The Power of Presence: Why Representation Matters in the Classroom

Working with adolescents is no easy feat. Ask any educator, and they’ll agree that the challenges are real—but so are the rewards. For many of us, the heart of this work lies in the relationships we build with our students. That human connection–those inside jokes, the moments of vulnerability, the unexpected trust from a student who usually keeps their guard up—is what makes the daily grind worthwhile.

In my earlier years of teaching, I often found myself juggling everything: coherent instruction, classroom management, assessments, parent communication, and of course, nurturing strong relationships with students. It was overwhelming. And honestly, it still is. As a third-year teacher, I recognise that my curriculum has room to grow, my lesson planning needs refining, and my scaffolding strategies are not always as tight as I would like them to be. But one thing that has always come naturally is building relationships with my students. Even those so-called “problem children” tend to let their guard down around me eventually. Over time—and sometimes surprisingly quickly—we develop a mutual respect. It’s never about being perfect or having all the answers. It’s about showing up with consistency, empathy, and authenticity.

This school year brought new terrain. I started teaching at a different school, in a new subject area, with a brand-new curriculum. On top of that, I joined a school where 100% of the student population are English Language Learners. In many ways, I feel like a first-year teacher all over again—learning procedures, decoding curriculum guides, and rebuilding my confidence from the ground up.

Then came a moment that stopped me in my tracks. Around October, I was absent for two consecutive days for professional development. When I returned, my students’ reaction caught me completely off guard.

“Where were you?! Were you sick?”

“Mister! You can’t leave us like that again!”

“We missed you!”

I was overwhelmed by the warmth and concern. At first, I shrugged it off as luck—or maybe just my personality. But over the following months, I began to recognise that something deeper was at play.

The Impact of Representation

According to the NYC Department of Education’s 2023-2024 data, over 912,000 students are enrolled in New York City public schools (not including the additional 100,000 in charter). Of those, approximately 42.2% are Hispanic and 19.5% are Black. That means that more than 60% of NYC’s student population are Black or Hispanic. Yet, the racial makeup of the teacher workforce does not reflect this. Black teachers make up just 17% of educators, and the number is even smaller for Black male teachers—under 2% (Education Trust–NY, 2023).

In my current school, I am the only Black male teacher. The only other Black man on the team is a member of the support staff. In my previous school, there were five Black men on staff—and only two of us were teachers. I am not just a rarity in the classroom; I’m practically an anomaly.

Visibility matters more than I ever realised.

Studies consistently show that students of colour benefit academically, socially, and emotionally when they are taught by teachers who reflect their racial or cultural identity. According to The Education Trust, Black students who have at least one Black teacher by third grade are 13% more likely to graduate from high school—and if they have two, that number jumps to 32% (Gershenson et al., 2018). For Black boys in particular, the impact is profound: early exposure to Black male teachers can significantly reduce dropout rates and increase college aspirations.

Beyond the numbers, it’s about what students see when they look at us. For many of my students, I may be the first Black male educator they have encountered. Representation affirms their identities. It tells them that leadership, intellect, empathy, and professionalism do not have to look one specific way. It says: you belong here too.

So, when my students expressed concern after just two days, it was not just about me being absent–it was about my presence. A presence that, consciously or not, reassures them, reflects them, and shows them what is possible.

#More Than Just a Job

Representation is not just symbolic—it’s transformative.

When I walk into my classroom, I know I am not just delivering a lesson. I am holding space. Yes, I am still working on mastering my content. Yes, my lessons can always be tighter. But I am learning to give myself grace. Because at the core of it all, teaching is about more than curriculum. It is about showing up—for the students who need to see someone who looks like them, believes in them, and understands the unspoken challenges they carry into the classroom every day. I reflect possibility. My presence challenges assumptions, disrupts stereotypes, and quietly tells students: you can lead, too. I am not perfect. But I am present. And sometimes, that is where the real work—and the real magic—begins.

This article was crafted by Rashawn Davis, an independent contributor engaged by CheckIT Labs, Inc. to provide insights on this topic.