Teaching Through A Kaleidoscope

While working on my tenure portfolio recently, a piece of student feedback caught my attention. The feedback noted that content seemed to overlap across different courses, particularly regarding differentiation. This observation made me reflect on how the focus of differentiation shifts depending on the class context.

In an ESL class, differentiation centers on specific students with language learning needs. In an Instructional Design course, the lens broadens to encompass larger, more diverse groups—some multilingual learners, others not. While it's tempting to teach to the center of our classroom using a single approach, our perspective must extend from edge to edge to reach every learner.

This reminds me of my classroom teaching days. There was Maria, still developing her English vocabulary but possessing brilliant mathematical insights. James needed extra processing time due to how his mind worked differently. Sarah read chapter books fluently but struggled with peer connections.

Every student enters our classroom carrying their own story, strengths, and needs. This represents the beautiful complexity of elementary teaching: we don't make decisions for a class as a whole, but for 25+ individual human beings, each deserving to be seen, understood, and supported.

Over the years, I've discovered that one of our most powerful tools as educators is our ability to shift perspectives—examining classroom decisions through different lenses and asking, "How will this impact each of my students?"

Success isn't about having all the answers (I'm still learning after years in education). It's about developing the practice of pausing to consider multiple viewpoints before taking action.

The Multi-Lingual Learner Lens

When planning a science lesson about weather, instead of just thinking about content delivery, we might ask: "How can I make this accessible for students who are navigating two languages?" Perhaps we include visual supports, encourage native language discussions in small groups (have you ever heard of such a thing?), or connect weather patterns to students' home countries.

The Struggling Learner Lens

That same weather lesson viewed through this lens might prompt us to ask: "What prerequisite skills might some students still be developing?" We might break down vocabulary more explicitly, provide sentence starters for discussions, or create opportunities for multiple ways to demonstrate understanding.

The Advanced Learner Lens

Now we're wondering: "How can I provide depth and challenge while still keeping everyone engaged?" Maybe we add smart, stretching questions, encourage students to research extreme weather events, or invite them to become peer mentors during group work.

The Marginalized Learner Lens

This lens helps us ask: "Whose voices and experiences are represented in this lesson, and whose might be missing?" We might intentionally include diverse perspectives, be mindful of assumptions about family structures or economic situations, and create space for all students to share their unique knowledge.

The truth is, we can't hold all these lenses simultaneously all the time—we'd never get anything done! But we can develop the practice of consciously shifting our perspective, especially when making bigger decisions about curriculum, classroom culture, and assessment.

While we can't apply every lens to every decision, we can develop systems to help us shift perspectives more consistently.

Small Shifts, Big Impact

Some of my most meaningful teaching moments have come from simple lens shifts:

Realizing that my "quick" transitions were actually overwhelming for students who needed more processing time

Discovering that my well-intentioned "helping" was actually creating dependence rather than independence

Understanding that some students' apparent "off-task" behavior was actually their way of self-regulating

These weren't grand revelations—they were small awareness shifts that led to better decisions for my students.

Making It Practical

Here are a few ways I've learned to build this multi-lens thinking into my regular practice:

Weekly Reflection Questions: Each Friday, I ask myself: "Which students thrived this week, and which ones didn't? What does that tell me about my instructional decisions?"

Planning Partners: When possible, I run lesson plans by colleagues, asking them to help me think through different student perspectives I might have missed.

Student Voice: I regularly (and age-appropriately) ask students about what's working for them and what isn't. They're often my best teachers about their own needs.

Documentation: I keep brief notes about what works and what doesn't for different learners, building my understanding over time.

Your Charge for This Year

As you start the first full month of  this school year, I encourage you to embrace the messiness and beauty of seeing your classroom through multiple lenses. You won't get it right every time—none of us do. But your willingness to consider different perspectives, to adjust when something isn't working, and to keep learning alongside your students will make all the difference.

Start small. Pick one lens that feels challenging for you this year and commit to looking through it more often. Ask questions. Make mistakes. Adjust. Celebrate the small victories when you see a student light up because you've finally found the right way to reach them.

Your students need you to see them—really see them. And when you do, when you make decisions with their individual strengths and needs in mind, you're not just teaching curriculum. You're teaching them that they matter, that they belong, and that their unique perspective has value in your classroom community.

That's the kind of teaching that changes lives—theirs and ours.

I remember making a kaleidoscope in 6th grade in Mr. Vollertsen's class. We used mirrors, small pieces of colored plastic, and a Pringles can—yes, Pringles were still in cans all those years ago! The magic wasn't in the individual pieces, but in how they came together. Every slight turn created an entirely new pattern. Depending on the light, the angle, and how I held it, each view through the lens revealed something completely different.

That's exactly what happens when we shift our teaching perspective. The same lesson, the same students, the same classroom—but when we adjust our lens even slightly, we see new possibilities, different strengths, and fresh ways to connect. Sometimes it's as simple as changing the lighting in how we view a struggling moment, or shifting our angle to see a student's behavior as communication rather than defiance.

The beauty of both kaleidoscopes and classrooms is that there's always another pattern to discover, another way of seeing that might be exactly what someone needs.

What lens will you commit to developing this year? How will you remind yourself to shift perspectives when making classroom decisions? The journey of seeing our students more clearly is ongoing, but every small step—every slight turn of the kaleidoscope—makes our classrooms more inclusive and effective for all learners.