Recently, Taylor Swift shared in an interview, “I respond to extreme pain with defiance.” This quote resonated with me in a way that felt profoundly personal—like it was meant for me. I’ve found that my response to generational family trauma, heartbreak, friendship betrayals, and, most recently, workplace abuse has mirrored Swift’s sentiment: complete and utter defiance. It’s a response I’ve witnessed in the kids I serve as well—children who, like me, confront unjustness, system failures, and trauma with defiance. When a student comes to me angry, I instinctively understand, “Something happened to you.” I can connect with that. I get it. Things have happened to me too.
As many of you may know, I no longer work for the actual school district. After advocating for policy change around restraint and seclusion, followed by reduced school days, I found myself unwelcome. Those are difficult words for me to say out loud as an educator. Essentially backed into a corner, I resigned. I am not a compliant individual—not because I’m unprofessional or argumentative for the sake of it, but because I prioritize my students’ best interests above the system’s. Unfortunately, such non-compliance is not always welcomed in the education system. Those who advance often do so because they can be compliant. So be it.
I now work in partnership with the school district through the nonprofit world, leading an afterschool program. This program is unique and not your traditional afterschool program; it integrates Social Emotional Learning with academic instruction, focusing on supporting neurodivergent students who need extra support. Our learning approach is play-based and intentionally centered on relationship and community building. We’ve placed the program at a local elementary school to alleviate transportation barriers for students with limited resources and high needs. I love it.
As my pedagogy and instruction have evolved, I’ve noticed parallels between the kids I care for and myself.
I can relate to them—I’ve also been harmed, betrayed, and misunderstood. I’ve had my communication labeled as defiant and disrespectful, creating a narrative about me that’s hard to articulate but evident in the way people with power treat me. I’ve spent considerable time and energy trying to fit in, trying to be liked, and seeking validation from external sources before realizing it must come from within.
It’s my commitment to these kids to see them, to help them heal that part of themselves. There’s nothing wrong with them; something is wrong with the system and the insistence that everyone fits into it, discarding those who don’t comply.
If you’re here, it’s likely because you share an understanding that behavior is communication. However, if you’ve always been compliant and fit into the system as designed, understanding this concept might be intellectual rather than felt. Does your personal experience create space for the true understanding of these kids? Anyone who’s been “othered” can recognize when a student is being “othered”. Anyone who’s been told they aren’t good enough can sense that shutdown in a student.
Anyone who’s been abused, personally or systemically, can empathize with the rage behind a thrown chair.
My own journey has been one of self-acceptance and channeling those feelings into action. My job is to help these little humans do the same—to show them they’re not bad, just angry; not stupid, but with a disability; not disrespectful, but protecting themselves; not defiant, but brave.
I’m not a perfect teacher. I can occasionally slip back into requiring compliance. I recognize that I can be triggered and want to help them fit in so they don’t experience being ostracized. When that’s my focus, I am also reinforcing harmful practices and have to reflect on my motivation. But this journey, mine and theirs, isn’t about masking. It’s about shifting from “fit into the system by doing this” to “the system needs to change to be inclusive and accepting of all of us.” It’s about growth, acceptance, and building understanding of one another. You see me with all my faults and strengths, and I see you with all of yours.
Taylor Swift, in addition to being a lyrical genius, is relevant because she has created a movement—a movement of people who respond to extreme pain with defiance, and that should be celebrated. Her music and journey have helped me process traumatic life events and inspired me to defiantly stand back up in spite of them. I aspire to be an educator and a safe adult who can help kids process their big feelings. Those feelings are real and valid, and I understand them. I get it.
Can you?
