From Nail Art to Fantasy Sports: When Tiered Interventions Overflowed Into Good Problems

They say if you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans. From 2013 to 2015, I found myself immersed in intervention work in math education. I never imagined there would be a role in schools designed specifically for that, so you can picture my joy when I learned that the very district I grew up in had an opening for a sixth-grade math interventionist at one of the intermediate schools.

Stepping into that role was more than a new job; it was a chance to see math through a different lens. The work pushed me to slow down and get granular, to study student moves closely and notice the patterns hidden in their mistakes, which were celebrated. In small groups, I saw how students became more vulnerable, willing to try, ask, and even fail in ways they would never risk in front of a whole class.

That vulnerability taught me that efficacy starts with students believing their own effort matters, and my role was to create the conditions where that belief could take root.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that what I was learning wasn’t just about math. The same closeness, the same space for belief, was needed across every content area. That realization sparked the idea of a campus-wide intervention program, the same kind of program I had once been part of as a seventh-grade math teacher, but bringing it to life in this new role didn’t come easily.

I rallied some help, and together we wrote a proposal, worked to gain teacher buy-in, and I attended my second Solution Tree RTI@Work conference with the team so they could see the vision too. It was a process. By the time we reached the staff meeting, I knew we had to come prepared. I also knew walking in that as educators we can be some of the most resistant people out there, so I came ready to answer four questions: what does this do for me, what does this do for the kids on my roster, how do we know this will work, and the one that always matters most, how much extra work will I have to do?

We worked through every doubt and every concern until I finally shared the part I knew would hook them.

Enrichment classes available to students that also included content

Enrichment. Built around their passions. For 30 minutes, three times a week, in three-week sessions, teachers could step away from math, science, ELA, and social studies and teach the thing they loved. Nail art, yoga, photography, sculpting, Mr. Allen’s kitchen, movies and Moore, bath bombs, you name it.

It gave teachers a break, it gave students a new kind of motivation, and it gave all of us a way to believe again.

Alongside the enrichment classes, we also had content-focused sessions. Our intervention team was responsible for writing the lesson plans and pulling from proven resources that pushed student learning forward. The only thing we asked of classroom teachers was that they prepare for delivery, and we carved out time during planning to help with that. We made their copies, sorted them into folders, delivered lessons a week in advance, and supported in every way possible.

Every adult in the building, aside from our receptionist and nurse, contributed to making it work.

Not just the adults, but each student in the building had a session to go to, and each class was designed just for them, by student and by standard. That mix of targeted support and joyful enrichment is what made the program work.

Whose teaching enrichment? Who opted for content only?

Behind the scenes this was not light work. The planning was intense. There were many days we were tired and some days we took a WIN break. There's so much that goes into planning movement for 1,000 kids but we spent days mapping out which content needed which students, sorting caseloads, and handling logistics. Everybody pitched in, teachers, counselors, paras, because the goal was bigger than any one of us.

Every enrichment class still had content tucked in with purpose and intentionality, but the hook was joy. Students were engaged, teachers were smiling, and the entire campus felt different. What we didn’t expect was how much we would grow in the process. Teachers found some joy again, students stretched their thinking, and together we built a culture where support and belief were shared. That is what efficacy looks like, not just raising scores but raising each other.

STEM in action when understanding the ingredients and quantities in making bath salts as gifts for family members.

As student efficacy began to grow, a new kind of problem showed up, and it was one we welcomed. The interventions were working, students were gaining confidence, and more of them were leaning into enrichment.

Planning another round of WIN interventions for over 1,000 students

KLZ Fantasy Sports needed another teacher just to handle the students who were showing improvement. Bath Bombs had to move into the cafeteria because the library couldn’t hold them all (and "Momma Parker" kept fussing at me about the kids making a mess of her carpet 😂).

What started as an intervention plan turned into evidence that students believed in themselves and were willing to stretch into new spaces. It was the kind of problem every educator hopes for.

Shout out to Courtney Clark, who trusted us enough to pull the components together, to Dr. Bolden, whose support mattered just as much, and to the WIN Committee, Shawn Verow, Christina Williams, and Priscilla Crosser. To have that kind of belief placed us sparked a systemic boldness. I dared to think I could do something greater.

In those four years as an interventionist, I learned how to see growth student by student, by standard, how to co-teach in ways that built up both kids and teachers, how to create systems that made intervention proactive instead of reactive, and how to design structures where logistics mattered just as much as lessons.

Invited by Dr. Buffum to share our campus data during RTI@Work conference in 2018.

More than anything, it taught me that efficacy is not just about student achievement; it is about the growth of everyone involved. When we believed in our students, they stretched their thinking. When we supported one another, we grew ourselves.

That foundation shaped how I coached as an instructional coach, how I thought as a district specialist, and how I now lead as a director. Every role since has carried pieces of what I first learned as an interventionist, and those lessons continue to shape the way I love math education and the way I believe in what is possible for teachers and students. #EfficacyEveryday

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