A Unique Perspective

I’ve been a firefighter since 2013 and an educator since 2009. After spending the last several years as a school administrator, I found myself going home after emotionally and physically exhausting days asking the same question over and over: How can working within the education system feel harder in so many ways than putting out a literal fire?

That question stayed with me for years, until I finally realized the answer.

In the fire service, our mission is clear. It’s right in front of us. It’s urgent. It’s hot. Even if we can’t see the flames, we can feel them. That constant, tangible reminder keeps us focused and united in our purpose.

But in education, our mission isn’t always as visible. We’re navigating complex challenges every day, academic gaps, trauma, behavioral crises, limited resources…and it’s emotionally demanding. Yet we don’t always get those clear signals reminding us why we do what we do.

That’s why collaboration in education takes even more intentional effort. We must commit to keeping our shared mission at the forefront of everything we do…every conversation, every classroom, every decision.

There is no doubt: we are better together. But to truly serve our students with the power and precision they deserve, we need to support each other in remembering our why. If we can do that, if we can lift one another up and stay centered on our collective purpose, we will become unstoppable in our ability to transform lives.

Why DEI Actually Matters in Education

Why DEI (Diversity, Equity & Inclusion) Actually Matters in Education (Like... a Lot)

If even a handful of my teachers had seen the magic in me—the brilliance behind the sass, the sparkle beyond the behaviors—and believed in me just half as much as I believe in myself today… whew, I would’ve been unstoppable by the fifth grade. Seriously.

But here’s the thing: I don’t blame them. I blame the system. When I was navigating school, resources were limited, support was sparse, and professional development? Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly giving “inclusive practices.” The system wasn’t designed for kids like me—kids who didn’t fit the mold.

Fast forward: me, a new teacher, solo in a classroom of 36 students, behavior charts flying, no magic wand from teacher school in sight. I had to adapt—fast. It wasn’t grace that got me through, it was grit. And while a lack of support helped me find my groove, that path shouldn’t be the standard. Not everyone’s brain is wired like mine (hello, spicy neurons!). Most educators need collaboration and hands-on support to thrive—and they deserve it.

Let me tell you, if you could peek inside my brain and see how it has to reverse-engineer everything—from conclusion to introduction—you’d applaud me just for making it to brunch on time. Neurodivergence is like that: beautifully complex, wildly different from person to person, and absolutely worth understanding (and celebrating).

Real talk? I thought I was stupid until junior year of college. Growing up with trauma had me hyper-focused on me—so much so that I couldn’t see my own brilliance or the bigger picture. Then one day, I’m out here casually debating Nietzsche in a graduate-level philosophy class when a few seniors tap me to tutor them. Cue the plot twist.

That moment cracked the code for me. Turns out I wasn’t “dumb.” I was undiagnosed ADHD. And with that knowledge, everything changed. I went from excelling in only the classes I liked to actually thriving across the board. These days, I even pull out my old college transcripts to show my neuro-spicy students: “Look what happens when we embrace how our minds work.”

Let’s be clear—neurodivergence is a gift. A straight-up superpower. But society hasn’t caught up yet. Our schools aren’t designed to welcome that power—they’re designed to label it. “Disability,” they say. A term that implies something’s wrong with us. But I’ve never been limited by my brain. I’ve been limited by how schools define success.

I once asked a licensed intervention specialist why we use the word "disability." Her answer? “It’s how we justify the services and supports a student needs.” I get that. But here’s my rebuttal: if you have to call me broken to help me… maybe it’s the system that needs fixing.

When we truly see the diversity around us—neurodivergent minds, different cultures, unique ways of thinking—we start to unlock the real power of education. Yeah, change is scary. But it's also necessary. As Darwin said, “It’s not the strongest or the smartest who survive—it’s the ones most responsive to change.”

So let’s be the change-makers. Let’s tear down the walls, study the systems that do work, and start building an educational future that matches the potential of our kids.

I already see the vision. I just need you to help make it real.

Let’s go!