The Quiet Power of Showing Up

The Art Room at 7:30 AM: Discovering Influence in Unexpected Places

She was the kind of student who carried an edge—sharp enough to keep people at a distance, tough enough to let you know she didn’t need anyone. At least, that’s what she wanted the world to believe.

But at 7:30 AM, before the school day officially began, she was in my classroom. Hands deep in clay, shaping something out of nothing. We talked sometimes, traded banter, shared unspoken understandings. She appreciated my honesty—about life, about art, about how the work we create isn’t the measure of who we are.

“You are beautiful. This is high-level second grade work,” I’d say, watching her smirk.

She understood. I wasn’t cutting her down. I was telling her what no one else dared: Her value wasn’t in what she produced. She was already enough.

Then one day, an administrator pulled me aside.

“You’ve been marking a student present who isn’t coming to school.”

Apparently, one of my students had run away from home. The police were looking for her. The school was concerned.

It was her.

I assured them she was attending—right here, in my classroom, at 7:30 AM, shaping something out of clay, maybe shaping something out of herself. The administrator was skeptical.

“If she comes tomorrow, bring her straight to us.”

The next morning, she showed up. Sat down. Got to work.

I pulled up a chair next to her and said, quietly, “It seems like you have some shit going on in your life.”

Her shoulders tensed. “What do you mean?” she shot back, eyes hard.

I didn’t press. I just told her what I’ve learned: It’s best to face things head-on. But not alone. We all need backup.

She listened. And when I suggested she meet the school social worker—someone I trusted—she agreed. We walked down the hall together.

Creating Safe Spaces to Create (and Be Created)

I don’t think of her often, but she has become an important part of my story. A reminder of the space I create, the influence I have—not through authority, but through presence.

She came to my room before the world got to her—before expectations, before masks, before the need to be tough. In that space, she could create, but more importantly, she could just be.

That’s what living from the inside out means to me. Not striving for influence, but showing up, being present, and making space for others to be seen.

I’m still figuring out what that means for my next steps, but I know this: It matters.

What’s a moment that made you realize your impact?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.