Choosing Hope: Moving Forward from Life's Darkest Hours

by Kaitlin Roig-DeBellis

  I sat down and composed an initial letter to teachers:

  The mission of Classes 4 Classes is to teach every child in our nation to care for another by caring for others, to have genuine interest in the well-being of others, by showing interest. We will cultivate a message that our lives are not separate but, in fact, completely connected. We will create an environment where our students learn to care for others, not by talking about it, but by doing. Students will learn to love by being loving.

  Classes 4 Classes is a true example of good. It will help our youngest students to learn the most fundamental lesson: that it is always better to give than to receive. That you can always help someone else. That working together toward a common goal builds a sense of teamwork, community, where everyone is included and actively engaged. Ultimately that as a class they are “sponsoring” another class, giving to that class with no expectation to get anything in return, other than knowing how it feels to give freely.

  Anything you can do in your own classrooms in association with this project would be awesome! It truly is all about teaching kids to care. By teaching kindness, compassion, love and empathy, there is no room for hate.

  The response was immediate and encouraging. Within weeks we had thirty classrooms, most in Connecticut, but also schools in Arizona, Texas, New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire wanted to participate.

  A fourth-grade class from Connecticut sponsored a sixth-grade class in New York City and asked the class to write letters with their “wish lists.” “We brainstormed a list of items we needed or wanted for our classroom,” the New York City teacher wrote. “When one student suggested computers, another student raised his hand and asked if that was too selfish or too much for someone to get us.” Some requested new desks or new chairs, but most requested books. “This ESL (English as a second language) class absolutely loves reading and goes through books like I have never seen before,” the teacher wrote. “They often ask to go into the eighth-grade classroom to look for books they haven’t read before. The thought of having a complete library with new books thrills them.” One student wrote something along the lines of, “We could use books. They are the key to education and knowledge.” The Connecticut class read all of the letters and voted unanimously to fund a new classroom library for New York City six-graders. They had already begun raising money.

  Two fourth-grade classes, both of them taught by friends of mine, chose to work together to help two classrooms in other states, one that asked for Kindles and the other iPads. The most remarkable thing happened. Once the students got into it, they approached their teachers to say they didn’t want to wait for donations to come in to the website to get their projects funded. They wanted to be able to provide the requests of their out-of-state fellow students sooner. “We need to do more,” they said. “We want to do more. What can we do to help raise the money?” After a couple of idea sessions, their project got even bigger. They were able to recruit other classes for a giant fourth-grade tag sale. The objective was that every fourth-grader in the school would bring in at least one item they no longer needed to sell at the sale. But the team effort didn’t stop there. They also planned a Friday movie night in their school gymnasium for the whole school to attend and planned to solicit donations of juice boxes and popcorn to sell.

  Hearing about the initial responses of students was so inspiring. The concept was already working and we hadn’t even officially launched the website. This is what it’s all about, I thought. Instilling in students how good it feels to be good and caring people by helping one another. The children wanted to help, wanted to make a difference, they simply needed to be given the opportunity to do it. “How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world,” William Shakespeare wrote in The Merchant of Venice. Those few good deeds by a handful of schoolchildren would light the way for schoolchildren across the country. I was sure of it.

  The website debuted with plenty of fanfare, with a segment on World News Tonight. On the night the broadcast aired, my board members and I met at one of the member’s homes to watch. The World News Tonight piece featured a prerecorded interview they had done with me earlier that week where I talked about the gifts to my class, and our class in Tennessee, and how that exchange had evolved into my new mission, which was Classes 4 Classes. There was a moment, just as the interview was ending, when I talked about how the shooting had changed me. I said that I learned to be grateful for things I had once taken for granted. “You know, it’s interesting; the morning of the tragedy I took a picture of the sunrise, which is ironic now, looking back, because that could have been my last sunrise, very easily, so now I try to really enjoy each and every moment. Because you just don’t know.”

  After the broadcast, we launched the site and watched it go live. Donations were already coming in. My eyes teared up with gratitude, for the moment, for all of the support we’d gotten, for the commitment from my fellow board members. But most of all, gratitude for the chance to make a difference. I looked at the faces of the rest of the board and knew from their expression that they were feeling what I was. We had done well.

  In our own small way, we were starting to change the world.

  Action Is Healing

  There is no moving on from what happened at Sandy Hook, but I choose to move forward. For myself. For the people I love and care for. For the community, and the chance to do something meaningful with whatever time I have on this earth. I was raised to believe that each and every one of us who have been given the gift of this precious life has an obligation to give back. Like everyone else, I sometimes immersed myself in the minutia of everyday living and forgot about my larger purpose, but not after what happened at our school. When you witness such a random act of unthinkable brutality, when you are forced to face the painful truth that even innocent children pass away, when you come so close to death that you can feel its breath on your face, it’s like the fog lifting to reveal the morning sun. You see the bigger picture and there’s no turning away. You live knowing there isn’t time to waste. We need to give our gifts now because no one is guaranteed a tomorrow.

  Giving of oneself is the meaning of life, that’s what I believe. That’s what we’re here for. It may not always seem like it, but we’re all in this life together and even the small acts of kindness make a difference. Imagine if we took the time that we do, say, gossiping, or shopping, or worrying what others think about us, and used that energy to contribute something positive to humanity. If we don’t do something outside of ourselves, beyond ourselves, for others, then what do our lives mean? What mark do we leave on this earth? That was one of the most profound lessons I took from Sandy Hook. I didn’t want my legacy to be Kaitlin Roig-DeBellis, survivor of the deadliest mass shooting at a high school or grade school in U.S. history. I wanted it to be Kaitlin Roig-DeBellis, a regular person who surmounted great tragedy by helping to make the world a better place.

  I have a giving nature. I think most of us do. But for a long time, I worried that my immense grief would be the obstacle I just couldn’t hurdle, the thing that would prevent me from salvaging any kind of a purposeful life. For weeks, I’d lost myself in the intense feelings of sorrow and anger and fear we all felt after the massacre, and that rendered me helpless to see beyond myself. Only after I finally realized that I could make a decision to either be swallowed up by the tragedy or make the hard choice to move forward by channeling that negativity into positive action did I begin to get my life back. That was a powerful feeling, to really understand I had a choice. That as long as I had breath, I had the power to think the thoughts I wanted to think, to do the good I wanted to do, to avenge the destruction wrought by the killer by making sure I lived the meaningful life I was meant to live.

  Classes 4 Classes had given me renewed purpose and set me on a positive path. My responsibility was to keep the gathering momentum growing. You can move mountains with a mighty heart, and as fragil
e as I still sometimes felt, my heart beat strong. Sometimes it felt like my steps were slogging through mud, but whenever they felt heavy and I was tempted to stop pushing ahead, I reminded myself that my mission was bigger than I am and I had a responsibility to others to carry through with what I had started.

  Sometimes, to keep myself going, I repeated the wise words of my therapist: “Action is healing.” With those words to guide me, I took up challenges and accepted undertakings that I once couldn’t have even imagined.

  The World News Tonight piece got a lot of attention, and, as the founder of the nonprofit, I was receiving accolades. After the show aired, I was contacted by different organizations that wanted to showcase Classes 4 Classes by honoring me.

  L’Oréal Paris selected me as a Woman of Worth, one of 10 Inspiring Women Making Beautiful Differences in their Communities. The Chicago International Conference on Education flew me to the annual convention to accept their Dedicated Teacher Award. Glamour magazine named me as one of its 2013 Women of the Year, alongside Malala Yousafzai, the brave young Pakistani woman who was shot in the head by the Taliban for fighting for the rights of girls to have an education, and Barbra Streisand, my mom’s entertainment idol. I was thrilled to be able to introduce them at the awards ceremony in New York.

  The Glamour gathering was especially moving for me. Standing on the stage with so many incredible women was humbling to say the least. Arianna Huffington introduced my award, and she made it personal. “As a mother, I’m particularly honored to be presenting this next award,” she said. She then spoke briefly about Classes 4 Classes and the importance of its mission to teach children love and compassion and the importance of giving back. I was so grateful for the kind words, but the best part of the evening for me came next when, to my complete surprise, nine of the moms of my first-graders came out onstage. I could hardly believe it. Those wonderful women had taken the time to be there for me. I have never felt so honored, before or since. One stepped up to the lectern to address me for the group. “Kaitlin, what you have done for our families is immeasurable,” she said. “We’re so proud of everything you have done for our community and how you continue to guide children and inspire the nation with Classes 4 Classes.”

  I was so touched I could barely speak, but I choked out a few words of appreciation. “This award, like everything I have done this past eleven months, is not for me,” I said. “This award is in honor of the twenty-six angels who I know are looking down on us right now. This is for them. I thank you all for honoring me so that I can continue to honor them.”

  I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house. Looking out into the audience, I realized the true magnitude of the impact that Sandy Hook had, not just in our community, but with people everywhere, and from all walks of life. I felt a real collective heartbreak in that room, a genuine mourning for my six colleagues and the twenty first-graders who lost their lives. And I was grateful for the opportunity to remember them in such a public setting.

  CHOOSING HOPE

  “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”

  —DESMOND TUTU

  Do It Anyway

  The praise I was receiving for Classes 4 Classes was wonderful, and I appreciated every kind word. But with all the goodness came criticism, and more lessons. I learned the hard way (doesn’t everyone?) that even when you’re working from your purest heart, people will pass harsh judgment on you. As much as it hurts, you can’t let it stop you from pursuing the things you believe in, or sticking to your core values, or telling your truth, because integrity is the basis of all of the good in the world.

  I heard about the rumors started by people I’d never even met, the gist of which was that I’d abandoned my students and run off to take advantage of a tragedy by promoting myself. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  The most hurtful disparagement came from a school acquaintance with whom I had shared a warm relationship prior to the shootings. She’d sent me a message through Facebook telling me that she would no longer be in contact with me. “I can’t interact with you anymore,” she wrote. “It’s too painful to see you walk red carpets when I’m walking the hall in our school.” I interpreted what she was saying as, “You abandoned us and I’m still here, so I don’t want to see what you’re doing now.” Her words cut me to the quick.

  Did she have any notion of how much I’d wanted to be back at school, or how hard I’d fought to be there? Did she know that I had taken a different path because my return to school had been made impossible? Did she not understand that I would have given anything not to be in the position that led me to my new path? That I would have given everything to turn back the clock to December 13 and somehow be able to save the people who died and spare my students their trauma?

  I responded to her by reciting my version of the Golden Rule. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.” Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. We practiced it every day in the first grade, but as adults it seems that we often forget how hurtful our words and actions can be. I wished my colleague would have thought about the implications of what she wrote before she’d sent the message. Walking the red carpet was not something I’d sought. I hadn’t asked to be on this new path, and I would have given up everything to return to the one I was on until December 14, 2012. I was doing the best I could just to live my life with purpose. I wasn’t particularly comfortable in the situations where I was being honored, but as the founder of Classes 4 Classes, as the face of it, I was grateful for the opportunities to bring attention to such an important cause. I wondered how that woman would have felt had someone written such hurtful words to her? In my response to her, I asked that she please consider the pain her words had caused, but she never received my message because she’d unfriended me on Facebook before I got the chance to send it.

  One evening, still feeling the sting of the woman’s unkind words, I sat down at my computer and searched the names of some people who I believed to be above reproach, role models, to see if even they had suffered from the harsh judgments of others. What I learned is that even Mother Teresa had critics. Reading that caused me to step back and realize that no one, not even the most selfless among us, pleases everyone. What’s the saying? You can be the biggest, ripest, juiciest peach, but some people just don’t like peaches?

  That same night, I came across a poem titled “Do It Anyway.” Sometimes it’s attributed to Mother Teresa but it was actually written by Kent M. Keith and the verses were posted on a wall at Mother Teresa’s home for children in Calcutta. The words had a powerful impact on me.

  People are illogical, unreasonable and self-centered. Love them anyway.

  If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Do good anyway.

  If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.

  The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.

  Honesty and frankness will make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.

  The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway.

  People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

  What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.

  People really need help but may attack you if you do help them. Help people anyway.

  Give the world the best you have, and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you have anyway.

  When the critics came out (and, thank goodness, they were few and far between) I remembered those words. I had started something important and I couldn’t let a few critics crush my spirit. I had to do what I knew was right. That doesn’t mean the criticism didn’t hurt. It did. I was born a people-pleaser and maybe once I would have been frighten
ed away from my mission by people’s unkind judgments, or maybe I would have tried to convince them that my intentions were good. But not now. I didn’t need to prove my good character; there was no time for that. I just needed to live it.

  I began every morning reading that inspiring poem and decided that, going forward, it would be part of my message. I had never spoken in front of a large audience, but I decided to “Do It Anyway” when I was invited to address a group of educators in the Pittsburgh suburb of Seneca Valley on their Back to School day in 2013. I was a bundle of nerves in anticipation of my public speaking debut, but not so much because it was new to me, or because of the size of the crowd. My jitters were about making sure I got my message across. I didn’t want to be misunderstood, the way I had been by my former colleague. Yes, I would talk about what my students and I experienced together on the day of the killings, but that wasn’t the purpose of my speech and I wanted to make sure that was crystal clear. I’d spent weeks writing and revising my remarks to make sure the meaning of what I intended was what came across, that we cannot control what happens to us in life, only how we choose to react to it. And we can always choose hope.

  More than a thousand employees from the district turned out in the school auditorium. My hands shook as I began to speak.

  “I am here with you today to share my story,” I said. “My story as a teacher, a learner, a leader, a survivor. I share it with you, because I think it may make a difference in how you view each moment, each minute, each day when you are truly aware that life can change in an instant. I share it with you because as educators we have a common bond: to help children.”

  Much later in my talk, I spoke of the tragedy.

  “. . . On the morning of December fourteenth, 2012, inside the walls of Sandy Hook Elementary, our school endured a tragedy beyond comprehension. Twenty-six lives were taken far too soon, senselessly and brutally. In the midst of such unimaginable loss, loss that could have very well been the loss of my own life, I had to find meaning again. I could not continue to live the way I had, of thinking I had all of the answers, because now I knew that I did not. Something had shifted inside of me. From that day forward I had to look within, I had to reflect back and I had to look to the future. In life things happen to us, good, bad, and everything in between. I know now that it is not the moment that defines us, but in how we choose to react to the moment.”