A Year Can Change Everything. My 2025 Recap

At the start of 2025, I don’t think I could have fully explained what I felt. I just knew I change had to happen. A new challenge. A new space. A new version of myself, even if I wasn’t sure what that looked like yet.

This year reminded me how quickly life can move. And how gently it can bring you right back to where you belong.

I stepped into a new school and a new district with equal parts excitement and nerves. New hallways, new routines, new faces. I was learning as I went, finding my rhythm again, and reminding myself that growth rarely feels comfortable at first. Some days felt empowering. Other days felt heavy. But every day asked me to trust myself a little more than the day before.

At the same time, REB Creative Studio continued to grow alongside me. What started as a creative space for kids slowly became a mirror for myself. Camps filled with laughter and paint-covered hands. Arty Hours that turned into small pockets of joy on weekends. Classroom days packed with experimenting, problem solving, and trying again. We created so much together. Projects layered with color, texture, and meaning. Art that lived on tables, walls, and in the confidence of the kids who made it.

Then came the moment I didn’t see coming.

Life has a way of circling back. By mid year, I found myself returning to my old campus. A place that holds so many memories, lessons, and pieces of my heart. Walking back into that space felt emotional in ways I didn’t expect. Familiar faces. Familiar energy. A deeper understanding of who I am now compared to who I was then. It wasn’t a step backward. It was a full circle moment.

Being back in that space opened the door to some of the most meaningful work of the year.

One of those moments was creating our legacy painting for the new campus. Watching students pour their heart, fingerprints, and pride into something that will live on long after this year felt powerful. It was more than a painting. It was proof that students belong in the story of a school. That art can hold memory, hope, and identity all at once.

Another unforgettable highlight was our Willy Wonka show. Weeks of building props, painting sets, rehearsing, problem solving, and trusting the process. Seeing it all come together on stage was pure magic. It reminded me that art is never just one thing. It’s collaboration, patience, laughter, and a whole lot of heart. Watching students shine in something we built together is a feeling I’ll never get tired of.

And beyond the big moments were the hundreds of quiet ones. The daily classroom projects. The studio kids experimenting with new materials. The messes, the breakthroughs, the proud smiles when something finally worked. Those moments mattered just as much as they always do.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I want to create again for myself. Not for lessons or schedules or outcomes. Just to draw. To paint. To be creative. To sit with my thoughts and let them come out on paper, canvas or photograph. I want to make space for my own creativity again, even if it’s messy or unfinished. Especially if it’s messy or unfinished.

This year also reminded me how deeply supported I am.

I’m endlessly thankful for my family, who never question my big ideas and always show up with love and encouragement. For my partner, whose patience grounds me and who gently reminds me to slow down when I’m moving too fast. For my coworkers, who truly feel like family, the kind of people I’m genuinely happy to go to work and teach alongside every day. For my circle of friends, who understand that life gets busy, but know that we’re always there for one another no matter how full our plates get.

And most of all, for my students. They amaze me constantly. Their childlike wonder, their openness, their excitement to create, and their willingness to try remind me why art matters so much. They teach me just as much as I teach them.

2025 taught me that change doesn’t always mean leaving things behind forever. Sometimes it means stepping away long enough to grow, to gain clarity, and to come back stronger, softer, and more grounded all at once.

This year also stretched me. It challenged my confidence. It asked me to balance ambition with rest, creativity with responsibility, and fear with faith. It also gave me permission to slow down, to feel deeply, and to create without needing a reason.

I’m walking into 2026 with gratitude in my heart and paint on my pants. Ready to draw more. Ready to paint more. Ready to express myself honestly and often. Ready to trust the journey, even when I can’t see the whole picture yet.

Because if this year taught me anything, it’s that life can change in a year. And sometimes, it changes you in the most beautiful ways.

With love and gratitude,
Ms. Roxy