When I was in elementary school, I was assessed and labeled as a gifted child. I loved school and enjoyed learning new things. My parents nurtured my love of learning by consistently taking my siblings and me to the public library, the zoo, the aquarium, and various museums. I also had incredible elementary school teachers, and still remember them vividly.
I remember Ms. Ham and Mr. Barken teaching me phonics with patience and care. Thanks to them, I learned to read fluently, even though English wasn’t my first language.
My third-grade teacher, Ms. Lew, made us memorize the multiplication tables. I remember using my fingers to count and hearing her firmly say, “No hands!” When I told my mom what had happened, she laughed and helped me practice my multiplication tables in the kitchen while making pupusas.
Then there was the wonderful Ms. Oliver, who taught me cursive, reading, and math. She often read to us aloud and held her students to high expectations. I also remember her teaching us the 50 states through a song, which we later performed in front of the entire school. The song is still stuck in my memory to this day.
Ms. Stockton was amazing too. I remember reading Holes as a class and then going on a field trip to watch the movie when it first came out in theaters. It was so much fun! I also remember her giving me my first glimpse of science when she taught us how to separate sand from water using a filtration system.
Lastly, I remember Mr. Castro, who shared those high expectations. As a fifth grader, he assigned me to read The Lord of the Rings. I remember telling him it was too difficult, but he insisted I could handle it. We read it chapter by chapter and had discussions that felt like a book club. It was impressive, considering the novel is written at a high school reading level. I was just in fifth grade.
With all of that early support and enrichment, it would seem that my future was bright. But things changed when I entered middle school.
Middle school was a shock. It was my first time having multiple teachers, but I started the year hopeful and excited. That excitement faded quickly once I began struggling in school. I got my first math test back and the score was disappointing. The same thing happened in science, and then in English. What surprised me most was that many of my classmates were struggling too. We were all confused. What has changed?
At the time, I couldn’t explain it. But now, looking back as a teacher, I understand exactly what happened. Our teachers were no longer using explicit instruction. For example, my middle school math teacher—whose name I’ll leave out—would assign a weekly “Problem of the Week” and give us the entire week to solve it. That was it. That was her instruction the entire semester. I struggled constantly and often asked for help, but her response was always the same: “Try harder.” Sometimes she gave vague hints, but the process was so frustrating that I eventually gave up. How was I supposed to think about material I had never been taught? I stopped asking questions. So did most of my classmates. A whole year of math instruction was lost.
For English, a teacher would make us do collages out of magazines about whatever we wanted. Don’t get me wrong. It was fun but looking back, I have a hard time understanding how this activity helped us build skills in reading and writing. I can go and on with more examples but just know that this was the norm. The only students who seemed to succeed were those with private tutors. That kind of support wasn’t available to me or most of my classmates.
I want to make an important exception: Ms. Asmussen. She was a phenomenal teacher who stood out from the rest. She held high expectations for her students and managed her classroom with skill and purpose. I have so much respect for her to this day.
I want to be clear that my intention is not to speak poorly of these teachers. I truly believe they had good intentions and cared about their students. However, in hindsight, I can see that a lot of valuable instructional time was spent on practices that, while well-meaning, were not effective in helping us learn.
By the time I reached high school, I was getting by with B’s and C’s and maybe an F here and there. Far from the gifted label I had once carried. My parents deeply valued education and were often disappointed by my grades. They reminded me regularly that they had come to this country to build a better future for me. I still remember my mom saying, “¡No venimos aquí para causar lástima! ¡Ponte las pilas!” which translates to, “We didn’t come to this country for people to feel sorry for us. Get it together!”
That heavy feeling of disappointing my parents stayed with me. That was until I met my high school chemistry teacher. I remember being intimidated by the periodic table and thinking to myself, “If I can just pass with a C, I’ll be fine.” But as the semester went on, something unexpected happened. For the first time in a long time, I truly understood the material. That old love for learning slowly returned, and with it came motivation. I started studying his notes at home and taking his exams very seriously. I ended up taking AP Chemistry the following year and passing the AP Chemistry Exam with a 4.
So what made my high school chemistry teacher so different? At the time, I couldn’t quite put it into words. But now I know. It was because he used explicit instruction. He explained concepts clearly and broke them down in a way that made them easily accessible. Once I understood the content, I was able to participate confidently in class. That feeling of success was like finally coming up for air after being underwater. Everything started to make sense, and for the first time in a long time, I began to take my education seriously. I started studying for more classes using the techniques my chemistry teacher had taught me. Then I started thinking “Why stop here?” and started looking into colleges and took more AP courses. I got straight A’s and got put on the Honors list. Long story short, I got accepted to UCLA at the young age of 17. Even though this journey was not easy, I graduated with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Biology with a minor in Science Education. I was the first in my family to earn a college degree.
So why am I telling this story? Because lately, evidence-based practices are being dismissed as “dogmatic” or “soul-crushing.” But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m sharing this so people can understand the real impact these practices can have on a student. Including myself. A child of immigrants. A student who didn’t speak English when she first started school. A once-struggling learner who is now college-educated and helping others find the clarity and confidence I nearly lost.
My story is not unique. There are so many students sitting in classrooms today who are full of potential but are quietly falling behind. Not because they aren’t capable, but because they aren’t being given the tools to succeed. When instruction is unclear or left to chance, even the brightest students can slip through the cracks. But when teachers use evidence-based practices like explicit instruction and the gradual release model (which can ultimately lead to inquiry-based learning due to the expertise reversal effect), they give students something powerful: access. Access to understanding, to confidence, and to a future they may not have imagined for themselves. I became a teacher to offer that access. To be the kind of educator who sees every student’s potential and gives them the structure, clarity, and support they deserve. Because I know what a difference it makes. I’ve lived it.