Lessons Before Dying: Final Moments with My Grandma

A little over a week ago, my 96-year-old grandma passed away quietly after contracting pneumonia and suffering a stroke. While death and loss are difficult for the living and the dying alike, her death was peaceful. We should all be so lucky to live the full and mostly independent life my grandmother led until 94. At the beginning of 2023, my grandma fell, which led to a significant and slow decline in her physical mobility.  This past year has been difficult because physical challenges meant less connection with family and no independence. Dementia took hold, but still, when I was able to visit, she lit up and knew who I was even when a mask covered my face. The greatest blessing in this slow and steady fade was that she seemed happy and calm. She wasn't afraid and seemed to charm her way into the nurses' and workers' hearts - especially those who lovingly spoke Spanish to her and called her Mamita. Ella esta en buenas manos. 

My grandma and I were extremely close. Growing up about a mile from her house, she was my babysitter and caretaker as a child, and I carry deep gratitude for her presence (and all the pickups from school she provided) in my youth. We talked almost every day in my adult life when she (sort of) learned how to use a cell phone, especially after her sister died in 2018, and we saw each other once a week for a library and Happy Meal date. 

Sometimes, the school of life teaches us lessons we do not realize we need to learn. These past few years, throughout the pandemic, life has shown me that I had to face adversity in ways I had been too sheltered to recognize before. The selfishness of people, loss, and heartache entered my sphere in ways I had never faced before. Working through my grief and repressed trauma this spring and into the summer has made me realize the power of gratitude and the importance of doing the right thing even when no one is watching. 

After her stroke, my Grandma couldn't speak. As a result, I found myself filling the silence with stories of times we shared. She’d gesture with recognition when I talked about the times we trudged through Woodfield Mall and ate quesadillas at the Nordstrom Cafe. I hoped she felt love and knew I was there. From subtle squeezing of the hands and her fight to stay awake for as long as possible while I sat with her, I believe she knew me and was trying to impart her final bits of wisdom to me, even without a voice. When she fell asleep, I sat looking at her, trying to fill in the gaps of what she would have said. Here are the lessons I will take from her.

Lesson #1: Show up. 

When we are in times of grief or struggle, the people who show up unprompted and without judgment make the difference. This year, I have had people I thought were friends who did not show up for me, but I have also had an abundance friends and loved ones show up unexpectedly and compassionately. Every gesture makes a difference, from walks in the woods to lunch dates, text messages to goofy notes left on a desk. Those connections have meant the world to me, and I could not be more grateful.

Every person, at our core, wants to feel seen and valued. Showing up for someone provides comfort and validation. Grand gestures or public acts of service are not needed to express empathy and lend a listening ear. While I could not do anything to change my grandma's circumstances, I kept telling her that I was there for her and that she was safe with me holding her hand. 

Lesson #2: Be still.

We live in a culture that celebrates busyness and moving at the fastest pace possible. In her final days, grandma was unable to speak. Sitting quietly with her made me realize that pausing every once in a while is okay. Plans got canceled, and my life was put on hold. The stillness I experienced allowed me to consider what matters most to me and to my family. In that stillness, I set goals for the coming school year, considering what I want my next chapter to be. Even though my daily routines have returned since her passing, I will continue to listen carefully and trust my intuition.

Lesson #3: Recognize that little moments matter. 

During her final days, I tried to recall every silly memory I could that we shared. From babysitting my second cousins to getting lost when she tried to take "shortcuts" driving to places - I had to laugh at the seemingly mundane daily experiences we found ourselves in. Those are the moments I remember with her. Nothing was fancy or flashy about those moments, but they made me laugh, and from the squeeze of her hand, I believe they mattered to her, too. 

When we live with intention and love, we create environments and experiences that matter. Whether telling a student they are capable of incredible feats or pausing to listen to a person who needs a friend's face - our words and ability to show love make this world a better place. These connections often don't happen during championship games or great victories; they occur in the everyday experiences that we sometimes take for granted.

 

Lesson #4: Treasure those who hold space for you. 

My grandma and I didn't share similar hobbies. She was a talented seamstress and loved shopping. I find shopping anxiety-inducing and triggering. Still, she loved sharing these experiences with me. She made beautiful dresses for me as a child and dragged me to the mall more often than I ever would have liked to go. While we didn't always love the same things, we could find ways to enjoy each other's company, and she'd listen. Without fail, she attended my plays and listened to me practice the piano for hours as a child. She gave me space and encouraged me to be myself. I know she made sacrifices for me and prioritized the activities that I loved. Despite our differences, I was safe to be myself with her. 

My relationship with my grandma has shown me that it is essential to hold space for people who hold space for us. We do not have to have the same beliefs or interests, but we can show up for, sit with, and create beautiful memories with many people who cross our paths. 

As a teacher, I am called to work with so many different types of students. I love the "tough ones" who need a little extra love. Reflecting on my relationship with my grandma has taught me how important it is to embrace people, make the most of every moment, and treasure people who cross our paths. May we all find ways to show love in whatever capacity we can and make the most of the life and opportunities gifted to us. 

Take Off the Mask: You are Enough

Halloween is not one of my favorite holidays, but as soon as the calendar turns to November, it indicates that Christmas is almost here. Since my oldest daughter Harper was born, we take out our Christmas decorations right after Halloween because I was home on maternity leave and had the time to decorate. Since then, it has become a tradition to enjoy the holiday season by embracing all things Christmas as soon as the leaves fall. 

Halloween has also marked some significant life events. On Halloween in 2008, I called in sick for the first time in my career. I had the stomach flu and had a long list of wedding tasks to take care of - including getting our marriage license. Josh stayed home, too, and we ended up getting legally married and crossing off one of the major and, perhaps, the most legally significant tasks left on our wedding agenda. Halloween is also the day that we received a frantic phone call from our children's pediatrician that Jordan most likely had cystic fibrosis. In 2017, our lives forever changed as we received a phone call that every person fears receiving. After hanging up the phone and frantically Googling CF, I remember moving through the motions and attempting to "do Halloween" with three small children dressed in Monsters Inc. costumes huddled around me on the couch. We went to houses, said Trick or Treat, took the pictures and went through the motions. 

Every year, as Halloween approaches, I reflect on the masks we often wear - masking our feelings, masking from COVID, masking to cover up or hide from what scares us. For so long, I coped with Jordan's diagnosis, the pandemic, and really any fears of being a parent by filling my days and schedule to capacity. I scheduled every second, so I didn't have time to process the pain and fear that I was living with. The bustle of a full day masked and suppressed my fears. However, the busyness of being a teacher, coach, friend, and more made me feel like a less-than-adequate mom. If I was busy being everything to everyone else, could I be an adequate mom? Society often expects women to juggle many roles, and it also expects them to excel in all of them.

I gave up a few parts of my life I loved this year because I thought it would make a statement that my family came first. By limiting myself and conforming to a role that others expected me to play, I would make myself more of a mom. For several months, I felt pressure from almost every person in my life to pull back and refocus on my family. What I learned in this process is that by denying who I am and attempting to remove parts of myself, I would become what I feared most. I would become less-than-adequate. By listening to this invisible pressure to fulfill society's expectations or to show that I would put my family first, I lost myself. Still, in doing so, I unknowingly removed a mask I didn't even realize I was wearing. Masking my fear with positivity and joy, I was able to play a part that allowed me not to process the deep-seated pain I had endured. Through this painful process, I have rediscovered myself. 

Halloween is a time to try on and play out different roles in life. We ask children to imagine what might be, and we can embrace those possibilities as well. If we think of a superhero like Superman, who is continually asked to save the world, we imagine a character with infinite strength flying through the sky. We don't often associate with or think about his other role - Clark Kent. He is both a superhero and an ordinary person working as a journalist. He plays many roles, both of which have value and impact the world. Superman can play both roles well, and in fact, in many iterations, he longs for the role that many deem less valuable or less impactful. I understand Clark's desire to serve quietly - not wanting to take credit or stand before flashing lights. I also understand that his power is not limited to just one role or one path. This character often works against societal expectations to hide his superhero identity. 

Through my own evolution this fall - losing and rediscovering myself, I have learned that I do not have to give up parts of myself to still be my version of supermom. My kids are the greatest gift in the world to Josh and me. Whether we are driving to dance class, crawling into Harper’s bottom bunk after an incredibly full day, or falling asleep at the fall play (Jordan did reluctantly fall asleep at the fall play this year - even though his version of superhero high school pals were onstage), we are a team ready to tackle our ever-growing to-do lists. What others might not understand or see as valuable can still hold value for me - for us. In fact, I learned that it is okay to move at superspeed if that is what fuels my work and passions. There are no limits to what we are capable of - regardless of what societal expectations may imply. 

This fall, my church asked me to speak on the future of our faith, which, again, has caused me to consider what might be. Our love, like God's love, is not finite. Our love and our capacity for joy are abundant, but only when we are true to ourselves - when we recognize our gifts and use them with intent. We are not put on this earth to fulfill someone else's definition of who we were meant to be. Instead, we must follow our individual callings. We do not have to mask or hide who we are to fit someone else's plan. 

My children, who are three of the most joyful people I have been blessed to know, have shown me and continue to show me that it is vital to be unapologetically ourselves. Despite their circumstances, my children remind me to find the good and that it is okay to put one thousand things on our to-do lists.

Jordan has spent the last six years of his life in and out of doctors' appointments, hooked up to a chest compression device, and taking countless pills to grow and thrive. His joy and love are gifts innately within him but also a reflection of all the people he has been fortunate to meet so far. He doesn't ever say no or turn away from an experience that brings him joy. He dances to his own beat and does not conform. He's defied many odds and continues to tackle any obstacle set before him unwaveringly. May we all continue to remember to find that inner joy, radiate love, and remember that we are capable of so much more than what the world might tell us.

Take off the mask this Halloween. You are enough. 

A Brighter Tomorrow: Refinding My Voice in the Celebration of CUMC's 135th Anniversary

This semester has been a struggle. My hope is to explore and share the journey as I begin to process and move forward. I have lost my sense of self in so many ways, but I am working to get back to myself so that I can be the best version of myself for my family and for my students. This weekend, I was asked to give a speech on the future of our church at the 135th celebration. Talking about the future reminded me so much of what my purpose is - to love and empower youth. Not to cue up any Whitney Houston songs or embrace any cliches, but I truly believe that building into our youth will lead us to a brighter and more beautiful tomorrow. October is always a very reflective month for me. More is coming, but for now, here are my thoughts on the future. 

Here's my speech: 

Ladies and gentlemen, dear members of our church family, today, I'm here to share my thoughts on the future of our faith and the Cary United Methodist Church. I love that I'm here to talk about the future of our church. As a mom to three of our youngest members, I am so grateful to have this place on the hill and an amazing church family to help nurture and guide Harper, Willa, and Jordan. I am also so grateful and overjoyed to see them become active members of this church who run down the aisles for children's time, read at church, and high-five Pastor Norval at every opportunity. It is in my children - and all of our children - that we can find inspiration in the hope and potential that lies ahead. 

Josh was raised in a Methodist church. One of his favorite aspects of being a part of his church (Our Saviors United Methodist Church in Schaumburg) was that the church held true to the values of open hearts, open doors, and open minds. When we got married, we wanted to raise our children in a church that reiterated those values that we hold dear. That desire brought us here to Cary United Methodist Church 10 years ago. Those values of the past still ring true in our church today, and those values will be passed down to the next generation.

These principles have shaped our identity - reminding us to practice compassion and inclusivity. These principles will continue to light the path of building a beautiful future for our church and for our world because they are the embodiment of our commitment to the teachings of Christ and our promise to be a place of love, acceptance, and peace.

Our church has been a sanctuary of empathy, kindness, and understanding. It's within these walls that we, as a church family, come together to support one another on our journeys through life. As we navigate the ever-evolving future, it's crucial that we keep our hearts open to each other. Embracing the diversity of our congregation and acknowledging that every individual is a cherished member of our church family. The future offers us opportunities to deepen our connections and nurture an environment where love and compassion flourish.

Our church has been a haven for those seeking God's love and community. It's a place where people from all walks of life find a sense of belonging. We must continue to keep our doors wide open, both physically and spiritually. As our world evolves and the needs of our community change, we must adapt and extend our warm embrace to anyone in search of spiritual guidance.

As a mother, I see a world brimming with change and progress, driven by the energy and innovation of the younger generation. It's a world where technology reshapes the way we connect, where values evolve, and where faith can light the way. 

Our children represent hope as we step into the future. They are the ones who will lead our church with fresh perspectives, boundless energy, and a deep commitment to making this world a better place. We must prepare them, guide them, and love them today - just as God has loved us. That love we pass down today is planting beautiful seeds that will continue to flourish after we are gone. 

We must mentor and empower our youth, nurturing their leadership skills and fostering an understanding of our church's values. They are the ones who will adapt our methods, ensuring that Cary United Methodist Church remains a beautiful center for spiritual growth.

The future of Cary United Methodist Church transcends a physical building. It's about upholding the teachings of Christ and our mission to be a source of love and light in a world full of division and uncertainty. Our faith knows no age or time; it's a dynamic force that will guide us into a future filled with hope, unity, and purpose. 

As we embark on this exciting journey into the future, may we keep the flame of our faith burning brightly, lighting the way for all who seek spiritual nourishment and community. I pray for God's blessings as we step forward into this promising and transformative chapter in the history of Cary United Methodist Church with our youth at the forefront, leading us toward a brighter and more beautiful future.

Small Ways to Make a Splash and Smile at the Beginning of the Year

 

The first week of school can feel overwhelming. Emotions run high as students and staff learn new rules, set goals for the year, and meet new people. A prevailing feeling of exhaustion and vocal fatigue flood the faculty office as teachers help students to transition back to a school year pace. 

I transitioned to a new role and school in the same district this year. Navigating this change has presented considerable challenges. Even though many faces are familiar and routines are the same, I am not quite at home in my new surroundings. Several students are also feeling out of place during this uncharted school year. How do we help our students feel acclimated to their surroundings? How do we support staff in connecting with their students, schedules, and school-year pace? 

Regardless of our role in the school system, we must remember that we communicate a great deal with our actions and words. Our messaging becomes our mantra as we establish a culture in our classrooms and across the school. As we work to build a positive school culture, it's important to reflect on what we can tangibly do to improve the culture and climate of our school. 

On day two of the new school year, I co-led a breakout session on belonging with my principal, who is also new. Of course, the two fresh faces in the faculty are the ones talking about what it means to belong to our community. I showed a video of the ultimate pool slam dunk to hook my colleagues into the conversation. Nearly a dozen teens working together to create an epic trick shot reinforces the power of collaboration and the importance of making any experience exciting. Teens will spend hours perfecting a basketball pass. Why? Because it is fun. The experience brings them together to complete an incredible feat. We can capture that same energy by challenging our students to see the possibilities in their experiences within our walls.  

It all starts with time and space to adjust. 

At the beginning of the year, to-do lists are long. Adjusting syllabi, refining the curriculum, and preparing for students takes careful thought and effort. Several of these to-do list items help a teacher feel ready to start the year. As such, teachers need time to work. They also need time to reconnect with colleagues who may have gone in different directions over the summer. That time to reconnect holds even more value than the preparation for class - at least for veteran teachers. I am fortunate to have an incredibly experienced crew of teachers, and creating space to share about their summer reenergizes the team and makes coming back to school enjoyable. 

That energy then translates to students who are also given time and space to adjust to a new schedule in the first few days. 

As someone new to my school, I have taken the time to walk the halls, be visible, and meet one-on-one with staff. Time with them helps me recalibrate to my new space and feel like part of their team. These connections help people feel important and seen. Showing genuine interest in others establishes a sense of trust and camaraderie. 

With our students, we must build the same sense of camaraderie by promoting a sense of belonging. Creative icebreakers involving collaboration and problem-solving help everyone feel like a team member. Carefully planned low-risk activities have a lasting impact and unite groups of students. Early in my career, I was worried about teaching content immediately. Now, giving space for students to adapt to their new surroundings pays off in dividends throughout the semester. There is time for content, but first, we make connections. 

How do we make those connections? Show up.

Being present in a given moment is the greatest way to create meaningful connections. When we genuinely stop to listen to others - teachers or students - they feel valued and seen. When we are visible, we show that we are invested in the people and the community to which we all belong. 

While it is easy to become caught up in to-do lists and the bustle of a brand new semester, it is important that when with people, we slow down. When someone enters my office or starts a conversation, my to-do list is immediately out of my mind. The most important person in my purview is the person standing in front of me. The to-do list isn't going anywhere! Allow yourself to stop and cherish moments with others because those bonds will make tough days better and the best days unforgettable. 

Even in the toughest moments or when we feel pulled in multiple directions. Another way to make a splash is to be real.

Being present in the moment is powerful, and so is being authentic. Not every day is great, or experience the most exciting one around. It is absolutely acceptable to wear your heart on your sleeve and share your story. When we tell our story, we create space for others to do the same. We all have different strengths to bring to a school community. When we can identify and share our strengths with others, we promote a collaborative community that recognizes and values each person. 

Transitioning to a new school brings challenges. Even when moments are difficult, I am finding ways to be authentic and embrace my strengths. From discussing blended learning to troubleshooting projectors, I have discovered numerous reasons to smile. I have much to learn from my new people and surroundings, and I'm ready to plunge into the deep end of the 23-24 school year. 

Caring Beyond Fear: A Caregiver's Path to Healing

Attending a CF clinic involves a revolving door of doctors, including the pulmonologist, nurses, geneticists, nutritionists, social workers, and more. While we don’t need those specialists for every quarterly appointment, their presence offers essential ongoing support for Jordan’s care.

For the first two and a half years of Jordan’s life, we made it a point to be present at every appointment. Whether monthly or quarterly, we tag-teamed these experiences to support each other, learn everything about Jordan’s disease, and present as a united front. For years, Josh and I have attempted to keep in the giggles when the social worker, who mostly helps us with insurance and advocacy, attempted to therapize us while playing with Jordan during appointments. Our strong bond and willingness to openly express our emotions made us feel ready to handle any challenge we faced with Jordan’s health. When times have been tough, we have never shied away from embracing our feelings and felt ready to cope with what came next.

However, the onset of COVID introduced an unexpected plot twist. Hospital restrictions and the general fear for the health and safety of our family meant that only one of us could attend Jordan’s appointments. Suddenly our confidence in navigating Jordan’s health wavered. We stopped seeing close family and shut ourselves up from the world long after isolation restrictions were lifted. Masked and distanced, we stopped hugging people and set boundaries that involved not eating in a restaurant or traveling until halfway through 2023.

My solace during this time was pouring ourselves into work and our community. While I couldn’t physically be with friends, family, and colleagues, I could show up for each and every person by supporting their technology needs, researching and sharing best teaching practices, and giving small gifts and cards at every opportunity. I became so entrenched in serving others that I quieted my fear by giving more.

Reflecting on the aftermath of the pandemic, I still find myself unpacking the trauma that COVID left behind. Jordan began taking Trikafta - the miracle drug that means his life expectancy tripled and then some. The fears and anxieties that held me captive for three years and three months started to release because I no longer had to jump after coughing or sniffling. The end of the school year meant I could find peace and fully reenter a world I had kept my family from for years out of necessity. Despite the progress of the world around me and the medication that finally meant that Jordan would be able to handle a cold - or COVID - with some normalcy, my head and my heart began to find conflict.

Serving and supporting others is a worthy and honorable pursuit, but when it is used to quell fear and anxiety, it becomes a stopgap in coping with trauma and fear. I moved the goalpost to process the grief and loss I felt during 2020 and the years that followed, in which my family still had to follow careful COVID protocols as we waited for Jordan to become old enough to take Trikafta.

These last few years, I have worked to be the best mom by compensating for what my children missed out on by making elaborate virtual birthday parties and by filling their every second with activities and action. I worked on being the best teacher, coach, and colleague by making sure that I could anticipate every person’s needs and provide them with every bit of support they could possibly need. I wrote over a thousand cards and baked my body weight in chocolate chip cookies. These actions gave me purpose and direction but did not calm my anxiety or help me move forward from pandemic life.

 
While I started moving about the school like normal and engaged with others for work purposes only, I still felt uneasy about the germs I was exposing myself to daily. I worried constantly and made sure that I didn’t get sick. We still haven’t tested positive for COVID, although I am pretty sure we had COVID in May - when I had the most significant panic attack of my life. Still, these flashes of fear continue to hit me - when I smell smoke or hear accessive coughing. I am still worried that I will make my immunocompromised child sick if I get sick. Now I get it. I understand why caretakers are often carefully watched by medical professionals. I know that I must rediscover the balance between what my head logically knows to be true and the pain my body feels from the pandemic living to the present.

The journey toward healing remains ongoing. Being a caretaker of a young child with health concerns that could escalate from zero to 100 in minutes. I will continue to navigate what this new sense of normalcy means for my family and the peace that it promises to bring.

The journey of a far-too-caring caregiver is one of constant adaptation. It is a challenging path, and it is sometimes hard to find balance. I am starting a new journey, one that is pushing me out of my safe space. As I start this school year, I hope to authentically be myself to open myself up to new people and new experiences. While I still am trying to shake off the fears I internalized during the past three-plus years, I hope to redirect my anxieties with purpose and find new people to pour into - not because I’m trying to survive but because I genuinely want to learn, grow, and make a difference. COVID amplified the challenges of many and certainly magnified my fears. While healing is not a linear process, I aim to move forward stronger and more resilient. I am no longer in survival mode. I can finally step forward and reclaim a little bit of peace as I start a promising school year.

Coping with the Changes: Fostering Resilience in and Out of the Classroom

Today, I learned that Jordan may be the oldest child in the United States on Trikafta in granular form, the miracle drug that will improve the quality and longevity of life for people with cystic fibrosis. At the age of six (88 days), he will begin taking Trikafta in pill format.

Currently, Jordan takes this medicine twice daily. We've been dissolving the crystals in water and Gatorade and also learned that he can take them in yogurt instead of drinking a salty-tasting liquid. He's a trooper and continues to show his resilience. He never complains about the medication, treatments, or doctor visits. While his health is still closely monitored (especially for bowel obstructions), there is hope that this school year will be relatively normal for him.

Observing Jordan's strength as a parent inspires me as I navigate challenges and life changes. We cannot control everything that happens to us, but we can control how we respond to these situations. Jordan is rarely phased by treatments, medicine, and being poked and prodded by doctors. How do we handle challenges and life changes like Jordan? How can we help foster resilience in our students?

Take stressful situations and times day by day.

Life is full of surprises, and unfortunately, not all surprises are positive. We will all face adversity that stretches our mindset and choices. My son is and appears to be an incredibly healthy child. The quality of his health can go from perfectly healthy to a potential hospital visit instantly. His bowel obstruction seems unexpected and can derail any plan our family follows at a given time. Because his health might become a concern without much warning, I have learned that I cannot worry about stressors that might come. I have to live in the moment, taking each day as it comes.

As an educator, I like many teachers, am a planner. I realize, however, that we cannot plan every moment of the entire school year at once. Should we still have overarching goals and long-term plans in place? Absolutely. But in difficult times, having short-term goals makes a negative experience feel more like a drizzle than a downpour.

Short-term goals allow us to feel the success of accomplishing a task or overcoming a small hurdle. The positive feelings from achieving a small goal begets future, long-term success. Teaching our students to create short-term SMART goals can also empower them to navigate their challenges and obstacles.

Be okay with being uncomfortable.

We can do anything for a short time. Embracing short-term discomfort can be informative and lead to unexpected lessons learned. As a parent and educator, my instinct is to clear the path and reduce the obstacles that my children and students face. Still, by doing that, I am robbing them of the learning opportunities that come from failure. When we accept discomfort and live in that space, we also become more confident. We start to identify our values and priorities and shift our thinking toward growth.

When we help students accept their discomfort, we allow them to stretch themselves, innovate, and reflect. If they feel safe to fail, they are more likely to grow. Creating an environment where failure is okay comes from frequent reflection and class conversation about what it means to be successful learners. These conversations must be ongoing as we constantly cycle through the learning process together.

Describe your feelings and model vulnerability for others.

Living in discomfort comes with many emotions that are likely to shift. Describing those feelings and putting words to how we are processing challenges fosters critical thinking. It also creates a space in which students feel safe to share their feelings. We cannot learn in silos, and working in isolation often wastes time and resources. As educators, we need to be able to talk through what we are experiencing and also problem-solve with other educators. No one is perfect, and even the best teachers have tough days. When we are open to discussing circumstances and working collaboratively with others, we can leverage our vulnerability to grow together.

We have to be intentional with helping students put their discomfort to words, too. Making it seem like we have life perfectly mapped out ourselves creates unrealistic expectations and exacerbates their insecurities if they aren't living up to a specific standard. When we show our vulnerabilities, students are more likely to self-disclose what they think, feel, and learn. This mutual sharing of feelings and ideas only leads to a stronger learning community.

Read, research, and reach out.

As stated in the book, Recipes for Resilience: Nurturing Perseverance in Students and Educators, "Learning is for everyone. Make a commitment to yourself to expand your knowledge and expertise, and in turn, your environment will flourish" (Robert Martinez). We are always learning about ourselves, our relationships, and our practices. To better serve students, we must be active learners ourselves.

I am working on being okay with not having all the answers and moving slower and with more intentionality. I am learning that to serve others, I cannot just give them all the answers; I have to empower them to discover more about themselves and their professional practice. We do not know what tomorrow brings, but when we embrace the learning journey, we are better prepared to face and learn from it. True success does not come from knowing all the correct answers ourselves; it comes from helping others to find their version of success.

 

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