Word: Legacy

Sentence:

Legacy is how you leave people, not what you leave behind.

Passage:

This week, a former student of mine graduated from college.

When he came to Sullivan, he had already tried a couple other high schools and nothing had stuck. His mom loved him, but addiction had taken more than it had given, and he ended up in foster care. By the time he arrived, he was mad at the world. Not “teenage attitude” mad, but hurt mad. The kind that dares you to give up on him first.

But underneath that anger was something I’ve seen a hundred times in kids who’ve had to grow up too fast: motivation and determination. A quiet decision to be better than what life handed him. He wanted to be an athlete. He wanted a future. He just didn’t know if he could trust adults long enough to help him build one.

So we did what we had learned to do over time.

We surrounded him with support and care. When he got heated, we didn’t match him, we just stayed close. When he pushed us away, we stayed steady. When he was down, we reminded him who he was becoming. Sometimes it looked like hard conversations. Sometimes it looked like a second chance. Sometimes it looked like a hug when he least expected it.

And I need to name this part: that wasn’t always the legacy of our school.

But it became it.

Over time, we built a culture that said, “We don’t throw kids away. We don’t lead with punishment. We lead with connection. We hold the line, and we hold the kid.” That was the legacy we were trying to create, so when students walked out our doors, they carried more than credits. They carried proof that they mattered, and a picture of what support can feel like.

He flourished in sports and earned a scholarship to play in college. When college got hard, and it did, we stayed connected. It was a total team effort—from coaches, teachers, administrators, and partners like our nonprofit ‘Friends of Sullivan’—to rally around him and help him continue to chase the degree. We kept checking in. Covid hit, and we kept encouraging. When his funds ran low, we rallied together. We kept doing what we said we would: we stayed.

Now he has a diploma in his hands. What hit me most wasn’t just that he graduated (we’ve had plenty of college graduates over the years), it was what this moment represents. Our school’s legacy helped him start his own.

That’s the thing about legacy: it’s not a trophy you leave behind. It’s the way people leave your presence: stronger, steadier, more hopeful, more equipped because you were in their life.

This doesn’t just happen in schools. It happens in relationships. On teams. In companies. In neighborhoods. Every space has a legacy, and people either leave it stronger, or they leave it smaller. Either the culture builds capacity, or it quietly breaks it.

Sure, we can read the news and throw up our hands and say the world has lost its mind. But I’ve watched a school change. I’ve watched adults decide to be different. I’ve watched a kid who came in angry graduate from college. My belief remains unshaken: if we can build a better culture in our schools, we can do it anywhere. The catalyst is not a program or a policy, but the daily commitment of one person to one relationship.

Your Turn:

What legacy is your team or organization creating right now?

This Match was dedicated to the Friends of Sullivan. Thank you for your continued support of Sullivan students past and present! Keep going!

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