Why I Started This…

For eleven years, I worked in public education.

Like so many educators, I loved the students, cared deeply about my coworkers, and believed that helping others was simply part of who I was. I also believed that if I just worked a little harder, stayed a little later, or carried a little more, everything would somehow work out.

Over time, the stress became something I accepted as normal.

The difficult student behaviors.

The crises.

The emotional weight.

The responsibility of helping everyone else while quietly pushing aside what I was carrying myself.

Then one day, everything caught up with me.

During a crisis at school, I found myself on the pavement outside, overwhelmed, crying, and unable to catch my breath. After years of telling myself I could handle anything, I had reached my limit.

In that moment, one of my coworkers knelt beside me, placed a hand on my back, and quietly reminded me to breathe.

She didn’t have all the answers.

She didn’t solve the problems waiting inside the building.

She simply stayed with me until I could stand again.

I have thought about that moment.

Not because it fixed everything—but because someone noticed. Someone cared enough to stop. Someone realized how real this was. Someone made sure I wasn’t carrying that moment completely alone.

As I began reflecting on my own experiences, I realized something that has stayed with me ever since.

My story isn’t unique.

The names are different. The schools are different. The circumstances are different.

But the feeling is one shared by countless educators.

Every day, teachers, paraprofessionals, counselors, administrators, office staff, custodians, specialists, and support staff have experiences that most people never see. They care deeply for students and coworkers, while often having few systems in place to care for themselves.

Around the same time, a close friend and fellow educator had been carrying difficult experiences of her own. Like me, she had dedicated years to supporting students while navigating the emotional realities that come with working in schools. As we talked through our experiences, one thing became clear: neither of us needed someone to fix everything. We needed someone willing to notice, listen, and stand beside us.

Those conversations became the beginning of something much bigger.

Together, we started asking a simple question:

What if every school had someone whose job was to support the educators who spend their lives supporting our future generations?

This program exists for emergency medicine, first responders, pilots, corporations, and now the NFL; why not schools?

That question became the foundation for the School Staff Peer Support Specialist Program.

The website exists because I believe educator well-being deserves to be part of the conversations—not after someone reaches their breaking point, but every single day.

My hope is that the resources you find here help educators feel seen, help school leaders imagine new possibilities, and encourage conversation about building healthier, more supportive school communities.

Because caring for educators is not separate from caring for students.

It is one of the best ways we can do both.