Moonlit Missives is my February series dedicated to writing love letters to individuals and communities deserving of recognition and respect. Valentine’s Day is the perfect opportunity to express love, appreciation, and remind others of their visibility and significance. Through these heartfelt letters, I hope to uplift, honor, and celebrate those who often go unrecognized.
A Love Letter to Educators and School Nurses
Back in 2020, I thought I had seen the worst—the relentless criticism of teachers, the dismissal of public education, the outright devaluing of the people who dedicate their lives to children. But I believed we would rebuild stronger. I truly thought that after witnessing the Herculean effort of educators and school nurses during a global crisis, society would finally recognize them for what they are: heroes. Everyday heroes who carried our children through a storm none of us were prepared for.
I wanted to believe that after seeing teachers pivot overnight to virtual learning, navigating the impossible task of keeping students engaged through a screen, we would honor them. That after witnessing school nurses working tirelessly to track outbreaks, assess symptoms, and comfort frightened children, we would prioritize their well-being. That after everything, we would take care of those who took care of us.
Instead, the burden on educators has only grown heavier. And the worst part? No one talks about the trauma they endured.
Despite every federal and state program designed to address pandemic learning loss, no one stopped to consider the emotional, physical, and mental toll on teachers and school nurses.
Did you applaud the educator who spent months trying to understand what a child with a speech disorder was saying through a mask?
Did you think about the kindergarten teacher who met their students for the first time through a screen, trying to form bonds and build trust with five-year-olds who barely knew what school was?
Did you acknowledge the school nurse who watched a child—one of the few attending hybrid classes—sit alone in the health office, terrified they had brought a virus home to their family?
These are not abstract stories. These were the everyday realities of the people who showed up, day after day, for our children.
And yet, when we returned to “normal,” they were overworked, underpaid, and disrespected. Their dedication was taken for granted. Their exhaustion was ignored.
To every teacher who stayed up late rewriting lesson plans for both in-person and remote learners…
To every school nurse who had to be part medical expert, part therapist, and part miracle worker…
To these educators who carried the weight of their students’ struggles while quietly battling their own…
I see you. I honor you. I thank you.
You are not invisible. You are the backbone of our schools, the quiet warriors shaping our future, the reason so many children made it through the pandemic. You deserve more—more respect, more support, more appreciation.
I don’t know if the world will ever repay you for what you’ve given. But I do know this: you matter. And no matter how much the system tries to break you, I pray you never forget your worth.
P.S. As the literacy crisis in our country worsens, as educators endure the relentless swings of the professional development pendulum, and as they are forced to do more with fewer resources, stand with them. Support them. Defend them. Honor them. Because they are not just teaching—they are fighting for the future of our children. And they shouldn’t have to do it alone. Learning loss from COVID-19 is still very real—it goes beyond academics, shaping the social and emotional well-being of an entire generation who missed out on even the basics of preschool parallel play.
Teachers, stand tall.❤️
The Forty Files 