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@madameunbothered
In many classrooms today, I am noticing something quietly concerning students who feel hesitant to speak up, hesitant to celebrate who they are, and hesitant to share where they come from.
That is where my practice begins.
I intentionally create space for belonging and identity from the very first moment. I introduce myself, my ethnicity, and my heritage. I use a world map to show the two countries my parents come from, and I openly share that I am of mixed race. I do this not as a story, but as a foundation because representation, visibility, and pride matter in shaping how children see themselves in the world.
From there, I invite my students into what I call the “Roots & Radiance Circle.”
This is a space where students are encouraged to share their stories, cultures, languages, and ancestral roots at their own pace, in their own way. Over time, I have witnessed something powerful: confidence returning, voices strengthening, and pride growing in who they are and where they come from.
I am deeply passionate about ensuring my students know they belong. That they are respected, heard, seen, and safe within the learning environment they enter each day. This is not an “activity" it is an intentional EDI practice rooted in equity, identity affirmation, and psychological safety.
Because when students feel seen, they begin to show up differently not just in learning, but in life.
So I have to ask:
What would change in our classrooms if every child truly felt proud of who they are, where they come from, and that they genuinely belong? What practices have you found most effective in helping students feel seen, heard, valued, and celebrated? 💛
📝 Allow Me To Introduce Myself
✍️ Let me set the scene
I walk in every morning polished, prepared and professional. Lesson plan ready. Smile intact. Standards immaculate. I have walked into more schools than some permanent staff have visited in their entire careers. I have adapted to more classrooms, more curriculums, more dynamics before 9am than they manage all term.
I am a supply teacher. And darling, I am exceptional at it.
But here is what nobody tells you about supply teaching. It is not the students that wear you down. It is never the students. It is the culture that greets you at the staffroom door. The sideways glances. The conversations that stop when you walk in. The information deliberately withheld. The senior staff who have built their little kingdoms and decided that anyone temporary is beneath their attention.
I have watched this play out in school after school after school. Same script. Different building.
For years I smiled through it. Kept my head down. Stayed professional. Because that is what we do.
Not anymore.
I created this space because supply teachers deserve a voice. Because we show up every single day for children who need us, in buildings that do not want us, surrounded by people who look through us.
Called in. Shut out. But honey, I am just getting started.
Welcome to my world. Pull up a chair. This is going to be good."
So I have to ask what’s your experience navigating respect, recognition, and reality in the teaching profession?
Even in 2026, minorities still face subtle and not-so-subtle racism every day accents mocked, assumptions made, and “othering” disguised as casual conversation.
Ironically, most of my experiences have happened in schools spaces that are supposed to nurture young minds, empathy, inclusion, and belonging. Yet sometimes these environments hold a more “bubble-wrapped” version of racism: subtle enough to deny, but clear enough to feel. Shame on the ignorance that still exists in places meant to educate and uplift children.
I’ve experienced moments where someone smells Indian food and immediately turns to me with “I love Indian food,” assuming it must be mine. I’ve been repeatedly asked “Where are you from?” by people I’ve just met, as though I don’t belong there. I’ve watched people aggressively over-enunciate English while speaking to me or other collegues of colour, assuming language incompetence meanwhile, English is my mother tongue.
Curiosity is one thing, but when these interactions pile up alongside exclusionary behaviour, side comments, cliques, or intimidation tactics, it stops feeling innocent. Too often, racialized educators are made to feel like outsiders in spaces where we have equally earned our place through education, hard work, professionalism, and service to students and communities.
But instead of shrinking myself, I choose to combat ignorance differently. I introduce myself to my students proudly my ethnicity, my culture, my background and I encourage them to be proud of where they come from too. Those conversations often turn into rich multicultural learning experiences where students share their own traditions, languages, foods, and stories. In those moments, the classroom becomes what education is supposed to be: a place of curiosity, respect, connection, and belonging.
Because children are not born hateful they learn attitudes from the environments around them. And educators have a responsibility to model inclusion, not exclusion.
Aside from The First Peoples, most of us here come from settler histories in one way or another. So why are some still acting as though they have the authority to decide who belongs?
How do we expect children to grow into compassionate, inclusive adults if the adults teaching them still carry these biases themselves?
A disturbing video circulating on Instagram shows a racial attack in Bedford NS, where a South Asian community member is told to “go back to India.”
Let’s be clear: this is racism. Not a misunderstanding. Not a joke. Racism.
What’s often ignored in moments like this is the deeper ignorance behind the statement itself. Outside of the First Peoples, we are all connected to migration, settlement, and movement. So when one settler tells another settler to “go home,” it exposes how fragile and misinformed ideas of belonging can be.
Canada’s reality and strength has always been shaped by immigration. Our schools, hospitals, workplaces, and communities rely on it. Without it, this country does not function as it does today.
There is no place for this kind of hate. Not in public spaces. Not in workplaces. Not in schools. Not anywhere.
So the question is: what does belonging really mean in a country built on migration and why is it still so easy for people to forget that?
Deep respect to the creator who courageously shared this moment and brought attention to it. Your advocacy, bravery, and compassion matter.
— Drmonikad (Instagram)