Decolonizing Education: What It Means for K-12 Teachers and Students ~ 1321

Emily Affolter
When we really break it down, when we’re talking about culturally responsive pedagogy, it’s really about how we look at each individual student in our pluralistic classrooms and support their thriving. To me, that’s the core question. How do we recognize that our students are the assets? The onus is on the system to take accountability for supporting our students and their success.

To me, reflexivity is this continual practice of reflecting upon how our patterns, behaviors, and ways of thinking and being might reinforce supremacy and latent norms, or interrupt them. It’s a nonjudgmental practice of asking how I stay accountable to increasing equitable futures for those in my purview and for myself.

Tim Villegas
Hi friends. Welcome back to Think Inclusive: Real Conversations About Building Schools Where Every Learner Belongs. I’m your host, Tim Villegas. Today’s episode is about what it really means to teach in ways that honor who students are, and how educators can keep showing up for inclusion during a time when equity work feels questioned, misunderstood, and even under attack.

We zoom out to look at power, history, and schooling, and then zoom back in on the everyday choices educators make in classrooms, teams, and systems. This conversation is for anyone who’s trying to do right by kids while navigating real-world constraints.

Our guest today is Dr. Emily Affolter. Emily is the director and faculty for Prescott College’s Sustainability Education PhD program, where she works with doctoral scholars at the intersection of social and environmental justice. She’s also a former senior research scientist and equity consultant at the University of Washington Center for Evaluation and Research for STEM Equity. She earned her PhD working alongside Dr. Geneva Gay and is a Fulbright-Hays scholar whose work centers culturally responsive, sustaining, and equity-literate teaching and leadership.

We talk about decolonizing education in plain language, why self-reflection matters so much for educators, and how expertise and fear can quietly reinforce segregation, and what it looks like to keep learning without chasing perfection.

And along the way, I get a geography lesson about Arizona.

Before we meet our guest, I want to tell you about our sponsor. This episode is brought to you by IXL. IXL is an all-in-one platform for K–12 that helps boost student achievement, empowers teachers, and tracks progress in one place. As students practice, IXL adapts to their individual needs so that every learner can get just-right support and challenge.

Each student gets a personalized learning plan to close gaps. Check it out at ixl.com/inclusive. Again, that’s ixl.com/inclusive.

All right. After a quick break, it’s time to Think Inclusive with Emily Affolter. Catch you on the other side.

Tim Villegas
Dr. Emily Affolter, welcome to the Think Inclusive podcast.

Emily Affolter
Thank you.

Tim Villegas
Emily, where are you in the world? You’re on the West Coast, is that right?

Emily Affolter
Yes, I’m in Northern Arizona.

Tim Villegas
Northern Arizona.

Emily Affolter
Yes. Yavapai lands, which are unceded Indigenous lands in what we call Prescott.

Tim Villegas
Yeah. Okay.

Emily Affolter
Not too far from the Grand Canyon. Not too far from Sedona.

Tim Villegas
Okay. So I’m imagining it doesn’t get too hot there, or does it get really hot?

Emily Affolter
Oh no, we had snow yesterday. It doesn’t get too hot at all. It’s madness.

Tim Villegas
That’s great. I prefer the mountains. I’m not really a desert person. I used to live in California, and before I moved to Georgia, we were thinking, if we were going to move, where would we move? There was always the option to live in the Inland Empire or in the desert, and my wife and I were both like, no.

Emily Affolter
Really? What was it?

Tim Villegas
I don’t know. I grew up in California, so it’s not like I wasn’t used to the desert. It’s just not my favorite. In contrast, moving out here to Georgia, it’s lush and green. Everything’s blooming.

Emily Affolter
Yes.

Tim Villegas
Yeah. It’s wild.

Emily Affolter
Yeah.

Tim Villegas
I did not mean to go down that rabbit hole, but it’s okay.

One of the reasons I wanted to have you on was your focus on culturally responsive pedagogy, and your work often focuses on this topic of decolonizing education. Before we get too deep into our conversation, I was wondering if you could unpack that for us. What does that actually mean for those who may not be familiar with that term?

Emily Affolter
Absolutely. I think about it as an analysis of power as historical and contextual, in community with Indigenous scholars and elders, recognizing how educational systems have posed a threat to Indigenous futures. It really draws upon critical theory and rehumanizing methods to expose, disrupt, and redirect education for Indigenous scholars and students, but also for all of us.

Because decolonizing pedagogy and education bring a historical analysis to our educational systems, it helps us think about the history of power, wealth, and land. Settler colonialism is a huge piece of our recent history here. When we look at decolonizing education, there are so many threads of those power-laden dynamics that are still persistent.

So how do we get curious about those histories that have significantly harmed and disenfranchised Indigenous folks and other folks of color, and ultimately settler folks as well? And then start to unlearn and disentangle them from what we see as normative in our school systems?

Emily Affolter
Is that too jargony?

Tim Villegas
Let me ask you a follow-up question, because especially in this educational and political climate, a lot of people are asking why we are paying attention to certain things.

We are recording in early April of 2025. The Trump administration and Secretary McMahon are interrogating the practice of DEI—diversity, equity, and inclusion—programs in schools. They are even threatening to withhold federal funding if they deem a system to be “discriminating” against a particular race.

As we think about your description of decolonizing education and acknowledging that these practices happened in the United States—acknowledging that land and people’s lives were taken over—why is that important for educators to teach students in schools?

I can hear someone say, “That’s the past. We just need to move forward. Schools need to be focused on reading, writing, and math.” Why does this need to be part of our pedagogy?

Emily Affolter
First, I’m just going to take a deep breath, because it’s a hard time for equity in education.

Tim Villegas
Absolutely.

Emily Affolter
When I really come back to it, because we’re both in the realm of DEI in education, there’s no part of me that feels this should be a partisan issue.

When we really break it down, when we’re talking about culturally responsive pedagogy, it’s about how we look at each individual student in our pluralistic classrooms and support their thriving. To me, that’s the core question.

How do we recognize that our students are the assets? The onus is on the system to take accountability for supporting our students and their success. And how they succeed will be different based on their positionalities, lived experiences, dispositions, and funds of knowledge.

When we talk about this, decolonizing education, to me, is a recognition that so much has been taken away from Indigenous students through extractive forces of continued colonization. That’s true.

But your question is really about how we get to a place of reclamation for each individual student so they feel they can come to school, bring their whole selves, and be recognized as whole humans with rich funds of knowledge that can contribute to math, reading, writing—whatever the metrics are.

There has been a real dismissal of those unique gifts and funds in deficit-based systems that particularly disenfranchise students of color.

To me, decolonizing education is packaging. It’s rhetoric. But ultimately, what is the work? The work is a nonpartisan honoring of students who have been forced to assimilate in ways that are unnatural and harmful to their stories, heritage languages, ancestry, and ways of being.

So how do we reframe it? Are we innovating? Are we supporting student well-being and retention? Are we supporting student mental wellness?

I don’t know how many rewrites you’ve had to do recently, but my colleagues and I are constantly reframing language. Anti-racist education gets diluted into innovation, retention, creativity, inquiry-based learning.

All of that is to say, I believe this work is a byproduct of those good things, if we can strip it away from hyper-siloed political spaces.

Tim Villegas
Fortunately, we have not had to rewrite things. We’re in a position—for the moment, and this may be different by the time this airs—where our funders, including the Maryland State Department of Education and others, are supportive of our work and how we’re framing it.

That’s not everyone’s position.

Your point reminds me of the book The Giver. It’s been a long time since I’ve read it, but there’s this society where only one person has knowledge of the past. It’s guarded. No one else can know it.

It feels like what’s happening now. Let’s not talk about history or mistakes. Let’s only focus on patriotic positives. I always thought learning about mistakes was patriotic.

Students often come to school already knowing real history, not from school, but from home. They bring that knowledge into the classroom and interact with the curriculum.

How do you address that in good faith as an educator? You can’t just say, “I can’t answer that question.” That’s a lot of deflecting.

Emily Affolter
There’s a stratification in your classroom around who has access to which narratives.

If you have the platform, you can create opportunities to do the work together. You can level-set.

My colleague Anita Fernandez and others created a framework called Wattle for Moving Forward. It’s a decolonial framework for pedagogy and practice that helps educators engage decolonial tenets in the classroom.

One of its core features is historical literacy development. What does it mean to develop historical literacy with students and ourselves? Were we taught to ask critical questions about history? Are we seeking counter-stories that challenge dominant narratives?

Stories are powerful, but we have to be mindful of how they’re represented.

We often talk about windows and mirrors. Are students offered windows into contexts beyond themselves? Can they see themselves reflected in the content?

The same applies to historical literacy. How are students contextualized in history?

For anyone listening, I have European ancestry. I am a settler white person doing this work, and that’s important in how I approach it. I rarely claim anything about decolonization itself. I see my role as a settler accomplice—being curious and accountable in conversations that support Indigenous and BIPOC communities.

Students will come in with a wide range of stories from home. The work is not to dishonor those stories, but to create curricula that air those stories while also bringing in additional sources, especially beyond Eurocentric ones, so students can develop critical consciousness and fill in the gaps.

Tim Villegas
Yeah. Exactly.

Tim Villegas
There’s just so much there.

After the break, Emily and I dig into what decolonizing education actually means in practice and why self-reflection and accountability matter so much for educators working inside imperfect systems. We also explore how ideas like expertise, silos, and fear can quietly get in the way of building more inclusive classrooms for every learner.

This episode is sponsored by Adaptiverse. If you’re a special education teacher, you already know the time problem. Every week, educators spend 15 to 20 hours manually adapting curriculum for students with complex communication needs, nonspeaking learners, AAC users, and students with apraxia or language-based disabilities. Creating personalized materials, building visual supports, and designing multiple expressive pathways is essential work.

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Okay.

What I heard you say about mirrors and windows, I wanted to pick up on a little bit. Something else in your work is reflection, self-reflection, and self-reflection among educators.

So while educators provide those mirrors and windows for students, I’m wondering if you can talk about the process of self-reflection for educators.

As an organization at MCIE, and also just as a teacher educator, I think reflection is one of the most important parts of being an educator. What are your thoughts about that?

Emily Affolter
A few words come to mind, and then I’ll unpack them.

The notion of reflexivity. If we’re reflexive, then we’re reflecting upon ourselves and, in doing so, committing to an outcome or an action that honors what we’ve reflected upon.

As educators, being reflexive is incredibly important. We need to take the time and space to consider how our behaviors and patterns may or may not be mirroring a dominant storyline that harms some of our students, particularly students of color and other minoritized students.

We are all acculturated into a system that is deeply power-related. No matter what intersections we embody, we exist in this same narrative. It may look and feel different in our embodied experiences, but we’re all being fed this singular story around power.

Reflexivity requires curiosity. To what extent are the messages we receive supportive of an equitable landscape, and where are they not?

We receive these messages through media, social media algorithms, the internet, billboards, student curricula, the way city council operates. You name it.

It’s like plaque buildup. We’re constantly absorbing these messages. But we don’t remove plaque all at once. It takes ongoing work.

Reflexivity is a continual practice of reflecting on how our patterns, behaviors, and ways of thinking and being might reinforce supremacy or latent norms, or interrupt them. It’s a nonjudgmental practice of asking how I stay accountable to increasing equitable futures for those in my purview and for myself, in how I show up in the world.

There are lots of ways to do this. One is accountability buddies. You could also call them critical friends or your epistemological community.

Do you have people you can talk to honestly, not only about successes, but also about moments of collusion? Moments when you realize you upheld harmful norms and need to reflect and do better.

My colleague Abby Yost and I wrote a paper last year called Accountability as Practice: A Dialectical Conversation on Decolonizing Teaching Methods. It emerged as a kind of accountability petri dish for us as educators trying to move toward anti-colonial and culturally responsive aims.

We tried to model vulnerability rather than perfection. The model isn’t, “We’ve got this.” It’s the opposite. It’s about creating space for honest reflection on what it means to exist in a world laden with supremacy values and how we chip away at them.

Tim Villegas
I see a lot of parallels between what you’re talking about with supremacy, privilege, and recognition, and ableism.

A lot of our audience are special educators. While white supremacy is top of mind, ableism is also deeply embedded in systems that are not inclusive of learners with disabilities.

I’m reflecting on my own journey as an educator. I worked in a segregated environment. I worked in a classroom that segregated learners. I didn’t like it, but I felt like I had no choice.

I imagine educators listening may feel the same way. They work in systems that are inherently biased against marginalized groups. They recognize it, but feel constrained.

Having someone to reflect with helps you change what you can, even if you can’t change the whole system.

Emily Affolter
Absolutely. There’s a concept we use a lot: epistemological humility.

It’s about being willing to sit with someone and think through the extent to which you may have succeeded or failed at something that’s extremely difficult to do.

In systems shaped by segregation or ableism, fear often shows up. Fear of being perceived as ineffective. Fear of vulnerability. Fear of saying, “I don’t think this is working.”

There’s a lot of social capital tied to the notion of expertise in education. We don’t have much economic capital, so expertise becomes something we protect.

That protectionism keeps people from being interdependent. It keeps people accountable only to themselves.

Asking how we’re colluding with segregation is scary because it makes us vulnerable to the possibility that it’s true. And that’s true for all of us.

Tim Villegas
It’s like the first step is admitting it exists.

Tim Villegas
There’s something I want to connect for our listeners, because you talk about this protectionist idea of expertise. I don’t know if I’ve thought about it in this way before, but we talk a lot about how systems—especially special and general education—are siloed and very hard to dismantle.

One of the reasons is that idea of expertise. It’s like, “I’m the only one who can teach these kids,” or “These are my kids.”

There’s also language around push-in and pull-out models. Kids with disabilities are considered “in” general education when they’re in general education classrooms, and “out” when they’re in special education classrooms.

Emily Affolter
Wow.

Tim Villegas
Right? There’s all this subtext that’s accepted and normalized.

Another one I hear all the time is inclusion classrooms or inclusion teachers. If that’s the inclusion classroom, what are the other classrooms?

Emily Affolter
Or hate them.

Tim Villegas
They’re inaccessible to students with disabilities. There’s so much there, and it’s scary to unpack and realize that the framing isn’t great.

That fear becomes a barrier between special educators and general education teachers collaborating. I’m assuming it’s similar in other areas too. Anytime you have different expertise, there’s a fear. I’m not always sure what the fear is—maybe that someone will take your job, or do it better.

Emily Affolter
I feel this so deeply. There’s fear and perfectionism about stepping into a realm that’s been allocated as someone else’s space.

It’s the same when people say, “You’re a culturally responsive educator, and I’m not,” or “Because of my student demographics, I could never teach this way.” And it’s like, no—this is actually best practice.

Everyone needs to do this. Just like neurodivergence exists on a continuum, culturally responsive pedagogy supports every student.

When you relegate a specific group of students to a specific skill set, it becomes irrelevant that these pedagogies actually support everyone’s flourishing.

Segregation mechanisms harm people in the long run.

This reminds me of organizations that hire a Chief Diversity Officer, and then everyone else feels like they can sleep on the job. That’s not how it works. This is everybody’s work.

These silos are fabricated and institutionalized. Not just students, but educators are harmed by them because we stop seeing ourselves as relevant contributors to students’ lives.

These categories are socially constructed. We need to support students, period, not homogenized groups of students.

I want to amplify what you’re saying and add that we can be systems thinkers here. Beyond culturally responsive or decolonizing education, beyond neurodivergence or disability, we should ask: where are the places we believe we don’t belong?

Where are the realms of expertise we stay away from because we’ve been conditioned to believe we don’t belong there based on degrees, job titles, or positionalities?

If we think systemically and recognize that apathy never supports healthy development, we can start to chip away at those blockages.

Tim Villegas
Hmm.

Emily Affolter
Do you know what I mean, Tim? Or am I on one?

Tim Villegas
I’m with you. I’m with you.

This conversation is moving fast, so I’m wondering where we’re going to land. For the last part of our conversation, I want to focus on stories.

I’m wondering if you could tell your story—how you got to this work.

Emily Affolter
Yeah.

I was thinking about this, and maybe some people can resonate with it. I grew up in a landscape where I went to a high school that Jimi Hendrix went to, that Quincy Jones went to, and that was known for activism around racial justice. It was a big Black Panther training place and community hub in Seattle.

So as a white girl, I was trained by a lot of people from those lineages around what it means to be a community advocate against police brutality, racism, homophobia, and things like that. I was really angry from a young age when I looked at issues like educational segregation and police brutality.

As I developed on my path, I did a lot of work in places that were not where I was from. I worked in Nicaragua doing feminist research, and in places that were predominantly Indigenous across the Americas and in India.

I was seeking outside of myself to understand how to show up around social change. As I got older, I stopped and felt an intense need to look inward and go hyper-localized, doing work around whiteness. What does it mean to exist in this body, in this world, and who might I be able to reach that looks like me in doing deep anti-racist work?

I was being educated by a lot of scholars of color who were helping me along. As I got older, this has been a developmental arc.

In the last ten years, I went so hyper-localized and focused on self-accountability and working with folks who look like me. Over time, that has softened. I now work in a very heterogeneous community, with many Indigenous students who are activists.

I’ve been invited to contribute to work in Maasai communities in Kenya, doing material decolonizing work led by Maasai elders. I’ve also been working with one of my close colleagues, a Navajo weaver, doing culturally responsive work around Navajo epistemology.

I think what I’ve seen as I’ve gotten older is that nothing is mutually exclusive. We get to be on a journey. We get to be curious about what makes sense based on who we are, our stories, and where we are in those stories, and the relationships we exist in.

For me, trust-based relationships have really informed where my work has gone. Now I exist in a place where it feels really good to be in a heterogeneous community doing meaningful work based on reciprocity and relationship.

That could change. It’s been a journey. The most exciting part is being responsive to the cues driven by the community in which we exist.

Tim Villegas
I wonder if you’re able to be where you are now because you went inward first.

My journey was different. I didn’t want to be a teacher. I wanted to be a counselor or therapist. I came into teaching another way.

As I get older, going inward, being reflective, and asking critical questions about myself has helped me become more comfortable wherever I am. And when you’re grounded in yourself, you can respond to the needs of the community you’re in.

Emily Affolter
Yes.

I think rehumanizing ourselves and our contexts is a process. There are so many messages that encourage shame about who we are or the work we’re doing.

Shame is deeply entrenched in our society. How do we rehumanize ourselves, be gentle, humble, and vulnerable? When we do that, we can do it with everyone around us.

It’s not about becoming an expert quickly. It’s about taking time to care for and humanize ourselves so we can do the same for others.

The outcome is most generative when it’s honest, relational, and responsive to what’s in front of us.

Tim Villegas
Yes. This has been a great conversation.

I’m hoping it resonates with people and encourages them to think more deeply about who they are, and not be afraid to question preconceived notions about people or cultures.

Often those notions exist because we haven’t had exposure or time spent with a community. That’s true with disability as well. If you’ve never spent time with disabled people, you don’t know how to act, when really they’re just people.

Allowing ourselves to be uncomfortable and sit with that discomfort is how we become more inclusive.

Emily Affolter
Exactly.

There’s a concept in education called the zone of proximal development. It’s often represented as concentric circles around safety, dissonance, and danger.

When we stay in the safe zone, it’s often homogenous and we don’t learn much. Learning happens in that space just beyond safety, where things are unfamiliar.

When we enter new spaces, it’s an invitation to center curiosity and humility so we can become more literate in more contexts.

Tim Villegas
All right. Awesome. This is great. I really appreciate this conversation.

I’d like to ask one more question before we do the mystery question. Is there anything you want our listeners to know about your writing? Are you writing a book, or is there a resource you want to point people to? Anything you want to share?

Emily Affolter
I would love for people to come hang out with me on LinkedIn, because that’s where I like to learn a lot. I’m constantly publishing on topics like this, and that’s where I post about it.

High level, I just want to say that culturally responsive teaching is incremental. It doesn’t exist as a singular thing, and there’s no perfection to it.

Even the founder of culturally responsive teaching, Dr. Geneva Gay herself, has said, “I have never seen a culturally responsive classroom.” Full stop. But there are attributes and characteristics that can be embodied.

It’s aspirational. When we think about it as a binary, it sets us up to be discouraged. We have to be real about where we can jump in, where we can start, and then encourage ourselves to keep going.

Tim Villegas
That’s really encouraging. I feel like that’s something we talk about with inclusive schools.

A lot of times people ask, “Where are the inclusive school districts?” And we’re like, well, there are practices. There’s commitment. But nowhere is perfect.

That doesn’t take anything away from schools that are pursuing inclusion and committed to it.

We’re really thankful for you and your work.

Emily Affolter
Thank you. Likewise.

Tim Villegas
We’ve been talking about reflection, accountability, and what it looks like to keep learning, especially when systems and labels make inclusion harder than it needs to be.

To wrap things up, it’s time for our mystery question, where we lighten it up a bit and imagine what might happen if we could bring back one animal from extinction.

Here we go.

I was telling Emily before that my twelve-year-old, who is an avid listener, wrote down some questions. I’m going to pick one at random, and then we’re both going to answer it.

If you could bring one animal back from extinction, what animal and why?

Emily, do you know one?

Emily Affolter
I don’t definitively know if I do. I was thinking about dinosaurs. Does that count?

Tim Villegas
Yeah, they’re extinct. That counts.

Emily Affolter
I also wondered if we could create an animal that’s not extinct, because I want to see dragons. That’s what I really want to see.

Tim Villegas
Dragons. Maybe there were dragons.

Emily Affolter
Thank you.

Tim Villegas
Maybe there were. I don’t know.

Emily Affolter
If we had dragons, it would be the best-case scenario.

Tim Villegas
That is a great answer. We love dragons.

For me, the one I always think of is the dodo bird, because I know for sure it’s been gone a long time.

My daughter would probably say some kind of big cat. I’ll have to ask her.

Thank you for indulging us.

Dr. Emily Affolter, thank you so much for being on the Think Inclusive podcast. This was a great conversation.

Emily Affolter
It was an honor. Thank you.

Tim Villegas
That was Emily Affolter.

What I’m taking away from our conversation is how much inclusion starts with noticing power and patterns, especially the ones that feel normal because we’ve been swimming in them for so long.

Emily reminds us that this work isn’t about chasing perfection or having the right label. It’s about staying curious, being willing to be uncomfortable, and building real accountability with other educators so we don’t keep reinforcing the same silos.

That connects directly to MCIE and our mission. If we want students with disabilities to learn in general education in their neighborhood schools, in the classrooms they would attend if they weren’t disabled, we have to design schools that fit learners rather than asking learners to fit the system.

Here’s one practical step. Find an accountability buddy this week. Pick one routine—group work, independent reading, transitions, school activities, field trips—and ask who this works well for and who it might exclude. Then make one small change that brings more students into the same learning space, especially students who are usually pulled out or labeled as someone else’s responsibility.

Share this episode with a colleague who’s building inclusive schools. Rate and review us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, and follow Think Inclusive wherever you get your podcasts.

Shout out to my friends Joyner and Shuba, who just launched their podcast Unbound Futures: Two Parents Raising Autistic Kids with High and Complex Support Needs. It explores a life where parenting becomes a site of innovation, community becomes a strategy, and liberation is something we can practice together.

So proud of you. I’m excited to listen.

What podcasts are you listening to? I’d love to know. You can email me at tvillegas@mcie.org.

Now let’s roll the credits.

Think Inclusive is brought to you by me, Tim Villegas. I write, edit, mix, and master. I wear all the podcast hats and baseball caps.

This show is a proud production of the Maryland Coalition for Inclusive Education, with scheduling and extra production help from Jill Wagoner. Our original music is by Miles Kredich, with extra vibes from Melod.ie.

Big thanks to our sponsors, IXL and Adaptiverse. Visit ixl.com/inclusive, and find Adaptiverse at adaptiverseapp.com.

Fun fact: since next week is Presidents Day, I wanted to share something about Jimmy Carter. Before he was president, governor, or even a peanut farmer, his first public service role was on the Sumter County Library Board in rural Georgia. As a teenager, he helped launch a bookmobile, bringing books directly to small towns like Plains and expanding access to reading.

Have you ever gotten a book from a bookmobile? What are you reading these days? What’s on your TBR list? Email me at tvillegas@mcie.org. I read every message.

If you’ve made it this far, you’re officially part of the Think Inclusive Inclusion Crew.

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Thanks for hanging out, and remember: inclusion always works.