Sticky Notes, St. Becky, and the Same Damn Chair
188 days ago, I sat in this exact chair at Java Owl for like 10 hours. It was December, which isn’t the best time to leave 8th graders with a sub, and I’d already been out for PD. I was on the verge of one of those classic Loftin nervous breakdowns (or, more generously, a highly emotional recalibration), and the day before I learned some things that knocked the wind out of me.
And listen—I thought things were already bad.
I had no idea how much worse they were about to get.
Like, oh honey…You wanna know what happened? Read the book when it’s done. LOL.
All I knew in that moment was this: I had spent six solid months working my ass off to grow, to take control of my life, to become the kind of person I could be proud of. And suddenly everything I’d built felt like it was teetering on the edge of ruin. I could’ve made choices that would’ve pulled me right back into old patterns. Easy choices. Tempting ones. Familiar, dangerous comforts.
But I didn’t.
I sat in that chair instead. All day long, just crying, journaling, staring at the wall, and trying so hard not to undo the progress I’d made. Trying to believe I was still someone worth fighting for, even if nothing else was working out.
That day, I found two sticky notes tucked inside the back of my Safe School Ambassadors training manual. We’d written words of affirmation to one another at the end of a long day of PD—just a quick wrap-up activity. But these weren’t just filler scraps. They said:
“April has a beautiful personality! 10/10 – feel like I’ve known her forever.”
“Your personality is contagious.”
And yes, I cried. Because on a day when I felt completely invisible and discarded and unsure of everything, these little squares of Sharpie-and-paper said, “You’re still someone worth seeing.”
🛠️ Actually Useful Professional Development
I usually hate PD. Most of us do. But SSA? It was different. We all felt it.
It was relational, thoughtful, real. The kind of training that actually acknowledges you're a human being who works with other human beings. And it gave me tools I didn’t even know I’d need—not just for the classroom, but for the days I’d be sitting in a coffee shop trying to keep myself from unraveling completely.
Same goes for Conscious Discipline. I joke about “St. Becky” (Dr. Becky Bailey), but it’s reverent humor. CD helped shape me. It gave me the language and framework I didn’t grow up with—how to co-regulate, how to self-regulate, how to build safety through connection.
These trainings are usually underfunded, undervalued, or waved off as “fluff.” But they’ve done more to help me become a whole person than any mandated curriculum ever has.
☕ Java Owl: Where I Practice Being Human
This chair—this literal piece of furniture—is sacred ground.
I’ve sat here through heartbreak, breakthroughs, laugh-until-you-snort conversations, awkward realizations, and full-on trauma processing.
I’ve written in this chair.
Spiraled in this chair.
Stared out the window and begged the universe for clarity from this chair.
And then—today, 188 days later—I walked in to find a stranger sitting in this exact chair reading I Love You Rituals by Dr. Becky Bailey.
Come on.
That’s a universe nudge if I’ve ever seen one.
Like it was saying, “Hey. You made it. You’re still here. And this work you care about? It’s still happening. It’s still helping people. Including you.”
📝 What I’ve Learned (So Far)
Post-its matter. Write the kind thing. Say it out loud. Give it away freely. It might be just a moment to you (or some BS task someone who gets paid way more than you is making you do), but someone could end up carrying it in their bag for months like a damn lifeline.
SEL tools are life tools. Safe School Ambassadors, Conscious Discipline, and every other “touchy-feely” strategy I’ve been taught? I use them more for myself than anyone else, and it’s helped me be a better teacher and a better HUMAN.
Becoming a person takes time. And sometimes, it takes a chair. A place. A ritual. A moment of stillness in a loud, hard world.
So, I guess this is a blog post about professional development and sticky notes and a coffee shop chair.
But it’s also a post about how we hold ourselves together when everything is trying to pull us apart. And how sometimes, the smallest messages can make the biggest difference.
