ability to succeed in a society that often demands conformity. His story is a reminder that the price of assimilation is not just cultural erasure, but a deep emotional and psychological cost that is often overlooked. To conform to the culture, forgetting all that grounds and centers one in being, can seem like a death to self, uprooting unnecessary emotions of grief, confusion, and hopelessness that can be crippling to the well-being and success of those most special and deserving.

Richard Rodriguez challenges us to think about the price of assimilation and the silencing of heritage. If you’re an educator, community leader, or simply someone navigating two worlds, ask yourself:

• What have I asked others (or myself) to give up to “fit in”?
• Do I mistake silence for success in my students, children, or peers?
• How can I make public spaces more honoring of private identities?

Resist the impulse to correct what is unfamiliar. Celebrate bilingualism as brilliance. Let your story, and the stories of those around you, be spoken without shame.

Please explore the captivating artwork of LaToya Ruby Frazier, photography that documents the intersection of race, class and identity, capturing the struggles of marginalized communities in the face of systemic forces: LaToya Ruby Frazier's Photography
Additionally, enjoy George Chidi’s TED Talk: The Power of Language and Cultural  Identity, highlighting the power of language in shaping identities, along with the immense societal pressures to conform: TED Talk: The Power of Language and Cultural Identity

A Home for Truth and Place for Healing: Rhode Island’s Guidance for Transgender and Gender Nonconforming Students

 Main Argument (Thesis):

This author, the Rhode Island Department of Education, argues that educational institutions carry a legal, ethical, and human imperative to affirm, protect, and advocate for transgender and gender nonconforming students through inclusive policies, trauma-informed practices, and unwavering accountability. These aren’t just recommendations, but blueprints for justice and equality.

Three Talking Points That Moved Me

1. Affirmation as Sacred Practice: Honoring Names and Pronouns

“A student has the right to be addressed by a name and pronoun that corresponds to the student’s gender identity that is consistently asserted at school.”

This guidance does not ask us to accommodate our transgender/nonconforming students. It is a plea of affirmation and support. It encourages that we dismantle the barriers between who a student is and how they are treated. When we refuse to honor someone's name and pronouns, we fracture trust, silence voices, and fuel internalized shame. When we choose to embrace them, we create safety,  extend healing, and acknowledge that their identity is not up for debate. They deserve to be  affirmed and respected, without conditions or judgement.

Reflection Prompt:When was the last time I used language as a tool for healing? How might a student’s sense of self-worth expand if every adult in their life spoke their name with pride and precision?

2. Privacy Is Protection: Safety Beyond the Visible

“All students have a right to privacy, and this includes the right to keep one’s transgender status private at school.”

This line creates a boundary and wall of protection. This is a  reminder that we do not have the right to disclose, question, or make assumptions about a student's gender identity. We don’t need to know everything to be supportive. We are to be open and trustworthy. Safety does not come from knowing someone’s identity, but by ensuring that their story is theirs to tell. As someone who walks with others through the layers of trauma and healing, I know that safety is the first step toward transformation. Without it, nothing else matters.

Thought to Ponder: In what ways has my curiosity ever taken precedence over someone’s comfort? How can I make privacy an active, sacred part of my educational practice?

3. Respecting Identities Is Suicide Prevention
"Using a trans or nonbinary young person’s chosen name and pronouns is a simple and impactful way to affirm their identity and support their mental health."

This truth is neither optional nor performative. It is life-giving. In a world where transgender and nonbinary youth are disproportionately impacted by isolation, rejection, and mental health crises, this guidance reminds us that affirmation is intervention. Every correct pronoun spoken, every chosen name honored, is a radical act of care. This is not political correctness, but protective presence. Our words either build safety or sow harm. Respect is not just polite, but preventative, sacred, and necessary.

Reflection Prompt: Where in my language do I have the opportunity to be more life-affirming? How can I make my presence a refuge rather than a risk?

Final Reflection:

This document is not just a set of policies. It is a challenge to love louder. To listen deeper. To lead differently. As educators, nurses, and change agents, we must ask ourselves daily: Whose humanity am I honoring today? Whose pain am I ignoring? Inclusion is not about political correctness. It’s about building sanctuaries for students who are told too often that they don’t belong. This guidance reminds us that the classroom  can either be a place of liberation or it is a place of harm.

 

The Trevor Project : A Guide to Being an Ally to Transgender and Nonbinary Youth

 

 Main Argument (Thesis):

This author, The Trevor Project, argues that true allyship to transgender and nonbinary youth is not performative, but a conscious, daily practice that centers affirmation, active listening, and fierce advocacy. It’s about creating spaces where all young people feel not only seen, but safe, celebrated, and supported in the fullness of who they truly are.

Three Talking Points That Moved Me

1. Respecting Names and Pronouns Is Non-negotiable

“Using the correct pronouns and name for someone is an important way to affirm their identity and show respect.”

This one sentence carries such weight of love and safety. For trans and nonbinary youth, being misgendered or deadnamed isn’t just uncomfortable, but traumatic. It signals that who they are doesn’t matter. As a holistic nurse, I understand that healing begins with feeling honored, seen, and acknowledged. May we use our intention and language as healing medicine and not a weapon of destruction.

Reflection: When someone tells you their name and pronouns, they’re not just making a request. They are setting a boundary rooted in truth. Choosing to honor that is choosing to protect and appreciate them.

Question to sit with: Where in my life or practice have I fallen short in affirming someone’s identity, even unintentionally? And what will I do differently?

2. Allyship Requires Action, Not Just Good Intentions

“Being an ally means taking on the struggle as your own. It means standing up, even when you feel scared or uncomfortable.”

This quote is a call to courage and advocacy. Allyship is not about branding yourself as “woke.” It’s about risking comfort to fight for someone else’s safety. It’s showing up again and again, even when the work is messy or inconvenient.

Reflection: Allyship doesn’t begin with a rainbow pin or an Instagram post it begins with heart and mindfulness. It’s the moments when we interrupt harm, challenge systems, and protect the ones too often pushed aside. As a nurse and educator, this is the essence of advocacy and greater understanding.

Question to sit with: When have I chosen silence over solidarity? What does it look like to shift from passive support to active defense?

3. Visibility Without Support Is Not Safety

“Trans and nonbinary young people are more visible in media and pop culture than ever before. But increased visibility doesn’t always equal increased safety.”

This truth is sobering. Representation can’t be where the work ends. Without understanding and acceptance exposure may not be safety, support, or bring systemic change. Without adults committed to changing policies, addressing discrimination, and holding space, that visibility of our youth can increase vulnerability.

Reflection: I’ve seen too many systems uplift “diversity” as a brand while failing to support the most at-risk youth behind closed doors. Our job is not to merely see these children, but  to also stand beside them when no one else will.

Question to sit with: What must I change in my classroom, clinic, or conversations to make safety more than just a word?

Final Reflection:

This guide is a lifeline that reminds us that trans and nonbinary youth are not asking to be “tolerated”. They are asking to be affirmed, protected, and cherished like those around them. Their existence is not a debate, but a  gift and blessing. If we are to be the allies we claim to be, we must listen more deeply, love more radically, and advocate more fiercely. Silence, neutrality, and avoidance are not options. These youth deserve better and it begins with us.

"Dont Erase My Color" TEACH OUT Summary: Armstrong and Wildman Colorblindness

 My second summary was inspired by Armstrong and Wildman's, "Colorblindness is the New Racism". I will be presenting a mindfulness experience to 5th graders to address topics of injustice, along with the prevalence of colorblindness and diminishing of racism and prejudice throughout our nation. I decided to create a short poem to both engage my students, but teach them in an effective, fun, and memorable manner. I created the poem to share with my students and colleagues in the form of a bookmark that they can use as a reminder that their stories and voices matter in society today. It is their keepsake of justice and empowerment to use whenever they read or write.             

Don’t Erase My Color by Nurse Schae

“I don’t see your color,” some may say,
But that hides the truth we need today.

My color is part of who I am
It tells my story, where I stand.

When you say you “don’t see” my skin,
You miss the strength I hold within.
You miss the pain, the joy, the pride
The battles I’ve fought, the tears I’ve cried.

Colorblindness tries to be “nice,”
But erasing my color comes with a price.
It stops the truth, it blocks the change,
And keeps injustice just the same.

So let’s speak up, let’s make it right,
Let’s shine the truth in honest light.

Now take a breath, and say this strong
Say it like you DO belong:

“See my color, hear my name,
I’m proud of me, I’m not ashamed.
My voice is power, my story is true,

The world is better with me and YOU!”

Together we rise, together we see,
That honoring color will set us free.

                              

"Every Voice Counts" TEACH OUT Summary: Christine Sleeter Ethnic Studies

 My first summary was inspired by Christine Sleeter's, The Academic and Social Value of Ethnic Studies. I will be presenting a mindfulness experience to 5th graders to address topics of injustice, along with the importance of ethnic/cultural awareness and appreciation. I decided to create a short poem to both engage my students, but teach them in an effective, fun, and memorable manner. I created the poem to share with my students and colleagues in the form of a bookmark that they can use as a reminder that their stories and voices matter in society today. It is their keepsake of justice and equality to use whenever they read or write.                                                                                                                                                                       

"Every Voice Counts"  by Nurse Schae                                                           

In every room, in every class,                                                
Some voices echo while some get passed.
But what if learning told it all
The rise, the fall, the pain, the call?

 Ethnic Studies lights the way,
To hear the truths we hide each day.
It shows the hurt, the strength, the pride,
Of those who’ve long been pushed aside.

“Ethnic studies helps us understand,
Why justice slips through many hands.”
It teaches us to see what’s fair
To open hearts and deeply care.

 Mirrors show us who we are
Our roots, our names, our every scar.
Do you see you in books you read?
Do your lessons plant your seed?

 Windows open up our eyes
To stories new, to truth that flies.
Name a time you looked right through,
And learned a world outside of you?

Have you had a time or two,
Where no one saw the true, real you?
Where silence wrapped you up so tight,
You questioned if your truth was right?

That’s why this truth it is so grand
To help each voice take up its stand.
No more hiding. No more shame.
Everyone should know YOUR name.

So speak your story, loud and clear.
Tell us what you wish was here:
A face like yours in every book?
A teacher who gave your thoughts a look?
A flag, a food, a dance, a song,
That says: “You’ve mattered all along.”

Now take a breath, and say this proud
Say it strong, say it loud:

“My voice, it matters.

My story  is strong.

I deserve to be seen and to belong.”

School should be a place of light,
Where every wrong turns into right.
Where what you live and feel and see,
Becomes part of our history.
So take a step, be brave, be true
The world is brighter because of YOU.

   

Troublemakers vs Trailblazers

 

 

Main Argument (Thesis):

This author, Carla Shalaby, argues that education must become a site of radical love, liberation, and humanization, particularly for children who are labeled as “troublemakers” by systems built to reward compliance and control. She challenges us to stop viewing these children as problems and instead see them as prophets. Through storytelling and reflection, she asserts that these children are not broken but powerful. They are truth-tellers who expose the injustices embedded in our classrooms. Rather than punishing their resistance, she invites us to see their behavior as sacred disruption and an invitation to reimagine discipline, justice, and care.

 Three Talking Points That Moved Me

1.     The “Canaries in the Mine”: Children as Warnings, Not Problem

“These children were warning me. They were warning us. They were saying: something is not right here. Something is hurting me.”

This line truly shook my core. What if the very children we label as difficult are actually the ones most attuned to the dysfunction of our systems? Shalaby reframes misbehavior as a message, cry for help, and mirror of harm. These children, the canaries, are not the issue. The problem is the box we are trying to force them into. In my work as a nurse and an advocate, I have come to see that those who disrupt, protest, or act out are often the most sensitive, aware, and honest. When children act in resistance, it is not because they are broken. It is because something around them is.

Thought to hold: What would it mean to listen to the troublemakers as truth-tellers rather than silencing them as threats?

Personal Reflection: I think about the children I have cared for in clinical and educational settings. How many of them were dismissed, restrained, medicated, or punished when what they really needed was to be understood, protected, and loved?

2.      Visibility as Violence: The Myth of Neutrality

“If you are invisible in the way that race makes you invisible, you are erased. If you are hyper-visible in the way that race makes you hyper-visible, you are criminalized.”

This sentence is both poetic and painful. Shalaby names the impossible bind that children of color are forced into. They are simultaneously unseen and over-scrutinized. This paradox echoes in every space where privilege is treated as the norm and difference is seen as deviance. There is no neutrality here. Classrooms are not objective spaces. They mirror our damaged  society. Shalaby is sure to support the reality that children of color are often forced to navigate a world that punishes them simply for being. When their authenticity cannot conform to the tight constraints of privileged normativity, they are cast out as “trouble”.

Question to ponder: How do I, as a future holistic nurse and healer, challenge the systemic gaze that criminalizes Black and brown children just for existing?

Personal Reflection: We must create spaces where children are not punished for being passionate, expressive, or different. We must unlearn the lie that compliance equals goodness. Healing cannot happen where survival is the only option.

3.      Love as a Revolutionary Practice

“I do this work not because I love teaching. I do it because I love children. And because I want them to be free.” 

This reminds me that love, radical, unconditional, and liberatory, is not passive. It is the most powerful weapon we have against a system designed to crush our spirits in the name of control. Shalaby does not call for better behavior charts or stricter rules. She calls for freedom and understanding. We are called to dismantle the cages that have been built around our future generations. This is not just a mere educational philosophy, but a moral imperative call to action.

Call to action: What would our classrooms, clinics, and communities look like if we treated love as the foundation, not the reward?

Personal Reflection: I am reminded that in both nursing and education, love is not an extra. It is the very essence of caring and compassion. Every child deserves to know that they are deeply, unconditionally loved, especially when they are most vulnerable.

Final Reflections

Carla Shalaby’s work with, Troublemakers,  invites us to see that” bad” behavior is not a flaw to be fixed. It is a message to be honored. An opportunity to guide and impart knowledge and wisdom. It is a sacred disruption in the warped standard of society. Education, like healing, must be rooted in truth, justice, and love. If we continue to silence the children who disrupt the routine, we lose the very people who can teach us how to build something better. To be a holistic nurse, educator, or leader means to open my eyes and ears to listen and see all those I serve in a deep and meaningful way. To trust that the ones we are told to discipline may actually be the ones sent to set us all free.

 

Rethinking Schools: Screw Your Banks and Save Our Schools!

 

From the very first words of Saving Banks and Failing Schools: The Twisted Logic of the U.S. Debt Economy, I felt a surge of recognition and urgency. The editors of Rethinking Schools lay bare a truth that many know but few speak boldly enough to confront the prioritization of financial debt repayment over the essential needs of public education reveals the painful choices that define whose lives society truly values. As a Caribbean holistic nurse, I have witnessed the real-world consequences of these systemic failures, the overlooked health struggles, the unmet needs, and the silenced voices of communities denied resources to thrive. This article not only exposes the deep injustices embedded in our economy and education system but calls on us all to rise, resist, and reimagine a future where healing and justice are inseparable.

The article lays bare a harsh reality. “The federal government bailed out banks and big corporations while cutting funds for public education and social services.” How can we stand by as families and children, the very foundation of our future, are left struggling while the powerful are protected and ignorant? I have seen patients weighed down by the stress of financial insecurity, suffering because their communities are starved of resources. This is not by chance, but a systemic choice and conscious decision to prioritizes profit over people. “Millions of people are forced to pay back debts they never should have taken on in the first place.” This is a wound that continues to fester and suppress to lives of many.

The statement “No one should have to mortgage their future by going into debt” echoes like a call to arms for me. It reflects my lived experience and my passion as a holistic nurse to advocate for healing that goes beyond the individual to address the systemic roots of suffering. Debt is not just a financial burden, but a barrier to health, education, and  dignity. The article’s powerful reminder that “Public schools are starved for funding while corporate interests continue to profit off the backs of working families” reveals the cruel irony of a society that claims to value education but refuses to invest in it equitably.

This twisted logic, the cruel economy that “prioritizes profits over people”, forces us to confront uncomfortable and painful truths. It demands that we refuse silence and passivity. We must not only witness this injustice but actively resist it. My work as a holistic nurse is inseparable from this fight. Healing is not just about treating symptoms but about addressing the conditions that cause those symptoms in the first place. I stand with my community, ready to lift my voices, educate, and advocate for a world where every person’s potential can flourish, and not be crushed beneath the weight of debt and neglect.

To deepen this understanding, I invite others to engage with resources like the NAACP’s educational advocacy on YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/user/NAACP) and the Frontline documentary on PBS (https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/ ). These stories remind us that this is not just policy, but about the lives, dreams, and futures of those at stake.

Reading this article has stirred within me a renewed fire and commitment to stand firm in my advocacy, nurturing,  hope, and an unwavering presence for those whom society too often neglects. I am called not only to heal bodies but to heal faulted systems. Together, we must demand justice, equity, and a society that truly values every single life. This means speaking out when policies fail our children, standing shoulder to shoulder with those denied opportunities, and refusing to accept a world where financial interests continue to dictate who thrives and who suffers. The work ahead is immense, but sacred and necessary. Each small step toward equity is a breath of life for communities struggling in silence. I hold steadfast to a vision of a future where education, health, and well-being are rights, not privileges. Until then, I will continue to fight, care, and believe that change is not only possible but inevitable.

Teach Out Project Proposal: "If You Really Saw Me..."