When Hurricane Harvey swept Houston’s Bay Area, I didn’t lose everything, but the storm unsettled me. Returning to class two weeks later, I faced students carrying grief far heavier than mine. Had I suffered a major loss like so many others, maybe the words would come easier. Monday couldn’t just be about economics—it had to be about steady ground and hope.
By the second year of pandemic teaching, exhaustion had settled in like a fog. Lessons felt heavier, students more distant, and the energy I once carried into the classroom drained away. I kept moving—grading, planning, adjusting—but often wondered if I had the strength to finish the year. What carried me wasn’t technology or training, but people: colleagues, family, and the quiet resilience we found together. Survival gave way to something deeper. We learned that even in uncertainty, strength grows step by step, and sometimes just finishing the journey is itself a victory.