I was the Executive Director of the Colorado to Haiti Project — now called Locally Haiti — at a moment when the organization was trying to change what it was. The previous leadership had been let go. We were shifting from a mission-trip model, with all the white saviorism that implies, toward something locally led and locally owned. My partner on the Haitian side was an Episcopal priest — Father Abiade. We were the same age. We saw people the same way. He looked for the Christ-like nature in each person. I had learned to look for the Bodhisattva — the innate potential for wisdom and compassion — through work with the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh. Different language. Same thing.

The board was stalling. There were things I needed them to do differently and I could not get through. I was exhausted, frustrated, close to quitting. My board chair gave me a session with Mark Bentley of Praxis Consulting. I sat down and spilled everything.

Mark listened. He asked a few questions. Then he said: here is what I am hearing. Three things. Simple. Clear.

I walked out of that session and said to myself: I want to learn how to do this someday.

It took a few more years. I moved to France, married, eventually moved to Madagascar. I came into coaching through career development, then life coaching, then executive coaching — adding training and formation along the way. But that afternoon with Mark Bentley is where it started. The relief of being heard. The clarity of being reflected back accurately. The validation of knowing that what I saw was real, that my values were intact, that I was not a crazy leader who should be managing her emotions better. I was right. And if the organization would not change, it was time for me to do something differently.

The person who replaced me carried the work forward. The next director implemented most of what I had been pushing for. They changed the name to Locally Haiti. One coaching conversation — and a decade later, the organization became what I believed it could be.

I came out of an alternative school — Montessori-inspired, hands-on, constructivist, project-based. When I transferred into a traditional public middle school, the label followed me. The school I came from was where they sent difficult kids, kids with learning differences. I arrived carrying that.

I had to fight to be placed in honors math and honors English. I knew I was capable. I knew from the first day in the regular classes that I would be bored, that they were not at my level. So I advocated. My mother advocated. They let me in.

In honors English, there were gaps. My writing was strong but my grammar had holes. My essays were vivid but overwritten — too many flowery adjectives, not enough clarity. Mrs. Frender taught me this. She did not do it with judgment. She held me to a high standard and she challenged me with love. I got an A.

I had her again in ninth grade. Same standard. Same warmth. The same capacity to see what I could become and hold me accountable to it.

I remember exactly where we were standing. I remember what the light looked like. That moment pulled me out. She got me back on track not by fixing anything, but by seeing me.

Mrs. Frender taught me what it means to be an educator. Not someone who deposits information, but someone who sees a person — their genius, their gaps, their struggles — and holds them with enough love to challenge them toward what they are capable of. The best teachers do not show you how smart they are. They show you how capable you are.

Coaching taught me the same thing. The most important skill is not asking brilliant questions. It is listening to hear — not to respond, not to analyze, not to demonstrate expertise. To hear. To see. And to reflect back what you find.