Podcast 61: Luminous Roots, Wild Courage: Teaching as Activism

Reading opens doors; calm helps kids walk through them. Reading specialist Jen Ragonese shares why literacy is “the key to everything,” how a one-minute breath and “luminous roots” steady students before high-stakes tests, and what high expectations look like in underserved classrooms. This episode sits inside our Season 4 frame—Seeking the Wild Woman—where courage is practical and daily. 

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Transcript

Guest: Jen Ragonese, Reading Interventionist, Newark Public Schools

Betty: Hi, and welcome to Two Crones and a Microphone. I'm Betty.

Sally: I'm Sally.

Jen: I'm Jen.

Betty: Jen is one of our really, really good friends, and I am so excited to talk with her today. Jen teaches children—among many other things—and she’s a fabulous teacher. Honestly, I honor her. I'm a nurse and a teacher too, but not with little kids; I can’t imagine corralling a class of them. Jen does it well, and she loves it. Today she’s going to share techniques she uses to help her students relax, take it easy, and ground—what we often call centering and grounding. She’ll also tell us a bit about herself and her journey into teaching. With that, Jen, I’m turning it over to you.

Jen: Thank you so much for having me. It’s nice to sit here and talk. I am a teacher—currently a Reading Interventionist in Newark—and this will be my eighth year there. Before that, I taught for many years in East New York, Brooklyn. The bulk of my experience has been with underserved communities, and that’s where my heart is. I feel like I took the passion and protest energy of my college years into the classroom. Marches and protests are important and necessary, but my energy goes into teaching. I recently earned a degree as a reading specialist, and I think reading is the key to everything. I want my kids to learn to read and to think, so they can have a seat at any table. Educational equity matters; to level the playing field, kids need literacy and the capacity to think. I love this work. These days I support small groups as an academic interventionist, especially in reading.

Sally: When did you decide to become a teacher? Were you the kid with dolls lined up in a little classroom?

Jen: My sister Marissa and I did sometimes play school, but I didn’t always think I’d be a teacher. I always loved children. When I was ten, my youngest sister was born—my baby doll come to life. I fed her, cared for her, loved it. In college at Stony Brook, they didn’t have an education major, but they had early childhood development, so I studied that. After graduating, I was temping at a call center without clear direction. Then my mother’s friend Mimi—who will always be dear to me for this—called over Labor Day weekend. A teacher had suddenly quit at the small Catholic school where she worked. She asked if I wanted to teach kindergarten. I said yes. Two days later I walked into a classroom with no student teaching and no experience—completely green—and learned everything on the job. It was wild and wonderful. I lived in Brooklyn and worked in Jackson Heights. I’d get up at 4 a.m., leave at 5, arrive by 7 because the kids came at 8. I went to great lengths and learned a lot, and I always had incredible people around me to guide me. Little by little I earned my master’s in early childhood education, got certified, and moved to a public school in East New York, where I stayed for years. When we moved to New Jersey, the commute became impossible. I did it for a year, then posted my résumé on Teach Newark and got my job here. Looking back, I can see a higher power’s guidance. Working in Newark these past eight years, I had the gift of earning my reading specialist degree, and now I’m putting that back into my kids. I have high expectations for them. Wherever they are, I’ll meet them, and we’re going to do this. I try to do it imperfectly, like all of us.

Betty: The thought of walking into a kindergarten class with no teaching experience blows my mind. Now you’re teaching reading—I’m an avid reader and love books. And for kids in disadvantaged schools, it’s so important.

Jen: It is underserved, and that’s why I feel strongly about giving kids what I can. I don’t know all their struggles firsthand, but I do know that learning to read and to think can help them take a seat at any table. I also work best as part of a team. I like being part of a school team with a shared vision: teaching kids to read, succeed, and think so they can do whatever they choose.

Sally: I grew up in a rural area and started reading very young. That opened so many doors for me, even though I loved where I grew up. When you talk about a seat at any table, it resonates. Reading and opportunity took me where I needed to go. I honor your passion and your focus.

Sally: Who had the most influence on you?

Jen: It was more an experience than a person. When I was about eight to eleven, I went to a sleepaway camp—a born‑again Christian camp. There was a lot of religion; every Sunday they performed a passion play and offered time for prayer with counselors. I was drawn to that. I’m not born‑again Christian now, though I respect all paths, but at the time I needed that sense of peace. Later, at fifteen or sixteen, I did their counselor‑in‑training program: two weeks hiking on the Appalachian Trail and biking through Delaware—no phones, just being with God and with each other. We did team‑building tasks; one night we had to set up a tent with our hands tied to each other. It was hard, and it built trust. At the end, by the campfire, the leaders gave certificates. Mine said, “Jen: Most likely to become a kindergarten teacher.” I still have it somewhere. When Mimi called about that kindergarten job years later, I thought, of course—I’m supposed to teach kindergarten. It felt like a calling. I’ve been blessed with my daughter—she’s twelve—and I’ve always called my students “my kids.” My heart and prayers are always with children.

Sally: That reminds me of our teacher Oh’ Shinnah’s beautiful dream that no child should go hungry. Your passion for children echoes that same care.

Jen: I never met Oh’ Shinnah, but I’ve benefited from her teachings. The prayers for children especially resonate. I’m drawn to any work that helps kids.

Betty: Let’s do a little commercial. Many teachers buy their own supplies. Is there a way we can help you this school year?

Jen: That’s incredibly kind. I usually create an Amazon Wish List, and people have been generous when I share it. Working in an underserved community, a lot comes out of my own pocket, which is fine up to a point. My father always asks what the kids need. I’m putting together a new Wish List.

Sally: For listeners who don’t know how that works, we’ll post the link and instructions so they can help if they wish.

Jen: Thank you. I can provide a link.

Betty: We have a good producer—we’ll get it figured out.

Sally: Another question. I see clients in my private practice, and some are elementary school teachers. I ask them how they help kids settle—especially around holidays or those big standardized tests. How do you help students with that stress?

Jen: There are teacher tricks—music and movement, for example—but I’ll share a few practices. One is a book called Breathe Like a Bear. It offers short, kid‑friendly meditations—like imagining the slow breath of a hibernating bear. After lunch or recess, I read a bit to bring the room back to calm. Another example: before the NJSLA—the New Jersey Student Learning Assessment—I pulled small reading groups. The stakes are high; everyone feels evaluated by scores, which is a problem, but I focus on what helps kids. A week or two before the test, the students were anxious. I set aside the lesson and said, “We’re going to breathe.” We talked briefly about meditation. I asked them to place a hand on heart and belly and listen to their breath. I told them, if you hit a question you don’t know, anxiety will rise. Let it come, then return to your breathing. Skip the question, calm yourself, and come back to it; when you’re anxious, you can’t access what you know. I also taught them to put down “luminous roots”—a guided visualization of roots growing like a tree into the earth, helping us settle. They were receptive. A few days later I saw a student pause, close her eyes, and breathe. Something was working. It’s taken me a long time to learn these tools. I’m forty‑nine; some of my students are seven to nine. How wonderful if they can learn now to put down luminous roots.

Sally: That’s beautiful. Let’s wrap with a simple wisdom practice drawn from what you shared. When stress rises—testing or otherwise—feel the feeling; then stop, breathe, put down luminous roots, and focus on the solution. When we stay with solutions, we think more clearly and find the way forward.

Sally: One more note for listeners: we’ll be back with Jen for another conversation on the mysterious world of menopause and navigating perimenopause into menopause.

Betty: I’m glad, because when I went through menopause it was rough and nobody talked about it. I’m grateful people are speaking up now.

Jen: Thank you for inviting me. Bringing things to light helps. I don’t know why topics like menstruation, sex, perimenopause, menopause, aging, and loss are taboo, but they often are. I’m happy to talk about it.

Sally: We’ll continue that next time. Oh’ Shinnah gave us ceremonies and ways to honor these rites of passage. We’ll share some of that, too.

Betty: Jen, thank you for being so open and for the work you do. I’m looking forward to our next conversation.

Betty: As always, our podcast is here to help you navigate the muddy waters of our time.

Jen: Thank you for having me. It was good to remember parts of my journey.

Sally: And remember to walk in beauty—Kaydeeshday. All is made beautiful.

All: Bye‑bye.