Charlene Andersson is an award-winning educator, author, and certified Professional Educational Therapist based in Los Angeles, California. With over three decades of experience in both traditional classroom instruction and specialized educational therapy, Charlene has dedicated her life to empowering children of all abilities. Her expertise has led her to international recognition—including selection by the Japanese government to serve as the U.S. delegate for curriculum development, and invitations to support educational reform efforts in the Middle East and Cuba.
A former public school teacher known for achieving the highest standardized test scores in her district for ten consecutive years, Charlene is also a published children’s author whose collaborative classroom project is housed in the Library of Congress. She has developed enrichment programs for hospitalized children at UCLA Mattel Hospital and the Ronald McDonald House and has spoken at national conferences on gifted education and differentiated curriculum.
Charlene’s practice in Los Angeles now focuses on one-on-one educational therapy, where she helps students facing challenges related to learning differences, confidence, social skills, and creativity. Her guiding philosophy is simple: every child is capable, and every child deserves to be seen.
What do you think people misunderstand the most about education today?
People often see education as a transaction—input, output, grades, college. But it’s not that linear. Education is not a vending machine where you press a button and get a result. It’s an emotional, cognitive, and social experience that requires trust, connection, and adaptability. Many systems are still focused on control and compliance rather than curiosity and growth. We should be designing classrooms around children’s needs, not data points.
How do you define success when working with a student?
Success is when a child begins to believe in their own voice. It’s about meaningful growth and confidence. It’s about social emotional growth- resilience. When a child can view setbacks as information instead of personal failure – and reflecting on what didn’t work and what they can do next. It’s about intrinsic motivation. In other words, pursuing projects that align with their interests. Being curious about the world around them. Seeing a student step forward as both a thinker and a person equipped with skills, self belief, and a sense of possibility for whatever comes next, is success.
Bridging Global Education Systems: Lessons from U.S.-Japan Curriculum Integration
What led you to move from classroom teaching into educational therapy?
I loved the classroom, and I still miss the energy of it. But I began to see students slipping through the cracks—bright, thoughtful kids who didn’t fit the mold and were quietly suffering because of it. I wanted more time and space to meet those kids where they were. Educational therapy lets me do that. It allows me to teach a child how to learn – metacognition. No red tape, no curriculum pacing guides—just deep, focused work with the child and their family.
What is one experience that completely changed the way you teach?
Years ago, I had a student who was fascinated by the Mars Rover but struggled socially and academically. He was isolated, overwhelmed, and often shut down in group work. So I structured a project where he and his classmates could design improvements for the Rover. He became the lead researcher. The class respected him for it. They collaborated, filed a provisional patent, and even received a letter from NASA’s JPL team. But the real magic wasn’t the patent. It was the look in his eyes when his classmates listened to him, not out of sympathy, but because they believed in his ideas. That taught me that confidence often comes before skill.
You’ve been recognized internationally for your work. What did those global experiences teach you?
I learned that teaching is a universal language. Whether I was in Japan, the Middle East, or the U.S., the core issues were the same—how do we make learning meaningful and accessible for every child? What differs is the culture around learning. In Japan, there was a strong focus on collective success, while in the U.S., we often prioritize individual outcomes. Both have strengths. But I also saw that innovation happens when educators listen to students and collaborate across borders. I didn’t go abroad to impose my way—I went to share, to learn, and to bring back what works.
What role does creativity play in your work?
Creativity is everything. Not just in the arts, but in problem-solving, emotional regulation, and engagement. If a student doesn’t respond to a reading strategy, I may build a lesson around storytelling, painting, or movement. I once had a student who wouldn’t write a sentence until I let him act it out with puppets. The moment he did, he wrote an entire story. Creative access points unlock kids who’ve shut down. In hospitals, creativity is a lifeline—it gives children facing illness a way to express and process what they’re going through.
What do you wish every parent knew about supporting their child’s learning?
Your child is not behind—they’re evolving. Development is not a race. Every child has strengths, and the goal is not to “fix” their weaknesses but to teach them how to use their strengths to navigate the world. I also wish more parents knew that it’s okay to slow down. Listening, asking questions, being curious about your child—that’s more powerful than any homework helper or tutoring app.
You’ve written books with your students. What was that like?
It was one of the most meaningful projects of my career. Each child in the class co-authored the book. Their stories, voices, and ideas were treated as literature, not just schoolwork. When they saw their names in print, something shifted. They felt seen. That book now sits in the Library of Congress, but for me, the real success was how proud those children felt. They still write to me, years later, telling me that experience changed how they saw themselves as learners. “It wasn’t about publishing a book,” she reflects. “It was about showing young writers that their ideas truly matter.”
What do you do when a student doesn’t respond to your usual methods?
I pause. I observe. I ask new questions. Sometimes I have to let go of everything I thought would work and start fresh. I’ve had students who needed total silence and others who needed music. Some needed ten minutes of movement before they could focus. Others needed to start with drawing before writing. If something isn’t working, it’s not the child who needs changing—it’s the method that needs adjusting.
What is your personal relationship with failure?
I embrace it. Failure is feedback. I tell my students, “We don’t fail—we learn out loud.” Early in my career, I once followed a scripted curriculum I didn’t believe in because I was afraid to break from the standard. My students were not engaged in learning. That taught me to trust my instincts and to advocate for my students. Curriculum should not be scripted, instead meeting the needs of students and their interests will make learning interesting and therefore children become curious. That leads to questions and ultimately students wanting to know more.
How do you take care of yourself while caring for others?
I paint. I walk. I write. I reflect at the end of each day. I’ve learned that holding space for others requires holding space for yourself first. I don’t push through burnout—I slow down, reconnect, and return with clarity. Working with children, especially those who’ve experienced trauma or loss, can be emotionally heavy. But it’s also healing.
What advice would you give to new teachers or therapists entering the field?
Listen more than you speak. Watch more than you correct. And never forget that you’re building people, not just teaching content. The classroom is not just an academic space—it’s a human space. Every child walks in with a story. Your job is to help them write the next chapter, not judge the first one.
What legacy do you hope to leave behind?
“I don’t care if people remember my name; I care that they carry the skills and confidence to chase their dream, she explains. “The goal isn’t to be remembered, its to light a fire they carry forever.”
Final Thoughts
Charlene Andersson’s career is proof that education, at its best, is deeply human. It’s not about titles, metrics, or accolades—it’s about presence. Her classroom may no longer have walls, but her impact continues to shape minds and hearts around the world. Through therapy, storytelling, advocacy, and a tireless belief in possibility, Charlene reminds us that great teachers don’t deliver knowledge—they awaken potential.