Today I had the great pleasure of attending the high school graduation of the class of 2017 at KIPP Austin Collegiate High School. This group of kids is very special to me as they were the first kids that I ever taught 7 years ago when I began teaching at KIPP. As I sat in the stands, I was flooded with memories, both good and bad (the struggle is real that first year of teaching), of these kids in my classroom. I remembered the ways I failed them. I remembered the ways they soared and succeeded anyway. Mostly, I was filled with pride. I am so proud of these kids, all of whom have been accepted into college, a few with full rides and many with hefty scholarships.

These kids worked hard. Oh, so hard. Their journey to this day has not been without struggle. By that I mean, struggles that were foreign to me at their age. I think of one girl who spent the entirety of her 6th grade year separated from her brother and mother, after they were deported. I think of another, who upon arriving home every night, was sort of the “man of the house” taking care of his younger siblings, because his mom worked multiple jobs to keep food on the table. I think of several others who were still struggling to learn English and catch up on their reading skills. I think of still others who shared their families “crossing the border” stories, just to build a better, safer life. These kids have worked hard. That is the KIPP way, after all. Work hard. Be nice.

Today, as I sat and listened I was struck by something the salutatorian said during her speech. She spent some time talking about the very real obstacles they have all had to overcome to get to this day. She mentioned having to be extra good and achieve more, as people of color, to be given the same opportunities as their white counterparts in other schools. She mentioned having to deal with ICE raids around their team and family this year. She mentioned growing up surrounded by poverty, corruption and violence. What an unjust trinity that is.

As if in a time warp, when she said that I flashed back to my own childhood, full of everything I needed, safety, and opportunity at every corner. I didn’t have to worry about ICE or police brutality. I didn’t have to achieve more to have opportunity. In fact, I scored so low on my SAT scores that to this day, I’m not sure why UT even accepted me and let me enroll. But they did. This is white privilege.

2017, I may have been your teacher for a year, but I’m pretty sure you taught me significantly more than I taught you. And here’s the thing - you will be my teachers from now on. We live in a scary, unjust world, at times full of fear and hate. I wish it were different. I wish it were a more fair and just place. I wish everyone was truly treated equally. I wish systemic racism was not a thing. I wish poverty, corruption, and violence were not the norm. Yet, this is the world you inherit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that your struggles will continue.

But we need you. We need you to stay strong. We need you to believe in your ideals, to not grow cynical, to not grow weary. We need you to continue to rise above every act of hate and bigotry. We need you to continue to go high, when others go low. We need you to remind us that while this world can be full of fear and hate, it is also full of love and beauty (don’t miss the love and beauty!). We need you to rise up and be the change. We need you to fight for justice and equality anywhere it doesn't exist. We need you to teach us how to do this. We need you to lead us.

2017, on behalf of all of your teachers, we need you. Continue the climb. We are watching. And just like we did when you were our students, we’ve got your backs. We believe in you.

The future is indeed bright.

For KAC Class of 2017