Full disclosure: I was fully prepared to write about technology in my column this month. I’ve been planning an outline and gathering case studies for months in preparation. You’ll still get that column one day. But first, I’d like to share what is truly on my mind and in my heart.

I live in Minneapolis. Yeah, that Minneapolis. The one you’ve seen non-stop in the headlines and on social media lately. Things are hard here. Really hard. And they have been for a while. 

If I'm being real, lately, when people ask, "How are you?" I don't often answer honestly. I say I’m OK, because that’s just what you do. But truthfully, I'm not OK. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love my job deeply. I adore the industry I serve and the work I do. I know that safe student transportation is fundamental to our society and our nation. This brings me joy and inspiration and new challenges that I happily accept (most days).

However, now, my home has been in the news for stories that are far from uplifting. There's been a collective unease, fear, heaviness, in the air and in our communities. Life has not been normal. In fact, far from it.

I've written before about how I'm Midwest to my core (which means publishing something so personal like this feels extra scary). Usually my Minnesota references comes with an "ope" or a joke about hotdish, but it's been hard to be silly lately. Hard to focus on the usual things that bring joy or distract from current events. 

For those of us who live here, we lost the privilege of being able to look away.

My friends, my neighbors, have been and still are experiencing unrest in the community we call home. Personally, I have not experienced even close to what others have. Still, things are worse than most even realize. And it's front and center for us here.

So many facets of our daily lives have been upended due to the events unfolding here and in other cities across the U.S. The Millennial in me wants to say, "add it to my tab," because we're used to living through one-in-a-lifetime events. But this feels like it takes the cake in the worst way. 

I'm worn down. I'm exhausted trying to keep up. It feels strange, disingenuous to act normal. I’ve lost focus. There's a pit in my stomach nearly all the time. All of this downplays the actual feeling that is so hard to describe in words.

So, if my work has felt different lately, if my glass doesn't seem as full as usual, please understand this is what's behind it. Still, I'm doing my best to show up every day. 

My heart, my thoughts, are with my fellow citizens who are watching everything unfold on a daily basis. I'm wishing they're OK and hurting for those who aren't. I think about the families, the children, who will live with the trauma of what they've seen and experienced. And the people they've lost who don't get a tomorrow.

As much as the stress of current events wears us out as adults, it takes a toll on children, too. Families who have been separated because of status or political affiliation. Parents navigating conversations with their kids they haven’t had before. Kids asking where their friends are who used to be in class but are now absent. Schools that have gone into secure mode. Kids who are missing out on their education as a result. Others who now fear the bus stop. Buses that carry a lighter load than usual.

I believe that teams, workplaces, and cultures thrive when there are different voices at the table bringing experiences and perspectives unique from our own. I believe we function better as organizations and as a society when we open our hearts and our minds to others. Even when we don’t agree, we must be able to work together and maintain respect for each other. Otherwise, we lose trust. We lose hope. We operate out of fear, assumptions, dejection, or apathy — and rarely does anything good come from that.

It's more important than ever to seek the truth, to think critically, and stand firm in what we believe. To do the right thing, even when it’s not the easy thing. To ask questions and speak up when it’s so easy to stay silent. To put ourselves in someone else’s shoes.

We have to look long and hard at what is worth fighting for. That is worth living for. Kids — our very own students and school bus riders — who look to us for safety, for their future. For our friends, family, neighbors, and colleagues who need someone to be there for them. 

So we must push on, rise up, and show up. If not for ourselves, for them.

- From Minnesota, with love. 

^{This article was authored and edited according to School Bus Fleet editorial standards and style. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect that of SBF or Bobit Business Media.}