When I was the principal of the Thompson Sixth Grade Center, one of my favorite things about our school was our Wall of Dreams.
We invited every student to write their dream on a sixteen-foot whiteboard that stretched down one of our hallways. I loved showing it to visitors. I wanted them to see the hopes, goals, and aspirations of the incredible kids who walk our halls every day.
I also loved that teachers passed this wall daily.
It was a reminder of our why.
Yes, we care deeply about student achievement—but test scores aren’t the reason we became educators. Kids are more than data points. We’re here to make a difference, to inspire, to help students believe in what’s possible for their lives.
I still smile when I think about some of the dreams written by our students:
“To be a sixth-grade Peer Helper”
“To be a loving mother”
“I want to do something that MEANS something”
This wall became a point of pride for our school—so you can imagine my mix of emotions when, late one afternoon, a teacher sent me a text on the day students wrote their dreams that year.
A student had written something negative on our “inspirational” wall.
I felt aggravated that someone would write it. Embarrassed that maybe our culture wasn’t as strong as I thought. And honestly… sad. Sad that a student might be carrying something heavy.
I knew I needed to talk to him.
His name was Brayden. (I got permission from both him and his mom to share his story.)
I invited Brayden into my office and, after a little small talk, asked about his “dream”—the one about wanting to get away from this stupid school. I was bracing myself for a story about bullying or unfair teachers.
That wasn’t it at all.
Very casually, Brayden explained that the hallways were just too crowded. Too many students. I empathized, admitted the hallways were crowded, and told him—honestly—that there wasn’t much I could fix about that.
Nothing felt broken. Nothing felt alarming.
Still, I needed to know.
“Brayden,” I asked, “what’s your real dream?”
His answer stopped me in my tracks.
“I want to be a fifth-grade reading teacher.”
I was stunned.
“Dude,” I said, “that might be the coolest dream I’ve ever heard. Would you write that on the wall?”
He did.
I immediately tracked down his fifth-grade reading teacher from the previous year, Ms. Vanover, because I couldn’t imagine a greater compliment to a teacher’s work. When I relayed this story to her, I could tell it impacted her emotionally… but she was also surprised.
Her response caught me off guard.
“I didn’t think he liked school. I didn’t think he liked my class—or even reading.”
But he did. More than she ever knew.
This story is important to me because it is a reminder that teachers are making an impact even when they might not be aware of it.
Thank you, Ms. Vanover (now Mrs. Evans), for the difference you made in Brayden’s life. And thank you to every teacher who pours themselves into students every single day.
You never really know the impact you’re having.
You never know whose dream you’re shaping.
Thank you,
Danny
If you’re looking to energize your leadership retreat this summer or you want to provide your staff with some inspiration to start the new school year, I’m now booking events. I’d love to hear from you!
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Danny
