I didn’t know I was “different” until second grade. We had just moved from Chattanooga to Atlanta. It was the middle of the school year, and I was the new girl with a thick Appalachian accent.
In the lunch line, the moment I asked for “meelk” instead of milk, a student turned around and corrected me—loudly.
By third grade, things got even harder. I had undiagnosed ADHD. We were living in poverty—some days not knowing if the lights would be on when we got home. The chaos at home made it nearly impossible to focus at school.
By third grade, things got even harder. I had undiagnosed ADHD. We were living in poverty—some days not knowing if the lights would be on when we got home. The chaos at home made it nearly impossible to focus at school.

One day, I raised my hand to ask a math question—just trying to understand.
My teacher rolled her eyes, called me up to the front of the classroom, and told everyone she was going to “give me a lobotomy.”
She separated my hair into four quadrants, pinned it up with paper clips, and slapped a sticky note with a math problem on the back of my head.
I had to wear it like that for the rest of the day.
I laughed at first—because that’s what you do when you’re trying not to cry.
Don’t ask questions. Don’t draw attention. Shrink. Stay quiet.
That same teacher once marked my writing with red pen and scribbled, “This makes no sense.”
I internalized that. I stopped trying to write, stopped asking questions, and started believing I wasn’t smart enough.
And when I brought home bad marks, I was physically punished.
I remember not even being able to sit in my school chair because the bruises hurt too much.
It wasn’t until college that I got a taste of something different. In one of my math courses, we worked in collaborative groups.
We explored. We made mistakes. We talked through them.
And there was no penalty for being wrong—it was just part of learning.
I finally saw math as something I could play with. Not something I had to fear.

Later, as a second-grade teacher, I was asked to lead a Science Olympiad club for K–2 students—the only one of its kind in the state. It was uncharted territory.
There were no grades. No tests. Just inquiry, curiosity, and joy. My students got to explore and make mistakes—and they loved it.
That’s when the idea hit me:
So I started designing self-checking games. Hands-on, collaborative, differentiated.
Games that let kids try, make mistakes, try again—and feel proud when they figured it out.

Like Maggie, who once took a math game home and came in the next day beaming, saying, “Mrs. Barnett! I beat my dad! I got every answer right!”
Or like P—my “mini-me”—who brings her tote of stuffed animals to class and kicks her legs under her desk all day while twirling and solving problems. She’s brilliant, neurodivergent, and thriving because she has the space to learn her way.
These are the kinds of kids I create for. Kids who need to feel seen. Heard. Valued. Kids who need to know that where they are today doesn’t define where they’ll end up tomorrow.
That learning should never feel like punishment.
That every child deserves to explore without fear of rejection. That mistakes aren’t failures—they’re invitations to grow.
And if I can give teachers the tools to make that possible in their classrooms—then I know I’m helping rewrite more than just worksheets.















Contact Simply STEAM at sarah@simplysteameducation.com
Simply STEAM is driven by a set of core beliefs that shape every resource we create and every piece of content we share:
Art isn't just fun; it's a catalyst that helps ALL students discover new ideas.
Having a safe environment with supportive peers is essential to learning.
You should clock out feeling confident you exceeded your state's requirements.
Who says learning can't be a blast? Fun is packed into every resource because joy is the secret sauce to learning.
I'm going to cut corners and help you spend less time working outside of contract hours.
No two fingerprints are the same, so why would our brains be the same? My resources offer a variety of interests, content, and assessments.
My mission? I make teaching elementary STEAM simple and accessible. I want you to be the teacher you've always envisioned while helping your students grow!
Simply STEAM is a teacher & veteran-owned education company.
MATTHEW 5:16