For seven years, I taught in an inner-city classroom where many of my students came to school carrying challenges that had very little to do with academics.
One experience changed the way I thought about behavior and learning.
One of my students came to school wearing the same outfit all week. I quietly brought in some clothes that had belonged to my son and asked him if he would like to change before the other children arrived.
I wasn’t expecting it to change anything about his school day.
But it did.
That day, he had fewer behavior incidents. He stayed on task more. Most of all, he walked around the classroom like he was on top of the world.
So I kept doing it.
That experience helped me understand something that seems obvious now: sometimes what looks like a behavior problem or a learning problem has very little to do with the lesson we are teaching.
A child may be hungry.
A child may be cold.
A child may not be able to see the board clearly.
A child may be embarrassed about what they are wearing.
A child may be worried about something happening at home.
Over time, I started keeping a drawer of socks in my desk because children sometimes arrived without socks during the winter. My family donated more.
Then came a snack drawer for children who were hungry.
My parents and siblings helped provide clothing, shampoo, laundry detergent, and other basic necessities for students and their families. I helped connect children with medical care and glasses when I could. Other people at my school joined in too.
None of these things solved the bigger challenges some families faced. They were small things.
But small things mattered.
A clean shirt could help a child walk into the classroom feeling confident.
A pair of warm socks could make it easier to concentrate.
A snack could help a hungry child regulate their emotions.
A pair of glasses could suddenly make the words on the page accessible.
And sometimes meeting one basic need changed an entire school day.
What This Taught Me About UDL
Universal Design for Learning asks us to think about barriers before they prevent a child from participating and learning.
We often think of those barriers as things we can address through visual supports, flexible seating, technology, choices, or different ways of presenting information.
Those things are important.
But some barriers begin long before the lesson starts.
As educators, we may not be able to fix everything happening in a child’s life. We can, however, pay attention. We can ask ourselves what might be standing between this child and learning today.
Sometimes the most meaningful support isn’t complicated.
It might be a snack.
A pair of socks.
A quiet place to settle.
Help getting glasses.
Or simply an adult who notices.
My biggest lesson from those years is one I still carry with me:
Something that feels small to us can make a very big difference in a child’s ability to learn, regulate, participate, and believe in themselves.
