Superintendent, West Independent School District || My One Word is... SERVE! || Go Jesus, Chick-fil-a, Star Wars, Whataburger, Baylor Bears, & West Trojans!
Culture is built through influence. Influence is built through relationship. Relationship is built through trust. Trust is built through connection.
If you want better culture, start by learning to connect with your people.
A message from a Kindergarten teacher:
After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:
“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”
No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”
My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.
When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.
But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.
My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.
And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.
They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.
The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”
As if kindness were a weakness.
Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”
Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.
But this last year broke something in me.
The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.
I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.
So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:
“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”
I sat on the floor and cried.
No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.
I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.
I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.
So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.
Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.
@TroyMooney@HoustonISD Please share what you learned. I started my career teaching in Houston ISD (and loved it) and am curious what they are doing now.
If you want to fix the performance of your team, fix the culture of your team.
If you want to fix the culture of your team, look in the mirror and work on your leadership.
Leadership ➡️ Culture ➡️ Performance
“…we all have room to grow, but we have also done great work, past & present.
Do not assume others are recognizing that. Share the authentic good you see in people. Encouragement often fuels even more growth.”
3 Keys to Starting the Year with Impact - https://t.co/zKZCDtoELQ
This is no consolation prize! Cookie Cake Ice Cream - runner-up in the 2024 Great Scoop Revival Flavor Tournament - returns to stores beginning today.
The flavor is a sweet cream ice cream loaded with chocolate chip cookie cake pieces and swirls of chocolate and vanilla icing. Now available in the pint and half gallon sizes for a limited time.
Its not just their brain that students bring to class. It's their struggles, passions, needs, hopes, fears, dreams, etc. And there's 30 or more of them. Teaching may be the toughest job there is.
Some students come to school because of band, sports, art, theater, and other extracurricular activities. Don’t underestimate what keeps some students connected.
📚✨To help celebrate School Library Month, take a closer look inside the West Elementary School Library in @WestISD. With thoughtful design details that honor the town’s rich railroad history, this space truly lays the foundation for lifelong learning. 🚂📖 #SchoolLibraryMonth
Our Tech Foundation is handing out more grants today! 🤑🙌
First stop, West Elementary! They are the winners of our special tech grant, receiving TWO interactive projectors to enhance learning in a self-contained classroom! Congrats, @WestISD! #R12TechGrant#R12Empowers