When Hunter first walked into my after-school coding club, they were shy and a bit standoffish. I could sense their discomfort, yet I also saw a willingness to give this new experience a try. I quickly learned that Hunter, who has hearing issues, dyslexia, autism, and ADHD, had endured persistent bullying for years. This only intensified after Hunter came out as non-binary. Hunter went into a deep depression and struggled to make friends and connections.
I knew first-hand what Hunter was going through. I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and an incomplete spinal cord injury, and I live with a physical disability. I also identify as queer. My own experience and my connection with students like Hunter is why my classroom is inclusive in its design and in how I teach. There are adaptive supports, rainbows, safe space stickers, and “all are welcome here” signs posted everywhere. My classroom is filled with robots and coding activities and, perhaps, more importantly, with a sense of welcome. By the end of our first meeting, Hunter was smiling and engaging with the other students, a transformation that continued as they regularly attended the club. I knew Hunter had finally found a place where they could be themself.
Later, I learned from Hunter’s mother just how much the coding club had impacted them. Before joining the club, Hunter had been so disheartened by their experiences at school that they had considered dropping out altogether. A few weeks into the club, however, their outlook changed dramatically. They began enjoying coming to school. They even started making friends and hanging out with them during lunch and free time. The most significant change was in their mental health and I was so excited to hear that Hunter told their mother, “Ms. M showed me that people like me can be successful too! So I won’t drop out; I will stay in school.”
As an educator, I have a responsibility to be authentic and to show my students that being different doesn’t mean being less than. This belief doesn’t just apply to teaching; throughout the year, my students help me pick out my different vibrant and neon hair colors as a way of learning how people can look different but still be awesome. But until I spoke with Hunter’s mother, I hadn’t fully grasped the extent to which this authenticity has the power to influence a student’s decision to stay in school. It meant so much to Hunter’s mother and her family that her child could see themself positively represented in my classroom. This isn’t just true for students with disabilities or those who identify as non-binary, gay, or transgender; it applies equally to race, ethnicity, culture, and family structure. If students only see negative portrayals of themselves, they are apt to internalize these harmful stereotypes, while others might develop biases against them.
I believe that representation in the classroom is the solution to many of our educational challenges.
Colorado is grappling with chronic absenteeism. One way to combat this issue is to create a school environment where students like Hunter feel seen, valued, and represented by their teachers and administrators. Research has shown that Black students who have at least one Black teacher in early grades are more likely to graduate from high school. That is the power of representation’s immediate and long-lasting positive effects. In my own school, we have staff who are disabled, LGBTQIA+, religious, nonbinary, male teachers of color, BIPOC, and from other countries. We are able to provide students with a diverse perspective, and we can bring our lived experiences into the classroom.
Another significant way to increase representation is by hiring more diverse teachers. This is a multifaceted goal, but there is a crucial and immediate step that schools, districts, and states can take: eliminate policies that prevent teachers from expressing their true identities in the classroom. These policies might include restrictive dress codes that enforce gender norms, prohibitions against discussing one’s spouse, restrictions on hairstyles and colors, bans on tattoos, limitations on the use of mobility aids, and policies that prevent teachers from wearing cultural or religious clothing.
I have ten tattoos and neon hair colors; dress code is the first thing on my list to ask about when I apply for a teaching position. By removing antiquated clothing and hair choice policies, we can show students that everyone can succeed regardless of style of appearance.
When people ask why I am so open and honest with my students about who I am, I tell them it’s because I want to be the teacher I needed when I was in school. I never saw a queer teacher or a teacher with a disability, and it made me feel isolated. That’s not the environment I want my students to experience.
I am incredibly grateful that Hunter came to my coding club, allowing them to see that they can succeed regardless of their gender identity or disability. This is the inclusive and equitable educational system that I dream of and that all students deserve.
Joanne McGuire teaches 8th-grade science at Prairie View Middle School in Henderson. She is a 2024-2025 Teach Plus Colorado Policy Fellow.
