Like many cities, my community recently experienced the trauma of ICE’s presence.

In the midst of it, I was having frequent conversations with my three children about an occupation of our city that was bleeding into their everyday school experience. Each night at dinner and bedtime, I prepared myself to discuss the fear and concern they brought home. As an educator for more than a decade, I unfortunately have plenty of experience facilitating student discussions after tragic events (I’ll never forget the day after Sandy Hook), but this was the first time the danger was so close. Literally in my neighborhood.

Seething with anger and crushed by heartache, I did my best to put all that experience into practice as my children asked gut-wrenching questions like, “Will my friend get deported?” “Why are they kidnapping children?” “I haven’t seen _____ this week, is she in ICE jail?”

One conversation especially stands out. My 8-year-old son Ezra asked me why adults were allowing this to happen. And then he said, “I just wish we had a woman president because there’s no way a woman would do this to kids.”

Anyone who is a parent or has worked with children has certainly experienced a version of this - a child articulating a perspective that is astoundingly clear-sighted and untainted by the adult “that’s just the way it is”...ism that’s been calcified over decades. When I’ve experienced these moments with my children, it feels like a magic trick. It’s like an intellectual sleight of hand that fires new neurons and creates a shift in perspective that only that child could have initiated.

But here’s what troubles me: we experience these flashes of truth-telling from children, feel genuinely moved by them, and then go right back to treating their insight as a party trick rather than a critical perspective. Why do we dismiss moral clarity simply because it comes from a smaller body?

More than a century ago, Maria Montessori argued that childhood is not merely a preparation for citizenship but a distinct nation of people who are systematically governed, rarely consulted, and never granted power.

“All the works of civilization were done for and by the adult. Therefore, the child remained outside society; he was not considered to be a citizen. The laws of social justice did not consider the child. Democracy, the democracy for which we have fought yet another war, the democracy which governs most of the world, does not exist for the child.”

Dr. Montessori called for the Social Party of the Child and for the world to recognize childhood as “‘The Nation of Humanity,’ whose importance and authority should outweigh that of any other nation.” (Citizen of the World, p. 8).

What’s powerful about understanding childhood as a nation is that it highlights how our supposed democracy systematically excludes an entire people.

This is a call for children’s right to vote. And yes, I can already hear the objections. There are plenty of familiar arguments against suffrage for children and adolescents. You might say children are:

• Intellectually and civically unfit to make sound political decisions.

• Irrational and too emotional for political decision-making.

• Culturally inferior and incapable of participating in democratic governance.

• Lacking the life experience and maturity to vote responsibly.

At first glance, these may seem like reasonable concerns. But with a closer look, we can recognize these same concerns showing up throughout history. Each was used to justify disenfranchising marginalized groups.

• Intellectually and civically unfit to make sound political decisions. (Black Americans until 1870)

• Irrational and too emotional for political decision-making. (Women until 1920)

• Culturally inferior and incapable of participating in democratic governance. (Native Americans until 1924)

• Lacking the life experience and maturity to vote responsibly. (18-20 year olds until 1971)

There is a well-worn pattern in our history:

• A group is deemed unfit to participate in our democracy.

• Fears about irresponsibility or ignorance pervade.

• Expansion happens.

• Democracy improves.

We are living a democratic groundhog day, but this time it’s children we’re disenfranchising.

This idea is not as radical as it may seem. There’s precedent for the U.S. to follow here.

A growing number of countries (Brazil, Austria, and Argentina) have already lowered their voting age to 16. And Britain is currently moving legislation through Parliament to do the same for all UK elections. Research from countries that made the change shows that enfranchising 16-year-olds had no distorting effect on election outcomes and that people who start voting at 16 are more likely to keep voting than those who start at 18.

In other words, other democracies are doing what ours only says it does: governing by the consent of the governed.

Politicians are beholden to their constituents' political priorities. It’s no wonder, then, that some of the most urgent social issues are also so tragically unaddressed - child poverty, prenatal/postnatal care, lack of universal early childhood education, a broken foster care system, and underfunded public schools.

As an example, in my home state of North Carolina, the Leandro case was a 1994 lawsuit arguing the state was failing its constitutional duty to provide a sound basic education. For three decades, courts repeatedly agreed with the students. Then, this past April, the Republican-majority NC Supreme Court ended the case entirely, dismissing it on procedural grounds. This decision erases every ruling since 2017 and vacates the order that would have delivered billions in school funding. Thirty-two years of litigation on behalf of children, terminated without ever addressing whether children were actually getting the education the Constitution promises them. The people most affected by that failure (children!) never had a seat at the table where those decisions were made.

In the end, I come back to that bedtime conversation with my son. As a teacher and father, I used to think it was my job to prepare children for democracy by raising them to be good citizens. But my son doesn't need preparing. He saw what was happening in our city and named it exactly. He's eight. It will be ten more years before anyone in power will be required to care what he thinks. I'm not sure the country can afford the wait.

Of all education models, Montessori is the only one that has profoundly fallen short of its stated goal.

The traditional model of education has provided a free appropriate public education (FAPE). Reggio has wonderful examples of child-led and project-based learning. Homeschooling has continued to grow since the pandemic.

But only Montessori has failed. The movement has failed not because it’s ineffective, but because we have lost sight of its most radical and moral purpose: PEACE.

I was reminded (again) of this powerful mission while reading Erica Moretti’s book The Best Weapon for Peace. In it, she writes:

“Maria Montessori sought to develop a pedagogy that would guide children to become balanced human beings who could ultimately end war.” -pg. 79

Moretti is writing about Montessori’s response to fascism and the wreckage of two world wars. A century later, our wars look different but the need for peace education has only intensified.

Peace today is not just the absence of war. It’s also the ability to love differences, to cherish interdependence, and to repair harm in community. These are all lessons Montessori classrooms are uniquely positioned to teach.

*Disclaimer*

I should pause here to emphasize something: this is not a hit piece. I write this because Montessori education is my calling. My cosmic task (iykyk). I fully drank the Montessori koolaid many years ago, so this comes from a place of deep love and appreciation for the Montessori Model. I truly believe, like the good Doctor said, Montessori education is the “best weapon for peace.”

But I also believe, as James Baldwin said, “I love America (Montessori) more than any other country (pedagogy) in the world and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize it perpetually.”

Full disclosure: this disclaimer is for my mother, a passionate career Montessorian, who I hope doesn’t disown me after reading the following.

(Not Yet) Best Practices

Montessori has made significant contributions to the advancement of best practices in education. So many “new” fads have origins in Montessori practices. Differentiated instruction, hands-on materials, nature-based learning. Trends in today’s educational journals were influenced by Montessori principles a hundred years ago.

But what has the Montessori community learned from the newest research on the science of peace education and peacemaking?

For many years, I led the Montessori Model United Nations (MMUN) club for our school. MMUN is an incredible supplemental program designed to “inspire and empower youth to become global citizens by engaging them in a simulated UN conference to solve world issues through education, collaboration, and a focus on peace.” Yet supplemental is exactly what it remains. It’s an optional program for the few, rather than an essential curriculum for all.

Montessori’s famous quote, “Preventing conflicts is the work of politics; establishing peace is the work of education,” is not unclear to me. This work is not simply an invitation or an opportunity. It can’t be limited to a handful of students. It can’t be a club. It’s a mandate for all of us.

This mandate requires the Montessori community to intentionally and explicitly incorporate modern peacemaking science into the foundations of everything we teach children and families, from prenatal development to adolescence. In traditional education, this work is typically the domain of higher education. However, Montessori educators have the opportunity not only to articulate but also to implement a vision of education that begins immediately and incorporates another foundational principle of Montessori’s work: the empowerment of youth.

“I believe that children are our future.”

Dr. Montessori wrote that “If we are to reach real peace in this world...we shall have to begin with children.” I recently wrote about my first-hand experience of students being the most important drivers of peaceful change. Over and over again, I’ve witnessed young people practice kindness, creatively solve problems, and participate in restorative circles far better than adults. Despite this competence, adults actively prevent young people from gaining access to political power. Maria Montessori knew early on that children and adolescents were a marginalized group, stating plainly:

“The laws of social justice did not consider the child. Democracy, the democracy for which we have fought yet another war, the democracy which governs most of the world, does not exist for the child.” -Citizen of the World, p. 118

We now have decades of research affirming what Dr. Montessori saw so clearly: young people are excluded from shaping the world they live in. In 2015, the United Nations adopted Resolution 2250, calling for youth participation in peace and security efforts at all levels. The follow-up study, which engaged over 4,000 young people worldwide, revealed the sobering truth that youth experience what they call the “violence of exclusion.”

This isn’t the violence of war. This is the quiet, structural, and psychological violence of being shut out of decision-making.

The study found that this exclusion is “deeply rooted in the reciprocal mistrust between young people, their governments, and the multilateral system.”

Maria Montessori’s insight was prophetic. She understood that children and adolescents are not passive recipients of education, but rather marginalized citizens living in societies not designed for them.

True peace, then, depends on dismantling the systems that silence youth and replacing them with communities that listen, trust, and empower them to lead.

“Do we believe and constantly insist that cooperation among the peoples of the world is necessary in order to bring about peace? If so, what is needed first of all is collaboration with children.... All our efforts will come to nothing until we remedy the great injustice done the child, and remedy it by cooperating with him. If we are among the men of good will who yearn for peace, we must lay the foundation for peace ourselves, by working for the social world of the child.”

-Maria Montessori, International Montessori Congress, 1937

Shifting Focus

There are certainly elements of peace education that have become more ubiquitous in schools (eg. mindfulness, global citizenship, social-emotional learning, restorative practices), but only Montessori education has as its first principle peace education specifically.

What would it look like for every Montessori student, teacher, advocate, and organization to stay singularly focused on peace education, led by young people, as the north star for every action we take? If peace truly guided our classrooms, our calendars, our budgets, our curriculum, and our conversations, our priorities would look very different.

Where To Begin

Besides consistently reorienting ourselves with Maria Montessori’s writings on peace education, we should also look to expert leaders and organizations that research, resource, and enact the work of peace education.

Paulo Freire was seminal in my own orientation to liberatory education. I’ve also learned from Johan Galtung's writing on the distinction between Negative and Positive Peace, Elise Boulding's emphasis on the importance of women in the peace process, and Jonathan Kozol's exploration of the political inequalities affecting American school systems.1

A vital resource is UNESCO’s Recommendation on Education for Peace, Human Rights and Sustainable Development. It is the “only global standard-setting instrument that lays out how education can and should be used to bring about lasting peace and sustainable development.” This resource would be a great starting point for schools, educators, and policymakers seeking practical steps to take.

In addition, we should ask:

• How many school meetings include student voices in decision-making?

• How does our budget prioritize peace curriculum over test prep?

• How do our discipline practices choose restoration over punishment?

• How have we incorporated the most recent research on peace education?

The work of peace begins with these daily, unglamorous choices. This work will be uncomfortable. It will require us to cede authority, question traditions, and acknowledge that our systems often prioritize adult needs for control over children’s needs for liberation.

No doubt, achieving Montessori’s mission is a long-term commitment. It will take many years. And many of us. After all, “An education capable of saving humanity is no small undertaking.”

Maria Montessori didn’t set out to create better students. She set out to create a better humanity.

That work remains unfinished, and it belongs to us now.

Shelves cleaned.

CPR Training.

Staff meetings.

Materials prepped.

Lesson plans completed.

Sweating yet? The start of the school year is a sprint. Every task feels urgent, and the list never ends. The bad news: you’ll never finish it all.

In 15 years of work in schools, I’ve never once heard a teacher (even the most seasoned) say during work week, “I’ve run out of things to do to prepare for my students. I’ve just had too much uninterrupted time for prep in my classroom.”

The struggle is real. There is so much that is critical to a successful year in a classroom and school, and yet our time is always limited.

The good news: There is one thing you can do right now that will make everything else go more smoothly. There’s something that will keep your team aligned when the proverbial $&!% hits the proverbial fan during the school year.

Line Dances and Teamwork

In my last adolescent program, we taught students line dances like The Cha Cha Slide, Cupid Shuffle, and The Wobble to spark joy and build anticipation for our annual Middle School Dance. These traditions were fun, inclusive, and familiar. Not to mention gloriously awkward and hilarious.

The beauty of these dances is the framework: shared steps that give enough structure for individuality to shine. In Montessori terms, it’s “Freedom within Limits.” In other words, clear expectations that allow creativity and personality to emerge. No one has to guess what to do next. We all know when it’s time to “sliiiide to the left.”

Strong teaching teams benefit from the same approach. When you start with shared steps (goals, agreements, and values), you can move together with confidence while still honoring each person’s unique strengths.

Start with Team Culture

Adolescent Montessori guides are trained to prioritize a spiral curriculum that highlights the relationship between academic areas so students are exposed to the interdependence of knowledge. This requires that adolescent teachers avoid being isolated in classroom silos. There must be time for co-planning and collaboration in order to make connections across disciplines.

Therefore, it’s essential that teachers in secondary programs prioritize early discussion, agreements, and a “set of rules” to follow as a collaborative team. Maria Montessori wrote:

“If the different individuals have to live harmoniously in one society, with a common aim there must be a set of rules which we call morality…Morality, which is usually considered as an abstraction, we wish to consider as a technique which allows us to live together harmoniously.” -Citizen of the World, p. 26

Think of these rules as your team’s line dance choreography. This is the shared dance you can all stick to.

Building a Culture Book

I credit my friend and former colleague, Tom Brown (go subscribe to his substack asap!), for reminding me to start with the wise words of DJ Casper and “Take it back now y’all.” When we worked years ago to revamp a Montessori middle school program, he encouraged us to take it back to the basics and do this important foundational work before addressing the day-to-day responsibilities of our team.

In Montessori classrooms, we begin the year by co-creating agreements with students to guide our work together. It’s part of our grace and courtesy lessons to establish shared expectations that give freedom within limits. The same practice is just as valuable for our teaching teams.

A culture book is simply a living document that outlines the shared purpose, values, and agreements for your team. It’s your collective choreography. It’s the steps everyone knows so you can adapt as a unit when the “tempo” of the school year changes.

4 Essential Questions

You can create a Culture Book by answering these essential questions:

1. What’s Our Goal?

Begin with a Central Question that names your shared purpose. This is the “why” that aligns your work. At my last school, our middle school goal was: “To cultivate a healthy community where all adolescents learn about themselves and the world in order to achieve a peaceful and just restructuring of society.” This goal is lofty but inspiring. And it kept us moving in the same direction.

2. What Are Our Core Values?

Identify the values that will guide daily decisions. Ours were:

• Cultivate a climate of wonder, joy, curiosity, and purpose.

• Approach work with humility and kindness.

• Be adaptable and responsive to change.

• Follow ALL children.

3. How Will We Work?

Translate your values into concrete agreements for collaboration. Our included:

• Be curious, not judgmental.

• Ask questions and hold space for differences.

• Step up, step back.

• Participate, pause, listen, and don’t interrupt.

• Stick to protocol and hear all voices.

• Adhere to meeting protocols and make space for all viewpoints.

4. How Will We Measure Your Success?

Decide how you’ll revisit and refine your culture. We used:

• Anonymous surveys

• Reflective team discussions

• Periodic recommitments

We also shared our culture book with new hires so they entered into a clear, intentional environment.

Dancing Together

Lesson plans, rubrics, study guides, organized classrooms. These are all important. But when challenges inevitably arise in the school year, having a foundation of purpose, values, and agreements will keep your team aligned.

Creating a culture book is like a line dance: everyone is in sync while bringing their own flair and creativity. Now’s the perfect time. “Freeeeeze! Everybody clap your hands.”...and get to work on your team’s culture book.

I’m learning from others on this, but one place I return to often is the classroom. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, classrooms are microcosms of the society we have, and Montessori classrooms, in particular, have the privilege (and responsibility!) of being microcosms of the kind of societies we want. One example from my work as a middle school administrator in 2020 has stayed with me.

That fall, students were returning to school in the thick of the COVID debates. The political fervor around COVID was still very much raging. Were we endangering kids by reopening? Or ruining their education by keeping them home too long? Middle schoolers were tuned into these questions, and the conflict immediately bled into our school culture.

Two students in particular became lightning rods: one fiercely opposed to masks, another just as passionate about mandates. Their debates spilled from class to hallways, eventually spiraling into mini “campaigns” with coalitions of peers. It came to a head when I walked into school one morning to find every locker plastered with flyers - flyers that not only promoted masking for safety, they specifically named the other student and called him an anti-science idiot.

By the book, I should have launched an investigation that likely would have led to suspended students. Instead, I invited both students to a restorative circle - something I’d been trained in by Peaceful Schools North Carolina. What emerged not only shifted our school culture but also offers a model I wish more adults would embrace today.

After thoughtful, respectful dialogue, both students shared that they felt they didn’t have opportunities in school to debate hot-button issues that mattered to them. Without that, their energy turned toxic. So together, we created a student-led discussion group. I worked with the teachers to carve out a time each week to fit it into our busy schedule. The students drafted ground rules, worked to recruit peers, and, most importantly, committed to co-leading, even though they couldn’t have been further apart politically.

Five years later, that discussion group called “Common Grownds”1 continues to meet weekly and be facilitated by students. Each year, two students take on leadership. Their responsibilities:

• Select topics based on peer interest

• Share FAQs and context ahead of discussions

• Facilitate conversations with classmates

• Teach respectful engagement with difficult ideas

Topics range from mass shootings to AI to affirmative action. Don’t get it twisted - these are not kumbaya circles. Discussions can get heated, feelings can be hurt, lines might get crossed. But the students come back the next week and try again. They try to ensure all voices are heard and try to amplify the voices that aren’t. They try to ask the right questions. They try to find truth. It’s often frustrating and uncomfortable but they keep trying because they are invested in each other, in their school, and the world.

More recently, I came across a New York Times article arguing that many of today’s social and political crises trace back to a simple problem: schools stopped teaching students how to communicate. For centuries, rhetoric (the art of speaking and listening) was central to education. In the modern era, it’s been pushed aside in favor of reading, math, and technical skills. Yet trust, conflict resolution, and group decision-making are essential for citizenship in an increasingly fractured world. And those are exactly the skills my students practice every week in Common Grownds.

I’ve often wished I could record these student discussions as a playbook for our politicians. Since I can’t, I’ll point you to a recent episode of the Ezra Klein podcast with Ta-Nehisi Coates. Their exchange is a good example of wrestling with disagreement without losing sight of humanity.

The TLDR is captured in these two quotes:

Klein: “If we keep losing power, the people we care about get hurt; we must rethink how to win and broaden who feels welcome.”

Coates: “If we blur the truth about hate to build coalitions, the people we care about get hurt; we must hold the line on human dignity.”

Yes and yes.

I moved to a new city and was working four part-time jobs and still couldn’t pay my bills. Working as a substitute teacher in a Montessori school, I found myself bored during lunch in an elementary classroom. Flipping through a binder on the teacher’s desk, I stumbled upon the Montessori Model United Nations program. It was a lightbulb moment. As naive as it sounds, I felt I’d discovered how I could contribute to world peace. It was then I began to finally consider what my mom and grandmother had been telling me for years—I should be a Montessori educator.

The school eventually hired me as a full-time teacher (and facilitator of the Montessori Model UN program 🙌🏼) and I spent that first school year immersing myself in the world of Montessori—reading everything I could get my hands on. I read Montessori’s biographies. I read the AMI Journals and AMS Montessori Life publications. I went to local conferences. I was hooked.

What appealed to me most was how Montessori’s mission aligned with the social justice warriors I’d grown up idolizing. “Establishing a lasting peace is the work of education” felt like a calling. But as I continued my journey as a Montessori educator, I began to see how the word “peaceful”—the very word that drew me to this work—was often used in ways that strayed from Dr. Montessori’s vision of social justice.

Rather than an invitation to disrupt oppressive systems and build a more equitable world, “peaceful” was often wielded as a weapon in ways far removed from the inspiring call to action that Dr. Montessori wrote about.

Participating in a panel discussion about Montessori terminology at the recent AMS Conference in Denver was a chance to reflect on specific terms we think need to be reconsidered—whether to use them at all or how they are applied in practice. I wrote more broadly about the need to update our language here, but didn’t find space to cite a wonderful summary of that need from The Bloomsbury Handbook of Montessori Education:

“Montessori may also have contributed to her own isolation by being proprietary with her ideas and by frequently falling out with some of her most devoted students, and by developing educational terminology that could be inaccessible to others.

In the face of external criticism, Montessori educators have historically developed a fiercely protective and affirming culture around Montessori education, as well as a rich literature for fellow educators documenting Montessori’s life, pedagogy, and the dissemination of her work. To outsiders, this culture can appear both worshipful and uncritical. In academia, by contrast, criticism and addressing limitations are considered hallmarks of objective research. Developing a robust field of Montessori research requires balancing these competing impulses to document, affirm, and critique.”

“Document, affirm, critique.” In some ways, this is the goal of my Substack.

Allow me to do so now with the word peaceful.

DOCUMENT

The social justice origin story of Montessori, although more complicated than many in our community know (see Mira Debs’ book Diverse Families Desirable Schools), is a call to action and a motivating mission for so many Montessori educators. Dr. Montessori was far more interested in restructuring society toward liberation and justice than simply transferring academic information.

AFFIRM

Montessori is the only educational methodology I know of with the explicit, grand goal of peace education. In a society sick with white supremacy, suffering from the ails of poverty, and diagnosed with an impending climate disaster, it’s never been more important to prioritize an education aimed at universal liberation. And in the face of such dire circumstances, it is the child that is the hope for the future.

“Either education contributes to a movement of universal liberation by showing the way to defend and raise humanity or it becomes like one of those organs which have shriveled up by not being used during the evolution of the organism.” -Maria Montessori

CRITIQUE

As wonderful as the idea of peace is in theory, in practice in Montessori spaces, it is often directed toward a single child: they are either peaceful, or they are not. And in these contexts, peaceful usually means quiet, calm, accommodating, and acquiescent. And it’s usually a girl…a white girl.

But peace requires much more than this type of person.

What social movement has been successful without disrupters—people who are vocal, unwavering, questioning authority, rowdy? These are the traits that have led to significant social change. What if we began referring to these characteristics as peaceful?

I think of John Lewis’ famous line, “Make good trouble, necessary trouble.” Activists who marched and staged sit-ins would not be deemed “peaceful” in most Montessori classrooms—but these “troublemakers” were the ones doing the hard work of building a more just and peaceful society.

If we truly want a more peaceful world, and we believe that work starts in our classrooms and Montessori communities, then we have to ensure that when we use the word peaceful, we broaden the definition of what that means.

If we only use peaceful to describe quiet, calm, compliant students, we risk not just excluding children, but excluding the very behaviors that will create lasting peace.

“How can we speak of Democracy or Freedom when from the very beginning of life we mold the child to undergo tyranny, to obey a dictator? How can we expect democracy when we have reared slaves? Real freedom begins at the beginning of life, not at the adult stage. These people…whose wills have been broken by elders who say: 'your will must disappear and mine prevail!'—how can we expect them, when school-life is finished, to accept and use the rights of freedom?” -Maria Montessori

Every time I go to these conferences, it feels like a long night in a Montessori bar: I’m taking shots of inspiration and chasing them with pints of fresh ideas.

Typically, I stumble home from these conferences, drunk on Montessori, brimming with insights, only to watch my detailed notes disappear into the depths of Google Docs, as if every drop of inspiration has been flushed away.

Not this time! This time, I’m committed to putting one of my most impactful experiences from the AMS Event into words…before I sober up.

I was invited to sit on a panel with four Montessori powerhouses—Susie Shelton-Dodge, Koren Clark, Hannah Baynham, and Dr. Laura Flores Shaw. Our discussion, titled "Montessori Terminology for a Diverse and Inclusive World," was a cherished moment for me. It was an opportunity to wrestle with the ever-present tension in Montessori between fidelity and flexibility. I may dive deeper into what we discussed in a future post, but for now, I want to share a comparison I didn’t get to mention on stage.

Recently, I wrote about the Academy Award Best Picture nominees, including one of my favorite films from last year—Conclave. There’s a scene in the film that frames the conversation about language in a compelling way.

The movie follows Cardinals from around the world as they gather to select the next Pope. Early on, in a cafeteria scene, the Italian conservative Cardinal Tedesco observes that the room is segregated by language. The Spanish speakers sit at one table, the Italian speakers at another, and so on. He attributes this divide to the loss of Latin as the universal language of the Church, blaming its disappearance on so-called “liberal” reforms. In his view, Latin provided a shared foundation, one that was abandoned in favor of modernity. His frustration reflects a broader societal tension—the push and pull between preserving tradition and embracing change.

This scene immediately brought to mind Beverly Daniel Tatum’s book, Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?, which explores how identity shapes social interactions. Tedesco sees the linguistic divisions as evidence of a loss of unity, but as Tatum discusses, people often cluster with those who share their experiences and language—not out of exclusion, but as a way to find comfort and belonging in a larger system that may not fully embrace them. This perspective complicates the idea that a single, imposed language is the solution to inclusion.

Montessori also has a shared language—a rich vernacular that defines our philosophy and approach. It connects us across generations and cultures, creating a sense of continuity. When I attend Montessori conferences, I get to “speak Montessori” with thousands of like-minded educators, deepening our bonds. My mom took her Montessori training in the early 1980s, and I completed mine in the early 2010s. Despite the decades between us, when she references a child’s “horme,” I know exactly what she means.

But if we’re not careful, the language that unites us can also be exclusionary. The key question our panel explored was this: Is our language a bridge or a barrier?

In the Montessori Assessment Playbook from the National Center for Montessori in the Public Sector (NCMPS), they write,

“The same things that make Montessori a remarkably robust community of practice—a highly elaborated repertoire embedded in a distinctive worldview, expressed through idiosyncratic technical language—also make it difficult to describe, particularly to those who do not share the repertoire or speak the language.”

Cardinal Tedesco was right about one thing: linguistic segregation is a problem. But instead of clinging to a “dead language” as a solution, a better alternative would be for him to open himself up to other languages, embracing the diversity of the Catholic Church. The Church didn’t die when the Latin liturgy did—it became more inclusive and reflective of its global community. Similarly, Montessori doesn’t weaken when we adapt our language; it thrives when we make space for more people to access and engage with it.

As Montessorians, we should be expanding our linguistic reach—finding new ways to communicate within and about our communities. This doesn’t mean abandoning our terminology. Instead, we can make Montessori more understandable and inviting for all who seek it.

Some Ideas:

• Follow the work of Montessori leaders like Koren Clark, Susie Shelton-Dodge, Hannah Baynham, and Dr. Laura Flores Shaw, who are helping to shape a more inclusive Montessori dialogue.

• Read foundational texts such as Diverse Families, Desirable Schools by Mira Debs, which explores how language and inclusion intersect in Montessori education. Particularly important is her description of speaking about Montessori in ways that are “Abstract” vs. ways that are “Utilitarian.”

• Listen to young people. What are your students and children saying about language and inclusion in Montessori spaces?

• Tell your story. Montessorians know that storytelling is one of the most powerful tools for learning. Share your experiences of inclusion or exclusion—whether as a student, teacher, or parent. In a recent Montessori Life article, I wrote:

“You can start by creating spaces where stories can be shared openly. Whether in a classroom, a staff meeting, or a meal with a colleague, these conversations invite vulnerability. As Mr. Rogers said, ‘There isn’t anyone you couldn’t love once you’ve heard their story.’” At our school, we often use “Rounders” as discussion starters. A question is posed, and each person in the group has a chance to respond. Simple yet powerful, these prompts generate reciprocal vulnerability through storytelling, fostering empathy and connection. Here are some Rounders to start with:

-What does inclusion and belonging mean to you?

-Tell the story of a time when you felt like an outsider. How did it impact you?

-Where do you feel a strong sense of belonging? What makes that community special?

-How has your understanding of inclusion changed over time? What influenced that change?

-What’s a story from your childhood that shaped your views on inclusion or exclusion?

-In what ways does the Montessori approach facilitate or challenge inclusion in diverse learning environments?

Montessori is a living philosophy—one that thrives when we remain open to evolution. By broadening our language, we ensure that more people can walk through the door and feel truly welcome. Conclave captures this sentiment beautifully in its final shot—women walking through the doors of the Vatican, symbolizing the Church opening itself to a broader, more inclusive future. Montessori, too, can continue to grow by welcoming more voices into the conversation and making space for all who wish to be part of its community.

Chelsea and Tom,

I’ve finished reading The Child, Society, and the World. I so enjoyed this project and, like you, continue to be renewed by reading Maria’s writing.

Some version of the following has been sitting in an open Chrome tab on my laptop for a few weeks - I just needed to see this post from Chelsea for the motivation to finish writing. A little peak behind our (WhatsApp text chain) curtain—Chelsea knows how competitive I am so she’s challenged me to post and see who’s writing gets more engagement. If anyone else is reading, no need to continue, just go ahead smash that like and subscribe button ;)

It will come as no surprise to either of you that I’d like to tease out a small part of the book that I’m still mulling over, and that’s the idea of competition. She writes:

“You can let the children see who can do these things best because even if competition is a bad thing it does not matter at this stage; after concentration comes, competition will disappear anyway because the children will be interested in the work. So if competition is a help for practical purposes do not be afraid of using it.”

You both know of my lifelong passion for sports. I’ve spent much of my life on a court or field (translation for Tom: a “pitch”); playing on teams as a kid, playing in rec leagues as an adult, and coaching youth teams in my work in schools and YMCAs.

You also know I was a “Montessori kid.” I attended Montessori schools through middle school and have worked in Montessori schools for more than a decade.

Check out that drip!

These two integral parts of my personality seemed diametrically opposed for much of my life. In one part of my life, I’m a fierce athlete who thrives on competition and is driven to explore my potential through sport. On the other hand, I’m deeply inspired by and connected to the Montessori mission of peace-building through cooperation and (the quasi-spiritual ideal of) community.

In my older adult years, I began working to suppress my tendency towards competition as a teacher, friend, partner, and father. The traits that served me well on the playing field didn’t translate as well in a classroom setting or in an argument with my wife. Or so I thought…

It doesn’t help that the Montessori world doesn’t talk much about sport and competition. Searches in the AMI Journal, AMS Research Library, and the Journal of Montessori Research out of Kansas University yield a grand total of 0 results for keywords like athletics, sport, and competition.

The one exception of this erasure I can think of in the Montessori world is the recognition of my fellow Charlottean and Montessori kid, the best shooter of all time, Steph Curry. I wrote more about the kinds of Montessorians we should be marketing in this post.

Clearly, Steph’s time in Montessori schools didn’t squeeze the competitive gene out of him, but my thinking has long been that perhaps he’s the exception to the rule since so little is discussed in Montessori circles about sport and competition. It’s been nice to see that change in recent years with organizations like AMI’s Montessori Sports and Global Montessori Games.

These groups, and spotlighting Steph Curry helped evolve my thinking, but my great epiphany didn’t come until a few years ago when I read “The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance” by Timothy Gallwey. I’m not much of a tennis player, but I heard about this book after it made the rounds of some respected professional coaches - including Pete Carroll and Steve Kerr (Steph’s coach).

It’s no exaggeration to say this book changed my life.

Reading it was the first time I began to see the once stark lines between competition and Montessori blur. At this point, I feel compelled to write an entire post summarizing and citing some of the exceptional ideas in this book (e.g. how this is the best self-help book of all time for my fellow Enneagram 3s), but I’ll save that for another time.

Suffice it to say, it became clear to me after reading it that, in fact, there may be nothing more “Montessori” than competition. We just need a new definition of competition that’s more in line with Gallwey’s. He analogizes it this way,

“Why does the surfer wait for the big wave? The answer is simple, and it unravels the confusion that surrounds the true nature of competition. The surfer waits for the big wave because he values the challenge it presents. He values the obstacles the wave puts between him and his goal of riding the wave to the beach. Why? Because it is those very obstacles, the size and churning power of the wave, which draw from the stuffer his greatest effort. It is only against the big waves that he is required to use all his skill, all his courage and concentration to overcome; only then can he realize the true limits of his capacities…the obstacles are a very necessary ingredient to this process of self-discovery.”

Self-discovery, you say? Sound like a key tennet of any progressive pedagogies?!

He goes on,

“In this use of competition it is the duty of your opponent to create the greatest possible difficulties for you, just as it is yours to try to create obstacles for him. Only by doing this do you give each other the opportunity to find out to what heights each can rise. So I arrive at the startling conclusion that true competition is identical with true cooperation.”

True Competition = True Cooperation

I suspect that when the good doctor wrote, “...after concentration comes, competition will disappear anyway because the children will be interested in the work,” she was talking about the work of self-discovery—the work of cooperation. There’s that quasi-spritual stuff again :)

After years of being conflicted and self-critical in Montessori circles of my secret obsession with competition, I’m coming to a new understanding. I propose that competition may actually be the only true path to self-discovery and cooperation—dare I say, a key ingredient in the recipe for world peace.

Beat that!

In this case, ‘All’ means ensuring every child—regardless of ability, background, or circumstance—has access to an inclusive, supportive learning environment.

Last year, I was a Fellow with the American Montessori Society (AMS) Innovation Think Tank and my working group focused on studying inclusion best practices for school communities. Our study developed into an NPR StoryCorps-like project where we utilized audio/video storytelling as a way to leverage participants' shared stories as lessons for the Montessori community. As the project evolved, we realized the power of shared narratives in shaping best practices for inclusion. We detailed our findings in an article published in the latest AMS publication, Montessori Life (pg. 42).

The model relies on creating safe spaces for sharing stories in an interview format. We quickly learned from a contact at NPR that the best way to do that was to have folks sit with someone they already know well. To test this approach, I started by interviewing someone whose voice in this conversation I value—Dr. Gloria Jones, who is currently the Exceptional Children Director at my school in North Carolina. I asked to interview her because of her depth of experience and because we already had a good rapport and working relationship.

In this interview, I asked Dr. Jones about what she thinks “belonging” means in schools. We spoke for more than an hour and I’m sharing a 2 minute clip I found especially impactful.

What I love about these remarks is that she reminds us of the essential work of inclusion in schools—both as a moral and legal imperative. It’s like a choose-your-own-adventure of reasons to prioritize inclusion: either because you believe it to be the right thing for all children or because it’s illegal not to.

Either way, it’s a non-negotiable. Because All Means All.

Audio Transcript:

“Belonging means being a part of and having access to.

My role is simply as an advocate and to ensure that we all follow policy and procedures to afford students who are eligible FAPE - for free and appropriate public education. So it really is an advocate.

Advocacy sometimes is not too special ed, but it's gen ed. It's just to ensure that the student gets the support they need as much as possible with their non-disabled peers.

Prior to 1975, I would say, we didn't have that. They were either at home or institutionalized. That was their life.

And so, you know, go back to Brown vs. the Board of Education and out of that fight for civil rights for all of us, really, emerged the rights of people with disabilities. And then the different laws around that.

And so it is the law. It's just like driving. You have laws. We have to adhere to the laws so that we can make sure that we are all safe out on the highway.

We have to adhere to these laws to make sure that every student gets what they need. And if we believe that all means all, and we believe that all students can learn in some capacity, and we are truly in the business of educating everybody, then that's what we do.”

Go For Broke

I’ve never read the book, but apparently, the anti-fascist and animal rights themes in Wicked are much stronger in the novel than in the musical or film. Still, in the movie’s version of Oz—where the Wizard seeks to maintain power and control—there’s a goat named Professor Dillamond who teaches his students about animals being silenced and losing their rights. Spoiler alert: things don’t end well for Dillamond because he chooses to resist. He’s removed from his classroom and punished for speaking out.

Dillamond is a fearless teacher, but what makes his actions so powerful is that in a climate of fear and oppression, his teachings become even more critical. He has a cushy job, a sweet little goat jacket, and tenure, yet he still leverages his privilege to stand up for those being silenced. His example is particularly relevant for those of us who aim to be anti-bias/anti-racist (ABAR) educators in today’s climate. Not everyone who prioritizes equity in their classrooms can take a Dillamond-like risk right now, but those of us who can, must. Thinking about Dillamond’s stand reminded me of James Baldwin’s A Talk to Teachers which was given 62 years ago and is unfortunately still relevant today:

“To any citizen of this country who figures himself as responsible — and particularly those of you who deal with the minds and hearts of young people — must be prepared to ‘go for broke.’ Or to put it another way, you must understand that in the attempt to correct so many generations of bad faith and cruelty, when it is operating not only in the classroom but in society, you will meet the most fantastic, the most brutal, and the most determined resistance.”

Smile

Just as A Complete Unknown hinges on the strength of its lead actor, so too does I’m Still Here. Fernanda Torres delivers a powerhouse performance in this true story about a woman searching for her kidnapped husband during the Brazilian dictatorship of the early ’70s. Her character, Eunice, is a mother of five, and one of the film’s most striking moments comes when a photographer asks her and her children to look sad for a newspaper story. Eunice refuses. Instead, she tells her children to smile.

Mothers are especially adept at this—the ability to “smile” through hardship as an act of protection. Teachers do this too. I’m not talking about a fake, toxic positivity. I’m talking about a deliberate act of resistance. A way to influence the world around them. A proactive action that can literally change your mind. I used to subscribe to the adage, “leave it at the door”—the idea that teachers should shut off their personal lives when stepping into the classroom. The problem?

1. We aren’t robots.

2. If there’s one group that can spot inauthenticity from a mile away, it’s children/adolescents.

These days, I follow a different adage. A fellow teacher once told me, “Our job is to be windows, not doors.” I love this. Teachers don’t have to pretend hardships don’t exist, but they should share only what’s developmentally appropriate—offering students a glimpse, not a burden. So let’s be windows. And smile.

“Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking

When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You'll see the sun come shining through for you”

-From Charlie Chaplin’s song, Smile

I’ve Created A Monster

By far the most surprising Best Picture nominee, this body horror film about aging and fame is bananas. I loved the first two acts, but my stomach couldn’t handle the final third. To be honest, I’ve spent two weeks trying to extract a meaningful lesson for teachers from The Substance and I’ve got nothing. Except maybe for the obvious: the film’s commentary on societal expectations and the patriarchy’s impact on young women is as relevant in classrooms as anywhere else (see my note about dress codes below).

That said, there’s a great passage from Maria Montessori’s 1946 writings that eerily connects to the final act of The Substance. I can’t say exactly how without spoiling it, but this is for all my Elisasue-heads out there. IYKYK. 😉

"Humanity is a monster when adult—bloodthirsty, indulging in continuous slaughter. But the monster does not come to life all of a sudden. Adulthood is the result of years of toil and struggle. He who constructs this adult person...is the child.”

Demi Moore is the favorite to win Best Actress for her role as a woman who was not created in one moment, or even one year. Maybe all she needed was a few good teachers to help her through her “years of toil and struggle.”

Swing Big

Leading the field with 13 nominations and a heap of controversy, this musical crime drama is a swing. Between its themes—cartel violence, gender identity, transformation—and the news of Best Actress nominee Karla Sofía Gascón’s problematic tweets, Emilia Perez has garnered the kind of attention that no longer qualifies as ‘any press is good press.’

I didn’t love Emilia Perez, but I found it immensely entertaining. A film that, even when I was laughing at it, I couldn’t look away from. That’s because it’s a big, giant swing. Audacious and bold. It’s a film that doesn’t give a shit what you think. An important part of being a teacher or administrator is adapting to the needs of the families you serve. But just as important? Boldly articulating and standing by policies that align with your personal and your school’s mission.

Parents advocate for their child. Teachers advocate for the entire classroom community. Sometimes, those things are at odds. But, like Jacques Audiard taking a stand for his vision, educators can embrace their why and take their own big swings.

Listen Up

Sean Baker made one of my favorite films of all time - The Florida Project. Seven years later, he’s finally getting the acclaim he deserves with Anora, which I predicted in my last post will win Best Picture. If it does, it will certainly be the raciest Best Picture winner the Academy has ever awarded (aside from maybe Midnight Cowboy, which was risque for its time but tame by 2025 standards). The first half of Anora is mostly sex which might be surprising except that this is an Academy that has become more diverse and international in recent years, which means more members who don’t have a traditionally American, puritanical idea of what’s acceptable in art (see the filmmakers of The Brutalist talking about that here). The Oscars are the biggest platform for film and expanding the kinds of movies that are celebrated is a good thing. As the voting body becomes more diverse and younger, it generates a blowing off of dust and updating ideas about what’s acceptable for the masses.

I love watching this same phenomenon happen in real-time with the middle school students I work with—young people challenging outdated norms and demanding change. Take dress codes, for example. While some traditional educators see certain styles as inappropriate, my students see them as empowering statements of autonomy and body positivity. They’re not just asking for new rules; they’re reshaping the narrative about self-expression and equity. And like all social progress, it’s the youth who push us forward. As educators, we have a choice: ignore or listen. Good teachers know which one leads to real growth.

The best films have the power to teach us about life—in the case of these five films, lessons of resistance, resilience, and redefining norms. I’ll be watching March 2nd for which lessons the Academy connects with.

And just for fun, my predictions:

Picture - Anora

Director - Sean Baker, Anora

Actress - Demi Moore, The Substance

Actor - Timothee Chalamet, A Complete Unknown

Supporting Actress - Ariana Grande, Wicked

Supporting Actor - Kieran Culkin, A Real Pain

Original Screenplay - The Substance

Adapted Screenplay - Conclave

Since my time as a film studies major in college, I’ve made it a point to see every Best Picture nominee each year (except Green Book. I’ll never watch Green Book). Last week, I wrote about applying my useless sports knowledge to education. Well, I do the same thing with movies.

Here’s one thing education can learn from five Oscar nominees for best picture. Next week I’ll write about the other five nominees.1

Teachers are Artists

This was the best “experience” I had in a theater this year. This was filmed in VistaVision (the first film to do so since the 60’s), looks great in IMAX, has an actual intermission (this should be a requirement for all films longer than 2.5 hours), and felt like one of the New Hollywood epics from the 70s. It’s the story of an immigrant architect navigating a fraught relationship with his wealthy American patron in order to bring a passion project to life.

We know education is a science—see the biggest education story in the news right now. But anyone who’s worked in a school knows that teaching is as much an art as it is a science. Every student, every lesson, and every interaction is a unique canvas teachers have to paint with. Adrien Brody’s Brutalist character is constantly faced with the frustration of short-term compromise in order to see his broader mission completed in the long-term.

As a passionate public school advocate, I see standardized testing as one example of a short-term concession (find me a teacher that doesn’t consider EOGs “Brutal” 😉) that helps society achieve the larger social mission of a democratic public education in the long-term. Schools need consistent, standardized assessments to enact data-informed decisions, but teachers must also be given the autonomy and trust to act as artists who adapt to the learners they serve.

What We Carry

I almost can’t write about this one. Remembering the feeling of seeing this film makes me emotional in a way that feels…spiritual. This wasn’t a movie to me, it was 2 hours and 20 minutes of a feeling. And like all powerful emotions, words are inadequate. At its core, Nickel Boys is an exploration of trauma. The scene of the year imho is a static shot in a bar later in the film when two men are reacquainted after years apart. We can only see one of their faces but there’s powerful communication in what they don’t say, in what’s in their bodies, in what’s lingering from their childhood.

The weight of unspoken trauma in that bar scene is a reminder that in classrooms, much of what students carry remains unseen. Just as that moment in Nickel Boys is shaped by years of silent pain and resilience, students bring experiences that impact how they learn, interact, and respond. Trauma-informed teaching requires us to recognize these invisible burdens and create spaces of safety and understanding. Our job is to first recognize this, then work to be compassionate, culturally competent connectors (accidental alliteration there but I guess now I gotta put it on a t-shirt).

Listen First

Besides the funniest movie snack souvenir of all time, Dune 2 gave us a second best picture nominee starring Timmy C. In this one, he’s Paul Atreides - a reluctant leader who immerses himself in Fremen society by learning their culture. It’s not until he learns their history, language, and people that he can earn their trust enough to fight alongside them. Like Paul, teachers build trust by immersing themselves in the cultures of their students. One of the core elements of Culturally Responsive Teaching is knowledge:

“Teachers should understand different racial and ethnic groups’ cultural values, traditions, and contributions to society, and incorporate that knowledge into their instruction.”*

Education is a special fraternity because, like Paul Atreides in Dune 2, most teachers answer a calling. But answering the call isn’t enough—true leadership in the classroom comes from listening first, learning first, and recognizing that knowledge isn’t static. Students arrive with experiences shaped by their families, communities, and histories, and a great teacher doesn’t just instruct—they absorb, adapt, and respond.

One simple way to do this is by asking more questions than you give answers. The best educators model curiosity, showing students that learning is an ongoing dialogue, not a fixed destination. And that’s a strategy very much connected to the lesson from the next film on this list. 👇🏼

Doubt = Tolerance

Ralph Fiennes opens this political papal thriller with a quote that articulates Conclave’s theme,

“God’s gift to the church is its variety. It is this variety, this diversity of people and views which gives our Church its strength. And there is one sin I have come to fear above all others. Certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance…Let us pray that God grants us a Pope who doubts.”

It’s a powerful idea and one that is often difficult to incorporate into teaching. Even the word 'teacher' implies a one-way transfer of knowledge—an adult delivering certainty to a student. But in an era where AI can generate instant, definitive answers, we don’t need teachers who simply know—we need teachers who know how to question. In education, doubt isn’t a weakness, it’s an opportunity. The best teachers demonstrate intellectual humility, showing students that questions often matter more than answers. Just as the Church in Conclave must choose between clinging to tradition or embracing uncertainty, educators must decide whether to stick with rigid methods or create classrooms built on inquiry, discussion, and the willingness to rethink assumptions. Give me teachers who doubt.

It Takes All Kinds

In James Mangold’s Best Picture nominee, we meet an American folk musician who’s an activist, counterculturalist, and protest singer. No, I’m not talking about Bob Dylan, it’s Pete Seeger. Before Dylan, Seeger was a controversial figure who advocated for workers' rights, protested against the Vietnam War, and supported the American Civil Rights movement. In the third act of A Complete Unkown, Seeger and the organizers of the Newport Folk Festival become increasingly upset with Dylan’s movement away from traditional folk music and towards a new, electric sound. Neither Dylan nor Seeger are willing to compromise their ideals (Seeger valuing tradition, Dylan adamant about artistic freedom) and believe the other is harmful to the movement.

Just as Dylan and Seeger had different but essential roles in shaping folk music, schools need diverse perspectives to create lasting change. One of my favorite resources for equity work is the Social Change Ecosystem Map which is “a framework that can help individuals, networks, and organizations align with social change values, individual roles, and the broader ecosystem.” This map is a reminder that it takes all sorts of talents, roles, and experiences to work towards a common goal. We need the Seegers of equity work to remind us of the history and traditions that were the catalyst for progress, and we need the Dylans of equity work who reject the status quo and push the boundaries of what it takes to achieve true belonging in schools.

Next week I’ll write about the other 5 Best Picture nominees. But if you need something quick to watch in the meantime, the best thing I saw this year was The Turnaround, a 25-minute doc on Netflix that proves the power of sports.

Growing up, I spent hours studying the backs of the hundreds of sports cards I collected, reading Sports Illustrated for Kids, and watching ESPN’s SportsCenter. It’s been one of the great joys of parenting that my three kids are doing those same things 30 years later (except it’s YouTube highlights instead of SportsCenter).

What good is all this useful sports trivia swirling around in my increasingly foggy brain? Besides the joy of bonding with my kids, I’ve come to realize that my lifelong sports obsession has shaped how I see the world - including my work in education.

These days, my love for sports looks different. I care less about LaMelo’s stat line and more about what sports reveal about the world. Just as I’ve always seen my classroom as a small ecosystem - a microcosm of society where each school year serves as a living experiment in community-building - I now see sports the same way.

“Sport is friendship,

Sport is health,

Sport is education,

Sport is life,

Sport bring the world together.”

-Juan Antonio Samaranch, Olympic Games Opening Ceremony

In my last post, I wrote about 5 things education can learn from pro sports. Here are 5 more things I wish the education world would steal from sports.

1. The Farm System

Model: Major League Baseball has long relied on its “Farm System” for developing talent and preparing players in its Minor Leagues for “The Show” - Major League Baseball. When players are drafted by MLB teams, they start in one of the leveled minor leagues - A, AA, or AAA. As they progress through the system, they benefit from larger stadiums and crowds, better coaching, and higher competition. It’s a system for developing talent and building rosters.

In Ed: My first job in a school was substitute teaching. Substitute teaching led to being hired as a full-time sub. Full-time subbing led to an assistant teacher role which led to an offer to be a lead teacher at the same school. On-the-job training is always the best training. As I learned how to be a teacher, I was also absorbing the culture of the school. Schools should build internal 'Farm Systems' to grow their own teachers - structured pathways that move educators from substitute to lead teacher through mentoring, shadowing, and professional development. This system should be clearly outlined in interviews to set expectations from the start. It also requires a deliberate approach to professional development, including orientation, coaching, observation and feedback cycles, training, and cross-discipline/cross-grade learning communities. When schools commit to growing their own educators, the results are powerful: higher retention, stronger school communities, and deeper investment from all stakeholders.

2. The Rooney Rule

Model: The Rooney Rule requires NFL teams to interview underrepresented minority groups for coaching positions. It was established after a series of Black head coaches were fired in the early 2000s and a resulting study showed that Black coaches were less likely to be hired and more likely to be fired despite better winning percentages than white coaches.

In Ed: The Rooney Rule isn’t perfect in practice (just ask Brian Flores about his “sham interviews”), but it’s a good reminder to interrogate hiring in schools. Plenty of other industries have practices like the Rooney Rule. The legal industry has the Mansfield rule requiring at least 30% diverse interview candidates for leadership roles. Similar practices have been adopted by Target, The BBC, and Goldman Sachs.1 Schools can make meaningful strides in hiring by requiring diverse candidate pools, updating their pipeline through partnerships with local HBCUs and diverse community organizations2, and adopting hiring practices like blind resume review. Nationally, nearly 80% of K12 teachers identify as white but less than 40% of the student body is white. When schools set specific goals for inclusive interviewing and hiring practices, the result will be a teaching body that is more representative of the students they serve. I love how succinctly Kenji Yoshino summarized it on a recent podcast with Stacy Abrams.

“Talent is everywhere, opportunity is not. DEI closes the gap.”

3. Generalization > Specialization

Model: Counter to what most fanatical sports parents believe, it’s now widely understood across professional sports that it’s important for young athletes to avoid specialization in sport until high school. See David Epstein’s Range for the science (and a great example of Tiger Woods vs. Roger Federer), but the takeaway is that research shows that generalists (like Federer) often outperform early specialists because they develop broader problem-solving skills, adaptability, and creativity. Delaying specialization in sports also fosters new emotional and physical skills, reduces burnout, and lowers the risk of injury.

“Overemphasis on the competitive system and premature specialization on the ground of immediate usefulness kill the spirit on which all cultural life depends, specialized knowledge included. It is also vital to a valuable education that independent critical thinking be developed in the young human being, a development that is greatly jeopardized by overburdening him with too much and with too varied subjects.

-Albert Einstein

In Ed: The same principle applies to academics. It’s a major reason my middle school moved away from multi-tracked math offerings a few years ago. We were seeing families and students making premature decisions, often as early as 4th or 5th grade, about whether they were “advanced” in math. Once that label was assigned, a child’s trajectory was locked in at an age far too young for such determinations. Montessori education has long understood the value of generalization. Our curriculum is built on the idea that all subjects are interconnected - what we call “Cosmic Education.” Our job isn’t to funnel students into rigid academic paths but to invite them to explore the full breadth of their world. More broadly in education, we must resist the urge to track students too early. Instead of asking, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” we should ask, “What problem do you want to solve?” And let’s retire phrases like “I’m not a math person” in favor of “Math helps me understand the world.” Early specialization limits possibilities, for athletes and students.

4. Roster Limits

Model: Most pro sports leagues have a roster limit, a maximum number of players they can have on the active roster. Besides helping teams stay under the kind of salary caps I wrote about last week, the limit on roster size helps keep competition more balanced and limits the hoarding of talent.

In Ed: We should be ensuring equitable distribution of staff so that no school is stacked with resources while another scrapes by. This distribution would be determined by a formula for the ratio of staff to students. Currently, schools have widely different staffing depending on a number of factors - type of school, size, location, reputation, etc. It doesn’t serve our students for one school to have bloated staffing (multiple counselors, nurses, administration, classroom assistants, bus drivers) while the school on the other side of town struggles to get essential lead positions filled. Once a school hits its fully-staffed “roster limit,” educators looking for a job would go to the schools that need them most, and staff would be more evenly distributed across schools.

5. Shared Facilities

Model: Every Major League Soccer team must operate a youth academy that provides free training and development, reducing the pay-to-play barrier that limits access to high-quality coaching. Academy players and community-based soccer programs also gain access to top-tier MLS facilities, ensuring standardized development regardless of market size and expanding equitable access to first-class resources.

In Ed: A city's schools should share facilities the way MLS teams do. If Mr. Theater’s school lacks an auditorium but Down the Road Elementary has one, he should have access for rehearsals and performances. If Coach Balón’s team has no soccer field, but Next Door Middle School does…you get the idea. As districts plan new builds and renovations, they should design shared spaces accessible to schools without those resources. Early on in my parenting career, I quickly realized public parks and libraries are the all-time greatest community assets - we should build school facilities that function the same way, creating shared spaces where students can thrive.

If we want to build schools that are true drivers of positive social change, we could learn a thing or 10 from pro sports - where shared resources, equity, and smart development lead to everyone winning.

Next time I’ll be writing about one thing education can learn from each of the 10 Oscar nominees for Best Picture.

Education is a strong indicator of social mobility and increasingly a marker of something more important - holistic well-being. Schools don’t just teach; they provide health care, meals, transportation, and extracurricular opportunities. Yet, this essential system is unfair, unjust, and inequitable - mirroring the systemic racism, classism, and sexism embedded in our society.

Like all sectors of American society, it’s been built with good intentions but deeply susceptible to all the isms present in our society - classism, racism, sexism. Due to racist practices and a history of inequitable resource allocation tied to systems like housing, schools today are more racially and socioeconomically segregated than in 1988.

In this country, we have a haves/have-nots model, and our young people are the victims. Private education, school choice, and well-funded public schools benefiting from neighborhood property taxes have created a fright-flight1 escape hatch for mostly-white families with resources.

If only there were a model for equitable practices in large, expensive, high-stakes businesses that the education world could steal from.

In my last post, I wrote about how education deserves the same energy and excitement we give to professional sports. Here are 5 more things education could learn from sports to make it a more just system for all students and families.

1. Draft Parity

Model: A football team’s selections in the NFL Draft can make or break a franchise. When my Carolina Panthers selected Cam Newton with the first pick in the 2011 draft, it transformed the organization. Cam led us (yes, I’m on the team) to 4 playoff appearances, an NFC championship, and a Super Bowl appearance. How did we land that #1 draft pick in 2011? We won a league-worst 2 games the previous season. In the NFL, the worst team in the league gets the best draft pick. The Super Bowl champs go last. Parity is king and NFL seasons are all the more exciting because of it.

In Ed: Instead of the highest paying, most elite institutions attracting the best teachers, the lowest performing, highest poverty schools should get first crack at the Cam Newton of teaching. Imagine the kind of parity in the education sector that we see in the NFL. A student's neighborhood wouldn’t determine what teachers they get. A school’s walk zone wouldn’t impact its ability to hire strong teachers. This practice would translate to funneling the most talented teachers to schools with the greatest needs, ensuring every child has access to high-quality educators, regardless of their zip code.

2. Expansion Drafts

Model: When a new team enters a league, the expansion draft is used to help them build a player roster. Each existing team in the league has to make a number of unprotected players available to the new team. The WNBA just added the Golden State Valkyries to the league and had the chance to select one player from each of the 12 other WNBA teams which will allow them to start the season more competitively.

In Ed: When a district adds a new school, that school gets to hire a portion of their staff from each of the other local schools. These staff bring experience, best practices they learned from a more established school, and connections across the district. I know the kneejerk reaction - “That sounds like a logistical nightmare. Teachers would never go for that. It’s too disruptive and causes professional whiplash.” Just remember, in this model, there are two important changes - all schools are more comparable and equitable, and teacher pay is much higher. While expansion drafts in education might feel disruptive, the resulting equity could create schools that thrive from shared expertise and collaboration across districts.

3. Salary Cap

Model: Leagues like the NFL and Major League Soccer (MLS) have what’s called a “hard cap” which means there is a universal limit to the amount of money each team can spend on player salaries. The result is a more equal distribution of talent across the leagues. No single team can hoard the best players because they can’t afford it. In a given year, if a team sends 5 or 6 players to the Pro Bowl (the all-stars of the league), it’s been a great season. Without the salary cap, Patrick Mahomes ($45 mill/year) would not only have Taylor Swift's boyfriend on the team ($17 mill/year), he’d be throwing to Justin Jefferson ($35 mill/year) and Tyreek Hill ($30 mill/year) and handing the ball off to Christian McCaffrey ($19 mill/year).

In Ed: A cursory google search of the average teaching salaries of schools in my city is indicative of the stark contrast present nationwide. The college-prep, private institution near me has an average teacher salary that’s $10,000 higher than our district public schools. That same private school’s $29 million in revenue and $90 million in assets can afford them the highest staff salaries in the area. If that school had to cap its salary expenses, my neighborhood school’s salary scale would be much more competitive and attractive to job-seeking educators. Imagine if private schools couldn’t hoard resources or outspend their public counterparts on teacher salaries. A salary cap could ensure a more equitable distribution of talent, just as it does in the NFL.

4. Revenue Sharing

Model: In the NBA, all 30 teams share their revenue into one pot, and that money is then redistributed to teams that earn less. Often that goes to small market teams like my beloved Charlotte Hornets, the eternal bottom feeders of the league. Thanks to teams like the Lakers and Knicks, I’ve been able to attend Hornets games for 35 years. The team and facilities in the Spectrum Center in Charlotte, NC are subsidized by New York and L.A. dollars.

In Ed: All K-12 schools would be federally funded2. That federal funding model would pool all revenue sources and the money gets distributed equitably across all schools with consideration for cost of living. In this model, if I transported you into the building of the highest poverty school, such that you didn’t drive through the neighborhoods and had no awareness of what area of the city you were in, you’d see very similar facilities and resources regardless of location. You’d walk through the doors of the school located in the lowest-income neighborhood of your city and see things like this3:

And this:

And this:

5. Minimum Salary

Model: In most pro sports leagues, there’s a minimum salary for all players. This means the small-market teams can’t underpay their roster and also means players are less likely to flee lower revenue teams to chase higher salaries. Of course, this strategy relies on the revenue-sharing model stated above.

In Ed: The same college prep private school in my area has a starting salary that is $25,000 higher than the local district public schools. The federal government would set a minimum salary for all educators. In a national revenue-sharing model with minimum salaries, even smaller, rural, or low-income communities could better attract and retain teachers. Employees new to the field, whether fresh out of college or those making a career change, would be more likely to teach in communities that needed their contributions the most. This would limit the kind of human resource hoarding you see now - the most seasoned and talented teachers moving to schools already flush with strong staffing structures. A federal minimum salary would ensure that every teacher, regardless of location, earns a livable wage, making education an attractive career choice for diverse candidates and creating a more equitable workforce.

The education of our students is far too important to accept the status quo. By borrowing these pro sports tips, we could transform schools into places where every child, regardless of background, has a fair shot.

I couldn’t fit all the tips in this week’s post so I’ll be sharing 5 more next week.

“Not everything that is faced can be changed but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” -James Baldwin

They say to write what you know.

Recently, I had the chance to podcast about something I know - what it’s like being a male Montessori educator and a father of three boys who have attended Montessori schools.

Andrew Faulstich (Breaking the Paradigm), Tom Brown (Marigold Montessori) and I did some learning in public by discussing boys, masculinity, and education on Andrew’s podcast.

What a pleasure it is to be in conversation with two educators who always evolve my practice.

What connects? What did we miss? I’ve been invited back for a part 2 of this conversation so I’d love to hear from you all.

• Unintentionally and serendipitously, this idea is in conversation with Tom Brown’s recent post on Marigold Montessori (subscribe!) about how teachers can be good hosts.

Unfortunately, it’s not just the Montessori community that lacks popular and public figures that promote the movement. This got me thinking about the broader need for exemplars in education - figures who inspire the same kind of passion and imagination we see in sports. As Key and Peele so keenly satirized, the teaching profession could benefit from the kind of excitement and recognition we readily give to professional athletes.

A few years ago, inspired by my obsession with The Ringer (and perhaps subconsciously by Key & Peele), I merged my dual passions for education and sports. I was able to convince my two Montessori besties, Chelsea Roberts and Tom Brown, to draft the staff for an imaginary school designed to transform education.

Here’s the name of our imaginary schools along with the staff we drafted in 5 rounds1. If any of these names are new to you, they are well worth a research deep-dive.

Justin - Schoolvolution

• Maria Montessori - Dir. of Montessori

• Ella Baker - Anti-Bias/Anti-Racist Director (ABAR)

• Mr. Rogers - Director of Social Emotional Learning (SEL)

• Mary McCloud Bethune - Leader

• Alvin Ailey - PE/Wellness

Tom - Nevertheless She Persisted

• Angeline Lillard - Dir. of Montessori

• Angela Davis - ABAR

• Brene Brown - SEL

• Elizabeth Warren - Leader

• Pat Summit - PE/Wellness

Chelsea - The Niche School of Human Development in the Post De-Colonized Era

• Maria Popova - Dir. of Curriculum

• Jennifer Mullan - ABAR

• Bell Hooks - SEL

• Esther Perel - Leader

• Roxanne Gay - PE/Wellness

Sign me up to work at any of these schools!

Our teacher draft is a fun example of how much education could benefit from celebrating diverse talents and perspectives, just as sports do. But even these luminaries are humans - flawed and fascinating in their own ways. The bios of the folks above aren’t squeaky clean2. Maria Montessori abandoned her son to avoid scandal and prioritize her career, Alvin Ailey abused drugs and alcohol, and bell hooks called Beyonce a terrorist (although I guess it’s true that Queen B slays).

But I say that’s the beauty of it! As the organizational psychologist Adam Grant points out, “Picking someone as your role model in life sets unrealistic expectations. Eventually, you'll learn they don't belong on a pedestal. It's better to admire people for specific strengths. It reminds you they have weaknesses too. Knowing they have vices puts their virtues in reach.”

Imagining schools staffed by such inspiring figures reminds us of what’s possible when we dare to dream big for education. This wasn’t just a fantasy draft - it’s a reflection of the values, ideas, and leadership we should strive to cultivate in real life. As we acknowledge the humanity of even our heroes, we’re reminded that greatness is within reach for all of us!

Recognizing the flaws and complexities of those we admire helps us see that greatness doesn’t require perfection. It’s in the striving, the commitment to growth, and the courage to imagine something better that we find real inspiration. Whether it’s a famous figure, a colleague, or a teacher from your own life, the people who shape us often do so through their unique strengths, not despite their imperfections.

So, who has influenced you on your educational journey? Share their names and stories in the comments - I’d love to learn more about the people and ideas that have inspired you.

In my next post, I’ll explore the ways the education world can learn from professional sports to make it a more equitable system for all.

Google’s Top 5:

1. Jeff Bezos

2. Julia Childs

3. Sean “Diddy” Combs

4. Larry Page

5. Sergey Brin

Ummm…from that list, I’d keep Julia and the rest have to go. We can leave behind billionaires and an abuser/alleged sex trafficker.

Time to trade Diddy parties for Montessori parties.

The results are slightly better when visiting the American Montessori Society (AMS) page for Montessori alumni.

AMS Top 5:

1. Stephen Curry

2. Jeff Bezos

3. Larry Page Sergey Brin

4. Joshua Bell

5. Anne Frank

Looking at these lists, it’s clear we need to broaden our story to better represent the diverse impact of Montessori education.

If I could have a do-over of the conversation I recently had about famous Montessorians with Andrew Faulstich (a Montessori alum worth highlighting) on his podcast Breaking the Paradigm, it would be to shout out my 5th favorite athlete of all time (yes, this is one of the many lists of favorites I keep), and fellow Charlotte, NC native, Steph Curry.

Andrew and I discussed the need for the Montessori community to rethink the celebrities we highlight as Montessori alumni and enthusiasts. I’m kicking myself now for forgetting to include Curry on my list. He’s a great example of the traits a Montessori education can foster in students - eg. creativity (see absurd shots like this), hard work (he was undersized and injured much of his early NBA career), and persistence (he started his time in the NBA with multiple injuries that could have been career-ending).

In addition to people like Curry, Anne Frank, and Julia Child, Rosalyn Williams should be a household name in Montessori circles. She founded the first black-initiated Montessori teacher training program, championed equal access for special ed students, created a busing system among Montessori schools in NYC, introduced job training for Harlem residents, and advocated for male teachers in early childhood education.

Another name worth adding to the list is Johan (Joop) Westerweel - a Dutch pacifist Montessori principal who provided safety for Jewish refugees during WWII, housed them in his family home, and then eventually devised ways to smuggle them to safety. Giving your life for the freedom of others > algorithms and two-day delivery.

Side Note: You may have heard of one Mahatma Gandhi, a vocal supporter of Dr. Montessori’s philosophy and vision for education. Although Gandhi didn’t attend Montessori school, I like to imagine the first conversation between him and Maria Montessori, where their connection is so fire, it could be a lyric from another famous Montessorian, Taylor Swift: “If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, can't you see? You belong with me.”

You just know the next shot from the image below is Maria dapping up Gandhi.

We can do better than the same few celebrities that have been highlighted on Montessori websites for years. When we give school tours, when we talk to friends about what makes Montessori noteworthy, when we teach our students about the special lineage they’re a part of…we can do better. I propose a new list:

New Montessori Top 5 (in no particular order):

1. Joop Westerweel

2. Rosalyn Williams

3. Steph Curry

4. Anne Frank

5. Julia Child

These figures reflect the Montessori values of courage, creativity, social justice, and a commitment to others.

But right after sharing our new list, and perhaps more importantly, let’s tell folks about why centering any one person is not actually what makes Montessori education remarkable. After reading and writing about some of Maria Montessori’s books, I was reminded that even the OG herself cautioned against focusing on individual greatness in her 1946 London Lectures.

“Although this method bears my name, it is not the result of the efforts of a great thinker who has developed his own ideas. My method is founded on the child himself. Our study has its origins in the child. The method has been achieved by following the child and his psychology.”

Who are other guests that need to be at this party? What educators do you know that are doing great work? Shout them out in the comments and let’s collectively redefine what it means to be someone who truly embodies the values of this philosophy.

For most of my teens and young twenties, my Grandmother - a Montessori teacher, trainer, and school leader, would corner me at family gatherings and ask if I’d finally looked into getting my Montessori teacher training. I did my best to respectfully appease her by hearing her out, but I had no interest so it was mostly internal eye-rolls and in-one-ear-out-the-other kind of listening.

After 15 years of working in Montessori schools as a teacher and administrator, I guess it’s safe to say she was right.

Although he’s much younger than my dear Grandmother, Tom Brown has been equally persistent in encouraging me to do more writing. I’m pretty sure at one point last summer, his exact words were, “You need to be writing. Why aren’t you writing?!”

Luckily, I was less resistant to Tom than my Grandmother and had fun writing about some of Maria Montessori’s books with Tom and our friend Chelsea Roberts.

I thought I was done with that writing exercise until watching a favorite author, Ta-Nehisi Coates, being interviewed recently. He was asked about why he writes. Coates said most people write to process their surroundings internally but that he writes because it helps him shape his world.

I just love that - writing as an active, powerful exercise that has an almost magical ability to change how we experience our world.

So in 2025, I resolve to publish more writing here.

In thinking about how to structure these posts, I’m reflecting on two key elements in Montessori education: following the child (observing and supporting each individual’s unique path of growth and learning) and the interconnectedness of all things (“All things are part of the universe, and are connected with each other to form one whole unity”).

This substack will be an experiment in putting these two principles into practice. A place to follow and explore the interconnectedness of my passions through writing intended to shape my world.

Come for the writing tightrope of integrating these topics:

• montessori

• sports

• education

• equity and social justice

• movies

• organizational leadership

• pop culture

Stay to be in dialogue, share insights, push back, and help co-shape an interconnected world.