Choosing Our Seeds Wisely
Where We Put Our Energy Matters
In any ecosystem, what we choose to nurture determines what thrives. A garden that is tended with intention will bloom with abundance, but if we neglect the soil or pour our efforts into the wrong things, we may find ourselves surrounded by overgrowth that chokes out the very change we hoped to cultivate.
Education is no different.
Every policy, every lesson, every conversation is an act of planting. But the real question is: What are we actually growing?
Are we feeding a system that perpetuates inequity, or are we sowing the conditions for something better?
What We Water Grows
Too often, the dominant structures in education reward what is already established, rather than what is necessary for transformation. We spend hours enforcing outdated discipline models instead of reimagining community care. We measure students against narrow definitions of success instead of nurturing their full humanity. We invest in diversity statements while leaving the root causes of exclusion untouched.
We pour water onto the same scorched earth and then wonder why the garden never changes.
If we are serious about liberation, we have to ask ourselves:
Where do we put our time, our energy, and our resources?
Are we cultivating real justice or just maintaining appearances?
What if we stopped tending the scorched areas and started nourishing the soil?
Stop Scorching the Earth
Some of the most harmful structures in education persist not because they are effective, but because they are habitual. We have been conditioned to believe that compliance equals success, that rigour is synonymous with exclusion, that students must be “managed” rather than nurtured.
It’s time to uproot the systems that do more harm than good. We have to take a deeper look at the soil, recognize why it is not bearing life, and ask ourselves the following:
When we choose punitive discipline over restorative justice, are we managing behaviour or understanding it?
When we choose standardized testing over meaningful learning, do we care about scores or student growth?
When we choose tokenism over real equity work, are we diversifying the reading list or decolonizing the curriculum?
When we choose burnout culture over sustainable change, are we proving our worth through exhaustion or are we modelling what it means to thrive?
We cannot keep feeding what depletes us. We cannot keep planting in scorched earth where the soil cannot bear life. We have to recognize that what we water grows and the longer we water, the deeper the roots go. Here are some ideas to support you in nourishing your internal landscape and practical ways to nourish your soil:
Audit Your Time and Energy
Keep a journal for a week and track where your effort goes. Are you spending more time enforcing outdated policies than building relationships? Are your meetings centred on student well-being or bureaucracy? Once you see the patterns, start redirecting your energy toward what matters.
Challenge “That’s Just How It Is” Thinking
When you hear a policy or practice justified with “this is how we’ve always done it,” pause. Who benefits from this? Who is harmed? What would change if we did this differently? If the answer reveals inequity, it’s time to uproot the practice.
Stop Pouring Into Empty Rituals
Avoid performative actions that look like progress but don’t change the system. Instead of an annual diversity-themed lesson, embed culturally responsive pedagogy into every subject. Instead of a one-time anti-racism workshop, build accountability structures for ongoing learning.
Shift from Compliance to Curiosity
Instead of asking, “How do we get students to comply?” try “What conditions do students need to thrive?” This shift opens the door for practices like trauma-informed discipline, student-led learning, and classroom environments built on trust.
Refuse to Glorify Burnout
A system that exhausts its educators is not sustainable. Advocate for workload balance, collective care, and boundaries that prioritize well-being. If we want to nurture students, we have to model what a healthy, thriving adult looks like.
Nourish Our Soil, Choose Our Seeds Wisely
What if, instead of sustaining systems that no longer serve us, we shifted our focus? What if we directed our energy toward new ways of being — ones that centre care, authenticity, and transformation?
When we view joy as resistance, not merely passing phases of emotional contentment but an embodied way of being (I am reminded of the webinar discussion with Lawrence Hill, who said it was condescending to believe that joy cannot also exist in stories of hardship and pain, and that to acknowledge only the sunny side of joy is deeply disingenuous; after all, joy is so powerful because it rises through the hard times, not around them). We can authentically ground ourselves in joyful learning when we prioritize learning that is culturally responsive, engaging, and affirming. Let’s be real: when hardship, colonization, trauma, and oppression come knocking — and never with a bouquet — it is culture that responds. That is where fry bread comes from. That is where the blues comes from. It was culture responding.
When we shift from top-down instruction to co-creating knowledge with students, we are embodying a liberator pedagogy for both our students and ourselves. Suddenly our classrooms and schools become places of radical inclusion, where we are not simply “making space” but giving power to those who have been historically excluded.
We also must remind ourselves that rest is a revolution, too. When teachers thrive, students do, too. As someone who is notorious for “can’t stop, won’t stop,” this is an area I am trying to do better in. My passion for the work can result in overdrive — but again, it is where my joy lives!
A single act of intentionality — a lesson that affirms a student’s identity, a shift in discipline that prioritizes healing, a policy that centres equity — can alter the landscape entirely.
When we give students real power in student-led learning spaces, where they can shape their education and co-design their environments, we are helping students build investment and a sense of agency. When we implement restorative and healing-centred practices and replace zero-tolerance policies with restorative circles, mediation, and conversations that foster accountability without shame, we recognize students as whole people, not only academic outputs. When we centre joy and identity-affirming practices, we are stating that liberation is not only about dismantling oppression — it is about creating spaces of joy, affirmation, and belonging. Normalizing joy as an act of resistance by celebrating student identities, integrating art, music, and storytelling, and making learning deeply relevant is where the goodness grows. If all we measure is compliance, test scores, and discipline records, we will continue to reinforce the same old structures. We need to measure success differently, shifting the focus to student engagement, emotional well-being, critical thinking, and community impact. If we want transformation, we have to redefine success.
We also must remember that systemic transformation isn’t a solo act. We need to build coalitions for change within our learning environments. Find colleagues who are ready to push for change with you and form equity teams, build support networks, and challenge policies together. A single voice can start a ripple, but a collective action makes waves.
Tend to What Matters
It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of the way things have always been done. It’s easy to let the way it has been take over, to keep feeding systems that drain us, to believe that change is too slow, too distant, too difficult.
But the truth is, transformation is already happening. Right now. With every choice we make.
So we have to decide: Will we keep investing in what holds us back or will we start pouring our energy into what sets us free?
Every day in education, we are planting something, whether we realize it or not. The question isn’t if we are growing something, but what.
Ask yourself: Are you growing something worth tending?
Because, in the end, the garden we nurture is the future we create.
Let’s make sure it blooms with justice, belonging, and the kind of beauty that lasts.
With roots deep and vision wide,
Ms. K
