Names have been changed to protect privacy
As the high school principal, I was walking David, one of my newest Men's Group students, on a campus tour. David had been kicked out of another school for selling drugs. As we passed Ms. Martinez's math classroom, we found her students sitting in a circle, sharing stories about their mothers in response to a school-wide Mother's Day challenge I had issued.
One student rolled her eyes and said, “My mom is like . . . whatever.” Another student said, “My mom is a b***h. She’s always on my case!” Another shared about never meeting his mom. Then the talking piece reached Ms. Martinez. She teared up as she shared, "I really miss my mother's laughter. She had the most beautiful laugh." She couldn't continue and passed the talking piece.
Mrs. Martinez’ response shifted the energy in the circle. I watched David's eyes widen. Here was a math teacher — not a counselor or social worker — being completely real, creating the kind of space his heart had been hungry for. You could see it pulling at him, like a magnet to what he needed most. Later that day, David asked if he could be placed in Ms. Martinez's class.
What I learned, first as a teacher and then as a school leader, is that circles are a reliable mechanism for improving classroom management and a means for holding high academic standards. But most importantly, circles create community, a space where everyone believes they belong.
Finding My Way to Circles
Years before I watched David being drawn into Ms. Martinez's circle, I was a young teacher discovering how circles could transform a classroom. My friend and fellow teacher — who would later become my assistant principal — connected me with Joe Provisor at Circle Ways. He taught me how Native Americans used circles to build community and make decisions. The practice was simple but profound: everyone — elder, child, leader, follower — had equal voice when holding the talking piece.
What began as informal experiments in my classroom evolved into a deliberate, career-long practice. I learned that circles work through five essential intentions: respect the talking piece, speak from the heart, listen from the heart, honor privacy, and practice leanness of speech. About privacy: I'm clear with students that it isn't the same as confidentiality. What's shared in circle stays in circle. When you have the privilege of hearing someone else's story, remember it isn't yours to tell. Don’t gossip.
Later as a principal, I required teachers to use circles in their classrooms, as I felt they were the foundation for the restorative work we were committed to. After all, how can you restore community if you haven't built it first?
Teachers would often push back, worried students might share something they'd be legally required to address as mandated reporters. I reiterated to students and staff that anything involving harm to self or others must be reported, but everything else can stay private. Students suffer whether they tell us or not. When they felt comfortable and had circles as a way to share their suffering, we could step in and help.
How to Begin Circles
You don’t need special training to start a circle, but you do need intention. I encouraged my teachers to start with quick check-ins: "If you were an emoji today, what would you be?" or "What's your theme song this morning?" These prompts might sound superficial, but they serve a purpose — getting students comfortable with the circle format, speaking in front of peers, and holding the talking piece. Circles can also help teachers assess how a student is doing on a given day.
The talking piece itself can be anything — I've used markers in a pinch. But I prefer objects with meaning. I'll often ask students and teachers to bring something significant to them, which becomes our first deeper sharing opportunity. One student brought his father's dog tags. Another brought her grandmother's rosary. Every object carries a story.
The physical setup matters, too. Arrange chairs so everyone can see each other's faces. No one gets to hide in the corner. No desk barriers. Just humans in a circle, holding space for each other. When someone speaks, they speak to the whole circle. Whoever speaks first chooses whether the talking piece goes left or right.
As trust builds, intentions and questions can go deeper. For example, “What has most shaped who you are today?” often sheds light on what students carry with them. “People think I’m x, but I’m really y,” allows students to reveal a mismatch between how they are perceived by others and how they actually see themselves. The key is matching the depth of the question to the growing trust in the room.
Students may not say anything of consequence for weeks or months. They are sizing us up, looking for proof that we will actually show up for them.
When Teachers Circle Up, the Magic Happens
I advised teachers to do at least one circle a week. Most did more as they saw circles transform their teaching. A history teacher wove circles into a Vietnam War unit, asking students to share times they ran from something instead of toward it. The personal stories enhanced their understanding of historical choices.
Another teacher made circles part of final assessments, finding students' reflections could demonstrate their understanding far better than more multiple choice questions. During our first staff training on circle practice, a math teacher, Mr. Thomas, protested circles at first, acting out what he thought students would say: "This is stupid f***ing... these circles suck, man." But after trying them with his students, he emailed me: "I don't know why I was so scared. The students were wonderful."
Circles create spaces where students feel seen, heard, and valued. That’s real community that we can restore when we need to. Over time, students may forget your name and the content of your lesson plans. What endures for students is the understanding that they matter. I’ve also used circles with teachers. They shared struggles, triumphs, and processed difficult moments together. Even seasoned educators find power in these equitable spaces.
So start small with circles, but start somewhere. Your students, like David in Ms. Martinez's class, are hungry for these spaces. Mrs. Martinez opened herself to genuine human-to-human connection, moving beyond the traditional boundaries of her role as teacher. If you take the opportunity to do the same, you may find circles become a beautiful reminder of why you chose this work in the first place.
Ready to Circle Up?
As communities like Ms. Martinez's continue to show us, the journey to meaningful circle practice is both challenging and deeply rewarding. If your school is ready to begin this journey, I'm here to help guide your first steps.
I offer professional development workshops and speaking engagements on circle practice, restorative justice, and building authentic school communities. Check out my speaking topics or reach out to book a workshop for your school.
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