Reflective Feedback

            “A teacher is not likely to improve their teaching,” says Stephen Gordon (Texas State University/San Marcos) in this article in Theory Into Practice, “unless they perceive the need for change through reflection on their beliefs, their teaching behaviors, and the impact of those beliefs and behaviors on students.” But there are few opportunities for this kind of reflection, says Gordon, because of teachers’ heavy workload, curriculum demands, student behavior, isolation from colleagues, and the summative focus of the traditional teacher evaluation process.

            Ideally, principals and other supervisors help teachers reflect on their practice, but too often, says Gordon, “feedback consists of judgments and suggestions for improvement.” A better model is reflective feedback, which is non-evaluative, free of judgment, and focused on identifying and addressing teachers’ concerns. There’s a dialogue between the supervisor (or peer) and teacher, based on actual observation of the teacher working with students, or viewing a video of a lesson. The discussion pinpoints a specific area the teacher has identified, looks at possible solutions, and the teacher decides how to follow up.

            In this kind of reflective dialogue, the most potentially interesting part is how the teacher’s espoused beliefs about teaching align with what’s going on in their classroom. “Realization of a conflict between teaching beliefs and teaching behaviors can lead to cognitive dissonance,” says Gordon. “To relieve that dissonance, the teacher may change their beliefs, change their teaching, or both.”

Gordon describes four frameworks for analyzing teaching, each with the potential to foster reflective feedback:

• Clinical supervision – This is the traditional teacher-evaluation process: a pre-observation conference discussing the lesson plan; a classroom visit with detailed note-taking; a post-observation meeting and write-up. There’s certainly room for reflective feedback in the first and third phase, but principals’ workload keeps them from doing these more than once or twice a year, if that. A common workaround: having an instructional coach or peer implement the clinical supervision process, minus the evaluative component.
• Peer video analysis – A group of teachers watches a video of one of their lessons, replaying segments if necessary, reflects on questions the teacher wants to discuss, and the teacher decides how to follow up. Questions about this process: Will teachers share videos of lessons that might be viewed as problematic? Will the presence of a supervisor inhibit the discussion of less-than-stellar teaching? Will the facilitator raise important issues of beliefs and pedagogy? And will there be time for this in the busy lives of teachers?
• Teacher learning walks – A group of teachers visits several classrooms with an agreed-upon focus, meets to discuss their observations, and shares conclusions with the faculty of the school. Learning walks are intended to serve as professional learning for the teachers observed and for those doing the classroom visits. “Multiple learning walks with different teachers being observed in each walk,” says Gordon, “can gather data that becomes the basis for schoolwide instructional improvement goals.” Potential drawbacks are similar to peer video analysis: the quality of facilitation, the level of candor, and the time required.
• Collaborative autobiography – Several teachers write privately about their individual practice, meet to share and discuss one teacher’s writing, make connections to the teacher’s beliefs and professional and personal history, and share key next steps. “Often,” says Gordon, “other members of the group describe experiences, emotions, concerns, and needs similar to those shared by the teacher reading from their autobiography… This framework increases both individual and group self-awareness and a commitment for positive change.”

            Although each of these – clinical supervision, video analysis, learning walks, and collaborative autobiography – has the potential to foster high-quality reflective feedback among teachers, says Gordon, “none of the frameworks are widely used in our schools.” Why? Lack of time, and school leaders not taking the initiative to make them happen. He urges principals and other supervisors to support at least one framework, carve out sufficient time for implementation, involve teachers in planning, provide PD that demonstrates how it can foster reflective feedback, and solve inevitable glitches.

            “For any of these frameworks to be successful,” Gordon adds, “reflective feedback needs to be reciprocal: supervisor to teacher, teacher to supervisor, and in group frameworks, teacher to teacher. The supervisor is the essential model for and facilitator of reflective feedback.” 

 “The Power of Reflective Feedback” by Stephen Gordon in Theory Into Practice, Winter 2026 (Vol. 65, #1, pp. 5-22); Gordon can be reached at sg07@txstate.edu.

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1134 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.

Recommended Nonfiction Books for Children

            In this Language Arts feature, Julia López-Robertson and six committee members announce the Orbis Pictus Award book for 2025, followed by recommended and honor titles:

- Stealing Little Moon: The Legacy of the American Indian Boarding Schools by Dan SaSuWeh Jones

- Yasmeen Lari, Green Architect: The True Story of Pakistan’s First Woman Architect by Marzieh Abbas, illustrated by Hoda Hadad

- Urban Coyotes by Mary Kay Carson, photographs by Tom Uhlman

- A Plate of Hope: The Inspiring Story of Chef José Andrés and the World Central Kitchen by Erin Frankel, illustrated by Paola Escobar

- Wat Takes His Shot: The Life and Legacy of Basketball Hero Wataru Misaka by Cheryl Kim, illustrated by Nat Iwata

- Daughter of the Light-Footed People: The Story of Indigenous Marathon Champion Lorena Ramirez by Belen Medina, illustrated by Natalia Rojas Castro

- Listening to Trees: George Nakashima, Woodworker by Holly Thompson, illustrated by Toshiki Nakamura 

- Sleepy: Surprising Ways Animals Snooze by Jennifer Ward, illustrated by Robin Page

- We Sing from the Heart: How the Slants Took Their Fight for Free Speech to the Supreme Court by Mia Wenjen, illustrated by Victor Bizar Gómez

- Space: The Final Pooping Frontier by Annabeth Bondor-Stone and Connor White, illustrated by Lars Kenseth

- Life After Whale: The Amazing Ecosystem of a Whale Fall by Lynn Brunelle, illustrated by Jason Chin

- Race to the Truth: Borderlands and the Mexican American Story by David Dorado Romo

- Ode to Grapefruit: How James Earl Jones Found His Voice by Kari Lavell, illustrated by Bryan Collier

- Behold the Hummingbird by Suzanne Slade, illustrated by Thomas Gonzalez 

 “Orbis Pictus Award 2025” by Julia López-Robertson, Caryl Crowell, Jason Griffith, Janelle Mathis, Yoo Kyung Sung, Mellissa Summer Wells, and Becki Maldonado in Language Arts, November 2025 (Vol. 103, #2, pp. 126-131)

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1132 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.

Audio Interviews with U.S. Workers

      In this article in Social Education, Andrew Decker provides links to a series of Library of Congress audio interviews with Americans in a wide variety of jobs, among them:

- Luann Miller, grocery story cashier in Seattle, Washington

- Barbara Miller Byrd, circus owner, Hugo, Oklahoma

- Roberta Washington, architect, New York City

- Henrietta Ivey, home health care provider, Detroit, Michigan

- Dolores Fortuna, professional potter, Galena, Illinois 

- Thomas Sink, circus clown, Mead, Oklahoma 

These interviews, 6-9 minutes long, are excerpts from longer talks about why each person got into this job and what it was like on a day-to-day basis. “Using the America Works Podcast and Occupational Folklife Project to Personalize Economics in the Classroom” by Andrea Decker in Social Education, March/April 2026 (Vol. 90, #2, pp. 67-71)

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1132 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.

Recommended Young Adult Indigenous Literature

      In this English Journal article, Yvette Regalado and Melody Zoch highlight these young adult novels, verse novels, and graphic novels with Indigenous themes: 

• Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer, adapted by Monique Gray Smith, illustrated by Nicole Neidhardt – middle and high school
• I Can Make This Promise by Christine Day – middle grades
• Apple: Skin to the Core by Eric Gansworth – high school
• A Girl Called Echo, Volume 1: Pemmican Wars, a graphic novel by Katherena Vermette, illustrated by Scott Henderson – middle and high school
• A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger – middle and high school 

“Critical Hope and Collective Cariño Through Indigenous Youth Literature” by Yvette Regalado and Melody Zoch in English Journal, November 2025 (Vol. 115, #2, pp. 26-36)

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1126 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.

Fun Math Activities for Students and Their Families

      In this Mathematics Teacher article, Gina Kling (Hope College) and four co-authors share math activities that students and their families can enjoy at home. In a sidebar, they recommend these five websites:

• The Julia Robinson Mathematics Festival Online Puzzles
• Math Fact Fluency (Bay-Williams & Kling, 2019 Companion Website
• Michigan Math Essentials Early Math Games
• Investigations in Number, Data, and Space Game Websites (Grades K-5)
• Connected Mathematics Project Game Website (Grades 6-8) 

“Family Math Fun Festivals” by Gina Kling, Lucy Neville, Moly More, Kathryn Vance, and Dyana Harrelson in Mathematics Teacher: Learning & Teaching PK-12, February 2026 (Vol. 119, #2, pp. 102-111); Kling can be reached at kling@hope.edu.

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1126 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.

I'm Not Worried AI Helps My Students Cheat. I'm Worried How It Makes Them Feel.

        I recently displayed a photo to a 9th grade humanities class and asked what should have been an easy question: “Is this real?” 

        The students voted, and half of them believed the image was AI-generated. It was not. It was a photo I had taken at a local Vermont beach. 

        I tried again, this time with a photo of my cat, Rafiki. The results were even more stark. Almost all the students thought it was an AI-generated image. Nope. It was real, taken in my kitchen. 

        When we talk about artificial intelligence in schools, we usually focus on cheating and plagiarism. But what I saw that day wasn’t about academic integrity. It was about trust. 

        When students can’t be sure whether a picture of their teacher’s cat is real, we are facing something much bigger than a student using ChatGPT on a history assignment. We are facing a world where certainty itself feels unstable and school suddenly feels like just another place where students aren’t sure they can trust the version of reality being offered. 

        For most of modern schooling, facts might get debated, but we didn’t question whether they existed. We argued over interpretation and meaning, not whether the basic thing in front of us was real. Our shared reality was the starting point. You could trust your eyes. 

        Many of us grew up inside that shared reality. I remember the World Book Encyclopedia. If someone had the “G” volume, you waited your turn before starting your report on Greenland or germs. Once you got the book, you trusted it. Information was scarce, and that book represented a version of the truth we generally agreed on, even when it was flawed and incomplete. It still gave us a shared starting point. 

        Today, that common floor has dropped out. Our students don’t have that shared reality. They exist within a digital feed that doesn’t stop and never seems to agree with itself. This erosion isn’t new. The internet had already made it easier to question everything and trust nothing before the widespread use of generative AI, but it has accelerated dramatically. 

        Truth used to feel like something we could find if we searched hard enough, but that’s not the experience our students are having. In fact, the more they search, the harder it can become to tell fact from fiction. In this new AI landscape, we’re all sorting through endless versions of reality and deciding which one we’re willing to live with. It’s exhausting and it’s exactly what I saw in my students when they looked at those photos. 

        This isn’t just an AI problem. If you can’t trust an image of a cat in a kitchen, it becomes harder to trust the larger promises society makes about the future. Gen Z financial commentator Kyla Scanlon calls this the “end of predictable progress.” For decades, the path was clear for many of us. You went to school, got a job, and eventually bought a house. But that path has dissolved into the same fog as AI-generated images. 

        Our students feel this instability everywhere. They are told AI may replace careers before they even start them. They see a housing market that feels permanently closed. They live in what Scanlon calls a “casino economy,” where a viral moment can feel more valuable than years of steady work. 

        The version of learning we’re offering our students no longer matches the world students are trying to survive. When even a teacher’s photo doesn’t feel stable, the old model of school cracks. If students are taught to question every headline and doubt every promise of the future, why would they walk into a classroom and trust us? School can start to feel like just another simulation, a game of compliance disconnected from the physical world they actually have to navigate. 

        School is too important to be a game. We have to stop asking the small questions. We spend so much time debating whether AI can do a student’s work, but the students are stuck on much more existential questions. They are trying to figure out if the work still matters, if school still matters, and honestly, if they still matter. 

        If school is going to mean anything in this world, maybe it’s time to shift from “learning” as a way to prepare for the future to learning as a way to understand and change the present. Students are demanding relevance. We can’t just hand them information anymore or tell them to trust us that what we’re teaching them today will matter in the future. We have to give them work that carries real and immediate consequence.

        We need students creating things they can touch and solving problems in their own schools and neighborhoods that won’t get fixed unless they are there to do it. We need them grappling with what it means to be human, what it means to be needed, to be necessary. AI can write a report, but it can’t stand in the cold Vermont snow to help a neighbor. It can’t make students feel like they matter. That’s what will actually make school feel real.

        With AI reshaping everything we see, showing our students how we live with uncertainty may be the most honest thing we can do. We have to stop pretending we have the answers and start making our own questions visible. When a source feels unreliable, we should think out loud. We need to model how we weigh evidence and how we decide what actually deserves our trust. No handbook or district policy can do that for us.

        Trust is built by showing up for a student day after day. A chatbot can generate a perfect answer, but it can’t recognize the moment when a teenager finally starts to understand who they are and it can’t understand what it takes to keep showing up when everything feels uncertain. That is human work, and it is where teachers matter more than ever. The goal is no longer just to teach the curriculum. The goal is to give students something real.

***

This essay by Stan Williams first appeared in the February 12, 2026 issue of Education Week.          

Stan Williams has more than 30 years of experience as a high school teacher and learning coordinator in the Champlain Valley public schools in Vermont. He is the co-author of The Standards-Based Classroom: Make Learning the Goal (Corwin, 2018). Much of his recent work focuses on the impact of AI on teaching and learning.

Broadening Students' Idea of What It Means to Be Good at Science

        In this article in The Science Teacher, Minnesota curriculum specialist Marta Stoeckel says that when students are asked what it means to be good (i.e., smart) at science, they often say it’s about quickly getting the right answers to a teacher’s or test-maker’s questions. But when Stoeckel and a high-school physics teacher discussed the idea with students, kids’ definition of science chops expanded to include the following:

• Posing interesting questions;
• Making connections between ideas;
• Representing and communicating ideas clearly;
• Using evidence to construct explanations and arguments;
• Working systematically and persistently;
• Using multiple representations and translating between representations;
• Taking risks and trying ideas, even if it means making a mistake. 

Stoeckel and the teacher worked with students to assess their own science thinking skills and those of classmates, significantly broadening the way they thought about what’s involved in high-quality science cognition. 

      “Helping students understand that science is not just about right answers and requires a wide range of skills,” Stoeckel concludes, “is key to the reforms in the Next Generation Science Standards. Aided by this teacher’s efforts, students recognized many ways to be good at science and saw the ways their peers demonstrated those skills… Finding ways for students to give each other recognition reflectively is an important step in ensuring that students not only see that being good at science involves a range of skills, but that they have those skills.”

“Expanding What Counts As Good at Science” by Marta Stoeckel in The Science Teacher, July 7, 2025 (Vol. 92, #4, pp. 49-57); Stoeckel can be reached at mrstoeckel@gmail.com.

Please Note: This summary is reprinted with permission from issue #1125 of The Marshall Memo, an excellent resource for educators.