The lights dimmed and the audience fell silent. On a cold January afternoon in 2007, I sat in a crowded auditorium in Providence, Rhode Island, nervously thinking about the week ahead. In just a few days, I’ll be traveling the world and stepping into a classroom for the first time as a student teacher, and suddenly I feel overwhelmed after years of living out my dreams. I did.
I’ve heard countless recordings of the “Wicked” cast, but seeing it performed live was something else entirely. The musical, based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel, reinterprets the familiar world of The Wizard of Oz from the perspective of Elphaba, the misunderstood and rebellious Wicked Witch of the West. When Elphaba soars into the sky in “Defying Gravity,” her voice seems to resonate with my own questions and desires. Not only was she rejecting the status quo for rebellion, she was daring to imagine a world where she could exist on her own terms, despite being defined by those around her. Her rebellion was bold and vulnerable, refusing to let fear or tradition dictate her path.
As I sat in that theater, I felt something flash within me. I wondered if I had the courage to do so. Will you be able to step into a strange classroom on the other side of the world and find your own voice as a teacher? Will you be able to challenge your own insecurities, other people’s expectations, and limits you never doubted? Elphaba’s ascent was more than just a performance. It reminded me that stepping into the unknown may be the only way to create something meaningful. I left the theater with my heart pounding. I didn’t know what was ahead, but I was determined to get up.
Education as change
That inspiration led me to teach students in Townsville, Queensland, Australia, where I was inspired to grow in ways I never expected. Teaching in a new environment while learning how to manage a classroom and create consistent and engaging lessons was humbling and daunting. My supportive teacher was nimble. Every lesson was a performance, delivered with a presence that captivated the audience. Looking at her, I was left wondering if I was cut out for this job.
But I kept coming back to Elphaba’s journey. Something is not the same. ” Her rebellion was not rebellion. It was the courage to imagine something better. Like her, I continued to find my voice, balancing the desire to push boundaries while staying safe.
Early in my career, I often played it safe by avoiding certain topics or tailoring my lessons to my administrator’s expectations. These choices led me to face difficult questions. Am I rebelling against an unjust system, obeying it, or being complicit by silence? As a white, gay educator in a predominantly white school district, I often felt that withdrawing from risk was an easier and safer choice. But this privilege is not shared by many who navigate these flawed systems with far less security. Every time I chose to be safe, there was a cost. I felt a sense of tension that threatened to undermine my sense of self-worth, and an uneasy awareness of what I had left unsaid and undone.
These moments taught me important truths. Courage isn’t always easy. It’s messy, unpleasant, and full of mistakes. It occurred to me that Glinda’s complicity was not through active harm, but through quiet inaction that allowed an unjust system to persist. But these moments also taught us that rebellion doesn’t always have to be grandiose. Sometimes small intentional choices can open the door to change. Elphaba’s words stuck with me. “I’m done accepting limitations because someone else says so.” Her mindset helped her find a path forward that valued boldness over compliance.
Education past and present
When I secured my first full-time teaching position, I still had a lot of room to explore. The early years gave me the freedom to try new ideas, take risks, and learn from mistakes. I tried teaching classes that prioritized curiosity and creativity and saw the impact of providing relevant and challenging learning experiences for my students.
But as time went on, I started to lose my sense of direction. Conversations across departments and schools were less about how to inspire students and make learning meaningful, and more about tracking data and avoiding being labeled a failure. As I moved to other schools and districts, teaching began to feel more like a business about managing results than a profession built on relationships and creativity. The focus was further strengthened with the introduction of national standards and corresponding assessments. Expectations became increasingly demanding, and the creative freedom I was beginning to find, however tentative, began to disappear, whittled down by obligations that left little room for flexibility and innovation. I remember thinking, “Is this what education is all about?”
Nearly 20 years later, we can see how much has changed, or how little, has changed in education. The landscape feels more polarized than ever. The emphasis on accountability measures remains, but is now exacerbated by a wave of censorship. Book assignments, curriculum restrictions, and attempts to silence important conversations not only make classrooms feel smaller, but also limit the possibilities for teaching and learning. Instead of being a place for students to take risks and explore new ideas that matter to them, too many classrooms have become less inviting, more cautious, and increasingly constrained.
actually defies gravity
“Defying gravity” in education means rejecting the limitations imposed by fear and institutional constraints. In the teacher preparation CTE pathway course I taught to high school juniors and seniors, we worked through these ideas together. use bobby hallows “Socialization Cycle”” examined how fear, ignorance, and anxiety shape our identities and the way we see the world. By visually representing socialization, students asked themselves, “What’s holding me back?” What forces have shaped who I am? Who do you want to be as a teacher in the future?
These conversations led us to Harro’s. “The cycle of liberation,”, students began imagining viable ways to shape the classroom of the future. Together, we explored what it means to raise consciousness, disrupt oppressive systems, reshape dominant narratives, and build authentic relationships.
Inspired by her dual language experience, one student designed an activity that celebrates language diversity to support multilingual learners. Another thing that is affected is Texas case shows school policy disproportionately affected students of color when it came to hairstylesproposed revising the district’s policy to be more inclusive.
By the end of the course, students came to understand that teaching is more than just giving lessons and grading assignments. It’s about grappling with complexity, embracing discomfort, and committing to growth.
A call to defy gravity
When Elphaba took to the sky, I felt a glimmer of possibility. It was a thrilling feeling that if I had the courage, the world could be bigger and freer. I didn’t really understand it at the time, but the seed was planted.
Nearly two decades later, that flicker has grown stronger and stronger, guiding me through challenges, setbacks, and triumphs in education. I learned that change is not just a dramatic act. It’s a series of choices. Stay curious even when things feel rigid, meet students where they are, and question the systems that limit them. It happens in the quiet persistence of failing and trying again, believing that small changes can create lasting change.
Like Elphaba’s ascension, transformation requires believing in something that is not yet fully realized. Each act of risk and resilience builds toward something better for our students and the futures they envision.
