When Kids Call You a Hero

The Prayer That Shows the Heart of a Teacher

Today we got some good news—Tabby moved out of the ICU to another hospital. Montefiore, right across the street from where she was. It's another step forward, another inch of progress, and we're taking it as the victory it is.

But before I tell you about that, I need to share something that absolutely broke me open in the best possible way.

A student that Tabby helped wrote a prayer. Her mom sent it to me, and I've read it about fifty times now. Each time, I see my wife through the eyes of a child she fought for, and it reminds me why she does what she does—why she's worked so hard for each kid like they were her own.

"Dear God Please be with the one who stood up for me— the one who saw me when others only saw a label. They helped me feel safe, even when my thoughts were too fast and my feelings too big. Now they need You to stand by them. They had a stroke, and that’s scary. Their body and mind are healing, so please send them strength— the kind that builds slowly, gently, but doesn’t give up. Give them rest when they need it, and courage when things are hard. Let them feel love from all the kids they’ve helped just by believing in us. I’m one of those kids. And I’m still here—still thankful—still rooting for them. Please help their heart and body heal, piece by piece, day by day. They’re a hero to me. Amen."

A hero. This child called my wife a hero.

And you know what? She's right.

I've watched Tabby fight for kids across our state—kids who needed someone to see past the labels, past the diagnoses, past the behaviors that made adults uncomfortable. Kids whose thoughts moved too fast and whose feelings felt too big for the world to handle. She saw them. Really saw them. And she made them feel safe.

That's what heroes do, isn't it? They stand up for people who can't always stand up for themselves. They see potential where others see problems. They believe in kids when kids have stopped believing in themselves.

The impact she's made helping students navigate school, advocating for their needs, fighting for their accommodations—it's been amazing to witness. But more than that, it's been who she is. Every late night phone call with a worried parent. Every IEP meeting where she made sure a child's voice was heard. Every time she refused to let a kid be written off or pushed aside.

She worked so hard for each of those children like they were her own. Because in a way, they were. When you choose to advocate for kids, when you choose to fight for their futures, you're choosing to love them in one of the most powerful ways possible.

And now one of those kids is praying for her. Asking God to send her strength "the kind that builds slowly, gently, but doesn't give up." Asking for healing "piece by piece, day by day." Still thankful. Still rooting for her.

That prayer captures something beautiful about recovery, about hope, about the kind of strength we need for long journeys. Not the flashy, dramatic kind of strength, but the quiet, persistent kind that shows up every day and refuses to quit.

Today's move out of the ICU is that kind of progress—slow, gentle, but steady. Every inch forward matters. Every small victory counts. And knowing that kids across our state are pulling for her, praying for her, remembering how she stood up for them when they needed it most? That's fuel for the journey ahead.

So to the student who wrote that prayer, and to her mom who shared it with us: thank you. Thank you for seeing Tabby the way she deserves to be seen. Thank you for reminding us that the work she's done matters in ways we might never fully know.

And to everyone else who's been supporting us, praying for us, cheering us on from near and far: we feel it. Every message, every prayer, every kind word is part of that gentle, persistent strength that doesn't give up.

We're taking this one day at a time, one inch at a time, one hospital transfer at a time. But we're not taking it alone. We've got kids calling her a hero, and that makes all the difference in the world.

Heroes heal. And heroes have people rooting for them. Today, we're both.