by Dr. Brad Johnson
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a story.
I don’t just mean that I tell stories, I mean that’s how I’ve always lived, learned, and connected. Growing up in the South, that’s what we did. We didn’t pass down data or bullet points. We passed down stories. Around tables, on porches, and in classrooms, carried truths that facts alone could never hold.
When I was young, my mom read to me constantly and really taught me to love reading through stories—fables, parables, and tales that carried lessons we could feel as much as we could understand. She showed me that stories weren’t just for entertainment; they were a way of learning, remembering, and connecting.
My family has always been that way. Even my dad taught me through story. I remember him sharing Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. But he didn’t stop with the two roads in the poem. He told me there was a third one—the one you create yourself.
That moment stayed with me for life. He was telling me something bigger than a poem. He was showing me that life isn’t just about choosing between what’s safe and what’s expected. Too often we think we only have two choices: the path we think we have to take or the path others want us to take. My dad’s words opened my eyes to the possibility that there’s always another way.
That third road is about courage. It’s about vision. It’s about refusing to be boxed in by what’s already been mapped out and daring to create something that doesn’t exist yet. That idea shaped how I approached teaching, how I led, and eventually, how I wrote.
Because sometimes the most meaningful path isn’t the one with clear markers or the one that’s most traveled—it’s the one you clear yourself, step by step. It’s harder. It’s lonelier. And it doesn’t come with guarantees. But it’s also the only path that’s truly yours.
Years later, when I looked at professional development for teachers, I realized the same truth applied. For decades, PD had only offered two familiar roads: scripted programs or dense research manuals. Neither truly spoke to teachers. Neither helped them see themselves in the story. And that’s when I realized—it was time to clear a third path.
That path became EduFable™—a story-driven way forward that affirms teachers, inspires them, and makes learning meaningful again.
Why Stories Matter
That has shaped everything I’ve ever done as a teacher, leader, writer, and speaker. People rarely walk away from my sessions quoting statistics, but they almost always say, “Your stories stay with me.” And I believe that’s because great teaching, at its core, has always been about stories.
From Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, to the timeless fables of Aesop, to the parables that have carried wisdom across centuries, teaching has always been about story. It’s how human beings make sense of truth, how we remember what matters, how we pass wisdom from one generation to the next, and how we connect in our shared humanity.
That’s why I created the EduFable™. It’s not a departure from tradition—it’s a continuation of it. A modern way of doing what the greatest teachers have always done: using story to transform, not just inform.
Why Teachers Needed Something Different
Here’s the truth: most professional development misses the mark because it forgets who teachers are. It’s built on pedagogy—the art of teaching children—when teachers are adults. They deserve to be treated as adults, as the professionals they are.
Too often, PD feels like being back in school again: sit down, stay quiet, take notes, and don’t question the expert at the front of the room. That’s not learning—it’s managing. And teachers don’t need to be managed. They need to be moved.
The reality is, teachers are some of the most selfless people on the planet. Many are naturally high in agreeableness, empathetic, kind, and always willing to help. They cover classes, buy supplies with their own money, skip lunch to meet with kids, and say “yes” until they have nothing left to give. Those qualities make them extraordinary for their students—but they also leave them drained, stretched thin, and vulnerable to burnout.
What they don’t need is another mandate, another checklist, or another program to add to the pile. They don’t need PD that reduces them to test scores, data points, or the latest “initiative of the year.”
What they do need is to be reminded of this truth: it’s the teacher—not the program, not the curriculum, not the technology—that makes the greatest difference in a child’s life. And because of that, teachers deserve PD that affirms their value, inspires their spirit, and helps them become the very best version of themselves.
That’s what story does best.
Story doesn’t lecture. It doesn’t pile on. It invites. It meets teachers where they are. Story affirms their struggles, shines a light on their impact, and reminds them that their work is not only seen—but significant.
That’s why I created EduFable™—professional development written as story. Because the most powerful PD doesn’t just fill notebooks. It fills souls.
Why Room 212 Was First
Room 212 became the first EduFable™ because I wanted to prove something simple but profound: one teacher’s choice—to show up with presence instead of perfection, to lead with connection instead of control—can change everything.
It was born out of my cousin Tammy’s legacy, a love so strong it still ripples through lives today. It was also inspired by my friend Tammy, and by every teacher who has ever believed in a student before that student believed in themselves. The ones who keep showing up when no one is cheering. The ones who know teaching has always been about relationships, not just rigor.
And here’s what I’ve discovered: the most powerful professional development isn’t the kind that fills a notebook. It’s the kind that fills a heart and a toolbox. Because teaching is often about the one degree that changes everything. Usually, it’s the little things:
- Greeting each student by name at the doorway.
- Leaving a handwritten note of encouragement.
- Offering a “reset zone” instead of a referral.
- Pausing class to ask a student about their passion.
So when readers tell me Room 212 gave them not only tears and laughter, but also fresh ideas they could try right away, I know it’s doing what it was created to do. This isn’t PD that gathers dust on a shelf. It’s PD that changes a classroom. PD that sits in your soul.
The Bigger Vision
At the heart of EduFable™ is this belief: teachers deserve professional development that honors them as adults and professionals—through stories that affirm, inspire, and transform.
From Plato’s cave to a modern classroom, from ancient parables to southern porches, stories have always been the way humans learn what matters most. They remind us of who we are, why we matter, and what we can become. That’s what EduFable™ brings back to professional development.
Because when we give teachers PD that speaks to them, not at them, we don’t just help them refine their practice. We help them reclaim their purpose. And when teachers believe in their purpose again, everything changes—for their students, their schools, and their own lives.
That’s why I wrote Room 212—to remind educators of the difference they make and the lives they shape. And that’s why I’m continuing this journey. I am currently collaborating with Solution Tree on the first educational leadership EduFable™, Coffee with the Custodian—a story created to speak to the heart of leaders just as Room 212 speaks to the heart of teachers.