Unpacking, Unlearning, and Understanding: What a Month(ish) of Reflection Taught Me

When I enrolled in The Magnitude of Us course, I expected to learn strategies for building culturally responsive classrooms. And I did. But what surprised me most was how much the course asked me to learn about myself. I had signed up to better support students and teachers, yet I walked away realizing that the hardest work of equity is not what we do out there, but what we first must do within.

One of the biggest shifts was recognizing how identity is never fixed. For much of my life, I treated it as though it were: you are one thing or another, and you carry that forever. But this course reminded me that identity is something we wrestle with, sometimes reject, and often reclaim. I found myself leaning more intentionally into my Black identity, reflecting on the ways I once distanced myself from it and the ways I now draw strength from it. That kind of shift doesn’t come from reading a definition in a book; it comes from the hard work of pausing, questioning, and admitting that who we are is still unfolding.

Another important takeaway was the role of unlearning. It is easy to talk about what we want to add - new practices, new frameworks, new habits. But what about the assumptions, the biases, the reflexes we carry that do harm even when we don’t mean to? The course pushed me to ask: What do I need to release so that I can show up more equitably? For me, that has meant unlearning the belief that “fitting the mold” equals success. I succeeded in school by being able to conform, but that very conformity left parts of me unseen and I know my students feel that same tension. If I’m not careful, I risk reproducing it.

I also walked away thinking differently about voice. We often say we want to “amplify student voice,” but this course asked me to consider whether I am making space for students to author their own stories, or simply inviting them to speak within the boundaries I set. That reflection made me uncomfortable, because it reminded me how often well-intentioned educators unintentionally silence by structuring conversations too tightly. True equity requires letting go of some of our control so students can shape the learning alongside us.

Perhaps the most powerful shift was in how I think about presence. Cultural responsiveness, I realized, is less about mastering a checklist and more about how we show up. Do we show up ready to listen? To name our biases? To admit what we don’t know? To resist the urge to defend ourselves when challenged? Presence is not glamorous work, but it is transformative. It is what allows us to turn empathy from an abstract idea into a daily practice.

All of this has left me with more questions than answers, which I believe is a sign of growth. I find myself wondering: Who is missing from the circles of influence I rely on most? Whose stories do I need to hear more often? How do I make sure that my care for staff is not separate from, but essential to, my care for students? And how do I continue to hold myself accountable, knowing that cultural responsiveness is not a destination but a discipline?

In the end, what I carry forward is not just a set of strategies but a mindset: stay curious, stay unsettled, and stay committed. If I can do that, I will not only grow as an educator and leader, but I will create spaces where students can grow into the fullness of who they are. That, I believe, is the real magnitude of us. Not the tools we collect, but the ways we allow our humanity to meet theirs.