Dear Teachers,

Thanks to Hurricane Irma and a rearranged state testing schedule, during the week our holiday calendar sets aside to celebrate you, you were preoccupied with important testing duties and school responsibilities that held back our festivities. But now, with the end of the year upon us, I wanted to take the opportunity to write something for you because this year’s closing feels a bit more emotional and lately, I can’t stop thinking about what you each mean to our family.

I turn 40 later this year. With it, I have acquired a few gray hairs, thank God some wisdom, more confidence in my skin and countless cherished memories, including ones from years when I too spent my days teaching other people’s children while dreaming of my own. But today, I want to note the important acquisition of over 2,200 handoffs. Six years, three children, twelve teachers and 2,200 mornings of getting them ready and walking them to a door where I hand them off to you and then turn around, trusting that the things that mean most to me in life are safe in your care. I admit, the first few of those handoffs were really more extractions, and I apologize. I guess it only takes a few times of parking a helicopter before noting that a fast-moving car is the more emotionally responsible form of school transport.

I’ve been asked, “What do you do if your child has a bad teacher?” And while I’m sure they’re out there, I’m so grateful to say we’ve never had one. Each of you has gone so far beyond your job requirements to nurture, teach and know my children, I hardly know how to thank you. As a teacher, I fully recognize the time commitment it takes to be the kind of teacher you are. And as a parent, I want you to know that the things you each have done for our children have made a remarkable impact on our family and will never be forgotten. The people our children will be someday–the confidence and belief they’ll have in themselves, the bravery they’ll demonstrate in attempting hard things and the kindness they’ll give to the world around them…I want you to see it someday so that you can feel pride in knowing you helped create that beautiful thing.

I want you to know that I will never forget the night one of you asked if it was okay to stop by and then knocked on my door after her particularly rough day. I want you to know that I held back tears when I opened the door to see you standing there, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons, and you said, “Where is she?”

I want you to know that in those IEP meetings when sometimes it felt intimidating and overwhelming, when I saw you, I felt like I was home.

I want you to know that so many texts were fired off to my family this year, telling them about the things you are doing, the ways you show you cared, the life lesson you took the time to impart. Each of you are legends in our family’s eyes. My parents and siblings–even the ones in other states–know your names because you are talked about in beautiful ways. What you do matters so much.

Of the 2,200 handoffs I’ve made, I want you to know one that stands out this year. I will never forget dropping off my children the morning after the Parkland shooting. I could see it in a lot of parents’ eyes–we were heartbroken, we were stunned, we were all imagining what those other parents were feeling. I wish I could say these things didn’t cross my mind, but I’ve thought about the layout of the school, the locks on the doors, how long it would take me to get there from home. I want you to know that the only thing that brought any peace to these visions was you. I pictured you hugging my child because I know you would. I imagined your calm voice and your assurring presence. I knew deep in my heart that while your job should not require it, you would stand in harm’s way to make sure my child back got back in my arms that night.

I want to thank each of you for the texts you sent this year–the “I think she’s a little off today” ones or the pictures of him smiling or the “She did it! She did it!” texts because your excitement for her accomplishment was so near my own mom pride, it couldn’t wait for an e-mail at the end of the day.

Thank you for being tough on them–for expecting them to reach their potential, for setting their standards high. That belief in them is nothing short of true love.

Thank you for your creativity. For scrambling to come up with new ways of teaching and assessing when you realized one way wasn’t working. I will remember each of your smiles as you excitedly told me, “I have an idea…” I will hang on to that smile and use it in my parenting–to hold true to the hope that there are so many different ways to stir up the beautiful things that are in my child.

Thank you for extending this creativity and support and belief to all of your students. I’ve seen you do it. I know we are not the only ones. Watching you each talk about your students is like watching a mom–I know you love them. I know you won’t ever give up on them.

I want you to know that I know your job is hard–that summers off are nothing compared to the heart you bring when you’re there. I want you to know that when you’re turning your classroom lights off at 9 pm because you stayed late to plan, or when you cry at home because you’re tired and you can’t keep up, or when later this summer you open those test scores that don’t measure 90% of what your job is, I see you. And I’ve noticed every single effort you’ve taken this year to support and love my child.

Next week, there will be one last handoff. And then you’ll give them back to me for the summer. Your names will be spoken throughout the summer. And someday, years from now, I will watch my children walk across stages, accept jobs, fall in love, go through really hard times and hold true to who they are and what they are capable of…and I will think of you. I will send you a silent little thank you, wherever you are in the world, for being part of this great adventure.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

As the school year comes to a close and our kids are bringing home all the papers that have been stuffed in the back of their desks, our intern and friend Kirsta Graf is also closing out her first year at college. If you don’t know who Kirsta is, she’s a vibrant, talented college student in St. Paul, Minnesota who is attending Bethel University as part of their 2-year BUILD program for students with intellectual disabilities. Kirsta has Down syndrome, and I was so fortunate to travel with Ruby’s Rainbow last year to be part of her college sendoff. Kirsta’s mom, Alicia, has become a close friend and my lighthouse on this journey of raising a child with Down syndrome. We’ve talked many times this year, laughing about situations that have come up at college–situations Alicia never thought to prepare Kirsta for because, as she says, “You don’t realize what they don’t know until you realize they don’t know it.” Letting go for us parents looks a little bit different as, while we want nothing more than our birds to fly beyond our nest, sometimes their wings need more support. We know that failure is a necessary step on the road to success, but it’s hard not to jump in to try to keep our kids from failing because they already struggle with overcoming challenges. This balance of letting go and hanging on and teaching independence is especially complex and emotional for parents of kids with special needs, but Alicia and Kirsta are figuring it out so beautifully, and Kirsta’s first year of college has been an incredible opportunity to practice these skills.

Today, as part of Kirsta’s paid internship with me, she’s sharing some of her life hacks she used to help her conquer this first year away from home.

But first, I’m sharing an e-mail Alicia sent me this week–what she as a mom learned this year.

Dear Kelle,

I’m not a writer like you but here are some random thoughts:

I don’t know where the year went.

I thought maybe with Kirsta at college,
I’d have lost 10 pounds going to yoga 5X a week,
or have a freezer full of healthy organic meals,
or have all the video tapes of her childhood on a digital,
or the laundry room would be cleaned out,
or her bedroom repainted,
or I’d have taken up gardening or baking homemade bread or I don’t know, bird watching! something…

Turns out none of that really occurred.

She went to college to grow and learn, and I stayed home to grow and learn.

I learned not to solve for her, but to coach her to ask for help at school. (Thank you BUILD staff).
I learned no one is going to hold her hand through each moment, but they are rooting for her with all they have.
I learned not to freak if she spent her weeks spending money (30$) in 23 hours (on snacks, sandwiches, and shakes)
I learned communication is tricky when your kid is not with you #lostintranslation
I learned to try another way to teach a lesson, and another and another…
I learned there are things I didn’t teach her and didn’t know I didn’t teach her and we found that out.

I learned to TRUST the process. I learned to RELAX. I learned she STANDS ALONE sometimes. I learned she want some FREEDOM. I learned she is more LIKE other freshman then unlike.
I learned that I have to LET GO and HOLD ON at the same time. I learned this is HARD. I learned this is WORTH IT.

This summer Kirsta will continue to do tours at BETHEL for prospective Build students. She has a meeting with Dunn Brothers next y week for a possible job, and she is volunteering at Jack’s Baskets once a week.
The rest remains to be figured out.
Remember in the video last August you said, “It may be hard, but alternative is she doesn’t get the opportunity…” well that summed it up! Many times I called that to mind and it gave me strength and patience and hope in the growth process.

And all us parents with kiddos with special needs have got to keep our hope in the growth process….because sometimes it is just too soon to tell how something is going to turn out.
Today I saw her hilarious Instagram post and I laughed and smiled and beamed with pride!

Love you peach,
Alicia

Kirsta shares her hacks:

BUILD Office: The teachers are really nice. There is free coffee, water, La
Croix, and snacks for the BUILD students. My favorite thing to get here is
the La Croix.

Independent Study Class: This is where we do homework on our
ipads. We have mentors here who help us do our homework.

Checkout a charger: If I forget my charger I can get one at the Bethel
library with my ID. This is a good hack because then I don’t have to
walk all the way back to my dorm. And I have used this A LOT.

My homework table: This is the 3900 Grill on Bethel’s campus. The Grill is a place you can eat chicken fingers, milkshakes, and fries. This is the table I normally sit at. I like to use this table to do my homework. After my homework I like to watch a movie, for example Moana, and cast my friends for what characters they would be in the movie.

Katie Koehn’s Office: Katie is a good family friend I know. She works at Bethel’s Admissions office. Knowing Katie’s office is a college hack because I go there to say hi to her whenever college life starts feeling overwhelming.

My Weekly Snack Bin: I get one La Croix, one Capri Sun, and two snacks every day. Some of my snacks are chips or granola bars. This has been a good hack to help me remember to eat my own food and not just take other people’s snacks.

My Pill Container: This container tells me each day what pills I need to take. This hack helps me remind myself to take my medicine. This is so much easier than having big pill bottles!

Fit Bit: My fit bit shows me how many steps I have made each day. On Wednesdays we have a meeting called Group. Group helps us to stay healthy and active. We are put on teams and if our team meets our goal we get entered in the drawing to win a prize. We get chance to win a prize every Wednesday if we reach our goals for steps every day.

My Job Mentor: This is Kelly Leonard. She helps me with my internship. She makes sure that I am on time and know what my responsibilities for the day are. It is fun having a job mentor!

We are wishing Kirsta a wonderful summer with meaningful adventures, and we cannot wait to hear more about her second year of college next year!

Dear Readers and Friends and Fellow Life Enthusiasts,

Today, I bring to you a very special project I’ve been working on for quite some time. It started as a little dream that buzzed in my heart–first a quiet buzz that made me acknowledge, “Oh hey there, dream, I see you. I’m going to make you happen someday.” But dreams are feisty little buggers, and this one wanted action–not just talk. So the buzz turned into more of a sting–a sting that couldn’t be ignored–and the sting put the dream into action.

Here’s what the dream looked like:

A 30-day online experience with a community of women–kind of like a retreat but without the huge expense and childcare and traveling. Writing prompts, thinking prompts, life prompts, podcasts, connection, support. I wanted to take what I love about connecting with women, what I’ve learned from writing and sharing online, what I’ve collected from the stories of women I’ve worked with, and exercises that bring me joy in life everyday and weave them into a month-long course to create community and support for women who want to explore MORE in life, women who might be feeling stuck or uninspired or who are just looking for some space to focus on themselves. And because I’m a busy mom who has a lot going on, I wanted to make something that was doable for other women like me. Something a mom could commit to even if her summer looks like driving kids around, sitting in the passenger seat of an RV on a road trip or working in a cubicle to pay for her kids’ summer camps.

So I created Ordinary Magic, a month-long digital experience that will begin in June. And today, I’m inviting you to be a part of it.

So much love went into this new baby, and I’m so excited to share it with you–to share the entire month of June exploring and connecting with you if you’d like to be a part of it.

To make sure all the kinks were worked out, I shared the program with 30 women in a beta test group this April, and I already miss them. It was magic.

You can read all about the program, what it explores and see what the women who were a part of it said about their experience here.

As Jen said, “It sounds corny, but these four weeks were truly life-changing. I have come to have an improved awareness of myself…my strengths, my stumbling blocks, my dreams and goals and my self-worth. I know how to kick my critic to the curb. I am a better mommy, a better wife, a better co-worker and a better me.”

Is this just for moms? No! We had a great age range in our Beta group, and it’s not at all kid-focused. It’s a little defibrillation for your own soul and some online connection and support to help you stir the pot of all the good stuff that lies within you–your creativity, your confidence, your gratitude and joy.

To read more about the program and sign up, head over here. (Edited 5/18 5:00 p.m. EST: Thank you for your incredible response and excitement for Ordinary Magic. To keep this experience as meaningful as possible for the participants, the cart has been closed for the June session. If you’d like to be added to the “first to know” list for future programs, you can sign up for notifications in the newsletter list here).

It’s like summer camp, but you can stay in your pajamas. And sorry, there’s no hot sailing instructor. Just me. See you on the high ropes course. xo