Clara’s Story. Our Future.
I’ve never spoken into a microphone before.
Not one like that—standing at the front of the Thurston cafeteria, which had been turned into an official school board hearing room. Every folding chair full. A news camera in the back. Two teachers crying in the corner before we even started.
And me?
Holding Eva’s hand so tightly I could feel her pulse in mine.
The Presentation
They gave us three minutes.
Three minutes to explain how Clara Millner died in 1956 and was buried in the northeast corner of what’s now the Thurston Nature Center.
Three minutes to show how her grave had been “accidentally” erased from the new wetland delineation.
Three minutes to explain how that map wasn’t just wrong—it was dangerous. That the new plan would remove dozens of flood-mitigating trees and berms. That it would force birds to abandon the only rookery they’ve ever known. That it would dig into sacred ground.
We practiced for hours.
But when I looked out over the crowd—my parents, Blaise and Phoenix, Ms. Alvarez, and Ruby, sitting in the back with her mom—I stopped reading from the paper.
I just told Clara’s story.
About the heron.
About the Halloween party.
About how her voice sounded like wind and sorrow and rain.
“She came back because she didn’t want us to lose what mattered.
Not just her grave.
But our whole home.”
The Moment Everything Shifted
After we finished, the room went silent. Then someone clapped. Then everyone did.
Not the polite kind.
The kind that feels like thunder.
Even one of the board members stood.
Then Ms. Alvarez stepped up and read aloud the results of our teacher survey:
98% opposed to the original construction plan.
Then Ruby’s dad stood up and said he used to be for the new building—until he read our blog with Ruby and realized how much the Nature Center meant to his daughter.
Then Eva’s mom explained what a wetland actually is and how building there isn’t just risky—it’s illegal, unless you rewrite the law or the land.
By the end of the night, the board said they’d take emergency measures.
They voted to suspend the construction contract until an alternative could be reviewed.
And here’s where it gets weird—in the best possible way.
A Real Solution
A few days later, we heard rumors.
About a building in northeast Ann Arbor.
An old elementary school that hadn’t been used for classes in years.
That was now called The Freeman Environmental Center.
It turns out: the construction company had been using it for their offices.
Like—what?!
Freeman was just a few blocks from Thurston. Still connected to the district. And had a cafeteria, gym, and classrooms still intact.
Eva’s mom and Ruby’s dad pitched a new plan:
- Renovate and expand the original Thurston over two years
- Use Freeman as a temporary site for students and staff
- And kick the construction firm out of Freeman while we’re at it
The board loved it.
They voted unanimously to move forward with the Freeman plan.
The Nature Center will remain untouched.
The birds will stay.
The wetland will live.
Clara’s grave will be preserved and marked with a proper memorial.
And starting next year…
We’ll be students at Freeman Elementary (for now).
But in our hearts, we’ll always be Thunderbirds.
And we know who helped us save our school.
✌️ Ember