To Holly

I didn’t know Holly Giles. But in the summer of 2021, after one of the most difficult years in my career in education due to the impacts of Covid, I learned of her

 

Holly was an Assistant Principal at Lowell High in San Francisco. And a couple of days before the end of school in June 2021, she was traveling along I-80. An SUV on the opposite side of the freeway blew a tire, which shot over the central divide hitting many cars and causing accidents. It unfortunately hit Holly’s car windshield and roof. She was taken to a nearby hospital.

 

The community at Lowell didn’t know of the accident, so when she failed to show for graduation, people wondered where she was. No one knew she had been in an accident and in a hospital on life support. After a week on life-support, Holly’s family decided to allow her to die. She was set to retire a few days after graduation.

 

When I heard this story, my heart sank for her and her family. I imagined that as the year was closing, she could almost taste retirement. I imagined all the things she would do, the rest and sleep she would take. And BAM—just like that, it was taken away. It put into perspective the brevity of like and how all of us—ALL of US-- can go at any time.

 

To assuage my grief, I imagined that she loved what she was doing. And if she didn’t always love it she felt she was where she was supposed to be serving students, families, and staff. She had an abiding sense of purpose and meaning in being at Lowell. Earlier this year, by my friend Kristen disavowed me of this belief by letting me know that she was miserable—largely due to the institutional resistance to addressing the systemic racism and inequities at the premier public high school in San Francisco.

 

Holly has been my guiding saint these past few years—a reminder to keep my job in perspective and to hold ever conscious my deliberate choices to be wherever I was—as an assistant principal or as a Principal. She has lit the way as I have approached retirement—something she was not able to enjoy or experience. And with two days away from my official last day, I raise a glass to her honor and life. To you Holly Giles, my you rest in peace and in power.