To Cali, with Love
I grew up in California, the Bay Area specifically. During my freshman year in high school, the Tunnel Fire ravaged the Oakland Hills. With 1,500 acres burned and thousands of homes destroyed, the fire was one of the worst in the state since the Great San Francisco Fire of 1906.
Growing up I personally experienced natural disturbances - countless earthquakes, both large and small. For the most part, once the shaking was over, life returned to normal. But the Oakland fire was different. This time nature left a visible mark, and years passed before anything felt normal for many I knew.
Me enjoying summer in southern California, circa 1982
My extended family is all in southern California, where I have spent a portion of every summer of my life. And though my aunt, uncles, and cousins do not live near the current devastation, I am familiar with the area. I can so easily picture the communities that are impacted, and my heart aches for all that has been lost.
There is something special about that part of the world- temperate climate all year long, soft smell of salt in the breeze, tall sky-reaching palm trees, and just a different feeling as you walk down the sidewalks. I can’t explain it. But if you have been there, you know exactly what I mean.
The southern California fires have created an unprecedented disaster, something California has never seen before. People smarter and more knowledgeable than me will provide stats and insights, explaining what could have and should have happened. Experts will have guidance on how to help, where to send money, and how to move forward.
I don’t know what those impacted need right now, I will defer to others who do. But I do know that the current fires are permanently impacting the lives of hundreds of thousands of school-aged children both directly and indirectly. But it is not just this current crisis. These same kids lived through a global pandemic, and routinely practice active shooter drills. These students are exposed to social media and have access to a world of information in a way we never did.
These children will soon be inside a classroom where they will need educators who understand there is no way to go back to normal.
Not now.
Schools are a place of solace for the youngest among us. They are best when filled with educators who teach, listen, care, assure, and support. When the time comes to rebuild, I hope we can also rethink the role of school and how we support educators moving forward. Their job is becoming so much bigger, and so much more important, each and every day. We cannot fix what happened, but we can be an active part of the healing.
Now, and for years to come.
