This is Mr. Funky Teacher with BeAFunkyTeacher.com. I'm coming to you with another Be a Funky Teacher podcast. Welcome back, y'all. And today is another Freedom to Teach episode. Freedom to Teach isn't on a strict schedule. It's a lens. Sometimes it might be something from sports, sometimes leadership. Sometimes it's a current event that stays with me. Sometimes it might be political, local decisions, state policies, national conversations, even international moments. Not from a party perspective, but from a principal perspective. Because wherever it shows up, the deeper question is always the same. What happens when people are trusted and given the agency to shape their future? And what happens when they're not? That's where this series lives. Now it's been several days since the last Bare Moon Powwow with the Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska. I didn't want to rush this. I wanted to sit with it. Today's episode is titled Freedom to Teach: Honoring Where You Teach. So I want to ground myself with gratitude before I go any further. Here are three things that I'm thankful for. The first thing that I'm thankful for is invitation. One of my students invited me to watch him dance in the Eastern Woodland boys group at this powwow. His family welcomed me into this space, and I’m just so thankful for that invitation. Another student was drumming in a drum circle with family. Another student was helping sell some beaded crafts that she had worked on at a table. Seeing my students in these spaces — not just in desks, not just sitting in a classroom — but fully themselves in community meant more than I can explain. Second, I'm thankful for relationships. This community has allowed me to teach here, to grow here, to learn here. And that trust is built over time. I don't take it lightly. Third, I'm thankful for perspective. Moments like this remind me that education is bigger than curriculum, bigger than pacing guides, bigger than test scores. Well, let's get into the main topic. Freedom to Teach: Honoring Where You Teach. Teaching exists inside community. Classrooms do not float in isolation. They exist in communities, on land, inside traditions and histories that began long before we arrived. Honoring where you teach means recognizing that your classroom is part of something bigger. Culture is lived. At the powwow, culture wasn't explained. It was lived in the drum, in the regalia, in the movement, in the pride of families watching their children. No one was performing. They were participating in community. And that's powerful. Education is generational. I think about Chief Little Priest, who was so important to the Winnebago Tribe, who once said, “Be strong and educate my children.” Those words carry weight. Education is not just advancement. It's strength. It's preparation. It's continuity from one generation to the next. Standing in that space, those words felt present. Not historical. Living. Symbols carry responsibility. That day at the powwow, I wore three items that are among my most treasured possessions. A seed necklace given to me by a student and his mother who made it for me. It is one of the most special items I own. I also have a bracelet that another student made for me by herself. And I wore a ribbon shirt that a teacher and her class made for me. I did not wear those to represent something that isn't mine. I wore them because they were gifts. And gifts carry responsibility. They remind me that teaching here in this beautiful community is relational first. Trust has been extended to me. And trust should always make us more thoughtful. Students have whole identities. Watching my student dance was humbling. Seeing another student helping sell crafts she had created was humbling. Knowing I had a student there drumming with his family in a drum circle was powerful too. Those moments remind me of something important. Our students do not exist only in our classrooms. They carry family. They carry culture. They carry story. When we are invited to see that, we are reminded that education is only part of who they are. Honoring where you teach means recognizing the fullness of your students' lives. Learning is a posture. I am not Indigenous. But I teach in this community. There is a difference between working somewhere and honoring somewhere. At the powwow, I was learning. Listening. Observing. Appreciating. Sometimes freedom to teach means knowing when you are the student. Identity builds confidence. When children see their culture celebrated, there is steadiness in that. When families gather around tradition, there is pride. When community comes together, there is strength. Education should support that. Not compete with it. The community is curriculum. The powwow was a classroom. Elders teaching through presence. Parents teaching through participation. Children learning through embodiment. Learning is not confined to walls. When we understand that, our teaching becomes more grounded. Trust deepens responsibility. When families trust you enough to invite you into meaningful spaces, it changes how you show up. You teach with more care. You listen more closely. You move more thoughtfully. Freedom to teach is about honor. Freedom to teach is not just about professional discretion. It is about honoring the place where you teach. Honoring the people. Honoring the history. Honoring the invitation. Sometimes it looks like standing quietly in an arena wearing a ribbon shirt someone in a school made for you. Or watching a child dance confidently in their identity. And realizing your role is to support, not center. As I close, I want to say this. Freedom is steady. It is relational. It is grounded. Sometimes it sounds like a drum. Sometimes it feels like a necklace resting against your chest as a reminder of trust. Autonomy in education is not isolation. It is connection. When we truly honor where we teach, we do more than deliver lessons. We build relationships. We grow in humility. We become better leaders. Reflect on this. How well do you honor the community where you teach? And where are you still learning? Remember to inspire greatness in young people. And don't forget to be a funky teacher. Bye now.