Coda

I think of writing a blog as the electronic equivalent of scribbing a message on a piece of paper, putting that into a bottle, and tossing it into the ocean. Maybe the post will wash up on someone's screen. Maybe it won't. You hope it will be read, but you don't know. Sometimes, if the post is personal and emotional to you, it's a war between "Will anyone read this?" and "Dear God, I hope no one reads this"

Yesterday's post was one of those. It's easy to come up with a list of random things to make people laugh, but hard to put a part of your heart on display. But I do it -- so many of us do -- because it's the heart that makes us human, and those little pockets of vulnerability are where we're able to connect with each other. And yet -- it's not always comfortable to turn out those pockets and show people what's inside.

At least, it's not comfortable at first. But then sometimes you receive the most astonishing and warm outpouring of love. Which is what happened with yesterday's post, and which is why I postponed today's scheduled post because I wanted to say some additional things:

1. The school where I worked is a place where magical, extraordinary things happen in the classroom on a regular basis. Much of the administration that was there at the time that I left has also moved on. I didn't intend the post as an indictment of the entire system, or to point at the school and say that it was a bad place, or a place you shouldn't send your children. I am a FIRM believer in the public school system, and have always been very supportive of this school. I will say that in this particular instance, the system failed, and it failed significantly. But the teachers at that school? Phenomenal.

2. I said several times yesterday, and will say again, that in hindsight, while the system failed, I also believe that I failed. I could -- and should -- have stayed and fought, and I did not. I could have used what happened to me as a platform for making the system better and safer for the entire community, and I failed to do so. Change does not happen through silence and submission, and I deeply regret that I didn't fight back so that, in the future, anyone who found herself in that lobby, facing down that student, would have the tools and the support that she needed. That I didn't do so is on me. I need to own that.

3. The responses that I have received from other teachers and former students have -- how can I say it? You have changed my perspective. I sometimes think that I was not effective in the classroom, and that as much as I loved teaching, that I didn't make much of an impact. The messages I have received from students since yesterday have been a gift, and I can't thank ANY of you enough. You are a wonderful group, and you hold the whole world in your hands. It's yours -- go get it.

4. Finally. Someone asked me if, knowing what I know now, I would step in front of that boy again. And to that I say, firmly, "Yes." Doing nothing was not an option. Someone needed to step in, not only to protect them from each other, but also to protect the other people in the lobby -- and that made it worth everything that happened after. Every single minute.