 Sharon Gallagher-Fishbaugh is the NEA Foundation Board of Directors chair. For her, keeping the promise of public education is more than a statement, it's a mantra, a voice in her head she says that's echoed for 40 years. There's gravitas behind that statement, keeping the promise of public education. Sharon spent 32 years in the classroom, teaching special ed and second grade. She was Utah's 2009 teacher of the year, served as president of Utah's Education Association, and then tried but failed at retirement. She can't stop working to keep that promise, only now it's through nonprofits and mentoring. Because we have a sacred trust as educators, to provide an opportunity for learning, to provide an opportunity for growing for every blessed child. It doesn't matter if they are poor, rich, black, white, orange, I don't care. They have a right to public education and a good one. But you went to Catholic school. I did go to Catholic school, which makes me even more qualified to say that the promise of public education is critical, and I'll tell you why. When I was in fifth grade, we were studying government and taxes, I couldn't really tell you what the specific lesson was, but I remember it was something about taxes for public education. I remember coming home from school, running up the stairs to my dad and saying, dad, we go to a Catholic school. Why are we paying taxes to the public school system and paying tuition to the Catholic school system? And he sat me down and he said, because sweetie, we have a choice to send you to a Catholic school, but we have a responsibility to public education. Enough said. You've said your inspiration for becoming a public educator comes down to just one person named Keisha, who had Down syndrome. Tell me about her. We moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, from a very small community in Utah, and the very first day we were moving in, this cute little girl shows up at the back door, knocks on the door. She was probably, see, I'd say eight or nine years younger than I am. And we became fast friends. And I was struck by the fact that this child, who could have been labeled and stopped for all of the things she couldn't do, had so much promise, so many gifts to share. And we developed a fast friendship over many, many, many years. As she grew up, I grew obviously as well and went away to college. When I came back from college, it was after Christmas break. My parents told me that she had died. They didn't call me on purpose at college because they knew that this would affect me dramatically. And I just remember always thinking to myself that this is the type of work I want to do to help. Not that I'm a savior. I'm not. I've made mistakes in teaching, but to be able to see the promise of public education, the promise of every child in every child, in the quiches who have Down syndrome, in the students who are on the autism spectrum, in students who are gifted. And what a privilege to be able to help somebody grow to their absolute potential. You're saying that you are working with kids who are refugees. And that's really impacted you as an educator. So just one story about one of my refugee boys from Somalia. We'll call him Steve. And I taught second grade at this moment in time, and he had come in kindergarten. And by the time he came to second grade, he had quite the reputation of, you know, you're going to get Steve, and he's going to be trouble for you. And watch out for Steve. So I made a mission to find out as much information about Steve as I possibly could. And as I watched him, it appeared as though he was having trouble hearing. So I have a friend who is a physician, and it turns out that Steve had two ruptured eardrums and was literally not hearing anything, likely from the moment he set foot in kindergarten. My friend worked out with his colleagues to donate services to repair those eardrums. And I have to tell you, it was just like this light switch went on with this young boy. He was clamoring to learn every single thing he possibly could. He was just like a sponge. And he said to me as he walked out the door, Mrs. G, that's what they called me. Thank you so much for making me feel smart. But that's the promise of public education, the promise that you're going to look at every child as a unique individual. The promise that whether you come here because you're fleeing war or you're fleeing oppression or whether you were born here, every child that's in this country has a right to that. And I stand by that firmly.