The Student Who Wasn't There

Prompt:

Write about the impact of an imaginary student, representing all the potential in children yet to enter your program.

When I lie awake surrounded by the silent echo of the dead of night, I often find myself pondering the students who will one day fill our classrooms. Among them, I imagine two distinct yet connected students—each embodying the untapped potential of those yet to step through our doors. They are not real, yet they represent every possibility, every outcome shaped by the environments we painstakingly create and the systems we uphold.

The first student, let’s call her Anna, is destined for one of our most successful programs. Here, she is surrounded by a well-orchestrated symphony of supports: a dedicated and effective teacher and support team, carefully calibrated interventions, and a classroom that feels more like a thriving ecosystem than a traditional space. In this setting, her potential is not just acknowledged—it is celebrated. Anna’s voice is a crucial note in the classroom chorus, and her growth is a testament to the power of a well-resourced, inclusive educational environment. She flourishes, not because of some inherent magic, but because every element of her experience is thoughtfully designed to catch her when she stumbles and propel her forward when she’s ready to soar.

Then there’s the other student—let’s call him Max. Max represents a different path, one fraught with the quiet despair of a struggling program. His classroom is the embodiment of a system stretched too thin, where resources are scarce, and the scaffolding that should support his learning is crumbling under the weight of unmet needs. Here, potential does not vanish, but it does dim. Max’s experience is one of missed cues and delayed responses. The moments where he could have shined are overshadowed by the effects of a broken public school system. The brilliance that was so visible in Anna seems muted in Max, and the outcomes, while not predetermined, are undeniably less hopeful.

As an administrator, I stand at the intersection of these two realities, acutely aware that the solution isn’t as simple as placing every student into Anna’s program. For one, the balance of a successful class is delicate; too many changes and the harmony dissolves into chaos. The strengths of the teacher, the cohesiveness of the entire support team, the mix of students, the accommodations in place—all of these factors are like threads in a tapestry that, when woven correctly, create a masterpiece. But when the weave is off, even slightly, the entire fabric can unravel.

This is the duality we navigate every day. Anna and Max are not just hypothetical—they are every student we have served and every student we will serve. They remind me that our work is not about perfecting one classroom or one program; it’s about striving to elevate all of them. It’s about recognizing that while we can’t place every student in the same seat, we can strive to ensure that every seat—regardless of the program—is one where potential is nurtured, not neglected.

It is a heavy responsibility, knowing that the choices we make today will ripple through the futures of countless students. But it is also a powerful reminder of why we fight so fiercely to improve, to adapt, to listen, and to learn. The duality of Anna and Max is not a failure; it is an ongoing challenge that keeps us pushing forward. Because at the end of the day, our greatest duty is to ensure that every child, no matter where they start, has a real chance to reach their fullest potential. And that is a vision worth every ounce of effort we can muster.