By Melissa Davis M.Ed
Her name was Mrs. Hagman. My first-grade teacher, to be exact. She was older, wise, endlessly kind, and completely in love with teaching. And somehow, she managed to make even the shyest little girl (hi, me!) feel at home in her classroom. She made learning fun, helped me navigate the epic drama of six-year-old life, and, most importantly, taught me how to read. She was the spark that made me want to become a teacher.
I used to line up my stuffed animals in perfect little rows in my room, whip out my trusty Fisher Price chalkboard easel, and "teach" them everything I’d learned in school. They were a very well-educated group of plushies, let me tell you.
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself hitting a major wall: math. Specifically, long division and multiplication in fifth grade. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it—no matter how much my dad tried to help at home. Enter Mrs. Moore, a special education teacher who changed everything. She gave up her own lunch breaks to work with me. She didn’t just teach me numbers—she gave me confidence.
Over the years, I’ve had a mix of incredible teachers and a few… well, let’s call them “learning experiences.” But the ones who made a lasting impact all shared one thing: they took the time. They noticed me. They supported me. They made me want to do better. And that’s exactly what I’ve carried with me into my own career.
As a teacher, I worked with diverse learners—each one bringing their own magic and their own challenges. I learned quickly not to judge students by their behavior, and to always, always believe in their ability to grow. My time as a special education teacher was especially powerful. I was deep in the trenches, advocating for my students, making sure they received the services they were entitled to.
With the help of some truly amazing colleagues, we turned our school into a more inclusive and supportive space. We got creative, restructured how we supported students, and implemented proactive classroom strategies that changed the game—for both students and staff.
But the road wasn’t smooth. While I had my teammates behind me, I still faced pushback—especially from some parents. Parents who didn’t trust my intentions, questioned my methods, or believed I wasn’t doing enough… even when I was staying up late lesson planning, crying over standardized tests, and literally rooting for their kids like they were my own. It stung. I was in their corner. Why couldn’t they see that?
And then—I became a parent.
Suddenly, I was on the other side of the IEP table. I had two children with unique needs, and despite knowing the system inside and out, I still had to fight. Hard. I had to push for support, beg for evaluations, and challenge vague 504 plans filled with generic “district-wide accommodations.” I remember one meeting clearly—my husband looked at me, confused, and said, “I would’ve thought they were doing everything they were supposed to.”
That moment hit me. Most parents don’t know what they should be asking for. And even the most caring, competent educators can sometimes miss the mark—not out of malice, but because the system is reactive by design. It waits for failure before stepping in.
That’s why I believe in a proactive approach. Because when we lead with support—early and consistently—everyone benefits. Students thrive, parents feel heard, and teachers are empowered instead of overwhelmed.
Now, through Education Advisors LLC, I get to help make that shift happen. I partner with educators to build strategies that prevent problems before they start. We focus on understanding behaviors, supporting all learners, and creating classrooms that work for everyone. It’s not always easy, but every little step forward matters.
Because at the end of the day, the more proactive we are, the less we have to scramble later. And in education, that’s everything.