Looks Can Be Deceiving: What Your Child's Teacher Actually Sees
Before we get into this conversation, I want you to do something. If you have a child in school right now, think about what their teacher actually sees when your child walks through that door each morning. Now let me tell you what my guest today sees — because what she told me at the end of our conversation, I have not been able to stop thinking about.
My guest is Twanda Hooker, an educator with sixteen years in the classroom who recently transitioned from general education into special education — which means she's seen children from every angle: the general ed classroom, and the spaces built for kids who need more. Every parent listening needs to hear what she's learned in both places, not just parents of kids with an IEP or a label. Because after fifteen years in education myself, here's what I know: every child has moments where their behavior is telling a story nobody's decoded yet.
The Student Who Looked Perfect
Twanda told me about a second grader she once taught — phenomenal, well-mannered, hair always done, freshly bathed, a hard worker who clearly wanted to please her parents and her teacher. Twanda later found out the girl was from a divorced home where the parents had a lot of conflict, and the kids switched houses week to week. Here's the part that stopped me: the girl actually came to school better groomed after a week with her father than after a week with her mother. “That was shocking to me,” Twanda said, “because typically you think the mother. But no. So I can say in my field, looks can be deceiving.”
That phrase came up more than once in our conversation, and it cuts both ways. A child who looks completely put together might be carrying something heavy at home that you'd never guess. A child who looks like they're struggling might actually have more support than you'd assume from the outside. Twanda's point wasn't to make anyone paranoid about appearances — it was to remind us that a good teacher is watching for patterns over time, not judging a single snapshot. That's exactly what the rest of our conversation was about.
What She Sees on Day One
I asked Twanda to walk me through her classroom as if it were the first day of school. Even before she knows a single thing about a new group of kids, she said, they walk in carrying whatever's happening at home with them — glows and grows, she calls it, ready to show off what they know while quietly aware of where they feel behind. Her first priority isn't academics. It's making the room feel like a safe haven: a classroom tour, team-building activities, her own “educator power speech” explaining why she's there, and time for the kids themselves to tell her what they think she can help them with. “Believe it or not,” she told me, “they can express themselves more than what adults may think they can.”
Even on day one, she's already sending parents updates on how their child is doing. The room looks vibrant and welcoming, but underneath the color, there's a clear message: you're going to learn here, and I'm going to pull the best out of you.
The Thread Running Through Every Struggling Student
I asked Twanda what she notices as the common thread among kids who struggle, across every ability level she's worked with. Her answer, without hesitation: confidence and perseverance. Not a specific subject, not a specific diagnosis — confidence. She described a first grader, genuinely brilliant, who falls apart the moment he gets one problem wrong. I'm dumb, I'm stupid, he'll say, as if one missed answer erases everything else true about him. “That's what I notice about special needs students, and also on general ed,” she said. “Those feelings can either make or break them.”
Her job, as she sees it, isn't just teaching math or reading. It's helping a child recognize their own strength until they actually believe they can do hard things — the same muscle memory I talk about with my own students. Once a child has proof they've done hard things before, trying something new gets a little less terrifying. The earlier that muscle gets built, the easier it is to call on later.
The Question She Wanted to Ask More Directly
I asked Twanda if there was ever something she wanted to say in a parent-teacher conference and held back. She didn't hesitate. It's the parent who tells her their child doesn't have time for extra academic support because of extracurriculars — practice that runs until six-thirty, back-to-back activities, dinner, bed, no room left in the day. “I would just really want to say, are you serious?” she told me. “You're telling me that soccer practice is more important than your child's education?” As a teacher, she has to hold that back and simply offer her recommendation. I don't have that same constraint running a learning center — I can be direct with families who come through my doors. If grades are suffering, everything else, however valuable, becomes secondary until that gets addressed.
Why She Left General Ed
Twanda recently moved from general education into special education, and I asked what that transition actually feels like day to day. Her answer was honest: she was burning out in general ed, partly from the lack of support. Her largest general ed class was twenty-six students, and she was almost always the only adult in the room. In her current special education classroom, she has nine students — and five adults, including herself, because of the level of support those particular kids need. “It just feels different,” she said. “It's refreshing.”
She's also more involved in shaping each child's plan than she ever was before. As a general ed teacher, she attended IEP meetings and monitored goals someone else had written. Now she writes those goals herself. She estimates she's about sixty percent more involved in each child's individual plan than she used to be. It's more intense work, but it's also work she says makes her want to come in every single day.
The Patterns Worth Watching, Before Any Formal Evaluation
I asked Twanda what signs a parent should watch for before a child ever gets a formal evaluation — the early patterns, not a diagnosis. Her core message was simple: be in tune, not just present. Physical presence in the house isn't the same as actually noticing patterns.
Reversed letters or numbers past the point it's developmentally normal. A kindergartner writing a backwards 3 is expected. A fourth or fifth grader still doing it consistently, after a year of practice, is a pattern worth a conversation.
Trouble following multi-step directions. If a child does noticeably better when instructions are broken into small chunks rather than given all at once, that can point to a processing issue, not defiance or not listening.
Changes in reading confidence. A child who mumbles or trails off on harder words but reads confidently and loudly on words they know is showing you exactly where the gap is.
A pattern that repeats over time, not a single rough day. One hard afternoon means nothing. The same struggle showing up week after week, even with consistent practice at home, is the signal to loop in the teacher or pursue an evaluation.
What a Solid Foundation at Home Actually Looks Like
I asked Twanda what she notices about kids who come from what she'd call a stable home life, and her answer had nothing to do with money or a particular family structure. It was sleep, food, and structure. Homework and permission slips consistently coming back. Evidence a child ate something before school. Not showing up exhausted from being up too late. Simple routines, like washing hands before eating, brought naturally into the classroom because they're practiced at home. “When you feel good, you look good,” she said. None of it requires money. All of it requires consistency.
She was careful to point out that appearances can mislead in both directions — the second grader from our opening story is proof of that. A child who looks like they have it all together can be managing a lot at home, and a child whose home life looks chaotic from the outside might have parents doing everything right within very real constraints. Twanda's advice wasn't to judge from the outside. It was to keep communicating, keep watching for patterns, and trust that most families are doing their best with what they have.
Something Twanda said ties right back to the R in our R.A.I.S.E.™ framework: regulation before rigor. She described a classroom that's vibrant but peaceful, a place where kids know they're going to learn and know they're safe at the same time. That kind of room doesn't happen by accident. It starts with a teacher who regulates herself before a single child walks through the door — the exact same thing we ask of ourselves as parents before homework time starts at home.
What I want every parent listening to take from this conversation is simple: your child's teacher is not on the other side of the table from you. She's on the same side. The more you understand what she's actually seeing — the patterns, the glows and the grows, the things that show up in behavior long before any label does — the better partner you can be for your child. Thank you, Twanda, for showing up every single day for kids who need someone in their corner.
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Raising Scholars helps parents of elementary school kids build confident, independent learners without nightly battles. New full-length episodes every Tuesday and Sunday Reset episodes every Sunday.
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