Category: community

The Circumstance before the Pomp

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

*If you are listening to the audio recording, please note that I’ve linked several older posts in the text.

It’s May, and although I graduated from high school over 40 years ago, since I work in a high school, each year stirs up memories. As we move closer to June, I see glimpses of teenaged me in the students in our hallway — the excitement I felt as I anticipated the coming changes, the irritability I displayed in the face of uncertainty, the fear I pushed down as I considered the unknown, and the exhilaration that carried me through all of the ceremony — the prom and the banquets and the graduation itself.

I’ve been drawn to this year’s seniors — they might be just a tad more special than other seniors I’ve had (but I probably say that every year). This group were freshmen in 2022-23, our first full in-person year after the pandemic. They had spent middle school (MIDDLE SCHOOL!) in quarantine, and it showed. They were addicted to their phones, had a hard time focusing on academics, and found being in close proximity with their peers quite challenging. I don’t often work with freshmen, but because of Covid and the gaps in learning, I had been tasked with leading a reading intervention class with, at first, the eight freshmen who tested lowest in reading and, eventually, the majority of students in this class. I first wrote about them here in the beginning of that first semester.

They were an unruly bunch, those initial eight, and I was learning the curriculum and the process of the reading intervention program my district had adopted, so, as in many years of my teaching, we were growing together. I was trying to manage their behavior while keeping myself regulated, while also trying to push them to do the thing that was hardest for them — reading. Nevertheless, we persisted, and their end of semester re-tests showed it. In fact, I’ll never forget Kia’s* success story.

The next three semesters I worked with more of the students from this class — the one that is about to graduate in just over a month. I got to know them — their favorite snacks, the look they get on their faces when they are proud, the sound of their voices when they are irritated, and the little ways that they play with one another. Over the past four years I have watched them grow. I have seen them take on responsibility — like decorating the hallways for an open house, being the captain of a team, and completing their 20 hours of mandatory community service. I’ve seen them try sports they’d never tried before, navigate challenging conversations with teachers, and explore college campuses and potential careers. I’ve hugged many of them in the hallway as they’ve celebrated wins and as they have reeled from devastating losses.

And now, I’m watching them count down the days to graduation.

In this context, in addition to the typical anxieties that seniors face — college or career choices, the looming transition, the realities of adulthood — many of our students also face an additional layer of stress, profound financial insecurity. I won’t deny that all seniors are worried about money — how will they pay for college, a vehicle or some kind of transportation, and all the other expenses that come with the transition to adulthood — but for my students, this concern is on a different level altogether.

For these students, the gas money to get to school each day may not be a given, food may not be in the fridge, the electric bill might not have been paid, and yet each senior has to come up with $300 to cover the cost of cap and gown, prom, the senior breakfast, the pinning ceremony, and one 10 x 13 photo of themselves in their regalia.

For you and me, $300 is a chunk of change that we may have to budget for, but for some of my students, it might as well be $30,000. They don’t have it, and they are not going to have it.

This reality looms over these students because if they haven’t paid a deposit, they don’t get to participate in the pinning in March. If they haven’t paid a little bit more, they can’t get their senior t-shirt for decision day on May 1. If they haven’t paid the balance, they can’t go to prom at the end of May. (And if they couldn’t come up with $300, how could they get a dress or shoes or have their hair done?) And finally, if they haven’t paid their balance, they cannot get their diploma.

At each of these junctures, a plea goes out and teachers toss in money for one student or another — a $50 deposit so that one can go to the pinning, another $50 so that another can go to prom, a $100 to cover the balance so someone can get their diploma.

These aren’t just our students. They are our kids, and we are going to do what we can to get them to each of these moments. Each year, we have a number of students who just can’t come up with the money, but this year, the number seems especially high. The reasons are varied — the parents are out of work or have put the student out of the house or have larger issues they are dealing with and this is not even on their radar. The student may be working, but his paycheck may be going to help out the family with bills. Whatever the cause, these students do not have cash for senior dues

For many of our kids, graduation is the pinnacle, the moment they’ve been working for — to possibly be the first in their family to graduate, to overcome the odds, to get a diploma, to become an adult.

And, in the case of some of my students, becoming an adult means facing a very hard financial reality — they just don’t have enough money.

I’m wondering if we might teach them another lesson — that sometimes when you least expect it, someone will come through for you, that you really aren’t all alone in this world, that loads of people want to help, that God will make a way when there is no way.

If you’d like to help support a student’s graduation journey, click here to donate. Make sure to designate “DLA HS graduation dues” in the space provided.

I’ve come to this community so many times — for classroom snacks, for feminine supplies, for Christmas gifts, track shoes, and money for Ubers. Every single time, you’ve come through. I don’t know how I have such a privilege, but as long as you’re with me and as long as I’m working in this space, I’m going to keep asking. The needs are great; your hearts are huge. It’s a perfect match.

before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear. Isaiah 65:24

Guten Tag, Germany!

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment
If you click to listen, please note that I’ve placed captioned photos throughout the post that I did not read aloud.

Recently, my husband and I made our first visit to your land, and I wanted to send a quick note to extend our thanks for a lovely visit. We came on a sort of heritage tour — since both of my parents and his father all have roots in Germany, we wanted to come see where our forefathers and mothers lived, to touch the soil, to eat the food, to imagine what life might’ve been like for them.

We made our first home base Hamburg because of its proximity to Grabau, which is where my husband’s great grandfather would have grown up on a farm. When we landed at the airport, we easily found a taxi and found ourselves winding our way through a sprawling modern city, rich with many familiar retailers nestled beside others that were, dare I say, foreign. Exhausted from a flight that had left Detroit, touched down in London and then Copenhagen before finally alighting in Hamburg, we mostly just stared out the windows, trusting our driver to drop us at the hotel that was expecting us.

It wasn’t long before we found ourselves walking into a small but clean and recently updated establishment. The desk clerk found our reservation, told us where to go for breakfast in the morning, and advised us of a few places we might find something to eat for dinner. We stumbled to our rooms, freshened just a bit, then used Google maps to locate a shawarma restaurant just a couple of blocks away. We quickly outed ourselves as Americans when ordering– mostly pointing and nodding to the restauranteur who didn’t speak English– and then enjoyed a huge plate of food.

Full and exhausted, we made our way back to our room and dropped off to sleep.

Now, I won’t go blow by blow through our six days in Germany, but I do want to remark on some things that we noticed.

First of all, almost everyone we encountered spoke at least a little English and demonstrated a willingness to help — the hotel clerk who advised us where to get an outlet adapter when the one we brought didn’t work; the rental car agent who displayed curiosity about our quest and switched the car’s display into English for us; the gentleman in Grabau who, spotting someone he didn’t recognize, pulled over and chatted with us as we walked through the town; the server in Berlin who hung onto my passport that I left behind and delightedly returned it to me when we came panicking back to find it; and the waiter in Nuremberg who tried to tell us that the German meal we were ordering was an enormous amount of food and that we likely wouldn’t finish it.

The mammoth "two serving" meal in Nuremberg.
The mammoth “two serving” meal in Nuremberg: pork loin, potato dumplings, bratwurst, sauerkraut, pork shoulder and potato salad.

Even those who didn’t speak English were eager to engage — the inn owner, Mr. Vogt, in Unterschwaningen, the ancestral home of my father’s family, who, through Google translate, shared that his family had run the inn, the only one in town for the past two hundred years, the waitress in a cafe who was willing to get us some oat milk once she knew (again, thanks to Google translate) what we were talking about.

We also noticed the bikes! While it was around 40-50 degrees Fahrenheit most days that we were with you, countless folks made their way through the cities and even the countryside on bicycles. From the northern seaside city of Kiel to the resort town Baden-Baden in the Black Forest of southwest Germany, folks dressed for the weather, stayed in the bike lanes (which were very consistently everywhere), and pedaled their way from place to place. Some were toting children, some were making deliveries, some were dressed in work wear, most were bundled up with coats, hats, helmets, gloves, and often glasses.

One of many pictures we took of folks on bikes — this one, I believe, was in Berlin.

Perhaps because so many folks traveled by bicycle, and because of the storied German efficiency and engineering, the roads were virtually flawless! Well-marked and exceptionally well-maintained, these roads made it quite easy for two folks who have done very little international traveling to find our way in and around Hamburg, Nuremberg, and the surrounding towns and countryside.

Now let’s talk about the food. Where do I start? First of all, I have never, and I mean NEVER, been so excited to eat a hotel breakfast. In both hotels in which we stayed, the morning spread was remarkable — eggs, bacon, pastries, yes, but also, sliced meats and cheese, fresh fruit, cereal with nuts, seeds, and dried fruits for toppings, potatoes, fresh vegetables, and I could spend a whole paragraph on the coffee, tea, juice, and milk choices. We lingered each morning, savoring the experience. And then — then! — we found cafe after cafe and restaurant after restaurant that also did not disappoint. Every cuisine from the previously mentioned shawarma to curry to hamburgers with sweet potato fries to freshly made soups to the way too enormous traditional German meat-filled meal was outstanding. And I haven’t even mentioned the sandwiches.

One day’s breakfast — perfectly scrambled eggs, sauteed vegetables, fresh fruit, oats with seeds and dried mango and goji berries, and loose leaf tea.

Now, you’ve got to understand that we regularly enjoy a gluten-free and dairy-free diet, but Germany, everywhere we turned was a carb! We couldn’t help ourselves. We had a rhubarb pastry in a small town near Grabau, lebkuchen in Nuremberg, a cherry crumble bar on the way to Baden-Baden, and soup with fresh bread in Berlin. In America, these things, at least for us, are rare treats, but in Germany, they became a daily requirement. But let me get to the sandwiches.

Lebkuchen with oat milk lattes — my great grandmother used to make these cookies every Christmas. These transported me back to my childhood.

Everywhere we went in Germany — on trains, in cities, in the countryside, in shops — people of all ages were carrying small open bags from which they would inevitably pull enormous sandwiches that they would eat as they stood on the train platform, walking down the street, or riding on a bike. Even toddlers in strollers were eating enormous sandwiches! We obviously had to throw caution fully to the wind and give it a try, so when we saw the Kolb Pretzel company selling pretzel sandwiches, we purchased one, had them slice it in half, and enjoyed it as we walked through a Saturday morning market. Exquisite!

Kolb Pretzel sandwich — wow!

I’m starting to ramble on now, so let me return to the purpose of our visit. We wanted to visit the ancestral homes of our families — the Kolbs, the Meyers, the Rathjes — and we did! As we toured the small farm towns and small cities that our forefathers and mothers used to live in, we tried to imagine them there under the same castle we were exploring, worshiping in the church where we were standing, walking the same path we were on, taking in the beautiful pastoral scenes, and living their lives. Most remarkable to us was the thought of how bold and brave they were, most of them during the mid to late 1800s, to leave what they knew, the beautiful familiar, and to venture out — how? on foot? by train? on horseback or carriage? and certainly, undoubtedly via a long ship voyage — to a land they had never seen and could only imagine based on the words they had read or heard from others who had gone before them. What made them leave? A family issue? A government or political demand they could not abide? A dream for something different?

John standing in front of the Lutheran church in Grabau, Germany — his great grandfather likely worshipped here.

We know some of these answers because of those who have done the research — that’s how we knew to go to Grabau, and Kiel, and Unterschwanigen, and Baden-Baden — but our imaginations and our visit made us wonder even more.

And Germany, I can’t leave this message without saying that we felt your strength and your courage, too! We saw reminders of world wars, monuments to lives lost, evidence of destruction, and an intentional message of resiliency and a firm determination to not forget the past but to forge a different present and future. We saw that not just in Berlin, but everywhere we went — in the ashes displayed at the restored St. Lorenz church in Nuremberg, in the memorials at Kiel, in the words of the gentleman at Grabau who told us that most of the Germans left that village in the wake of World War II. Its current inhabitants, he said, are descendants of the Polish folks who settled there once the dust was settling.

A small piece of the Berlin Wall that remains near Checkpoint Charlie at the border of what was once East and West Berlin.

Germany, you were a fine host. Thank you for accommodating us, for preserving the past for us, for showing us what it looks like to rebuild and move forward. I can only hope that one day we will be back, but regardless, we carry part of you with us, and we might just be packing a sandwich or two!

Tschuss!


In [God] our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and [He] delivered them. Psalm 22:4

Reflect and Grow

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Hey, 2026,

It’s been a minute since we’ve spoken. I know that first conversation we had might have felt a little off-putting. I’ll admit that I was coming in defensively and demanding a lot. The last few years have been quite difficult, after all. I circled back a week later, and acknowledged the fact that while I can’t control what you bring, I do have control over my responses to you. Now, a month into your tenure, I’m feeling the need for a check-in. I’ve got some feedback on how it’s going — some affirmations, for sure, but also some areas where we’d hope to see some growth moving forward.

We can start with the snow day count — well done! This performance has exceeded my expectations. Although extreme weather could be a sign of irreversible climate change, I did welcome the days to be at home, to rest a little, and to get caught up on some work.

Speaking of work, I’ve been pushing pretty hard, as you know, because I’ve been covering a teacher vacancy, but I’ve got to hand it to you — not only did you allow me to step back into the classroom to support our juniors in the run up to the SAT, you came through with another certified English Language Arts teacher who even has experience in our cultural context. You somehow provided this teacher, who will start with our sophomores on Monday, before the end of January, just as I requested. Hopefully, he will bring some normalcy to our students for the remainder of the year.

Now that I’ve started with some kudos, I must acknowledge that all has not been rosy. You did bring my family another loss — we’ve had one a year for the last three years. Granted, my sweet aunt was 96 and ready to go, but her passing still hurt.

However, that sting was much more bearable than the shock and horror at the deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. It seems unconscionable that regular citizens acting out of care and concern for the foreigner and the stranger would lose their lives at the hands of government agents.

And speaking of unconscionable, I thought we’d seen all the presidential misconduct we’d ever need, but you managed to give us some more — directly from the Oval Office, again! — racist images of former world leaders distributed by the now-more-than-embarrassing leader of the free world. During the opening week of Black History Month, to boot.

Now lest I get busy casting stones without acknowledging my own shortcomings, I will admit that, I, too, have had less than stellar moments in recent days. I have forgotten my training, lost my center, and acted out of character, and not just in the confines of my own home, but in the space where I hope to have the most impact — the classroom. I showed my students a frustrated, tired, unprofessional side of me, and I’m not proud of that. So, I had to put down my shaking fist for a moment — I had to stop blaming you, 2026. I had to stop looking at the failures of ICE, Republican leaders, and even my students, who I briefly tried to blame for my poor behavior.

Look, all of us have good moments and bad moments. We are imperfect humans. I’ve had to remind myself of that this weekend when I’ve found myself bloodied by self-flagellation. None of us meets every moment with grace and maturity. The best we can do — the most we can hope for from others — is best intention, self-reflection, the admission of failure, and a commitment to do better.

What would it look like if those entrusted with making sure that all folks from other countries followed the laws for living in the United States did so with hospitality. What if their intention was to support those who legally entered our country as they navigate their adjustment to the way we do things around here. What if they participated in regular debriefing that honestly evaluated their practices, acknowledged shortcomings, and worked to improve the process in ways that positively benefitted the community?

What would happen if at their worst moments — when, say, a civilian was killed — they would admit their wrongdoing and follow the steps of accountability and restoration? What if those worst moments propelled them to changes that produced some of the best moments?

What might happen if people in positions of power didn’t demonize those who think, look, act differently, but instead worked with intention to find understanding, common ground, ways of living together in unity, despite our differences? What if we had regular community forums to instead celebrate those differences, to find solutions to problems, and to build strong relationships?

What impact might it have if a middle aged white woman went into her classroom on Monday, admitted to a roomful of teenaged students of color that she lost her shit on Friday and that it wasn’t, as she might’ve suggested, their fault, but hers. What if she used her admission of culpability to build a culture of error in that classroom — where students, too, can admit that they have been wrong, and where they can shed their shame through vulnerability, and be brave enough to try again?

What impact might it have if, instead of waving our fists at everyone else, we opened our hands and asked for forgiveness for the things we, ourselves, have done wrong? How might that change what happens this year?

Right now in Italy, young people from all over the globe are coming together in the spirit of sportsmanship to compete in the snow and on the ice. They have worked hard for years to make it to the Olympic Games and we are inspired by not only their athleticism, but their tenacity, their sacrifice, their willingness to set other things aside for this one goal — the highest level of competition with other humans from all around the world. For sixteen days we will watch people of different races, faiths, and backgrounds share space — racing side by side, watching one another’s efforts, and even congratulating those who bested them. It’s a picture of shared struggle, shared victory, shared humanity.

We can learn from them, can’t we, 2026? Can’t we learn to exist side by side with people who are very different from ourselves — can’t we find ways of working together, of inspiring one another, of celebrating together? Can we respect the humanity in front of us, even if we haven’t made it to the Olympics?

Let’s try for more of that, shall we? I know we’ve got it in us.

if it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:18

Reply Requested: Singapore and the Archives

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Dear Reader,

I’m breaking from my recent rhythm of ranting about the new year in hopes that you can answer some questions for me. I’ve been writing this blog for going on twelve (12!) years. In the beginning, most of my readers were folks who knew me and who were following my journey through a recent chronic illness diagnosis and my resulting exit from teacher life. I was writing my way through a major transition and my readers were empathizing and cheering me on. Much has changed since then — while I still write about my journey into a healthier existence, I more often write about my life back in the world of education, about current political issues, or about my inner journey to emotional healing. My readership has changed, too!

WordPress has an app where I track my statistics — how many people view a particular post on a given day, what country each reader is from, and what was the referral source. I will admit to being a bit of a data geek, and recently I have noticed an odd trend. In the past few months, the overall activity on my blog has increased — overall views have more than tripled — and it doesn’t seem to be because my recent content has been more engaging, more inspiring, or more colorful. No. When I look at the stats, it seems the increased viewership is coming (at least partially) from abroad and the engagement is with stuff that was written a year, five years, or even twelve years ago!

Most notably, I’ve seen a surge in views from Singapore! Substantial clicks are also originating in India, Germany, and China! This information has me over here scratching my head.

In full transparency, I can locate Germany, India, and China quite easily on a map, but while I’ve heard of Singapore, I definitely needed to go to Google to learn that it’s an island nation off the south of the Malay peninsula (home to Thailand., Cambodia, and Vietnam). While its inhabitants are Chinese, Malay, and Indian, one of its official languages is indeed English, so some folks there can easily read this blog, but why, reader, why would you want to?

Where is Singapore?

What does this middle aged white woman from the United States have to say to you? And, frankly, to those of you from India, Germany, the United Kingdom, and other places around the world? What is resonating? I’m dying to know!

The statistics tell me you are reading those early posts about chronic illness but also posts from the Covid era; about racism but also about minimalism. It looks like you’re interested in my teaching but also my exploration of emotions. Even my readers from the US right now seem less interested in what I’m currently writing and more in the archives.

I’d like to open this up for discussion. Would you be willing to engage with me?

I met with a long-time friend over the weekend for coffee. We’ve known each other most of our lives, but we’ve recently been reconnecting. We talked and talked for a while, as you do when you are catching up. I gave her my “latest” then said, “I think that’s all I have. What’s going on with you?” And, being asked, that dear friend trusted me with part of her story. And, in her sharing, in my sharing, we found areas of connection, of commonality, of shared experience.

So, I’m asking you — where are you from? what’s going on with you? where do you find connection with me? Maybe your responses will lead to a further conversation. I hope so! I know I have something to learn from you!

To share, you could use the comment feature on Word Press, or you could follow this blog on Facebook and comment there. Let’s see what happens, shall we? Maybe someday I’ll even travel to Singapore!

Whether or not you decide to share, thank you for taking the time to engage with my writing.

Hold on…

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I am not sure I made my expectations clear. When I wrote my letter to 2026 last week, I thought I spelled out the fact that I was looking for something different than years past — something better — but perhaps I was not specific enough.

When I asked for no falls, no cancer or chronic illness diagnoses, I guess I should have specified that aging family members experiencing strokes was also off the table. Maybe when I asked for grace for those who are already suffering, I should’ve included a request that they have access to the meds and the care that they need.

Now, I will acknowledge that while I haven’t received the snow (or snow day) that would’ve been not only acceptable but welcome, I was not disappointed in the unseasonably warm temps we experienced this past week.

However, my staffing vacancy has not been resolved unless you count the fact that I am — while also attending to my myriad other responsibilities — cleaning up the former teacher’s grade book, giving assignments, communicating with students, and preparing for the more formal transition when we will indeed have a highly qualified replacement, before the end of January, even. However, I probably should have made it clear that I was thinking that replacement wouldn’t have the exact same name and birthdate as me.

And, when I asked for sanity in the political realm, perhaps I should have started by defining some terms. By sanity, I mean “reasonable and sensible behavior or thinking.” Since all of the words in that definition are abstract let me provide a concrete example. A reasonable way to arrest an unarmed protestor who is driving a car is perhaps to, I don’t know, aim your gun at their tires to stop them rather than, say, at their head. And perhaps a way to stay out of wars is to speak respectably to the leaders of other nations, inviting them to civil conversations, and not, say, threatening to “do it the hard way.”

I was encouraged by crowds gathering in Minneapolis, Minnesota to mourn the loss of life of a civilian who was committing no crimes and then almost immediately discouraged by a subsequent shooting of similarly innocent civilians in Portland, Oregon.

This violence stems, of course, from racist and xenophobic rhetoric (which I also asked for an end to) that comes straight out of the Oval Office, where the president has, for example, called Somalian immigrants “garbage” and has said that ICE agents, those responsible for these and nine other shootings since September, “acted in self-defense,” which you’d be hard pressed to agree with if you examined the collection of videos that have been compiled.

All of this can be downright discouraging less than two weeks into a year that many of us were hoping would be different — and by that I mean the good kind of different, not the insane kind of different.

Ugh! I can’t stay in this angry space for the whole year! I can’t keep seeing headlines, shaking my head, and sputtering!. Instead, I am going to willfully point out some bright spots from the past seven days so that I can keep myself grounded in hope, in the belief in human decency and resiliency. For that, I have to turn my eyes away from national headlines and take a look at the spaces where I spend most of my time.

I will start by sharing the fact that I work with an amazing staff — there is some kind of magic that brings a team together to work in an under-resourced environment serving students who are significantly below grade level. Every person on the team wants to be there — and, we quickly (as you’ve seen) weed out those who are not on board. Because of that, staff meetings are often enjoyable, even fun — a gathering of like-minded folks who want to be together, who support and celebrate one another.

Next, I must mention our resilient students. All of our 10th and 11th grade students had a substitute science teacher for about eight weeks this fall. This same group — which now has a very capable science teacher who has quickly re-established a culture of learning — this very same group of students just found out that they no longer have an English Language Arts teacher, at least temporarily, and how did they respond? They listened to the administrator who delivered the news, they gathered evidence of assignments they had completed, they cooperated with school staff, and they opted in to the temporary plan, and trusted those who said a permanent plan was on the way.

Some of these same students and others — the athletes in our building — worked with the athletic director this week to hand deliver printed invitations to the Friday night basketball game to school staff members. Not only that — the following day they delivered team jerseys to each staff member, took photos with them, and invited them to wear the jersey to the game.

The hype continued to build throughout the week, and many staff wore the jerseys to school and showed up on a Friday at 5:30, after a very long week, to cheer on their students, first at the ladies’ game and then the men’s game. The AD and students had created a VIP section decorated with photos of every staff member in the building posing with a student. Colleagues chatted and laughed together as they watched the games, cheering loudly for every steal, every change in possession, every landed shot, and especially that one sweet moment when a 6’5″ senior who we’ve all watched grow up from a timid impulsive freshmen to the guy who waited for just the opportunity, saw his moment, and slam-dunked like a pro! The crowed (especially the VIP section) went wild!!

Throughout the evening, students boldly grabbed the mic to shout out their teachers, and then, between the games, the whole group — athletes and staff — took to the floor for a photo op. Smiles everywhere!

It’s still January. Nothing has really changed, but all is not tragic.

In a small building on the border of Detroit and Dearborn is a little community that is somehow choosing to keep going. Communities like this exist everywhere, despite corruption, despite tragedy, despite illness, despite loss. Folks who would have every reason to throw their hands in the air and say, “that’s a wrap” are getting out of bed, combing their hair, and showing up for another day, and sometimes, that day, against all odds, turns into a celebration. Even now. Even in places like Minneapolis and Portland.

No matter how politely we ask, we have little control over what 2026 brings, however, we can choose to search out these spaces and these moments. We must, also, call out corruption, gather to protest, and work for the change we wish to see in the world; in order to do all that, we’ve got to hold on to hope.

I am confident that I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

What is Needed

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Often in this space, I write about the students at my small charter high school in Detroit. From time to time, I share their needs and invite you to partner with me in meeting them. One time I mentioned the need for athletic shoes, and a handful of you helped me purchase about twenty (yes, 20!) pairs for our track athletes! Other times, I’ve asked for support at Christmas, and some of you have sent items from an Amazon wish list, purchased gift cards, or simply sent cash. It’s not always the same people — some of you are local to me, some are friends from way in the past, and some of you I’ve never even met — but when I ask, the needs of my students always get met.

This past week, not having the time or inspiration for a complete blog post, I just flung out a request via social media. I said we had 8-10 families with extraordinary hardship that we’d like to send on their holiday break with grocery and gas gift cards. I’ve been coordinating efforts like these for five years or more, and my school community has come to count on the fact that “I’ve got a lot of great friends.” However, every time I ask, I momentarily wonder if the magic will continue — will people see my request? will they want to contribute? Then I usually remind myself that “before I am asking, He is answering,” and trust that God will provide.

This week was no different. That Facebook ask was just a week ago and we have plenty of donated cash and gift cards to support ten families in ways that they are not expecting — what a fun day our principal will have later this week, handing fat envelopes over to families who have no idea they are coming! I can’t know the impact your gifts will have!

So, first, let me say thank you to those who stop by to read my posts about education, my health, politics (gasp), and the things I am learning, but also to those who choose to contribute to students they have never met. I am astounded by your generosity that keeps showing up at just the right time. Even sometimes when I haven’t asked, a need is just around the corner, and you have met it in advance. Thank you for your heart, for your thoughtfulness, for your care.

Now, let me tell what I learned this week about what kids really need.

A few weeks ago, a teacher who is somewhat new to our district, a woman who just has a way of connecting with kids — the kind of teacher who kids show up to school for, the rare one who can get a whole room to lean in and listen as she walks step by step through a procedure, the kind who can glance up from a demonstration and silence a chatterbox without saying a word — this teacher mentioned to me that she’d like to put on a Christmas event for our students, did I think that would be ok?

I, thinking of our students’ physical needs, immediately (and wrongly) assumed that she wanted to coordinate the giving effort I have just described, and I directed her to speak with our principal. I thought it would be a great idea to pass the baton. LOL. It took me a couple of weeks to realize that what she was planning was very different than what I was assuming. She had a vision for a night of games and fun for a select group of students — a meal, prizes, and gaiety. No presents, nope. Instead, these students would “pay” the entry fee of a donated hat or mittens for someone less fortunate than themselves.

You heard me. She wanted our students — all of whom qualify for free breakfast and lunch — to make a sacrifice to be there. And not just anyone could attend. It was invitation only — kids who consistently come to school, kids who lean into learning, kids who lead, kids who volunteer, kids who do the right thing.

This was so far off my radar that I couldn’t picture the impact until I actually showed up.

The teacher asked her church to donate a meal, and churches being what they are, they had a crew walking in with wings, fries, mac and cheese, and green beans in chafing dishes that they placed over sterno pots.

She asked our staff to donate water, cookies, and prizes for the games — each category filled a table.

“What can I bring,” I asked around Tuesday when most of the above had already been donated.

“I have hot chocolate. Would you bring toppings?”

“Toppings? Like whipped cream?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I like mini chocolate chips, and sprinkles, and marshmallows…you know, to make a self-serve hot chocolate bar.”

“Ok, I can do that.” I said.

Since I was headed to the grocery anyway to pick up gift cards with the cash that some of you had sent me, it was easy to throw a few more things into the cart.

“Oh,” she said, “one more thing. Would you go around to the classes on Friday and hand out tickets to the ones who can attend?”

“Sure. Whatever you need,” I said — before I realized that this would mean handing them out in front of kids who were not invited. This was a struggle for me — little miss equity this and access that — but, I did it. It was uncomfortable saying, “I’m sorry, you are not on the list. This is an invitation-only event,” but I had to trust my colleague’s vision.

School was dismissed at 3:30 and a crew of students moved to the gym to set up. They were in charge of decorating and setting up the space for the meal, the games, the celebration. While they were doing that, I retreated to my office to finish an administrative task. When I arrived shortly after 5:00, students clad in Christmas pajamas were personalizing their hot chocolate, greeting their friends, chatting at tables, and listening to Christmas music. You might expect this at any Christmas party, but in this community’s world of scarcity, it felt different.

Teens who are normally just trying to get through the day — to get a ride to school, to find something to eat, to stay warm, to manage all the expectations of all the people around them — were free just to be.

And then, the silly Christmas games began!

Asked to find a partner and line up in the gym, students who typically display reluctance to engage, jumped out of their seats, grabbed hands, and ran to the designated location. They tossed miniature Christmas ornaments into cups, they played a version of Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes, and they raced to steal Christmas bows that were stuck to each other’s shirts (the one who ends up with the most wins)!

They laughed. They played. For a few moments on a Friday evening, they were allowed to be kids.

Students who typically have to put up a hard exterior — who have to save face — in this small group of students felt safe enough to put their guard down and be silly.

And that my friends was exactly what our students needed. They needed a safe space, they needed to feel like contributors, they needed the extravagance of a meal prepared just for them, of a hot chocolate bar, of games with prizes, of a fun Friday night with their friends. I sat and took it in — smiling, laughing, snapping photos — and realizing that I need to broaden my view of what is essential.

Friends, I am likely going to keep asking for contributions, so thank you in advance for tolerating my boldness and joining when you choose, but I am also going to open my eyes to what else my students need. I’m going to look for more opportunities to acknowledge all of Maslow’s hierarchy (not just the the foundation) because the sense of connection, of respect, of fulfillment are just as essential to developing teens as food, as transportation, as shelter, as safety.

Hats off to my colleague for leveraging her community to meet these needs. In doing so, she also challenged me.

God will meet all your needs. Philippians 4:19

Typical, 2025 version

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

It’s been a pretty typical week for 2025– a virtual genocide continues in Gaza (albeit with talks of a coming ceasefire and hostage release, all of which we’ve heard before), the US government is shut down, four people were killed in a church shooting an hour away, and Jane Goodall — a universal treasure– passed away. Oh, and I’ve spent the week trying to provide an equitable educational opportunity to six sections of high school science students.

Here’s what’s going on — I am the instructional coordinator in a small charter school on the border of Detroit and Dearborn. You could drive right by us and not know we are there. We operate out of a run-down former Catholic elementary school which we rent for a rumored gasp-worthy sum from the Archdiocese of Detroit. The parking lot of this building, which our busses have to traverse twice a day, is literally crumbling under our feet/wheels. To come onto the property each day, I have to ignore the willful negligence that would allow a literal lake to form in the center of the asphalt, but I digress.

We aren’t glamorous is my point. The building is too hot in the fall and spring because we have no air conditioning and too hot in the winter because of the antiquated boiler system we use to heat it. Windows need repair, and the gym, which we use as cafeteria, gym, and auditorium, is way too small to host any kind of athletic competition. If you could, based on facilities, choose to teach anywhere else, you probably would. Or, if you could choose to teach students who read at grade level or who have involved parents or who come to school prepared to learn every day, you would probably choose to do that.

But we aren’t that school.

Nevertheless, we have almost 300 students who deserve a high quality education. And we can’t provide that — we can’t get them up to their current grade level, we can’t adequately prepare them for postsecondary education or the work world, we can’t give them an opportunity to change their circumstances — without well-trained teachers, and I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but there isn’t a surplus of those lying around.

This is my 6th year at my school, and every single year we’ve had at least one, if not two or three, classes covered by long term substitute teachers or, more recently, online alternatives, and that’s not because we aren’t doing everything we can to find teachers — we are!

So here’s what happens — each spring we post all of our openings, then we interview all summer, we make offers to the most qualified people, we believe we are fully staffed for the fall, then days before school starts, we realize that one or more of our teachers has changed their mind and moved on — maybe for more pay, maybe for a different environment, maybe for a promotion. The reason doesn’t matter. We suddenly find ourselves with a hole to fill.

Now, because this is our reality, we do always staff 2-3 permanent building substitutes. These folks are salaried employees who come into the building every day. They are typically not certified teachers or subject matter experts, but they are committed members of our team who know and love our students. We also have a creative leadership team that has found myriad work-arounds over the years.

This year’s shortages were looming all summer — we found and hired multiple math and science teachers only to have each of them move on before the first day of school, so in the final hours we made a plan. Our Geometry and Algebra II courses would be staffed by a returning qualified educator. Our financial literacy course would be taught by a permanent employee who also runs his own business. Algebra I, Principles of Physics, and Chemistry would be covered by a company called Elevate K-12. This company hires certified teachers who live in other locations to zoom into our classrooms and provide high quality instruction. For these classes, we provide an in-person facilitator — a member of our team who knows the students and manages all on-location needs such as attendance, providing physical materials, and managing any student behavior issues. This is our second year using Elevate, and although last year’s start was bumpy, I must say that we have found our rhythm.

With all of those classes covered, we still had three sections of Biology and three sections of Earth Science to cover with days remaining before students would arrive. With no applicants in the hiring stream, we turned to an agency that provides long-term subs to area schools. (You read that right — the teacher shortage is so profound that agencies exist solely to provide long-term substitutes.) That agency sent us two people to interview. We chose the one who had some experience in a high school science classroom, and she started right away.

She did a good job of getting to know the people, finding her way around the building, fostering relationships with our students, and showing up for work everyday…until she didn’t.

And now we are looking again.

The students have not had a teacher now for seven school days. They have had members of our team covering, and I have been providing assignments (without instruction) and grading papers. Even if I could stay in the classroom every day, I don’t know enough about population dynamics or the chemical composition of the sun to guide these young minds through their learning. And I can’t stay in the classroom anyway — I have a whole job of coaching and supporting the other teachers in the building in their quest to meet the needs of our students who have profound knowledge gaps and who nevertheless have dreams and goals and deserve every opportunity to make them happen.

No, we need to find someone qualified to teach these classes.

My principal sent me a calendar invite to join her for an interview on Thursday — someone the agency sent to take over these courses. He was a career scientist — full of content knowledge. However, although he’d done some one-on-one tutoring over the years, he’d never been in a classroom, never kept a grade book, never presented with a slide deck. We’re starting week six of classes on Monday and we need someone to jump in there, hit the ground running, and salvage what is left of this semester for these kids.

So we’re still looking, and I’m still giving assignments and grading and encouraging students and their substitutes to stay the course. This is where we are, and this is what we have.

Meanwhile, a few states away, grown men who have their education can’t agree on how to fund the government while they are simultaneously allowing millions to be spent rounding up undocumented immigrants.

I wonder if they care that 411,549 teaching positions in the US remain unfilled or filled by folks not fully certified. I wonder if they care about the students impacted by those vacancies, many of whom are from low-income homes that struggle to meet their everyday needs for food, housing, and transportation. I wonder if they think about that when they are deadlocked on their decision over spending for healthcare that will most certainly impact these same families.

I wonder who we have become and how this has become just another typical week.

Do you wonder, too?

Seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Isaiah 1:17

If you or someone you know (certified or not) has a background in science and a heart for kids, click on this link and tell them I sent you. (We have openings at our elementary school, too.)

Support That Claim

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Click the arrow above to listen to me read this post. Printed text has linked content, some of which supports my claims.

Since we discussed bullying in my last post, perhaps we should also discuss another adolescent behavior — making unsubstantiated claims.

Guys, I’ve been hanging out with teenagers and children since 1989 when I taught my first class of mostly male 7th graders in a small school on the east side of Detroit. From there to suburban Detroit to a couple small towns in south central Michigan to St. Louis, Missouri, to Ann Arbor, and back to Detroit where I teach now, one hallmark behavior of all the teenagers and youth I have worked with is blurting out accusations without proper evidence.

I’m walking down the hall and a senior runs up to me frantically, “Mrs. Rathje, can you talk to Mr. Smith. I’m failing his class, and I did my work. He’s just not putting in the grades.”

A young man says, “We would’ve won that game last night, but the other team cheated.”

Someone else says, “My parents won’t pay for me to go to the prom. Can you help me out?”

These are all claims that one might be tempted to immediately believe. They might reply, “The teacher can’t do that! I’ll make him post his grades immediately.” or “They cheated! What did they do?” or “What a shame! Of course I will get you some money for prom.”

But critically thinking adults know that before they believe a claim, they need to ask for the evidence.

“Come with me to that teacher and let’s see what work has been recorded and what work has not.”

“Tell me more about the game. Who scored? How? What did your team do?”

“I know you want to go to the prom. What conversations have you had with your parents? What kinds of things do you think you need?”

Often, when we ask a follow up question we find out that the student did indeed do some of the school work and that the teacher had put in those grades, however, the student had missed some other critical assignments that he may or may not have been aware of. The team may have suffered a loss, but the other team may have simply outplayed them. The prom-goer might have assumed the parents couldn’t afford to pay for any of prom, but after a brief conversation, the student learns that they can cover the needed clothes, just not the admission ticket.

Teenagers (and other folks who have not matured beyond adolescent thinking) make unsubstantiated claims for lots of reasons. Often they are panicking — about their grades, about finances, or about feeling slighted — or they are feeling insecure — about their performance, their identity, or their social standing. One of the most important roles of the adults in the room is to identify that dysregulated emotion and to help ground the developing mind in reality.

Critical thinkers have to ask questions. If we see in the news that a man was shot and some are suggesting that a particular group was responsible, we have to ask the question, how do you know that?

If a political leader claims that a well-known and widely used medication causes neurodivergence, adults need to ask for the studies that prove this. Those in the room who know the claim to be false need to stand up and say, “Um, sir, that simply has not been proven.”

Most people from time to time make an unsubstantiated claim. I might say, for example, “prices are sky-rocketing; retailers really don’t care about the average consumer.” I may really feel this way, but unless I have evidence of retailers making decisions — setting prices — with blatant disregard for consumers, my claim is unsubstantiated. It might seem fairly harmless for me to say this in a fit of exasperation, but I may impact others simply by making the claim. Some people who trust me and know my track record of being thoughtful and researched may actually believe my unproven rant and form an opinion about retailers based on my spouting off. They may even change their shopping behavior because of their belief in my momentary rant.

And I’m just an every day middle-aged woman from the midwest. What if I had a national platform — what if I held a position of leadership or even power? What if I, standing on a national stage made the claim that a large northwestern city was under the siege of war? Would my constituents believe me? Would they form opinions about that city? Would they act on my claim? Would anyone in my orbit have the courage to demand that I provide evidence before broadcasting such incendiary language?

In a typical day, the average person is peppered with claims — from their coworkers touting the most efficient way to get the job done to their social media feeds spouting the latest health fad to their television news shows (whichever angle they are espousing) delivering their packaged opinions, to their neighbors and family members simply sharing their thoughts. It can be exhausting to interrogate every single claim you hear, but responsible adults must.

What complicates matters is that all of these claims are being made at a time when 54% of US adults (aged 16 to 74) read below a 6th grade level and 21% are functionally illiterate. More than half of the adults you encounter in a day may not be able to comprehend the evidence that supports some of the claims being made or may not have the critical thinking skills required to interrogate them.

However, some of us do! Some people have positions in rooms where very big decisions are made based on unsubstantiated claims, and they have the knowledge and ability to ask hard questions, to challenge authority, to stand up to crazy.

And they — we — must.

Whatever room you are in, whatever claims are being made, you have the responsibility to identify the dysregulation in the room and ask the questions that ground people in reality.

For the love of God and all things holy.

Ask for the evidence. Question the claim.

…examine everything carefully; hold fast to what is good. I Thessalonians 5:21

Of (not politics, but) Bullying

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Some people don’t like it when I talk about politics….I get it. If, as Wikipedia* states, politics is “the set of activities that are associated with making decisions in groups, or other forms of power relations among individuals, such as the distribution of status or resources,” I can see why the topic might make some people feel uncomfortable.

I mean, why would you want to examine the reality of which folks hold the power, which groups benefit from the decisions of those folks, and which groups are historically and perpetually disenfranchised by those decisions. That examination could lead to unsavory images, to be sure, and we wouldn’t want anyone to have to see that, so, let’s not talk about politics.

Instead, class, today let’s talk about bullies.

Every single school I have been a part of has had its bullies.

They don’t have to be the stereotypical intimidatingly oversized thugs that might be populating on your brain screen. In fact the bully of my first class was quite undersized. Physicality is not essential to the bully. Rather what characterizes the bully is the behavior that seeks to dehumanize, belittle, embarrass, or otherwise harm others and the presence of, at first, a yes man, then a crew, and ultimately the compliance of the larger group in allowing the bully to continue harming others.

It often starts with the bully targeting someone who is demonstrably “weak”. The bully might make fun of the disabled, denigrate immigrants, or even make jokes about someone’s weight. He (or she) looks around for a target then slings a grenade with the intent to do harm. But the harm is not where the power lies.

No. The power lies in the reaction to the harm. He gets a laugh at the expense of the disabled, a snicker at the expense of the immigrant, a guffaw at the expense of the overweight. And those responses are the fuel for the next attack.

Still high from the reaction of the yes men, the bully begins to scope out his next target — maybe someone with a little more clout — maybe a classmate or a peer. First he spreads rumors to harm his target’s reputation, he engages in name-calling to dehumanize his foe, he might even accuse others of wrong-doing, whether or not there is credence to his claims.

Throughout all of this, those around him, seeing the power he is building, have to make a choice — do they want to land in the bully’s sites or take a position at his side?

That’s a tough call, especially if you are in middle school or still have the insecurities that you had when you were in middle school. You might not think you can handle humiliation. You might not think you could weather the name-calling. You might not think you could bear up under the rumors. So, you chuckle at his antics, you move to his side of the room, you excuse his behavior as harmless, and you turn your eyes away from the victim.

And you continue to live with that decision because it still feels safer than having him turn the attention on you.

But then the assaults escalate. The blows become physical. And he’s going after someone who is or who used to be your friend. He might even attack a member of your family. Then you have to face a crisis of identity — who do you want to be? Do you want to stand behind this guy, smiling for the camera in your suit, waving your flag of allegiance, as he takes shots at not only the least of these but also at your neighbor, your brother, your friend, or your mom?

This moment happens in every bullying movie you’ve ever watched — The Karate Kid, when Danny LaRusso takes the blows of Johnny Lawrence almost to his peril in the final match, Mean Girls when Cady, who was once part of Regina George’s crew, finds herself a target when the burn book is circulated — the individual who had chosen to capitulate or even join a bully has to decide if they are going to stand up.

The rare ones who, despite their inner terror, find the courage to say “Not here, not today,” rise up from their devastation and face the bully. In the movies, this usually results in the bully walking away in shame or, in the most ideal of scenarios, having a change of heart and determining to be a different kind of person.

This sometimes happens in real life, too, although not inside the space of 90 minutes, and certainly not when the bully has been allowed to gain control beyond the schoolyard and into the community. No, in those cases, one person standing up will not be enough. To stop a bully who has, through all the text-book tactics of instilling fear through intimidation, established a culture of systemic compliance to the most ludicrous of actions, the community must come together and take a collective stand. They must, united, shout “Not here, not today!”

One person might not stop a bully, but a lot of single people, together, can do almost anything.

The bully can’t continue unless the community lets him.

Certainly the community will wake up and put a stop to it — it’s not politics, after all, it’s just refusing to let one person dehumanize another.

Defend the weak and fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Psalm 82:3

A couple of notes:

*If you were a student of mine in the early 2000s and cannot believe that I actually cited Wikipedia, see also lecture #497 entitled “Anybody Can Change”**.

**And when I say “anybody can change”, I do mean even bullies.

Also, if you listened to this post, you might be interested to know that the text version has several embedded links.

Back to School: Before and After

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I write a post like this almost every year — scroll back, you’ll see! Each fall, I can’t stop myself! I’m still filled with the child-like wonder and excitement of going back to school. I mean, yeah, I had outfits picked out, bought a new pair of school shoes (okay, two pair!) and kept them fresh for day one (and two!). I had my classic teacher terror nightmare — only this year it wasn’t me showing up naked, late, and unprepared, it was my teaching cohort! And I’m here to tell you that the stress was not less!

I get so excited about the return to school because it holds so much possibility — imagine the potential for transformation!! And in any story of transformation you need the “before” pic. Let me see if I can paint it for you.

The students first showed up on the Thursday before Labor Day. I can spot the freshman from a mile away. They shyly and awkwardly accompany their parents and older or younger siblings. They stand quietly as their people sign them in, looking around to see who else is there, who is looking at them, who is judging them, who can see their insecurity.

Sophomores roll up with slightly more confidence, sometimes with a parent tagging along ten paces behind. These students steal glances, seeing what looks familiar — teachers, friends, anything.

Juniors have just a hint of swagger — they know the drill — they know who’s who, what’s what, and where’s where. They quickly run through the requisite stops — schedule pick-up, bus sign up, sports physical — then find their friends to take laps inside the building, check out new students, get into a little harmless mischief, or do a little peacocking.

Seniors? You can’t tell them nothin’. They have their hair done, are wearing a dope ‘fit, and have texted their friends to arrive at the same time. They run this place — they are beaming and bouncing. This is their year and they know it.

And that’s all on the Thursday before school even starts — before the three-day weekend, before reality hits, before they have to arrive on time, sit in an assigned seat, do the coursework, take notes, stand in lines, or listen intently.

But all that has begun now, too. We have finished a week of students being in the building, running to get to class before the bell, asking permission to use the bathroom, looking for a snack, trying to hide their phones, getting caught with their phones, turning over their phones, and waiting to get their phones back at the end of the day.

They came in on Tuesday, and we were ready for them.

Our teachers had on shirts emblazoned with our Activate Excellence motto, arriving early to put finishing touches on their rooms and man their stations in the gym for arrival. We had some teachers collecting phones, some handing out schedules, and some stationed as greeters. There were hugs and fist bumps and hand shakes with our returning students, so it wasn’t difficult to pick out those who are new to our building — freshmen, of course, but also quite a few transfers.

In Detroit, a district with over 50,000 students, most high schools have enrollments of over 700, and some have over 1000. Our charter high school is small — under 300 students — so we often get students who found those larger contexts to be untenable. Maybe they were overwhelmed. Maybe they didn’t find a connection or friend group. Maybe they got into a fight and are now dealing with the aftermath. Whatever the reason, we often end up with a unique collection of students who for whatever reason couldn’t or didn’t want to make it happen somewhere else.

We’re a charter school — so students choose to come to us. Granted, sometimes that choice is because they have run out of other options, but I like to think they choose us because we are a small community. Everyone knows everyone else — no one goes unseen. If you came to school without a jacket, someone saw that. If you look particularly down or quiet on a given day, a person noticed. You’re hungry? You know who to ask for a snack. You don’t have a ride home? Chances are you have a connection with a staff member who will help you figure it out.

Changed your hair? We saw it.

Grew up over the summer? We know.

Your ability to manage conflict is improving? We give you kudos.

Let me give you a glimpse at an “after” pic.

For the past four years, we have had a student in the building who was classified as “homeless” and qualified for resources under the federal McKinney-Vento Act. Last June, this student graduated despite having transportation challenges, learning difficulties, and very little family support. Staff at the school made it possible for him to attend prom and participate in all senior activities, and the young man was repeatedly overwhelmed with gratitude. When he walked into our decision day celebration in early May, he hugged several of us and wiped away tears. When he arrived at prom, he approached staff members, tearfully repeating, “I can’t believe this is actually happening!” and when he showed up for graduation, he could barely find words. He savored every moment, and his classmates and teachers saw it for what it was — the realization of a dream.

On that day, he didn’t know what his summer or future would look like. Because of his situation, he was having difficulty getting access to the documents that would make him work eligible, but late in summer we received word that he had what he needed and had found employment in a hospital. This past week, he reached out to one of our staff members and said he was working a lot of overtime and was looking for an affordable apartment.

The staff member reported this in our group chat, and I must say that in the middle of a school day at the end of the first week of school, when everyone is getting tired and ready to go home for the weekend, that little notification reminded us all what a special place we work in.

Just four years ago, this young man was one of our awkward freshmen — he missed a lot of school days, and we noticed. He often came unprepared to learn, and we said something. He had the support of a friend who got him to the building every day, but he came late and left early. It was frustrating, to be sure, but we found ways to work with him. He had the support of the social worker, the principal, the resource room teacher, and literally every single adult in the building. It was not uncommon to see him checking in with one of our custodians who might as well be everyone’s momma.

And now he’s a high school graduate, he’s got a job, and he’s looking for an apartment. If that’s not a transformation, I don’t know what one is.

I guess that’s why I get excited every September — that’s why I can’t stop writing about it. Every day is a miracle waiting to happen. I can’t believe I get to do this. Just like my student, “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

[We] will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

Job Postings at DLA!

DLA Wishlist