Why this isn’t about labeling students and never was
Lately, I’ve been sitting with how hard educators are trying.
Not in the abstract. Not in a “Thank You, Teachers” mug way. I mean, in the very real, day-to-day, exhausting work of trying to meet the needs of students in systems that were not built for the level of variability we are seeing.
In a recent IEP meeting, my husband, Lon, and I were struck by the level of commitment the team of teachers has for our brilliant daughter. We watched educators work together and with us to create the conditions she needs to thrive. In my experience as a teacher and a mom, this has been true far more often than not. Educators are creative and compassionate, and many work so damn hard. They are with kids all day, often giving up prep periods and lunch to provide extra help. They stay after school to watch basketball games, advise clubs, and give students extra time to finish assessments. They do this after long days of teaching, and goodness, I know that much of that work goes unnoticed.
All of this is to say, most educators want to do well, and they want kids to do well. And it is hard to ask educators who are already working at that level to then sit with data and wrestle with questions that do not have clear answers, like, “What is this data telling us about our instruction? What do we do when many students need support? How do we stay true to grade-level expectations while also honoring very real lagging skills? How do we avoid reducing kids to numbers when the system keeps asking us for numbers?”
That is where MTSS can start to feel uncomfortable and become another acronym that feels unattainable. I get it, because MTSS does ask us to look at patterns. It does ask us to look at percentages. It does ask us to name what is working and what is not working yet.
Most of us are familiar with the visuals and language that often accompany MTSS, including the idea that effective Tier 1 instruction should meet the needs of about 80 percent of learners. Over time, that idea has sometimes been misunderstood as a cut score or a way of determining which students belong in which tier. That was never its purpose. The intention of looking at whether Tier 1 is working for most students is to prompt reflection on the system, not to sort children. When there is a widespread or universal need, schools simply do not have the capacity to provide small-group intervention to everyone. In those moments, the most responsible response is not to pull more students out, but to examine how core instruction, routines, materials, and supports can be strengthened so more students can be successful within Tier 1.
At its core, MTSS is built on one idea that is both simple and incredibly demanding. Tier 1 has to work for almost everyone. Not because we expect students to be the same, but because without a strong, accessible, well-designed Tier 1, the system collapses under the weight of need. When Tier 1 does not work for most students, Tier 2 and Tier 3 are forced to compensate. Intervention grows and grows. Educators burn out. Students get pulled in too many directions. And inequities deepen, even when everyone is working as hard as they possibly can.
This is not a lack of compassion or work ethic. It is a design problem, and design problems can be addressed. MTSS asks us to slow down enough to notice that. To say, maybe the issue is not that too many students need intervention, but that the core is not doing enough of the instructional heavy lifting, and we need more professional development, ongoing coaching, opportunities to collaborate, and or more effective instructional materials to better serve all students in Tier 1. That is not easy to hear and can feel very personal when people are doing their best with what they have and are already stretched thin.
MTSS also gives educators something they rarely get enough of. Feedback on the system. Not feedback in the sense of evaluation or judgment, because goodness knows it’s difficult to do your best work when you feel judged, but feedback in the sense of information. It is critical that all educators have high-quality assessment and outcome data so they know what is working so they can keep doing it, and what is not working yet so they can work together to change it.
When teams look at data through an MTSS lens, the most powerful question is not “Who is failing?” It is “What is the system telling us about our design and instruction?” Are students growing over time? Are our routines clear? Are our expectations explicit? Are our supports consistent? And if they aren’t yet, let’s put together our passion and brilliance and try something different.
I am not pretending this is easy work. It is not. Especially in middle and high school, where gaps are larger, schedules are tighter, and the pressure to cover content is real. Especially when foundational skills have been missed for years, and educators are asked to respond without having been given the tools or time earlier in the system. MTSS does not erase those realities. What it does offer is a way forward.
And most importantly, MTSS is built on a deep respect for educators. It recognizes that when educators have a clear vision for success, supportive structures, high-quality data, and time to work together, they are far more likely to make thoughtful decisions that positively impact the students they serve. The framework is grounded in the reality that educators want to know whether their efforts are helping students, so they can do better tomorrow.
That is the version of MTSS I believe in.
