Last week carried a low hum of anxiety from the moment I woke each morning. I have been teaching myself not to obsess over what may or may not happen. Until something bad actually happens, nothing bad has happened. While reinforcing that lesson, my agenda book sat quietly ignored. The Spicy Italian Sausage and Basil Rigatoni, planned neatly with a side salad, was pushed around the week for days, repeatedly replaced by takeout and hot dogs, until I noticed the basil beginning to wither.
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| Photo by ThisisEngineering RAEng on Unsplash |
In the past, I would have been riddled with guilt and panic for not following the agenda. That mindset no longer serves me. Learning to be kind to myself is working. I am becoming more flexible about the things that do not truly matter and more accepting of the days when rest takes priority over productivity.
Even while going off script, I have kept a few grounding routines. My mornings still begin with French pressed coffee, four sun salutations, and quiet reading before the day begins. That ritual pulls me back into what is actually happening, instead of letting my mind drift into imagined narratives where harm is inevitable.
Early in the week, an opinion piece in Newsweek caught my attention during my morning reading ritual. California, it argued, was moving to “de-mathematize math,” and in doing so, risked hurting the most vulnerable students. The proposed math curriculum framework is rooted in good intentions, aiming to level the playing field and promote social equality. But as the article explains, it discourages accelerated courses and gifted programs in response to longstanding racial disparities. Between 2004 and 2014, for example, 32 percent of Asian students were enrolled in gifted programs, compared with 8 percent of white students, 4 percent of Black students, and 3 percent of Latinx students.
The discussion brought me back to a much earlier chapter of my life, when I lived in South Korea. At the time, private tutoring was illegal. The goal was admirable: reduce competition and ensure that every student had an equal chance regardless of family income. In practice, it did not work. Families who could afford tutoring simply adapted. Tutors became “uncles” and “aunties,” quietly visiting homes after school. The inequality did not disappear. It merely moved out of sight.
Removing gifted programs feels strikingly similar. Students with financial means will not lose access to advanced learning. Their families will outsource it. Those most likely to be harmed are students who already face systemic disadvantages.
Social equality matters deeply to me. But I struggle with the idea that equality can be achieved by restricting access. Gifted programs often serve as academic lifelines, especially for students whose schools lack adequate funding or enrichment opportunities. The racial disparities within these programs reflect broader inequities in public education, not the inherent failure of advanced coursework itself.
This is not an argument against equity, but a concern that equity cannot be achieved by removing pathways that already function as lifelines for students without other options.
Equality should not mean no one gets access. Real equality exists when everyone does. It is easy to remove something and declare fairness. What is far more difficult, and far more meaningful, is building systems that allow all students to reach the same opportunities. If we are serious about equity, our focus must be on expanding access rather than eliminating it.
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