Voices We Weren’t Supposed to Hear
If you’ve been following all of this and thinking,
*“Why don’t the teachers just say something?”
“Why hasn’t someone spoken up?”
Well… they finally did.
Because we made a way.
The Survey
It was Eva’s idea. I just made it real.
We created an anonymous survey and linked it from this blog. Just three questions:
- Are you a current or former Thurston staff member?
- What is your opinion of the proposed construction plan?
- What do you wish you could say publicly?
We didn’t use names. No emails. No tracking. Just a quiet space where voices could be heard safely.
And then we shared it.
First just to a couple teachers.
Then it spread.
The Results
As of last night:
41 responses.
98% opposed to the project.
Some of the comments made us cry.
“I’ve taught here for 22 years. The Nature Center is the heart of this school. Without it, it’s just walls.”
“We were told to stay silent or risk our jobs.”
“I signed NDAs I didn’t understand. I don’t feel okay about that anymore.”
We haven’t published the full results yet. But we will. Soon.
The Kids Are Talking Again
Something else is happening too.
After the Halloween party, things were tense. People weren’t talking. Kids stopped inviting each other over. Friendships got weird.
But now?
Something’s shifting.
Even kids whose parents are still pro-construction are starting to listen. They’re reading the blog. Whispering about Clara. Asking questions. And most important—they’re asking each other what they think, not just repeating what they’ve heard.
And Ruby texted me last night.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first. Can we hang out soon?”
So yeah.
Maybe the parents haven’t figured it out yet.
But we have.
Heron in the Snow
I almost forgot this part. (Or maybe I didn’t know how to write it until now.)
Last week, after skating on the frozen pond with Blaise and Phoenix, I stayed behind. Just for a minute. The sun was setting. The snow had that blue-pink glow it gets when the sky turns quiet.
Then I saw it.
A great blue heron—perched on the old fencepost. In the snow. In February. Just watching me.
I blinked.
She blinked back.
Then spread her wings and lifted off like a ghost rising from the ice.
And for just a second, I saw her as Clara—the same girl from my dream.
Before she vanished into the clouds.
Clara is watching.
And I think she’s proud of us.
✌️ Ember