Not one right way

 The main argument of this reading is that neurological differences (like ADHD, autism, and learning disabilities) shouldn’t be seen as problems to fix, but as normal variations of the human brain that should be accepted and supported. The reading asks for a shift in perspective by explaining that neurodiversity is more of a mindset than a label. It says that “‘neurodiversity’ is the concept that there is natural variation in how people’s brains work, with no single ‘correct’ way.” That really challenges the way people usually think about these differences as something “wrong.” One part that stood out to me was the idea behind the neurodiversity movement. The reading says that instead of trying to “fix” people with autism or ADHD, we should focus on what they’re good at. I see this as directly connected to ableism, the idea that there’s one “normal” way to think, learn, or function, and anything outside of that is less than. This reading pushes back on that by making it clear that there isn’t just one right way for a brain to work, which really challenges that mindset.

As a teacher, this feels really important.  In schools, students are often judged based on pretty rigid expectations that don’t take those differences into account. Students shouldn’t have to fit into one box, and teaching shouldn’t be one-size-fits-all. A lot of the time, ableism shows up in systems that just aren’t built for different kinds of learners, and schools are definitely one of those systems. Instead of expecting students to adjust, we should be thinking about how the system can adjust to them. Being anti-ableist doesn’t mean ignoring challenges, it just means recognizing differences without judgment and making sure students have what they need to succeed.

On a more personal level, this really connects to me. Both of my parents are deaf, so I never grew up seeing deafness as something negative, it was just a different way of communicating. But I’ve definitely seen how other people treat them, like they’re lacking something or are less capable. My parents have had to adapt to systems their whole lives that weren’t designed for them. My dad went to a hearing school and always talked about how hard that was, and now I find myself wondering why there wasn’t more support for him. Why put someone in a learning environment where they can’t fully access what’s being taught?

That connects a lot to what neurodivergent students go through in schools now. Just like students with ADHD or autism can be misunderstood, deaf individuals are often placed in spaces that don’t meet their needs. On the other hand, my mom teaches at a school for the Deaf where everything is built to be inclusive, and you can really see the difference in how students succeed there. Seeing that has made me think a lot about my role as a teacher. It reminds me how important it is to create a classroom where different ways of learning and communicating are actually valued, not treated as a problem.

Keep ICE out of schools

This week, from this Rethinking Schools volume, I chose the articles "Now Is the Time to Defend Our Students: LA Educators vs. ICE" and "Recipes for Resistance." Both articles, along with the introduction, highlight the constant fear within school communities as well as the ways educators are stepping beyond traditional roles to protect and support their students. Unfortunately, immigration enforcement is increasingly shaping the daily lives of students, families, and educators. 

Safety within schools is the biggest concern. It is clear that immigration enforcement is no longer separate from students' educational experiences. Students (children!!!) are going to school everyday worried that something is going to happen to their families (or even themselves) and with emergency plans in their backpacks. Schools, which should be spaces of stability and learning, are instead becoming places where fear follows students into the classroom. In one of the articles it is mentioned how a student shared instructions from his mother about what to do if ICE takes her. This alone shows how childhoods are being disrupted by systems beyond students' control. No child should have to go to school worrying about being deported. 

Earlier this year there was a nation wide protest where high schoolers walked out of classrooms and marched in protest against ICE. This demonstrates how impactful ICE has been on their lives, showing that students are not only aware of immigration enforcement but are directly affected by it in ways that interrupt their education. When students feel the need to leave their classrooms (their safe spaces) to protest, it reflects how deeply this issue has entered their everyday lives. They are now carrying the emotional weight of uncertainty, fear for their families, and the possibility of sudden separation. 

A theme throughout this volume was the role educators have now taken as community protectors and organizers. In the Los Angeles article, teachers are not just focused on instruction, they are now organizing patrols, distributing "know your rights" materials, and monitoring their neighborhoods. Their responsibilities go beyond their classroom walls. There's many jobs where as soon as you exit the building your job is done. Working at a school is not one of them. What the teachers in LA did is a perfect example of how teaching does not only happen within schools. It also shows that learning cannot be separated from the realities students face outside of school. 

I think a misconception people may have is that because all the stories we hear about are in LA or Minneapolis, this is not happening in our own communities, but that's not true. Many educators in our community stay connected through WhatsApp groups to share updates about ICE sightings, and keep informational pamphlets available for families. In my own school, we have had emergency meetings regarding ICE activity and action steps to follow when there's a sighting, including how to communicate with families about what protocols to follow if ICE appeared nearby. This is a prime example of educators responding to the needs and fears within their communities. 

Something that I'm holding onto after reading this is the importance of community based resistance and collective care. Recipes for Resistance talks about creating spaces of joy where families can gather, share stories, and support one another. This creates moments of normalcy during a crisis, which sometimes is very needed. To me, this connects to the message in Bad Bunny's Super Bowl performance: even under fear or oppression, joy and community endure. In Hispanic culture, family and community are central pillars, and resilience comes from staying connected and supporting each other. 

Bottom line: teachers have a responsibility to address what students are experiencing beyond academics. Ignoring these realities does not make them disappear, it only isolates students further.

Affirmative Action

This week, I read “Isn’t that what the case is about, the discrimination against Asian Americans?” by Wayne Au. Au talks about how Asian Americans have been used as a “racial wedge” in political and legal battles over affirmative action. Basically, instead of protecting our communities, our identities are sometimes used to divide and maintain systems of inequality.

Affirmative action is meant to address past and present discrimination by giving historically marginalized groups more access to opportunities, like education and jobs. Not everyone starts at the same place, and these policies try to account for that. Without them, barriers that have existed for generations would keep minority groups from succeeding.

Some people say affirmative action hurts Asian students, but Au explains that this idea is misleading. Asian American identities are often used to support a colorblind system that reinforces racial hierarchies. We aren’t being protected; we’re being used to push a bigger political agenda.

Growing up as an Asian student in a mostly white, rural area, this reading resonated a lot with me. My racial identity developed in isolation. I didn’t have other Asian students to talk with or share experiences with, which made it harder to process moments of discrimination or exclusion. I felt pressure to fit in, to assimilate, and to succeed on the dominant culture’s terms. At the same time, there is this idea of meritocracy, the idea that success comes purely from talent and hard work, which also ignores the fact that not everyone starts in the same place, and unequal conditions shape the outcomes of effort and achievement.

Reading Au’s article made me think about how important community and shared language are in shaping identity. If I had grown up around more Asian peers, I might have felt less isolated and less pressured to navigate these expectations alone. Policies like affirmative action don’t just benefit individual students; they help create conditions where everyone can have a fair shot, even if the process isn’t perfect.

Let's also talk about the model minority, the idea that Asian Americans are naturally hardworking, smart, and successful. On the surface, it might seem like a compliment, but it’s actually harmful. It erases struggles and creates constant pressure to be perfect. Students who are struggling can easily go unnoticed because people assume we “always do well.” That pressure can cause stress, anxiety, and make it hard to ask for help when you really need it. 

Additionally, the model minority myth is often used to undermine the experiences of other marginalized groups by suggesting that systemic racism can be overcome simply through hard work. In reality, this narrative ignores structural inequalities and reinforces harmful divisions between communities of color. This part of the model minority myth is especially harmful because it gets used as a comparison tool. When people point to Asian American success as proof that “anyone can make it,” they are often implying that other marginalized groups (particularly Black and Latino communities) are responsible for their own struggles. This shifts the focus away from systemic issues like unequal school funding, housing segregation, employment discrimination, and mass incarceration, and instead places blame on individuals or cultures. It also ignores the very different historical and social contexts that shape each group’s experiences. For example, policies like immigration laws, and access to generational wealth have not impacted all communities in the same way. By flattening these differences, the model minority myth erases the role of structural racism and makes inequality seem like a result of effort rather than opportunity.

On top of that, this narrative creates tension between communities of color by positioning one group as a “success story” and others as “failures.” This weakens solidarity and makes it harder for groups to come together to challenge the systems that affect them all. Instead of recognizing shared struggles and advocating for systemic change, the myth encourages division, comparison, and competition. Ultimately, protecting the very inequalities it claims to disprove.

Affirmative action, on the other hand, is actually a positive thing. It helps level the playing field and creates opportunities for students who might otherwise face barriers. It encourages schools and workplaces to value diversity, not just in numbers, but in perspectives and experiences. For students like me, it means that communities can feel seen and included, and everyone has the chance to learn from each other. Affirmative action isn’t about giving anyone an unfair advantage; it’s about creating fairness where inequality has existed for a long time.