But this post isn’t about that.

Rather, I’m thinking about how, in order to cultivate wonder, it’s important to truly look - to notice, to observe.

Look Four Ways could mean two things:

1 - Look at something from four different perspectives

How might a painter look at this photo? A scientist? A landscape architect? A squirrel? An insect? (Okay, I guess that’s five ways.)

2 - Look at something from four different angles

What do you notice when you look at this photo?

Now, look again, but with the rotated image below. What else do you notice?

Let’s rotate the photo again. What new details stand out to you now?

And, one more rotation. What do you notice now?

Every time I do this activity with my students, there are so many “ooooh” and “aha!” moments. Using the first “Look Four Ways” prompt, my students engage their imaginations and develop their skills for taking perspective and appreciating diverse viewpoints. When I use the second prompt, students collect more and more noticings and details, which allows them to reach insights they might not have come to otherwise.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll share more examples of “Look Four Ways” in action, including for words/text, audio, moving image, and 3D objects. In the meantime, you can grab my free Look Four Ways Templates with Teacher Guide by subscribing to this Substack.

I’ll be back in a week or two with more about how we can “Look Four Ways” while listening to audio, including some of my favorite recordings for this activity.

Happy Looking!

That’s a sentence that felt impossible to imagine a decade ago. This profession is hard, and in some ways, I made it even harder for myself by choosing to teach middle grades (5th–8th). But I love this age group so much — the energy, the honesty, the chaos, the curiosity.

Despite being solidly mid-career and a long-time veteran at my school, this year was rough. My students had the widest range of needs I’ve ever experienced, and I often felt like I wasn’t doing right by anyone. Of course, learning still happened. Projects were completed, writing blossomed, and I even received some lovely end-of-year notes from students who said how much they enjoyed my class.

But it all felt so tiring. My classroom management slipped, and so did my presence. I wasn’t showing up as the teacher I truly want to be. I yelled more than I’d like to admit. I clung to routines that got the job done but left little room for the spark and joy that drew me to teaching middle grades in the first place.

When the year finally ended and I had space to breathe, I realized what had been missing: wonder.

Encouraging students to engage with their learning from a place of wonder.

Inviting them to wonder about themselves, their classmates, and the world.

Doing my own wondering about each of my students as beautiful, complicated individuals.

Reflecting on my practice with wonder and in a way that fuels growth rather than guilt.

These are the things that usually anchor my teaching — and this year, they slipped away. I felt the absence of wonder deeply.

So this summer, I’m reclaiming it. My own wonder, and that of my students.

Maybe you’re ready to do the same.

I’m exploring what it means to teach where wonder lives, and I’d love for you to join me. Subscribe to get future reflections, resources, and stories straight to your inbox.

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Jael Goldstein is an interdisciplinary educator exploring what it means to teach where wonder lives.