Speaker A [00:00:01]:
Welcome to Our Classroom. In this space, we talk about education, which is inclusive of, but not limited to what happens in schools. Education is taking place whenever and wherever we are willing to learn. I am your host, Roberto Germán, and Our Classroom is officially in session. Welcome back to Our Classroom. Today, I want us to consider what does it mean to cultivate hope in a moment like this? Not perform hope, not fake positivity, not pretend that things aren't hard, but real? Hope, the kind that survives uncertainty, the kind that creates, the kind that refuses to disappear. This week, I'll be traveling to Oakland, California, to speak at Cultivate Hope 2026, an event hosted by the Flourish, collect and built around the idea that hope is not denial, it's resistance. And honestly, I've been thinking about that phrase, cultivate hope.
Speaker A [00:01:13]:
Because cultivation implies work, work, work, work, work, work. That's right. Got to put in work. It implies intention. It implies planting something, even when conditions aren't ideal. And maybe that's exactly where many of us are at right now, right? There's a heaviness right now. Globally, nationally, educationally. Many educators are exhausted.
Speaker A [00:01:45]:
Students are carrying anxiety. Communities feel polarized. People are uncertain about the future. And in moments like this, cynicism becomes tempting. Disconnection becomes tempting. Numbness becomes tempting. But one thing I've been reflecting on lately is this. Hope is not pretending darkness doesn't exist.
Speaker A [00:02:11]:
It's out there. Hope is choosing to create. Anyway, one of the things that struck me about this event is that it's inspired by the Harlem Renaissance. I've always loved that period of time, and the organizers wrote something beautiful. The 1920s were born in one of America's most difficult moments. And yet from that time came an outpouring of art, music, culture, and collective joy. Man, I would have fit right into the Harlem Renaissance. And what came out of there is important because it often means that creativity comes from all sorts of places, right? But we often connect creativity to coming from a place of comfort.
Speaker A [00:03:02]:
And yet, historically, some of the most beautiful expressions of humanity emerged from struggle. The Harlem Renaissance was not born from ease. It was born from people refusing to be erased, refusing to be diminished, refusing to let oppression have the final word. And honestly, that feels incredibly relevant right now. I think sometimes we misunderstand hope. We treat it like optimism, like a feeling. But hope is active. Hope writes.
Speaker A [00:03:34]:
Hope teaches. Hope organizes. Hope creates art. Hope builds community. Hope tells the truth. Anyway, that's why I've been thinking differently about education lately, because every time a teacher creates space for a student's Voice, that's hope. Every time a student writes something honest, that's hope. Every time we choose curiosity instead of fear, that's hope.
Speaker A [00:04:04]:
I recently created a lesson plan called Letters to the Future centered around this big idea. Hope is also imagining what could still become possible. And I love that. Because hope requires imagination, Students were asked questions like, what do you hope will change in the world? What kind of future are you hoping to help create? And truth be told, adults need to ask these questions too. Somewhere along the way, many of us stopped imagining. We became so focused on surviving that we stopped envisioning. But hope asks us to imagine again. Not fantasy, but possibility.
Speaker A [00:05:00]:
So what seems possible to you? What are you going to create? What gives you hope? I'll tell you what gives me hope. Many of the people I'm around give me hope. The educators who are still showing up, the students that are still writing, the communities that are still gathering, the artists that are creating, the conversations that are happening. It's the fact that even in difficult times, people continue choosing each other that matters. And maybe hope doesn't always arrive as certainty. We love to be certain, not certain, right? Let's take away the T. We love to feel certain. And maybe sometimes hope arrives as presence, as community, as refusing to disappear.
Speaker A [00:05:55]:
And to educators listening, hear me. What you do matters more than you know. Not because you have all the answers, but because you help shape how young people see themselves and the future. You're not just teaching content. You are helping students imagine what's possible in moments like this. This is sacred work. So maybe cultivating hope means this. Continuing to plant things we may not immediately see grow.
Speaker A [00:06:31]:
Sort of like the rose that grew from concrete. Continuing to tell the truth. Continuing to create, continuing to love people well, continuing to build community. Even now, and especially now, because hope is not naive. Hope is courageous. And we need to be strong and courageous. Teach the truth, lead with courage. Belong to a community that gets it.
Speaker A [00:07:01]:
You're looking for educators who are still choosing hope, still choosing communities, still choosing the work. You know where to find us. Until the next time, keep leading, keep loving, keep learning. As always, your engagement in our classroom is greatly appreciated. Be sure to subscribe, rate the show, and write a review. Finally, for resources to help you understand the intersection of race, bias, education in society,
