Spring | 2025
Martina Rodgers: Creating a Classroom Without Limits
"I never tell my students ‘no.’ There’s always another way, another possibility, another step forward."

For Martina Rodgers, education is about possibilities, not limitations. As a special education teacher at Macomb Middle School, she works with sixth and seventh graders, guiding them not just in academics but in self-confidence, communication, and understanding the world around them.
"I love my job," she says. "Every day is different. Every day is exciting. And every day, I get to see students discover what they’re capable of."
Martina didn’t always know she’d be a teacher, but she always knew she wanted to work with kids.
Growing up in Naperville, Illinois, she was deeply influenced by the teachers who shaped her own journey. "I remember every single one of my teachers—from kindergarten through college," she says. "They were more than educators; they were mentors, guides, and role models."
That impact stayed with her. When she arrived in Macomb to attend Western Illinois University, she initially pursued elementary education, though life took a few unexpected turns. Along the way, she worked at the YMCA daycare, where she developed a love for early childhood education. Even now, after years of working in middle school special education, she still returns to the YMCA every summer.
But it was her time as a paraprofessional—working one-on-one with students in self-contained classrooms—that cemented her passion for special education.
"I realized that I loved working with older kids just as much as the little ones," she says. "It was a different world, but one that I wanted to be part of."
For Martina, success in the classroom isn’t just measured in grades or test scores—it’s about growth, self-expression, and respect.
"A win for me is when my students feel safe, confident, and able to express themselves," she explains. "I want them to feel like they can share their ideas, even when they don’t agree with each other."
That’s why she creates space for conversation in her classroom—real conversations about perspectives, disagreements, and understanding others.
"We’ve had some tough discussions," she admits. "But when my students can say, ‘I don’t agree with you, and here’s why’—and they do it with respect and confidence—that’s a win. That’s preparing them for life beyond school."
A Philosophy of ‘Yes’
One of the most defining elements of Martina’s teaching philosophy is a simple but powerful rule: she never tells her students ‘no.’
Instead, she reframes challenges as opportunities.
"If a student asks for something, I don’t say, ‘No, you can’t do that,’" she explains. "I say, ‘Not right now,’ or ‘Let’s work toward that.’ There’s always a way forward."
She laughs, recalling how students often don’t even notice her approach until the end of the school year. "I’ll ask them, ‘How many times have I told you no?’ And they’ll stop and realize—I haven’t."
She believes that small shifts in language make a huge difference in student confidence and motivation.
"Nobody likes to hear the word ‘no,’" she says. "So why use it if we don’t have to?"
Though she’s not originally from Macomb, Martina now considers it home.
"I’ve been here for over 17 years now," she says. "Between college, teaching, and working with the YMCA, I’ve met so many people. It’s a welcoming place."
She loves the small-town sense of connection—the way she runs into former students at the grocery store or sees kids she once taught at the YMCA now thriving in middle school.
"It’s amazing to see them grow up," she says. "When a student I worked with at age two still recognizes me and says, ‘Hey, Ms. Rodgers!’—that’s special."
As she reflects on her career, Martina doesn’t measure her success in years or achievements but in the quiet moments of progress—when a student who once struggled to speak up finally finds their voice, when classmates learn to listen and respect differing opinions, or when a child walks into her classroom and feels safe enough to be themselves.
"At the end of the day, that’s what matters," she says. "I don’t need awards or recognition. I just want to know that my students leave my classroom believing in themselves—and knowing that someone believes in them, too."
