When I say “Jesus is my rock,” I am naming the foundation that steadies me before I ever step into a school building. In scripture, a rock represents stability, refuge, and strength during life’s storms (Bible, Psalm 18:2). In education, that stability shows up not as words spoken, but as presence lived out. I remain mindful that every interaction I have, whether greeting someone in the hallway, offering direction, or simply standing quietly in a moment, can become a meaningful and even a divine encounter. My light does not shine through preaching, but through patience, consistency, and care.

Each day, when I enter a school, I remind myself that I do not know what children or colleagues have encountered before crossing those doors. Some arrive carrying joy, while others bring grief, fear, or chaos tucked silently inside. Because of this, being true to myself means approaching each person with humility and compassion. Jesus as my rock helps me meet children where they are, offering a judgment-free space to talk, learn, play, and simply exist. This mirrors the wisdom found in building on a firm foundation—one that holds steady even when storms arise (Bible, Matthew 7:24–25).

Another way this foundation shapes my work is through my commitment to restoration rather than punishment. Keeping a positive attitude, creating room for mistakes, and allowing relationships to be rebuilt are not just educational strategies; they are reflections of grace in action. In practice, this aligns closely with restorative justice approaches in schools, which emphasize accountability, repair, and reintegration rather than exclusion. My faith quietly reinforces my belief that growth comes through learning, reflection, and second chances—not shame.

Prayer in the morning centers me before the day unfolds. It reminds me that children learn far more from what I do than what I say. This daily reflection pushes me to examine who I am becoming and who God is shaping me to be. After more than twenty years in education—serving in public and private schools, after-school programs, and as a Summer Camp Director —I have learned that leadership rooted in service is the most powerful kind. Scholars describe this as servant leadership, a model grounded in humility, care, and responsibility for others’ growth (Servant Leadership). For me, Jesus is the original example of that kind of leadership and my rock when decisions feel heavy or moments feel chaotic.

I bring my unapologetic self into every space I enter, relying on the Holy Spirit for discernment—knowing when to speak into confusion, when to listen deeply, and when silence itself is the most faithful response. Sometimes, simply being present allows peace to settle into a room. That presence is part of my foundation, part of what keeps me grounded when systems feel overwhelming or emotions run high.

I also carry my community with me. I come from a praying village—apostolic neighbors who prayed over me before and after school, who tutored me, and who taught me that service is not about receiving but about giving. They showed me that blessings multiply when shared, and that we are called to be God’s hands and feet in the world. That upbringing shaped how I view education not just as a job, but as a calling rooted in community care.

Ultimately, when I say Jesus is my rock, means my work is anchored in love, integrity, and steady presence. God does not fail, and that assurance allows me to show up fully for others—even on hard days. In education, my faith becomes an internal compass, guiding how I treat people, how I respond under pressure, and how I help create spaces where students feel safe, seen, and valued.