Evidence That Self-Employment Works: A Preschool Social Studies Teacher’s Perspective

I’ll be honest—when I first heard about going solo, I was skeptical.

Sure, in a perfect world where every student is motivated, organized, and on grade level, maybe. But in my real-world social studies classroom? Have 30 students, a variety of learning abilities, students who speak multiple languages, and an aversion to reading primary sources? It felt like a lofty idea that would crumble under pressure.

And yet—I tried. And everything changed.

What I discovered was not just a new teaching strategy. It was a complete rethinking of what it means to trust students—with their learning, their time, and their growth. Ask my students, and they’ll tell you: traveling didn’t just make them learn more—it helped them care more.

What Livelihood Looks Like in the Social Studies Classroom

Self-pacing means giving students control over the pace of their learning. Not the content. Not the intensity. It’s just speed.

In my classes, students work through a weekly playlist that includes short instructional videos, structured document analysis, vocabulary support, and discussion prompts. Each lesson ends with an “achievement assessment”—a short exercise that asks students to apply what they’ve learned. That could be a written reflection, a preparation sheet for a Socratic seminar, or a student-created timeline.

When they are ready, they move on. No one is prevented from moving too fast. No one is penalized for needing overtime.

This approach is part of the Modern Classrooms Project, which supports teachers in using blended instruction, self-paced, and arts-based grading. It works best for content-heavy, learning-rich topics like history and social sciences—where depth is more important than speed.

What the Research Says—And Students—

When we talk about educational innovation, data is important. According to a 2023 study from the Modern Classrooms Project, based on thousands of teachers:

• 91% said walking improves isolation
• 89% reported increased student engagement
• 83% saw academic improvement—especially among students who had difficulty walking normally

But the overwhelming evidence doesn’t come from the charts—it comes from the children.

Marcus, a former history student from the United States, once told me: “I always hated history because it felt like you memorized the dates.” But now I can pause this video and really think about why things happen.

This was a student who often chased work just to “get it done.” But with effort, he joined.

Then there was Rina, a multilingual student who had spent most of her freshman year in high school trying to be ignored. After a few weeks in a self-help class, he told me: “I can read sources at my own pace. I don’t feel rushed.”

Not “I got a better grade.” Not “I’m done quickly.” Just: I feel smart now. That’s the kind of transition that students go through—long after class ends.

And Isaiah—labeled “behind” since elementary school—succeeded in our private human rights unit. He went into primary sources and chose to do a podcast to test his last ability. “It was the first time I felt like I had time to care,” he said.

You don’t need a research study to tell you it’s important. You can see it—in their mood, their questions, their identity.

What surprised me the most as a teacher

When I started this transition, I prepared for more work. And yes—those early weeks were intense. Decoding lessons, redesigning units, and learning to let go of “contextualizing content” in favor of deeper learning takes time, energy, and trust.

But the payoff came sooner—and deeper than I imagined.

For the first time in years, I had time to talk with students. Not just in passing, not just managing behaviors or changes—but real, grounded, one-on-one conversations.

I remember sitting next to Jamal, who rarely spoke during interviews, and asking what Frederick Douglass meant by “the conscience of the nation.” He looked up, surprised that I had time to ask—and then he told me. Little by little. In consideration. With confidence.

There was also Sarah, a powerful writer who was often overlooked. On my own, I was able to sit next to him during the aptitude test, helping him refine his claims about the causes of the Civil War using evidence from both the North and the South. It was the kind of feedback loop I used to dream of having time for.

Even Devon—the junior who had failed my class the year before—found his stride in the self-paced model. Not because it was easy, but because he finally had time to ask questions without embarrassment, revise without punishment, and move forward only when he was truly ready. “I didn’t think I was good at history,” he told me. “I just needed a learning method that worked for me.”

Traveling doesn’t just give me better tools. It gave me time. Time to teach, time to connect, time to see my students—not as one class moving in unison, but as individuals, each on a path that makes sense to them.

Why This Is Equally Important

Social studies is about power—who is in charge, who is excluded, whose stories are being told. As educators, we must consider the ways in which our systems reflect those same strengths.

Going the normal route often privileges students who already know the background, are quick learners, or feel confident asking for help. Everyone else—students who translate as they go, those who still have the ability to build, those who have been labeled “behind” for a while—are left behind.

Walking changes that energy.

Juliana, a student receiving special education services, once said: “I used to always be last and feel bad.

An opportunity. It is not an easy way. Which is correct.

When students are allowed to move at a pace that works for them—without sacrifice—they begin to see themselves differently. They take risks. They update. They think more. They own their learning.

In a self-paced classroom, history becomes more than a survival lesson. It becomes a place to bring back the word. Students wrestle with multiple ideas, revisit complex ideas, and develop arguments not just to complete a task—but to make meaning.

That’s what equality can look like. Not everyone is doing the same thing at the same time—but everyone is moving forward.

How to Get Started

If you’re curious about going solo, my advice is simple: start small.

You don’t have to investigate your entire class overnight. In fact, I would strongly encourage you not to. Start with one unit—something rich that invites inquiry, multiple ideas, and deep reflection. For me, the Civil Rights Movement was a good place to start. It provided layered sources, powerful stories, and a space for readers to grapple with real questions of justice, identity, and change.

Keep your tutorial videos short—5 to 7 minutes is ideal. Think of them as presentation pads, not speeches. Use them to frame a compelling question, model a document analysis, or guide students through a key vocabulary or skill. Then go to the side. Let readers engage with content at their own pace—pause, rewind, rewatch—until it clicks.

And don’t worry about fancy equipment. Some of my most effective videos are recorded on a laptop with messy hair and low light. What matters is clarity, not polish. Talk to your students as if they were in the room with you. Use examples in class. Keep it real.

Build on mastery assessments—short, meaningful activities that allow students to apply what they learn. This needs no clarification. Quick reflection, timeline, Socrates, Google Form—all work, as long as it helps you gauge understanding and give students feedback without waiting for a unit test.

Most importantly: be patient – with your students and with yourself.

This is more than just changing things. A change in attitude.

You will have days when students fly in and days where they stay. You will second guess your systems. You will prepare your playlists in the middle of the week. That’s right. This isn’t about perfection—it’s about progress. Every time you step back and allow students to lead their own learning, you plant the seeds of ownership and independence.

And you are not alone. Thousands of teachers are making this transition right now, and there’s a community ready to support you. I got my bearings through the Modern Classroom Project, which offers free resources, training, and examples from real classrooms across the country. But even without formal training, you can start rethinking time and trust in your teaching—one lesson at a time.

Traveling doesn’t just change your classroom—it can change your relationship with teaching. It reminds you why you got into this job in the first place: not to march students through content, but to meet them where they are and help them grow.

So take a breath. Select a unit. Hit the record. And get ready—you might like to teach, too.

The Bottom Line

The core of self-travel is something simple and transformative: trust.

Trust students to take their time—or leave quickly.
Trust them to struggle—and recover.
Trust them to learn—on their terms.

I won’t pretend it’s perfect. But I’ve seen what happens when we give students time, tools, and ownership—especially in a subject like social studies, where complexity and context matter.

Once you experience that kind of growth—real, personal, and lasting—it’s hard to go back.