When a student is having a hard day at Price Middle, they go to the chicken coop. Not the office. Not the counselor. The coop.
Something about the rhythm of the birds (the warm, the soft, the not-asking-anything-of-you) resets the day. We didn’t plan that. The students did. The farm became a place to settle down as well as a place to grow.
Somewhere you can show up and just be.
Teachers know the route now. So do we. Some infrastructure you build on purpose; some of it the neighborhood builds for itself, and your job is just to keep the gate unlocked.