Celebration Tunnel

Wow, January, what a year. Why is January so long and disrespectful?

Anyway, maybe it’s the fact that it’s negative degrees outside or the grind of the school year, but I’ve been having to work a little harder to stay upbeat and positive.

Many of us question whether we are making the impact we hope to make. This can cause us to question ourselves and our capabilities. It can cause us to question whether we are in the right organization, the right role, or even the right profession at times.

I decided to attend a leadership summit over the past two days to see if I could not only upskill my work but also to see if time dedicated to reflection and self-awareness might give me some perspective or even clarity. It was hard to take this time because the work seems never ending but the risk of not taking this time seemed high too.

It’s interesting how the universe looks out for us. I’ve written before about how if you want something to be a sign…then it’s a sign.

So, on the first day near the end of the lunch break, a teacher who was attending a session next door hurried over and said, “Meghan?” I recognized her as someone I’ve seen before but also as someone I didn’t know well. It was soon clear that we used to work in the same school district many years ago.

She went on to say that one of her 1st grade students lost her dad this school year. She explained to a group of friends that she wasn’t sure how to support this little girl when she returned to school. One of them mentioned the story from my book, Legacy of Learning , about how my 1st grade teacher knew just what I needed when I returned to school after losing my father.

My teacher, Mrs. Boggess, had all of my little friends from class, waiting at the school door for me, cheering for me, smiling and waving to me, welcoming back into the school environment. In that moment, when it was so hard to walk away from my mom, I knew Mrs. Boggess had my back. I had this sense that there was life after loss, and I was somehow going to be ok.

The teacher said that because of this story, she knew what this little girl needed. She explained that they all formed a celebration tunnel upon her arrival and cheered for her as she made her return to school. She explained that while that wouldn’t be what every student needed, it was what this little girl needed.

I have chills as I write this. It was deeply cathartic for me to hear that because I told the story of a teacher who showed up for me when I needed her most, another child also had the opportunity to be cared for and supported by her teacher and school community.

This is what having a legacy of learning is all about. One learner at a time. One conversation at a time. One room at a time.

I was in exactly the room that I needed to be in that day. I felt that the universe was somehow rewarding me for showing up for myself and my learning. A little glimmer that maybe I’m doing OK and maybe I’m not making the impact that I hope to make yet, but I keep showing up.

And that’s not nothing.