The Little Things Are Never Little

When people ask me what it takes to be a good teacher, I usually smile and say, “It’s not just about the lesson plans.” Because truthfully, the real work of teaching, the work that sticks with students for years to come, often happens outside of reading groups or math problems. It’s in the in-between moments. It’s in how you show up, every single day, for kids who need more than just academics.

After 20 years in education, I can say this without a doubt: the smallest acts of kindness can have the biggest impact. Things as simple as keeping extra snacks on your desk, braiding a student’s hair before class, or helping a child find a clean uniform shirt, they matter. They matter more than most people realize.

Hair Ties and Hugs Before Homeroom

One morning, a student walked into my classroom looking downcast. She kept her hoodie up, wouldn’t make eye contact, and tried to shrink into the back of the room. I knew something was off. Eventually, she whispered, “My mom had to go to work early. I didn’t get to do my hair.”

Now, some folks might have shrugged that off. But I knew what that meant. This little girl didn’t want to be seen. She didn’t feel her best. And in a world that already judges kids, especially little Black girls, way too quickly, her hair wasn’t “just hair.” It was part of her confidence, her presence, her identity.

So I pulled a comb and some hair ties out of my drawer (I kept them for moments just like this) and said, “Come here, baby. Let’s fix it together.” I did her hair in the corner of the classroom while the rest of the students read quietly. When I finished, she smiled at herself in the mirror and sat up straighter for the rest of the day.

That moment didn’t change test scores. But it changed how she felt. And that changes everything.

A Shirt Can Be a Shield

Another time, a student came to school wearing the same uniform he had on the day before—wrinkled, stained, and clearly slept in. I pulled him aside gently and asked what was going on at home. He looked embarrassed but admitted they hadn’t had water at the house all week.

No lectures. No judgment. I just nodded and said, “I’m glad you still came to school.”

After class, I dug through our school’s clothing closet and found a clean shirt and pants in his size. I let him change in the nurse’s office and promised him he could always come to me if he needed anything. From that day on, he showed up every single morning with a little more confidence, and a little less fear that someone would laugh at him.

Sometimes, a clean shirt is more than just clothing. It’s a shield. It tells a child they are worthy of dignity, no matter what they’re going through.

Consistency Builds Trust

Showing up for students doesn’t always look like grand gestures. Most of the time, it’s about consistency. It’s about being the person they know will be there every day, no matter what’s going on outside those school walls.

I can’t count how many times I’ve been the one who noticed the quiet tears behind a book, or the student who suddenly stopped raising their hand. When you see the same faces every day, you learn the rhythms of their personalities. You learn to hear what’s not being said. And when they realize you care that deeply, they begin to trust you.

And trust—real trust—is where true learning begins.

Going the Extra Mile Is the Job

Some people see helping students beyond the classroom as “going above and beyond.” I don’t. I see it as part of the job.

These kids don’t leave their problems at the door. They carry their full lives with them into school, the stress, the hunger, the trauma, the joy. If we want to teach them effectively, we have to meet them where they are. And sometimes that means being a safe space, a listening ear, or someone who keeps extra granola bars in a drawer.

It might mean calling home with good news. It might mean paying attention when a child says they’re hungry or they had to sleep on a couch last night. And yes, it might mean doing someone’s hair or lending a belt from the lost-and-found box.

That’s not doing too much. That’s just doing what’s needed.

Teaching Is an Act of Love

I didn’t become a teacher for awards or recognition. I did it because I believe in the power of education to change lives. But more importantly, I believe in the power of people to change lives.

And when I look back on my career, the moments that shine the brightest aren’t the times we aced the state test or won the spelling bee. They’re the moments when a child felt seen, heard, and cared for, on the days when they needed it most.

So if you’re a teacher reading this: keep the comb, the snacks, the extra shirts. Keep noticing. Keep caring. Keep showing up.

Because those small acts? They’re not small at all.