By Erin Boland Rigot, Instructional Coach in Greenville County Schools, SC
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In the summer of 2001, my family packed up once again. This time leaving our two-year assignment in Federal Way, Washington, for our next “home” – Fort Bragg in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Along our cross-country drive, as my very southern mother played “Carolina on My Mind” on repeat, more than ready to leave the Seattle weather behind, I found myself daydreaming about what awaited us. Beaches. Family. Sunshine.
But alongside that excitement came the familiar questions that followed every move. Would I make new friends? Would school be harder this time? How will my sisters adjust? Will I lose contact with my friends back in Washington? Would this new place feel like home?
When you are a military kid, the word “home” is a loaded one. Every move meant a new house, new routines, a new town to learn, and new people. While I do believe “home” is wherever your people are, I also know Army life is defined by constant change.
Looking back now, after attending six different public schools between kindergarten and twelfth grade, what stands out most isn’t the disruption, it’s the consistency.
With each move, questions and worries filled my mind, but I also carried a quiet sense of reassurance that school would be where things steadied again. Getting to know my teachers, settling into routines, opportunities to meet new friends, and being in a place
intentionally designed with students in mind, gave me the sense of security I was searching for.
The consistency I craved could always be found in my public school classroom.
Even though the military moved us out of North Carolina three years later, I am forever grateful for the chapter I had in NC public schools and the impact it had on my life, especially when my dad was deployed to Afghanistan just a year after we arrived.
Now, in my 16th year as a public school educator, I think often about the power we hold. We talk a lot about test scores, content, and outcomes, but sometimes the most important thing we offer students is something far less measurable: consistency, safety, and a place centered on their well-being.
Public schools are more than buildings where learning happens. They are community hubs. Spaces of support, care, and belonging for students who may not find those things anywhere else. Each year may bring new students, but these core needs remain the same.
During Teacher Appreciation Week, it’s important to remember that true appreciation is understanding that we cannot meet these needs alone. At a time when public schools in North Carolina are facing growing challenges and increased pressure, this support matters more than ever. It takes all of us, families, communities, and advocates, standing behind our public schools and investing in them, so they can continue to be there and serve the students who depend on them.
Because when everything else is constantly changing, public schools remain. They are places where students can grow, explore, and belong.
And for students like me, each classroom can become something even more powerful, a place to call home.