Created with ChatGPT
As someone who holds a Master’s degree in Anthropology, I entered the world of education with both passion and purpose. While my primary focus was cultural anthropology, I—like every graduate in the discipline—was trained in all four subfields: cultural, linguistic, archaeological, and biological anthropology. That meant I not only studied cultures and societies, but also the scientific method, human evolution, genetics, and the biological roots of human behavior. I came to education with a deep respect for science and evidence-based learning.
This is why, during an assignment as a substitute teacher in a high school science class in Illinois, I was shocked when the regular teacher told me—without hesitation—that “scientific theories are not factual.” He dismissed evolution as “make believe,” clearly unaware that a scientific theory is one of the highest forms of scientific understanding—built upon repeated observation, experimentation, and peer review. Evolution is the cornerstone of modern biology, not a matter of personal belief.
This isn’t a harmless slip-up. This is a fundamental failure in teacher preparation. It’s not enough to teach students how to learn if we’re giving them incorrect or ideologically distorted content. I’ve read critiques arguing that college should be limited to learning within one’s major, and that students should have mastered foundational knowledge in high school. The reality is, many high school students aren’t mastering those foundations—because their teachers are not adequately prepared to teach them.
Too many teacher preparation programs emphasize methods over mastery. Aspiring educators are trained extensively in classroom management, differentiated instruction, and educational theory—yet not always required to have a deep command of the subjects they will teach. In some cases, they’re licensed to teach science with little more than a generalist background.
And the problem doesn’t end with science.
I was working toward my teaching license through a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) program when I encountered another systemic problem—this time around sex education. I have a sex-positive stance, one rooted in both personal conviction and research-based evidence. In one health class I observed, students were assigned to budget for the costs of raising a newborn. It was clear the goal was to instill fear—to use financial anxiety as a scare tactic to promote abstinence. But studies have consistently shown that abstinence-only education not only fails to prevent teen pregnancy and STIs but can also be psychologically harmful, particularly to students who do become young parents.
Sexual health education should be empowering and factual, not shame-driven. But when I expressed my concerns, I encountered resistance—not just from individual educators, but from the institution itself.
Things came to a head when a student created a video montage of several posts from my account on X (formerly Twitter). These were not instructional posts. They were personal, blunt statements about my sexual desires—an expression of my identity as a sex-positive transgender woman and my belief that it is okay to have sexual feelings as a man or trans woman who is attracted to men. These posts were part of my advocacy: normalizing desire, refusing shame, and affirming the validity of trans and queer sexuality.
The school’s administration didn’t see it that way. Despite my academic progress and professional goals, my student teaching was terminated by the principal and HR. The university I was attending stated that they supported me—but they offered no legal or practical assistance in dealing with the district. Ultimately, I was left to fend for myself, and I made the painful decision to withdraw from the MAT program.
This experience left me disillusioned but not without resolve. It exposed not only the institutional discomfort with sex positivity and LGBTQ+ inclusion, but also a broader systemic issue: we are not preparing teachers who are content experts, nor are we protecting those who challenge outdated or harmful norms. We are failing both our educators and our students.
This is why I firmly believe that the time has come to rethink our entire approach to public education. In today’s complex and fast-paced world, a high school diploma is no longer sufficient preparation for the workforce—or for responsible citizenship. I believe a community college education should become the new baseline, just as a high school diploma was once considered the minimum requirement. Community colleges offer an affordable, accessible means of deepening one’s understanding of science, mathematics, communication, and civic literacy. They can provide a critical bridge to more specialized training and help ensure that our future educators, health workers, and citizens are equipped with both knowledge and critical thinking skills.
We need teachers who understand evolution, who can explain the scientific method, who are prepared to address the realities of human sexuality without resorting to fear or shame. We need school districts that protect educators from ideological purges, and universities that do more than offer symbolic support when their students face political or cultural backlash.
I may have been pushed out of the MAT program, but I have not given up on education. I still believe deeply in the power of teaching—and in the need for radical reform in how we prepare those who take on that responsibility.
Our students deserve teachers who are not only caring and skilled, but who actually know what they’re talking about. Anything less is a betrayal of their potential.
When I think back to 1980, a year filled with iconic cultural moments and personal milestones, one event stands out vividly in my memory: Super Bowl XIV. On that day, January 20, 1980, the Los Angeles Rams squared off against the Pittsburgh Steelers in a showdown that cemented my lifelong fandom for the Rams.
Why Teaching Requires More Than Pedagogy
By Katherine Walter
On May 16, 2025
In educational institutions
Created with ChatGPT
As someone who holds a Master’s degree in Anthropology, I entered the world of education with both passion and purpose. While my primary focus was cultural anthropology, I—like every graduate in the discipline—was trained in all four subfields: cultural, linguistic, archaeological, and biological anthropology. That meant I not only studied cultures and societies, but also the scientific method, human evolution, genetics, and the biological roots of human behavior. I came to education with a deep respect for science and evidence-based learning.
This is why, during an assignment as a substitute teacher in a high school science class in Illinois, I was shocked when the regular teacher told me—without hesitation—that “scientific theories are not factual.” He dismissed evolution as “make believe,” clearly unaware that a scientific theory is one of the highest forms of scientific understanding—built upon repeated observation, experimentation, and peer review. Evolution is the cornerstone of modern biology, not a matter of personal belief.
This isn’t a harmless slip-up. This is a fundamental failure in teacher preparation. It’s not enough to teach students how to learn if we’re giving them incorrect or ideologically distorted content. I’ve read critiques arguing that college should be limited to learning within one’s major, and that students should have mastered foundational knowledge in high school. The reality is, many high school students aren’t mastering those foundations—because their teachers are not adequately prepared to teach them.
Too many teacher preparation programs emphasize methods over mastery. Aspiring educators are trained extensively in classroom management, differentiated instruction, and educational theory—yet not always required to have a deep command of the subjects they will teach. In some cases, they’re licensed to teach science with little more than a generalist background.
And the problem doesn’t end with science.
I was working toward my teaching license through a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) program when I encountered another systemic problem—this time around sex education. I have a sex-positive stance, one rooted in both personal conviction and research-based evidence. In one health class I observed, students were assigned to budget for the costs of raising a newborn. It was clear the goal was to instill fear—to use financial anxiety as a scare tactic to promote abstinence. But studies have consistently shown that abstinence-only education not only fails to prevent teen pregnancy and STIs but can also be psychologically harmful, particularly to students who do become young parents.
Sexual health education should be empowering and factual, not shame-driven. But when I expressed my concerns, I encountered resistance—not just from individual educators, but from the institution itself.
Things came to a head when a student created a video montage of several posts from my account on X (formerly Twitter). These were not instructional posts. They were personal, blunt statements about my sexual desires—an expression of my identity as a sex-positive transgender woman and my belief that it is okay to have sexual feelings as a man or trans woman who is attracted to men. These posts were part of my advocacy: normalizing desire, refusing shame, and affirming the validity of trans and queer sexuality.
The school’s administration didn’t see it that way. Despite my academic progress and professional goals, my student teaching was terminated by the principal and HR. The university I was attending stated that they supported me—but they offered no legal or practical assistance in dealing with the district. Ultimately, I was left to fend for myself, and I made the painful decision to withdraw from the MAT program.
This experience left me disillusioned but not without resolve. It exposed not only the institutional discomfort with sex positivity and LGBTQ+ inclusion, but also a broader systemic issue: we are not preparing teachers who are content experts, nor are we protecting those who challenge outdated or harmful norms. We are failing both our educators and our students.
This is why I firmly believe that the time has come to rethink our entire approach to public education. In today’s complex and fast-paced world, a high school diploma is no longer sufficient preparation for the workforce—or for responsible citizenship. I believe a community college education should become the new baseline, just as a high school diploma was once considered the minimum requirement. Community colleges offer an affordable, accessible means of deepening one’s understanding of science, mathematics, communication, and civic literacy. They can provide a critical bridge to more specialized training and help ensure that our future educators, health workers, and citizens are equipped with both knowledge and critical thinking skills.
We need teachers who understand evolution, who can explain the scientific method, who are prepared to address the realities of human sexuality without resorting to fear or shame. We need school districts that protect educators from ideological purges, and universities that do more than offer symbolic support when their students face political or cultural backlash.
I may have been pushed out of the MAT program, but I have not given up on education. I still believe deeply in the power of teaching—and in the need for radical reform in how we prepare those who take on that responsibility.
Our students deserve teachers who are not only caring and skilled, but who actually know what they’re talking about. Anything less is a betrayal of their potential.