Growing up, science was my least favorite subject.
That usually surprises people when they learn I’m a middle school science teacher. That’s the hard thing about science. The way we experience it can completely change the way we feel about it. I grew up visiting museums, exploring national parks, and having opportunities to talk with scientists in places where science was actually happening. In those spaces, science felt exciting. It was about asking questions, making discoveries, and understanding more about the world around me.
I remember sitting in science class wondering why everyone else seemed to understand concepts that felt completely out of reach to me. There were unfamiliar vocabulary words, abstract ideas, and lessons that often seemed disconnected from the world I knew. Science became something to memorize rather than something to experience. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that science simply wasn’t “my subject” in school.
Looking back, I realize the problem wasn’t science. I didn’t recognize the science I loved in the way it was being taught.
When students don’t believe they belong in a subject, learning becomes much more difficult. Every year, I meet students who walk into my classroom carrying many of the same doubts I once had. Some hesitate to participate because they’re afraid of giving the wrong answer. Others have already decided they’re just not “science kids.”
Because of my own experience, I made a promise early in my teaching career. I never wanted students leaving my classroom believing science wasn’t for them. I wanted my students to see science not simply as a collection of standards or vocabulary words, but as a way to explore the world around them. If they struggled, I wanted them to understand that struggling is part of learning, not proof that they aren’t capable. Every lesson I design starts with that belief.
My goal isn’t simply to teach standards or prepare students for assessments. More than anything, I want students to discover something I wish someone had helped me understand years ago; that science isn’t reserved for a select group of students. It’s a subject every child can explore with confidence when they’re given the opportunity to be curious, ask questions, make mistakes, and keep learning. Science is happening all around them, and they have the ability to make sense of it.
Curiosity opens the door to learning
One of the biggest misconceptions about science is that it’s built on having the right answers. In reality, science often begins before we know the answer.
Science begins with curiosity. It starts with asking questions, making observations, testing ideas, and sometimes discovering that our first assumptions were wrong. That’s the science I loved growing up, and it’s the feeling I try to bring to my classroom. When we begin with a real-world phenomenon or an interesting question, students become invested in finding the answer. They stop worrying about whether they’ll be right and start wondering what they’ll discover next.
I’ve found that confidence rarely comes from getting every answer correct the first time. It grows when students realize they can work through confusion. Sometimes they reread a passage. Sometimes they try again after making a mistake. Sometimes they ask a better question than the one they started with. Those small moments of persistence gradually build confidence. And once students begin believing they can figure things out, they’re willing to tackle even bigger challenges.
Over time, students become more willing to explain their thinking, participate in discussions, and see mistakes as an important part of learning rather than something to avoid.
Helping students find their scientific voice
Another lesson I’ve learned is that students often understand far more than they’re initially able to express. Science introduces an entirely new language. If students don’t have the vocabulary to describe what they’re observing, that language can easily become another barrier between students and the world they’re trying to understand, even when they understand the underlying concept.
I want students to have the opportunity to observe and make sense of something before scientific language becomes a barrier. Vocabulary should help students put words to what they are discovering, not take the place of that discovery. Vocabulary is still important; it enhances understanding.
One of my favorite moments happened near the end of a unit when we revisited a phenomenon we’d explored several weeks earlier. As students began discussing what they observed, one student suddenly stopped, smiled, and said, “Now I know what words to use for what I’m seeing.”
It lasted only a few seconds, but that moment captured exactly what I want science learning to feel like. It reminded me that confidence in science often begins long before students master the content. The vocabulary didn’t create the student’s curiosity or replace their thinking. It gave them the tools to describe something they had already been working to understand.
Just as rewarding has been watching students become better advocates for themselves. Instead of simply telling me they don’t understand they’ll point to the exact part that’s confusing them or explain what they’ve already figured out before asking for help. To me, that’s part of developing a scientific voice too. Students learn they don’t have to wait for someone to give them an answer. They can identify what they know, recognize what they still need to figure out, and ask questions that move their thinking forward.
Great teaching creates space for great learning
One of the realities every teacher understands is that students rarely learn at the same pace. Some immediately connect new concepts to prior knowledge, while others need time to revisit ideas, strengthen vocabulary, and make sense of what they’re observing before everything clicks.
Creating space for all learners has become one of the most important priorities in my classroom.
One supplemental resource I use, Penda Learning, helps support that goal by allowing students to practice independently, revisit concepts, and receive immediate feedback while giving me meaningful insight into where additional instruction is needed.
The technology itself isn’t the point. What matters is what that technology allows me to do—work directly with students, ask thoughtful questions, encourage deeper thinking, and provide support exactly when it’s needed.
If students can independently practice a skill or revisit a concept with trusted sources, I have more opportunities to work directly with students. I can listen to their thinking, help them make connections, and spend more time creating the kinds of learning experiences that made them interested in science.
I’ve never believed technology should replace great teaching. I believe it should create more opportunities for great teaching to happen.
Students don’t remember the technology nearly as much as they remember how they felt in the classroom. They remember the teacher who encouraged them to keep trying, the discussion that made a difficult concept finally make sense, or the moment they realized they were capable of solving a problem they once thought was impossible.
Those are the moments that stay with them. Those are the moments that make science feel real.
My goal as a teacher is to make sure the science my students experience inside my classroom still feels like the science waiting for them outside of it. If my students leave my classroom believing science isn’t something to fear, but something they can understand, question, and genuinely enjoy, then I’ve accomplished far more than teaching another unit or preparing for another assessment.
I’ve helped them discover that they belong in science.
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