Educators spend a lot of time beating themselves up for what they could have done better—and a lot of noneducators often join in the assault.
But tons of great things happen in schools every day.
In this series, teachers will share some of them.
‘Their Stories Matter’
Marina Rodriguez is a bilingual coordinator for the Bilingual Education Division at Texas A&M University and a former dual-language teacher in College Station, Texas. With over 18 years of experience in upper-elementary and middle school dual-language classrooms, she is a co-author of Two Writing Teachers and can be reached at marinarodz.com, Twitter @mrodz308, or Bluesky @marinarodz.bsky.social:
One of the best moments in my teaching career was the year my 4th grade dual-language students and I learned to blog—together. In the spring of 2017, our writing practice became something truly different, something filled with joy and excitement. A small group of students laid the foundation for something no teacher training could have provided. Their work left a lasting impact. The experience fostered deep growth, sparked genuine joy, and empowered a profound sense of student voice.
Blogging in our classroom was a response to a deeper need for purpose. It may just have been a quiet rebellion against the test-prep season that would soon fill the hours of our days. Rooted in the practice of starting with why, I invited students to explore not just how to blog, but why their words mattered.
In the process of learning how to blog, three key elements made our experience work well: celebrating language, making the time to write special, and focusing on why it mattered.
Celebrating Language
As a dual-language teacher, my work focused on working with students in the process of acquiring an additional language. Blogging became a safe place to make mistakes, try out words, explore meaning, and tell stories in different languages. Students experimented with genres, words, and structures, and they guided each other with kindness. They learned to play with words, not fear them.
Blogging helped students develop a nuanced understanding of what it meant to write for authentic audiences and the impact of having their voices heard. They learned to embrace the power that came with the confidence of first having and then owning their ideas and creativity. The deep intellectual work followed, and so did the learning.
Making the Time to Write Special
What began as a lunchtime blogging club spilled over into a special after-school writing club called Hour of Blog. Our after-school writing club transformed our busy, active classroom into a quiet space filled with the purposeful hum of focused students writing. Sounds of typing, reading, asking for and giving feedback filled the hour, and revision became a quiet but visible urgency. They worked to craft their thinking into purposeful pieces, carefully curated with peer and teacher support.
Publishing for real audiences offered each writer an individualized experience, and those experiences drove them deeper into writing. Quickly, the writing began to flow. And like a tidal wave, writing inhaled their time—every free moment on their phones, at home, even after-class exams. They wanted to write, and it mattered.
Why It Mattered
Blogging brought together everything I believe about teaching and learning:
| What I Believe | What Blogging Gave Students |
| Students deserve a voice | The choice to select their topics, genre, message, and design. |
| Writing should be authentic | The opportunity to write for real audiences and receive real and immediate feedback. |
| Language is a gift | The invitation to learn and grow in a low-stakes writing community where they could practice and explore writing in two languages at length. |
| Reflection drives growth | The encouragement to continuously reflect on their writing experiences and to select targeted areas for improvement. |
| Teaching is learning | A shared learning experience that shaped and inspired both students and their teacher. |
In Closing
Blogging with my students wasn’t just one of the best moments of my teaching career; it was a powerful reminder of what can happen when we integrate authentic, student-driven writing into our daily practice. When students are given the space to lead, to write with purpose, and to shape their own learning, powerful shifts are possible. Students begin to see themselves as authors, thinkers, and change makers. Their voices carry. Their stories matter. And when we center that kind of student agency, the impact reaches far beyond a single school year.
Women’s Rights Conference
Bill Ivey is middle school dean at Stoneleigh-Burnham School, an independent inclusive girls school in western Massachusetts.
It was the day after our Women’s Rights Conference, and I walked into the classroom to find the 16 students in my Humanities 7 class comfortably ensconced in randomly placed beanbag chairs, reading or chatting and exuding a quiet air of accomplishment. I told them, “After all you did to make yesterday such a success, I feel like we need today just to relax and enjoy the feeling. We can get back to regular class tomorrow. Sound good?” They all agreed.
The Women’s Rights Conference was the result of nearly two months of intensive, often exciting, sometimes frustrating work. I had asked the class to rewrite the Declaration of Sentiments from the Seneca Falls Convention and given them the choice to do it on their own or to invite students from other schools to spend some time with us and do it together. They chose the second option and, before I could phrase a follow-up question, were excitedly discussing how to decide whom to invite. We ended up with a guest list of 32 students from six local schools, both public and private.
The students were adamant that this not be like a traditional conference full of presentations, although they did want a keynote to set the tone. They knew that our guests would need to get to know each other to feel comfortable together and that middle schoolers need to have fun and be active. They wanted to make the conference educational and informative. And they wanted the final Declaration to be a deeply meaningful expression of their voices. They settled on a round-robin system of booths staffed by presenters, with time to have small-group discussions, and a final session when the revised Declaration would be read, discussed, and voted on.
They formed committees to write the keynote; develop all the booths; write seed questions for group discussions; develop a process to collect ideas for and arrive at the final version of the revised Declaration; coordinate with our dining services, maintenance, and housekeeping departments; and—of course!—reach out to families to provide food. At times, it felt chaotic, but the students continually assured me “we got this,” and I thought it best to show my trust in them and their judgment.
On the day of the conference, energy was both high and remarkably focused—both mine and the kids’. Everything was going smoothly, the booths working exactly as planned, with thoughtful discussions and many insightful ideas for the Declaration. A small group of students worked diligently through lunch to pull all those ideas into a single document, for which the preamble had already been written.
And then, suddenly, as we began the final session, the students realized that discussing every single one of the grievances would in itself take far more time than the hour they had allotted. It was one of those crucible moments: Do you step in or do you let them puzzle it out? Before I could decide, they had solved the problem, agreeing to read all the grievances and take a vote and then discuss only the ones where opinion was divided.
The process worked beautifully, discussions were insightful and respectful, and the final document was powerful and undeniably representative of the young adolescents in the group. “This has been awesome, but what next?” asked one of our guests. We were ready: “Share our document with local newspapers and TV stations, with our elected representatives, and on our school’s blog—and maybe yours too?” Our guest slowly nodded her approval and appreciation.
On our second-to-last day of school, one of the students said, “Oh, I got an email two weeks ago I meant to share with you.” They opened up their laptop and read a note of thanks and acknowledgement from Sen. Elizabeth Warren. It was a wonderful callback to a highlight of the year and a tribute to what these students had accomplished.
Science Fair
Laleh Ghotbi teaches all 4th grade academic subjects at Mountain View Elementary in Salt Lake City:
One of the best moments in my teaching career was leading my 4th grade students through our school’s first-ever science fair. For many of them, it was their first time engaging in scientific inquiry beyond the classroom, and they rose to the occasion with enthusiasm, resilience, and pride.
What made this moment so powerful was the transformation I witnessed. Several of my students came from diverse linguistic and cultural backgrounds, including one who received both special education and speech services. Many had never seen themselves as scientists before. We met after school for weeks to learn how to conduct research, design experiments, analyze data, and present findings.
We also worked on the technology side of the project, using Microsoft Excel to record data and create graphs and PowerPoint to build slides that later became their posters. I supported them step by step and even sent their slides and speaking notes home so they could practice with their families.
When the time arrived for the fair, they presented their projects confidently, online to judges and in person to peers and the school community. I invited staff and students from across the school to visit and interview my young scientists, giving them the opportunity to share their work and inspire others. Every student received recognition—first, second, or third place, or honorable mention—and all advanced to the state-level competition.
My students were among those honored at a district board meeting. The pride in their eyes and in the eyes of their families was unforgettable. Parents expressed how deeply the experience had impacted their children’s confidence and sense of belonging. Our school administrators shared how meaningful it was to see our students represented and celebrated in such a public and affirming way.
One of the most moving transformations came from a student with an IEP and speech services who had been hesitant to speak in class. Through this project, he became a vocal leader and gained the confidence to participate actively in classroom discussions.
This moment went so well because it wasn’t just about science, it was about access, empowerment, and community. It showed what becomes possible when we believe in our students, scaffold their learning intentionally, and open doors for them to shine.
Thanks to Marina, Bill, and Laleh for contributing their thoughts.
Responses today answered this question:
What has been the best, or one of the best, moments in your teaching career and what made it go so well?
Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.
You can also contact me on X at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social
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