After our school smashed the world records for the most High Fives in one minute and the World’s Largest Game of Gaga Ball, something magical happened, our kids started asking, “What’s next?” That question alone is the heart of what we do as educators: we spark curiosity, we ignite excitement, and we keep the momentum going.

As a principal, I see my job as dreaming big with kids and then doing the legwork to make those dreams real. So when I found a world record we could break together—the most students dressed as the Cat in the Hat—I knew it had to be more than just costumes. It needed meaning. It needed literacy.

We reached out to our community to collect enough Dr. Seuss books to form reading groups, about 500 total. The response was overwhelming. When you invite your community into something bigger than themselves, they show up strong. That’s a lesson in collaboration we can all carry.

Our amazing art teacher jumped in without hesitation, using class time to help students create their own striped hats. Why? Because it mattered. It was more than just construction paper, it was a chance to be part of something unforgettable.

On the big day, 1,300 students and adults filled the gym, each holding a book and proudly wearing a Cat in the Hat hat. Some of the adults were nervous. Would the kids behave? Would it fall apart? But here’s what I always say: when you give students a real opportunity, they rise to meet it. Every time.

We mixed the groups, one student from each of the three schools. Elementary students were given the chance to read first, but if they felt shy, middle schoolers stepped up. The older students took the lead, the younger ones found courage, and the whole room buzzed with anticipation.

When I counted down from 10 and hit zero, the gym fell almost completely silent. No one told them to be quiet. They were just in it. Over 1,200 students reading together. Focused. Engaged. Empowered. For many, it was the first time reading felt exciting, and relevant.

We rotated three times so every student could take part. We tallied participation. We took photos. We celebrated. And that night, our students saw themselves on the news, not as troublemakers or test scores but as record breakers and readers.

This is why we teach. This is what happens when we believe in our students before they believe in themselves. It’s messy, it’s exhausting, and it’s worth it.

So to every teacher who stays late, dreams big, and keeps showing up:
You Are Good At This.