Year-End Reflections: What This Year Taught Me

As this year comes to a close, I am carrying deep gratitude with me into what comes next.

As the year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on everything this year held. The work. The questions. The growth. Writing throughout the year helped me make sense of it all. Looking back now, those blogs form a record of learning in real time. Together, they tell the story of a year defined by courage, recommitment, and belief in what is possible.

What I Learned This Year

Change is hard because it is human, not because it is impossible

This year reinforced something I know to be true. Teachers do not resist change because they do not care. They resist because they care deeply and have spent years watching students struggle in systems that did not serve them well. Change asks teachers to believe again. Belief takes time, trust, and support.

The most damaging myth in literacy is “they cannot do it”

I heard this repeatedly this year. Each time, I asked the same question. What if they can. And what would happen if we taught as though that were true. Again and again, students rose to the challenge. When instruction was explicit, intentional, and grounded in evidence, students exceeded expectations. The barrier was never their ability. It was access.

Teaching into complex text is the work

Moving away from leveled text and toward grade level instruction is one of the hardest shifts schools make. It is easier to lower the bar than to build the bridge. But this year, I saw what happens when teachers teach into text rather than around it. Students engaged more deeply. Their thinking sharpened. Their confidence grew. Rigor, when paired with support, is not harmful. It is transformative.

Literacy is a global responsibility

The work this year extended beyond district and state lines. Partnering with educators and communities in Africa was a reminder that literacy is not just an academic goal. It is a human right. Access to high quality instruction should not depend on geography. Teachers everywhere deserve knowledge. Students everywhere deserve opportunity.

This work is about people, not programs

Curriculum matters. Systems matter. Training matters. But at the heart of literacy work are people. Students finding their voice. Teachers rediscovering belief. Leaders choosing courage over comfort. Every meaningful change this year happened because people were willing to try again.

What I Am Carrying into the Year Ahead

As full as this year was, it feels like a beginning. There is momentum around strengthening Tier 1 instruction. There is deeper understanding of what students need and how teachers can provide it. There are partnerships growing locally, nationally, and globally. There is a shared commitment to building bridges to complex text rather than avoiding it. Most of all, there is belief. Belief in students. Belief in teachers. Belief that literacy outcomes can change when instruction changes.

The People Who Walked with Me

Life has a way of giving you the people you need, exactly when you need them. This year reminded me of that again and again. I did not do this work alone, and I never could have.

My Team at KCSD

My team at work made this year possible in ways that often go unseen. They cleared the path for me to do the work I was meant to do. They supported me, trusted me, and stood beside me as we navigated complex systems and difficult change. Their belief in students and teachers created the conditions for real progress. Leadership like this is quiet, steady, and powerful, and I am deeply grateful for it.

My Team at The Science of Reading Center

At The Science of Reading Center, I am surrounded by likeminded people who believe deeply in knowledge, evidence, and the power of learning. This team taught me things I did not even know I needed to know. They believed in me long before I fully believed in myself. I am thankful for their guidance and mentorship, but most of all for their friendship. Working alongside people who challenge your thinking while lifting you up is a gift.

My Global Team

Doing literacy work in the United States matters. But the truth is, we have so much that it is easy to get lost in systems, programs, materials, and labels. My work in Africa brings me back to the heart of literacy. It reminds me what this work is truly about. Literacy is about access. It is about freedom. It is about dignity and possibility. This work grounds me and guides me. It pulls me away from debates about programs and back to humanity. That perspective shapes everything I do.

The Readers Doing This Work in Their Own Schools

To the readers who are doing this work in your own schools and classrooms, you are part of this journey too. You are asking hard questions. You are challenging old practices. You are choosing evidence, equity, and access for your students. Even when the work feels slow or lonely, it matters. Your courage sustains this work more than you know.

The Voices I Carry with Me

My Mom

My mom was my first teacher. Long before I ever stood in a classroom or led literacy work, she taught me what mattered. She taught me how to listen, how to care, and how to do for others without needing recognition. She taught me that being a good person matters more than being impressive, and that showing up for people is never optional.

Writing this blog this year has been part of my grieving process. It forced me to slow down and reflect on my core beliefs and on what truly matters. In many ways, each post was a conversation with myself about values she instilled in me long ago. Fairness. Integrity. Compassion. The responsibility to speak up when something is not right.

I do this work for her. I fight these battles for children because it is the right thing to do. Because it is how I was raised. To stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. To challenge systems that limit opportunity. To believe that access is not something children earn, but something they deserve.

Literacy is access. Literacy is freedom. Literacy is a right. And it is a right worth fighting for. Every step I take in this work carries her with me. I hope I am making her proud.

Kathleen

Kathleen is another voice I carry with me. Her guidance remains present in my work every day. She taught me how to lead with both courage and care. She taught me that knowledge matters, but people matter more. She taught me to speak with clarity, to stand firm in my convictions, and to never lose sight of why this work exists.

Her legacy lives in the way I lead, the way I write, and the way I show up for teachers and students. When I advocate for access, when I push for evidence, when I choose humanity over convenience, I hear her voice reminding me to stay true to my values.

I do this work not only in my own name, but in hers. I carry forward what she believed in, what she stood for, and what she taught me to protect. I hope she would be proud, not only of the outcomes, but of the way the work is done.

Closing the Year and Looking Ahead

As this year comes to a close, I am carrying deep gratitude with me into what comes next. Gratitude for the work, for the people, and for the chance to keep learning alongside educators who believe that literacy can change lives.

Looking ahead to 2026, I feel hopeful and grounded. There is more work to do, and it is meaningful work. It is the work of access, of belief, of teaching children not just to read words but to understand their world. It is the work of supporting teachers as they build knowledge and confidence. It is the work of staying rooted in humanity while navigating complex systems.

Thank you for reading with me every Sunday. Writing has become a way to think, to reflect, and to stay connected to this community. Knowing that these words land in classrooms, offices, and quiet moments of reflection means more than I can say.

And a special thank you to my dad, who never missed a post. Your steady presence, encouragement, and belief have mattered more than you know.

As we turn the page on this year, I am ready for what comes next. Ready to keep learning. Ready to keep leading. Ready to keep believing in what is possible.

See you next Sunday in 2026!

When we know better, we teach better.