Today, I spoke with two very special people from my past - a husband and wife, both educators, both with smiles you couldn’t forget if you tried. We caught up, told some old stories, and they met my daughter for the first time. She lit up with them right away - chatting about school, her hobbies, even slipping into French with her new friend.

They listened the way they always have, with warmth, curiosity, and that rare kind of attention that makes you feel like you matter. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, and I’d honestly forgotten how nourishing it is to be around them.

They probably won’t believe me, but they look exactly the same as they did all those years ago in Europe. I think it’s because the light inside them just… takes over. That’s what you see first. Always has been.

He’s still the tall, fit former Air Force guy turned educator - the kind of person you notice before he even says a word. Strong, steady, quietly confident, and somehow always gentle. The sort of presence that makes you want to rise to your best without him ever asking.

I am humbled he took the time to seek me out, and so grateful to know that those five years we spent as partners in crime in the classroom meant something to him too. He was my mentor and the best boss I could have asked for - but he always, intentionally, made me feel like an equal. A partner in the fun, the shenanigans, and in shaping those young brains and hearts in our care. He taught me we are entrusted with humans we have the privilege to lead, and to never take this honor for granted. In doing that, he quietly set the bar for what integrity driven leadership should look like. It’s a bar I’ve carried with me ever since, shaping how I aim to show up, how I work with people, and what I value most in the ones I choose to follow. I am honored to know him.

And then there’s that smirk - the one that shows up right before he’s about to pull you into some good-hearted mischief. He didn’t just lead us, he played right alongside us. 

His wife, is an equally gifted educator, with a legacy of her own. She’s still tiny beside him, and I can still see the way he towers over her with care. That hasn’t changed, if anything, it’s more obvious now. His arm around her is the same mix of protective and easy that I remember from years ago.

He’s still the cheerful man who gets up at 3 a.m. to work out, who’s shaped more minds than I could count, not just with lessons and curriculum, but with fun, with laughter, with a kind of character and care that follows you long after you’ve left the room. The leader you follow because you want to, not because of a title. And yes, the same man we may or may not have “kidnapped” for his birthday with the help of the school’s security guards all these years ago. That morning, his entire class may have disappeared, leaving only a note on the whiteboard:

“Little Mike lost his sheep and doesn’t know where to find them…”

He had no idea we’d rounded up all his “sheep”. The security guards, promptly whisked him off to a surprise party. And of course, he rolled with it, laughing, grinning, and giving us that smirk like he had planned the whole thing.

That radiant smile is still there. So is that calm, grounded, reflective, wise presence. And that knack for making anyone, from a brand-new teacher to a twelve-year-old holding up a model rocket feel seen, challenged, and completely cared for.

Today, it was my daughter’s turn to speak with those two amazing humans. They were so excited to meet her, and she was just as excited to meet them. Within minutes, they had her talking about science, soccer, school projects, her dreams, and they listened like it was the most important conversation of the day. When we hung up, she got emotional. Overwhelmed with joy. This is what feeling truly and gently seen by good humans does to a pure soul. It reaches and it stays. Then she asked right away, “When can we talk to them again?”

It was only a virtual call, but it felt like they were right here in the room, that same warmth, that same steady presence. And even in such a short chat, my friend still managed to teach me something important.

In the end, he said, nothing matters as much as the relationships we keep, and it’s worth spending our lives honoring them.

What Mike doesn’t know is how much I needed a reminder of human goodness and loyalty - the lasting, non-performative kind. His timing was, as always, perfect. The delivery deeply wise, sincere and impeccable. I don’t think anyone else could have reminded me so clearly that good still exists. That real, non-transactional connections still exist. Maybe they could have but I suspect the doubts would have persisted - but when he speaks, I listen. Because I know he lives it.

I love being continously inspired by these incredible people. I’m grateful for the countless young minds they’ve both reached in the best possible way, for the example they still set, and for the gift of having them on my path. Watching my daughter meet them and feel that same goodness I did all those years ago… that’s a full-circle moment I’ll hold on to.

To those two incredible humans -you are one of the greats. And don’t worry, your sheep are still safe… for now.