In his speech to the Senate, begging for them to fund PBS so his show could stay on the air, Mr. Rogers (the one and only) said these words:

“One of the first things that a child learns in a healthy family is trust, and I trust what you have said that you will read this. It’s very important to me. I care deeply about children.”

He didn’t beg to keep his show on air for the money. He didn’t manipulate people and lie to keep his show funded. He didn’t belittle anyone in the process. He didn’t call anyone a name. He didn’t point a finger. He didn’t demand to know what’s happening with all the money.

He simply just gave heartfelt speech about what matters to him. I use this speech regularly in my English classes, showing students how to effectively use their voice with respect and dignity to fight for a cause and not to fight people. I use it to explain the fair use of pathos (emotion) in their writing and how to steer clear of fear mongering and loaded language appeals. I teach about logical fallacy, I teach about propaganda, I teach about different people, I teach about discourse, I teach about communication, I teach about all of the things Mr. Rogers taught us.

Oh, I teach about reading and writing, too.

And I sit here fighting tears (quite literally, wiping them in between bursts of typing), not knowing how to keep the fight going anymore.

I believe to my core that the way to heal our nation is through our children. So many stories of love and light from the greats before us told us that children need to be loved, cared for, and our country says they also need to be taught. Whitney Houston sang the song about children being our future, Jesus gave space to children, and children heal us. Our nation even developed a department so that people who are passionate about kids and education could work and help kids, give them a chance, teach them a way out of poverty, support them through unkind moments, and help them learn how to make decisions for themselves that match their goals.

I wake up every single work day, leave my kids to get ready alone so that I can be at school early enough to be ready for other people’s children. I send my kids off their teachers and I head into my classroom to hang out with other people’s kids. Your kids.

I choose YOUR kids. And I don’t just teach your kids. I protect your kids, I love your kids, I feed your kids, I hug your kids, I clothe your kids. I care so much about your kids- sometimes so much that I cry on my own, like I am this morning, after an especially hard week full of hateful words, awful behavior, and constant work to keep myself grounded, regulated, and well.

I’m here, early March, feeling so defeated, frustrated, and frankly afraid. I am watching the feds dismantle a system that has been turned into a profit making program instead of a public service with hopes that it can settle back into something that resembles education. Mr. Rogers died in 2003 and it seems like hope for children died along with him. I don’t want to waste any time on political debate here. This isn’t about politics. This isn’t about who’s in the White House. This is about us. The parents.

Last week, my daughter received a text message on her personal phone number (not social media) that used so many derogatory words, I was hurt FOR her. The words she read about herself from another little girl (they are 12) were so awful I cried. But then, I was told that the mother of the child who sent the text helped her daughter write it. Now, a version of me would love nothing more to go toe-to-toe with this mother. I have no fear of people who are hateful because I know that they are simply unhealed. But instead, I doubled down on the love and support of my child. Because I also understand that the best way is to always double down on the love, support, affirmations, and loving words to combat the narrative forming in their heads. This is the age they create their self worth, the stories they tell themselves about themselves are being formed. That’s because of brain development, it’s biological.

And then, I went to work and I doubled down on the love and support of all of your children.

Because if that happened to my child, it’s happened to yours. And I told my students the story about how hurtful it was for me, their teacher, as a mother so they could understand that we deal with in our home, too. Because I am an educator who pays attention to kids social and emotional wellbeing just as much as their reading and writing ability. They are little humans, not little computers.

Social Emotional Learning (SEL) is my entire aura, it oozes from my essence. It’s just who I am. And you all think I’m turning your kids gay while I just want them to feel good in their own skin (also, you don’t turn people gay, they just are).

I want them to feel like they don’t need to be anyone but themselves. I want them to know that they have everything they need within themselves to master their own personal goals. That’s what SEL is. And if your child has has a teacher that has tried to turn them gay, well get that teacher fired, please. We are NOT supposed to be doing that. SEL is about meeting the child where they are at and helping them see there is a pathway to success, even if it looks different than the kid sitting to their left. SEL is inclusive, it’s real, and it’s fluid. And I won’t apologize for being a proponent of SEL.

Because I know that’s what kids need. Because I am a professional. Because I have studied and I have applied. Because I have learned about what they need. I have learned about their brains, their development, their world, their triggers, their responses.

They do not need more hate. They do not need more shame. They do not need more pressure. They do not need more expectations. They do not need better grades. They do not need to know how to read. I said it. Reading opens up worlds and writing opens up voice and math opens up independence. But they do not NEED those things.

They need food, love, security, and felt safety. That’s a need. And all science, research, and common sense tells us that kids’ stomachs are louder than their thoughts. Their broken hearts have no hope. Their world is insecure. Their felt safety isn’t about anti-bullying policies. They NEED us to stop commandeering everyone else’s lives and they NEED us to start raising them. They NEED us to put our phones down so they know they can put theirs down, too.

Education is a WANT. And you all WANT us to educate your kids. Well, we WANT you to start parenting and taking care of their basic needs so we don’t have to. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?

And while I sit here perplexed, confused, frustrated, tired, and probably maybe facing the fact that I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t think I can keep protecting kids from the bullets of the words coming from their parents or the bullets from the guns that kill our children. I don’t think I can combat this hatred. It’s just too much.

If we, the parents, of this potentially great nation don’t start doing our jobs as parents, teachers can’t teach kids how to read. If we don’t start talking to our kids, giving our kids love and combatting this fear based narrative, they won’t survive this world. Because I promise you, the things your kids tell me about their lives, they need you to step it up. They need you.

I’ve written things in the past that were detrimental to my job, often saying my honest truth regardless. Because to me, our children’s wellbeing is more important than a job. But when you have coaches and parents ruining sports games for kids because they can’t keep their shit together, it tells me that kids need to learn how to keep their shit together so they don’t become like us. We have seriously let Mr. Rogers down, guys.

He ended his speech with the following: What do you do with the mad that you feel? When you feel so mad you could bite. When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong, and nothing you do seems very right. What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or some dough? Do you round up friends for a game of tag or see how fast you go? It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong. And be able to do something else instead…

And that’s how I’ll end. Because I need to go get ready to teach kids how to be kinder than the world around them.