One day, in a quiet afternoon in the classroom, one of my colleagues said something that lingered in my mind. “Remember your why,” they say that comment with a grin and an exaggerated shrug, almost involuntarily rolling their eyes. It came across as sarcasm rather than encouragement, and I couldn’t help but agree with that sentiment.
Early in my career, I found comfort in those words. At that time, remember your why It felt like a genuine invitation to reconnect with the passion that led me to teaching in the first place. This made it easier to maintain purpose and find meaning in daily connections and small victories. However, in response to the coronavirus pandemic, its meaning has changed.
For many teachers, the past four years have been a constant cycle of adapting to new learning models, meeting new curriculum mandates, supporting student mental health, and adjusting to enhanced accountability measures. With increased demands and inadequate support, let’s remember why it often feels like a way to shift responsibility for systemic failures onto teachers. Burnout and disillusionment are often seen as personal challenges to be overcome by reigniting passion, rather than symptoms of structural issues that need to be addressed. Instead of offering meaningful encouragement, this phrase now rings hollow, expecting a teacher’s unwavering dedication while ignoring the emotional toll we face.
In the post-pandemic era, this pressure will be felt even more heavily due to ongoing social and political crises. Teachers are called upon to be more than educators, to be counselors, advocates, and role models, all while grappling with the same grief and trauma as their students. After a conversation with colleagues, I realized that we all came to the same conclusion. “Remember your why” has become a negative cliché, oversimplifying the complexity of our profession. What was once a provocative call to action now highlights education’s growing disconnect from reality.
At that time, I had also lost both of my grandmothers. These losses reshaped my understanding of purpose and prompted me to reflect on what was, is, and what could be in order to honor the past and new steps forward. The loss of my grandmothers Grace and Fernanda reminded me that purpose is not always easy to define. Sometimes it is silent and deeply rooted in the values and relationships that shape us. When asked, “Remember your why,” I now feel the need to redefine it. Not as a rigid expectation to maintain my own morale, but as a very personal reflection of the lived experiences and values of the people I hold dear.
Grace and Fernanda
Fernanda was born on the small island of Faial. in the azoresHe immigrated to the United States with his family in the 1970s. While studying English in southern New England, she overcame language and cultural barriers to raise a family and build a life that maintained her Portuguese heritage. Her ability to embrace a new country while respecting her roots not only shaped her life, but the lives of those around her.
During our vacation, she prepared more food than we could eat. paposekosa traditional Portuguese bread that is always served with every meal.Borro de Larranjaa Portuguese orange cake that I just couldn’t resist. These tastes and aromas are etched in my memory and remind me of her dedication to preserving tradition and passing it on to the next generation. Fernanda’s kitchen and dining room are warm, not only because of the food she prepares, but because she welcomes everyone with open arms and makes sure no one feels like a stranger. It was the location.
Her resilience in maintaining her identity in the face of adversity shows me that purpose is as simple and as profound as not giving up when others might. I did. Through the quiet moments of her life, acts of service and compassion for others, I learned the power of perseverance. Fernanda’s life reminded me that purpose doesn’t have to be public to be important. Sometimes it’s the small everyday decisions that make a real impact for our families, our communities, and ourselves.
Meanwhile, Grace rebelled against society’s expectations by pursuing a career while raising four children in the 1960s. As a union leader and teacher’s assistant in a public school, I admired her drive and determination to fight for what was right and to connect with everyone she encountered, including colleagues, students, and parents. I will always remember the story. Her work was more than just a job, it was a mission, and she was relentless in her belief that education should be equal for all. Grace’s purpose extended beyond her career and was deeply rooted in her family and community.
She taught me that purpose lies not only in formal outcomes, but also in the quiet moments of everyday life. It’s in the care you take to make someone feel supported, the tenacity and courage to push for what’s right even when it seems impossible. To challenge the status quo. Grace has stepped into many leadership roles, but her boldness has taught me that purpose means charting your own course based on strength and compassion. .
Their legacy has shaped my teaching practice. Fernanda’s determination to stay rooted in her identity and Grace’s willingness to remind us to rethink what is possible, question the system, and challenge when necessary. The purpose, I have learned, is to honor the complexity of our experiences and create space for healing and growth.
remember your purpose
When in doubt, I look to the example my grandmother set for me. Their stories remind me to center myself, hold firm to my values, and lead with quiet strength. I learned that my purpose doesn’t have to be said out loud. It can be a quiet, nurturing force that helps others grow and succeed, just as I strive to do for my students and colleagues.
Asking teachers to remember their “why” must account for the realities of education today. It is not enough to ask educators to reflect. Managers and policy makers must demonstrate their own parallel reflection and commitment to action. Authentic leadership involves ensuring that teachers are seen, heard, and supported, as well as encouraging them to reaffirm their purpose. When the call for purpose is matched with actionable support, remembering “why” can reclaim its power as a shared and transformative affirmation of our collective commitment to education.
As my grandmother taught me, purpose is not static. It is a living, evolving force rooted in hope, shaped by determination, and nourished by the legacy of those who came before us. By remembering this, we can honor the challenge and beauty of teaching and create space for meaningful change within ourselves and the communities we serve.
