Ana M. Garcia

With this profession come many responsibilities. However, sometimes the most challenging part is not the work itself—it is the environment and the people we work alongside. You can deeply love what you do, feel a strong calling to teach, and still find yourself navigating difficult dynamics that make the journey harder than it should be.

As educators, our priority should always be our students. Everything we do should center around their growth, their learning, and their well-being. That is why it can be disheartening when, instead of support, there is criticism among colleagues—especially when that criticism targets something as essential as kindness.

Recently, I came across a phrase that stayed with me: “Kindness should not be mistaken for weakness.” It made me reflect deeply on my own experience as an educator.

In today’s school environment, there seems to be an unspoken question: Does being kind make you weak?

My answer is simple—absolutely not.

Kindness is not a lack of authority. It is not the absence of structure or expectations. Kindness is leadership. It is choosing to guide with empathy, patience, and respect, especially when working with students who are learning English as a second language. In these situations, kindness becomes even more essential.

We are talking about students who are navigating a new country, a new language, and often a completely new life. Some of them have never experienced having someone who truly understands them, listens to them, or supports them in a meaningful way.

And yet, in these same environments, educators are sometimes told they are “too good” to their students.

What does that really mean?

If it is constructive feedback—if it is about improving classroom management, setting clearer boundaries, or strengthening structure—then it is valuable. As professionals, we should always be open to growth and reflection.

But this is not always the case.

There is a difference between being ineffective and being compassionate. There is a difference between lacking control and choosing connection.

The belief that respect must be earned through fear, raised voices, or harsh discipline is outdated. In reality, students learn best when they feel safe, seen, and valued. They respond to educators who listen, who are present, and who are consistent—not just in expectations, but in care.

Teaching with kindness does not mean lowering standards. It means raising the way we reach our students.

Education is not easy. Many students are silently asking for help. They may not always say it clearly, but their actions, their struggles, and their behavior often speak for them. As educators, we must be ready to listen—not just to respond, but to understand.

Kindness is not weakness. It is strength in its most human form.

Because in the end, our students will not remember how loud we were—but they will always remember how we made them feel.

For a long time, I believed my life had already been written for me — that who I was and where I came from defined how far I could go. Like many people, I carried invisible limits, quiet voices whispering, this is as far as you’ll make it.

But over time, through love, loss, courage, and growth, I learned something powerful: the biggest barriers we face are often the ones we create in our own minds.

My journey began when I came to the United States to study, encouraged by my grandparents, who wanted the very best for me. At first, college was not a dream — it was a responsibility. I wanted to finish for them, to honor their sacrifices.

Life, however, had its own plans. Personal challenges forced me to put my education on hold for several years, but I never let go of it. I eventually returned and completed my degree. Later, through an opportunity with The Walt Disney Company, I earned my bachelor’s degree — one of the proudest moments of my life. I know my grandparents were smiling from heaven.

That accomplishment led me to discover another passion: storytelling. I began writing and interviewing people for a bilingual magazine in New Orleans, giving voice to stories that often go unheard. I miss that chapter, but I now understand that some things end because something greater is waiting. At the time, I was not yet ready to find what would truly become my purpose — education.

Today, I am a high school ESL Newcomer teacher. I have the honor of being the first teacher many of my students meet when they arrive in the United States. They walk into my classroom carrying fear, hope, and stories from around the world. Watching them find their voices in a new language reminds me every day that courage lives inside all of us — even when we don’t yet believe it.

My students inspire me. They cross borders, leave behind what is familiar, and step into the unknown with remarkable bravery. If they can do that, I remind myself, I can keep pushing forward too. Whether I am teaching, creating content, or growing my small business, I have learned that growth begins the moment we stop telling ourselves, I can’t.

That belief led me to create Ana in Nola LLC, where I design shirts, hats, and bags that celebrate culture, identity, and belonging. Every piece carries a message: You belong. My business is an extension of my classroom — a space where stories, languages, and cultures are honored and uplifted.

Now, at 51, I am still learning, still growing, and still dreaming. I am currently earning my master’s degree and teaching certification at Tulane University. I am proud of the woman I have become — an educator, a mentor, a content creator, and a new entrepreneur. My life has been filled with lessons I did not recognize at the time, but today I see them clearly.

And this is what I believe with my whole heart: there are no barriers except the ones we create. It is never too late to break them, to keep going, to keep learning, and to become who you were always meant to be.