February
Dear Teacher,
How are you? How is your mind? Your body? Your spirit?
This time in the school year can feel so heavy. The cold winter wind personifies the harshness that we witness in our classrooms, communities, and country. We walk alongside students exhibiting heartbreaking behaviors, craving empathy in ways they are not yet equipped to articulate. We experience painful disunity in our school system and wider circles. We feel too tired to navigate interactions with patience and the “right words.” We watch our country display its fragility and grief at the inhumane acts of humans.
Growing up in Minnesota, I can tell you a lot about winter. I can tell you that it feels like it will last forever. I can describe that double digits below zero feels like sharp pins poking at your throat and lungs every time you take a breath. The cold and dark that winter brings is so, so heavy.
But I can also tell you what Minnesotans do about it. We become the warmth and light for one another. We gather together over a hot, fresh meal. Under blankets, we cozy around crackling fires. We connect, genuinely checking in on each other, because winter can be tough, but so are we.
There may not be immediate solutions for the heaviness we feel around us, but maybe we can learn some lessons from the bitterly cold Minnesota winters. No matter where we are or what we’re journeying through, maybe if we lean in a little closer to one another, gather around some food, and check in on each other, we will all feel a little lighter.
Dear Teacher,
How are you? How is your mind? Your body? Your spirit?
This time in the school year can feel so heavy. The cold winter wind personifies the harshness that we witness at times in our classrooms, communities, and country. We walk alongside students exhibiting heartbreaking behaviors, craving empathy in ways they are not yet equipped to articulate. We experience painful disunity in our school system and wider circles. We feel too tired to navigate interactions with patience and the “right words.” We watch our country display its fragility and grief at the inhumane acts of humans.
Growing up in Minnesota, I can tell you a lot about winter. I can tell you that it feels like it will last forever. I can describe that double digits below zero feels like sharp pins poking at your throat and lungs every time you take a breath. The cold and dark that winter brings is so, so heavy.
But I can also tell you what Minnesotans do about it. We become the warmth and light for one another. We gather together over a hot, fresh meal. Under blankets, we cozy around crackling fires. We connect, genuinely checking in on each other, because winter can be tough, but so are we.
There may not be immediate solutions for the heaviness we feel around us, but maybe we can learn some lessons from the bitterly cold Minnesota winters. No matter where we are or what we’re journeying through, if we lean in a little closer, check in on each other, and gather around some good food, maybe we will all feel a little lighter.
January 2026
Dear Teacher,
January 1st may be just another day on the calendar. This year, it’s a Thursday after a Wednesday, before a Friday like any other Thursday. So why do we wish each other a happy new year and celebrate and throw confetti and create New Year's resolutions?
I think it’s because humanity yearns for the opportunity to celebrate fresh starts. Chances to reflect on the past and invitations to turn a new page and begin writing a new chapter in the story of life. We long to feel graciously accepted during our seasons when we may not have shown up the way we would have wanted. We look up, earnestly seeking to feel inspired, dream, and be a light to those around us.
Where do these New Year’s musings find us as teachers and leaders? Today, I give you permission:
You are invited to reflect on the past days, weeks, and months, noticing the unique joys and challenges of the season you’re navigating while holding space for grace and understanding.
You are allowed to make adjustments in your perspectives, habits, and actions.
You are welcome to set exciting, audacious goals that feel like you’re finding yourself again.
You are free to turn a new page and begin writing the next chapter of this school year.
Now that you’ve received these reminders, consider your students and colleagues. What permissions or invitations will you extend to them? How might they be searching for grace and space to make changes or set ambitious goals?
Creating atmospheres which invite reflection, change, and growth requires intention and starts with each one of us. Begin with allowing yourself to find a fresh start in the new year and this example will have a ripple effect for those around you.
Dear Teacher,
January 1st may be just another day on the calendar. This year, it’s a Thursday after a Wednesday, before a Friday like any other Thursday. So why do we wish each other a happy new year and celebrate and throw confetti and create New Year's resolutions?
I think it’s because humanity yearns for the opportunity to celebrate fresh starts. Chances to reflect on the past and invitations to turn a new page and begin writing a new chapter in the story of life. We long to feel graciously accepted during our seasons when we may not have shown up the way we would have wanted. We look up, earnestly seeking to feel inspired, dream, and be a light to those around us.
Where do these New Year’s musings find us as teachers and leaders? Today, I give you permission:
You are invited to reflect on the past days, weeks, and months, noticing the unique joys and challenges of the season you’re navigating while holding space for grace and understanding.
You are allowed to make adjustments in your perspectives, habits, and actions.
You are welcome to set exciting, audacious goals that feel like you’re finding yourself again.
You are free to turn a new page and begin writing the next chapter of this school year.
Now that you’ve received these reminders, consider your students and colleagues. What permissions or invitations will you extend to them? How might they be searching for grace and space to make changes or set ambitious goals?
Creating atmospheres which invite reflection, change, and growth requires intention and starts with each one of us. Begin with allowing yourself to find a fresh start in the new year and this example will have a ripple effect for those around you.
December 2025
Dear Teacher,
As we begin this final month of 2025, my thoughts keep returning to the idea of light. There is so much heaviness in our classrooms and in our communities - a weight that often brings confusion, grief, and exhaustion. In the midst of darkness, we need light. And there is light.
As a reflection for this month, I’d like to share an excerpt from Day 17 in Called to the Classroom: Daily Reflections for Educators.
Light is diverse.
Light is one lit candle in an empty, dark room.
Light is a movie on a big screen, projecting stories to be seen and heard.
Light is the joy of twinkle lights.
Light is a lantern exploring unknown paths.
Light is the headlights of a car bringing a loved one home.
Light is a sunset over the ocean.
Light is a million stars, scattered and energetic.
Light is a searchlight, scanning the seas for danger.
We are called to be Light in this world.
This may look unique to each of us, because Light is designed to take different forms.
Thank you for being a light every day in your home, school, and community. Look for the light in others and shine brighter together.
Dear Teacher,
As we begin this final month of 2025, my thoughts keep returning to the idea of light. There is so much heaviness in our classrooms and in our communities - a weight that often brings confusion, grief, and exhaustion. In the midst of darkness, we need light. And there is light.
As a reflection for this month, I’d like to share an excerpt from Day 17 in Called to the Classroom: Daily Reflections for Educators.
Light is diverse.
Light is one lit candle in an empty, dark room.
Light is a movie on a big screen, projecting stories to be seen and heard.
Light is the joy of twinkle lights.
Light is a lantern exploring unknown paths.
Light is the headlights of a car bringing a loved one home.
Light is a sunset over the ocean.
Light is a million stars, scattered and energetic.
Light is a searchlight, scanning the seas for danger.
We are called to be Light in this world.
This may look unique to each of us, because Light is designed to take different forms.
Thank you for being a light every day in your home, school, and community. Look for the light in others and shine brighter together.
November 2025
Dear Teacher,
One of the many unique aspects of our profession is the dichotomies of our daily lives. We often live, move, and make decisions in the midst of complex or seemingly conflicting realities.
We are filled with joy by leading our students’ learning and growth, and we are empty and exhausted.
We are inspired to discover, experiment, and grow in our craft, and we are overwhelmed with the over-increasing responsibilities we manage.
We are advocates for our students, and we wonder who is advocating for us.
We are surrounded by students, families, and colleagues, and at times we feel so alone.
We are grateful for the honor of being a teacher, and we feel guilty for not doing more.
We are strong role models of love, consistency, and empathy, and we are humans who desire to feel these elements in our own lives as well.
Today, I want you to know that it is okay to experience these conflicting realities. You are in the thick of this school year and you have witnessed both beautiful and heartbreaking moments. You are human, and you are taking life one step at a time in order to do the next right thing. Hold space for the joy-moments when they arise, and say a whisper of thanks. Invite grace during the tough moments, reminding yourself that you are worthy of love and belonging, no matter the circumstance.
Thank you for embracing who you are - in all your complexities - and making a difference in our world.
Dear Teacher,
One of the many unique aspects of our profession is the dichotomies of our daily lives. We often live, move, and make decisions in the midst of complex or seemingly conflicting realities.
We are filled with joy by leading our students’ learning and growth, and we are empty and exhausted.
We are inspired to discover, experiment, and grow in our craft, and we are overwhelmed with the over-increasing responsibilities we manage.
We are advocates for our students, and we wonder who is advocating for us.
We are surrounded by students, families, and colleagues, and at times we feel so alone.
We are grateful for the honor of being a teacher, and we feel guilty for not doing more.
We are strong role models of love, consistency, and empathy, and we are humans who desire to feel these elements in our own lives as well.
Today, I want you to know that it is okay to experience these conflicting realities. You are in the thick of this school year and you have witnessed both beautiful and heartbreaking moments. You are human, and you are taking life one step at a time in order to do the next right thing. Hold space for the joy-moments when they arise, and say a whisper of thanks. Invite grace during the tough moments, reminding yourself that you are worthy of love and belonging, no matter the circumstance.
Thank you for embracing who you are - in all your complexities - and making a difference in our world.
October 2025
Dear Teacher,
You are well into the school year. The first impressions are distant memories, your students are finding some type of rhythm, and the school days pass by. There are times when you find yourself in moments of pure joy. When students tell a completely random and hilarious story, or when they are just beginning to believe in themselves and pursuing their newly discovered passions. You think to yourself, “How did I get the best job in the world?”
And there are other times when you feel so worn - so weary - that you don’t know how you’ll find the strength to keep going. Your students carry the weight of their worlds into your classroom. You listen, you love, and you inspire. But you have your own world and it feels heavy sometimes too. More and more is being added to your plate, personally and professionally, and you ache to feel like you can breathe again.
My hope and prayer is that you would embrace deep grace for yourself. When you react in a way you regret, when you need to say “no” instead of “yes,” when you can’t do it all or solve it all; it will be okay. As you allow yourself grace, it becomes more natural to extend grace to others - your students, colleagues, leaders, and families. And let’s face it: In the world we’re sharing right now, don’t we all need a little more grace?
Dear Teacher,
You are well into the school year. The first impressions are distant memories, your students are finding some type of rhythm, and the school days pass by. There are times when you find yourself in moments of pure joy. When students tell a completely random and hilarious story, or when they are just beginning to believe in themselves and pursuing their newly discovered passions. You think to yourself, “How did I get the best job in the world?”
And there are other times when you feel so worn - so weary - that you don’t know how you’ll find the strength to keep going. Your students carry the weight of their worlds into your classroom. You listen, you love, and you inspire. But you have your own world and it feels heavy sometimes too. More and more is being added to your plate, personally and professionally, and you ache to feel like you can breathe again.
My hope and prayer is that you would embrace deep grace for yourself. When you react in a way you regret, when you need to say “no” instead of “yes,” when you can’t do it all or solve it all; it will be okay. As you allow yourself grace, it becomes more natural to extend grace to others - your students, colleagues, leaders, and families. And let’s face it: In the world we’re sharing right now, don’t we all need a little more grace?
September 2025
Dear Teacher,
It’s the start of another school year - another fresh, open door to opportunities of learning and growth. Perhaps this is your first year in the classroom. If so - congratulations! You are stepping into a profession like none other. Enjoy every time you hear, “Miss _____” or “Mr. _____” (insert your name); you are a teacher and you will make an unimaginable difference on the world.
If you are well into your career in education, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here again this year. Thank you for being the core - the foundation - on which your colleagues and students rely. You are practical. You are wise. You have learned to be flexible and go with the flow, all the while seeing through the “noise” to remain focused on what’s truly best for students.
If this is your last year in the classroom, I pray these next months are filled with the deepest, most meaningful moments. Whether you’ve taught for four years or forty, leaving the classroom is complex. The lives you have impacted during your time as an educator will never be the same. You will likely never hear all of the stories, the outcomes, and the unspoken gratitude, but please know that out in the world, there are young people who believe in themselves a little bit more and are kinder to others because you were an influential part of their story. You have left an incredible legacy.
To all educators, leaders, and lifelong learners, thank you for coming alongside our young people for another school year. You are here, you are strong, and you are invaluable. You are also not alone. Thank you for inviting me along on your journey this year.
Dear Teacher,
It’s the start of another school year - another fresh, open door to opportunities of learning and growth. Perhaps this is your first year in the classroom. If so - congratulations! You are stepping into a profession like none other. Enjoy every time you hear, “Miss _____” or “Mr. _____” (insert your name); you are a teacher and you will make an unimaginable difference on the world.
If you are well into your career in education, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here again this year. Thank you for being the core - the foundation - on which your colleagues and students rely. You are practical. You are wise. You have learned to be flexible and go with the flow, all the while seeing through the “noise” to remain focused on what’s truly best for students.
If this is your last year in the classroom, I pray these next months are filled with the deepest, most meaningful moments. Whether you’ve taught for four years or forty, leaving the classroom is complex. The lives you have impacted during your time as an educator will never be the same. You will likely never hear all of the stories, the outcomes, and the unspoken gratitude, but please know that out in the world, there are young people who believe in themselves a little bit more and are kinder to others because you were an influential part of their story. You have left an incredible legacy.
To all educators, leaders, and lifelong learners, thank you for coming alongside our young people for another school year. You are here, you are strong, and you are invaluable. You are also not alone. Thank you for inviting me along on your journey this year.