May 2025

It took me a long time to answer this question: What was your best moment at CPM’s National Teacher Conference in San Diego?

It finally struck me. It was something completely off-script. (Aren’t those always the best moments?) I witnessed Peter Liljedahl teaching teachers a lesson beyond what was in the program. Although his goal (which he succeeded at) was a lesson in thin-slicing, we all received a bonus lesson in inclusion, which was the conference session thread I happened to be following anyway.

I am a former high school teacher, now working for CPM’s Curriculum & Assessment department. I helped write the very student-centered, universally designed Inspiring Connections series. That is, until we got to the third course, which I missed out on due to a life-changing and unexpected event. I had a major stroke, which takes years of hard work for partial healing. Thankfully, now at three years post-stroke, the “brain fog” has cleared. However, I am still quite impaired, most obviously in my slurred speech and confinement to a wheelchair.   

An Unexpected Moment with Peter Liljedahl

I ended up in Peter Liljedahl’s session by accident. I was on my way to a session in the “students with identified exceptionalities” thread; I had not even entered the drawing for Peter’s session because it was not listed in any of my subjects of study for the year. However, on my way to my chosen session, I stopped to talk to my boss, Karen Wootton. Another colleague was there, and together, they convinced me to go to Peter’s last session of the day. He had reserved two seats for our department.

The first thing Peter did was invite everyone over to his VNPS (Vertical Non-Permanent Surface). Not being very quick or adept at maneuvering my wheelchair, I ended up in the back. The crowd was quite large, and every single person there was taller than me, so I could see nothing of what was about to be displayed for us.

Then, much to my surprise, Peter called out my name, motioned me forward, and asked a couple of people up front to step aside. People looked back at me and made a path for me. I rolled to the front, excited that the famous writer, Peter Liljedahl, knew my name (okay, we were all wearing nametags and we did speak with him when we entered, so probably not a big deal) and so proud of myself for not running over anyone’s toes on the way up. When we broke into random groups at our own VNPSs, for the first time that weekend, I found myself wholeheartedly participating, both listening (as always) but this time also sharing my thoughts and feeling heard. What a wonderful feeling.

Teaching Without Saying a Word

When we gathered to debrief at another VNPS, Peter again tapped on some shoulders and said something I could not hear, a path formed, and I rolled up front and could see clearly, without detracting from anyone else’s view. It happened again, but this time Peter did not say a word, only gestured. And the next time, he did not need to do anything; people noticed me, saw my need, and collectively took care of me without saying a word.

Ironically, this is in contrast to my experience at a training in DEIB (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging). It seemed every activity the consultant leading the training had prepared involved standing or walking. She was quick to notice me (something I have had to accept and get used to!), smile, and tell everyone (while looking right at me) what they could do if they could not stand. I was, and felt, singled out for accommodation. I finally left for a “break” and did not return because I did not belong there. 

Be aware. What do you notice? Whom do you notice? What do you teach without saying a word or giving up precious class time?