Alliance for Catholic Education
HEY READERS, this is ACE Brownsville, welcome to our crib!
To introduce myself, I am your host, Maddie Schlehuber, and here in ACE Brownsville, we live in a charming home in the bottom of Texas, where the weather is hot, and the salsa even hotter (just ask Grahm after he overdid it on his tacos during community dinner last year). Here in our casita we share four bedrooms and a cozy living room and kitchen, wonderfully forming a community by proximity.
Although we have five teachers in our community, the house is truly the sixth member. It has its own personality, quirks, and memories, and I spent the entirety of my first year getting to know it. As I made our community dinner for the first time, I thought I opened every drawer in the kitchen. Months later, I stumbled upon both a crock pot and an instant pot, among other kitchen gadgets. My 30s were as surprised as I was! This place just gives and gives.
This house, and this program, give me far more than I deserve. Moments that fill me with gratitude are frequent, like when a Saturday comes along and I know I can take my pick of beach chairs in the garage to drive to South Padre Island. I can choose from at least six coolers from ACErs gone before me who did the exact same thing, bringing sand back into our garage just like they did. I can choose a board game, anything from Uno to Notre Dame themed monopoly, left by communities who I don’t know the names of. I don’t know who fought over which pieces, or who was a card shark, but I am grateful that they allowed me to share that same experience. Their photos line our bedroom hallway, cheering us on.
There are other things left behind that are equally valuable. 
Relationships with our neighbors are passed down from year to year. Meals are eaten on the same painted plates, and our TV is a trove of every streaming service, courtesy of some people I don’t even know.
One of my favorite things is a sign in marker that sticks to our front door, reading: “You are the teacher your kids need today.” I can only imagine that it was made and stuck up during a tough week or some community meeting as a morale booster, and I smile thinking about those sort of weeks that I have had, too.
In one of those weeks last year, our dear house experienced a flood. It was the most rain our town has had in over 100 years, and I sat home watching the water rise with Aidan and Henry, my 30s. For once, we were helpless. Water filled every room in our house, even coming through the walls and up the tiles. That night, after saving what we could, I slept cautiously, drying my feet from the floodwater to get into my bed. The next morning, Aidan, Henry and I opened our front door to a neighborhood that was unrecognizable. It was an experience I would not have wanted to have anywhere else, with anyone else. My community, including our house, worked together in the best way we could, fueled by cheap coffee from our dutiful machine, and supported by pastorals, principals, friends, and family.
So, readers, if you ever find yourself in the very bottom of Texas, our home is your home. The HEB grocery is just five minutes away, Queen of Peace awaits you for Mass on Sunday, and the stray dogs and cats here in the valley know no enemy. Moving to a city I had never heard of was never on my post-grad bucket list, but this home is about all I could ever ask for: people I love, students that bring me joy, a city that inspires me, and the ever-present reminders of how God and our guardian angels really look out for us here.
That’s our crib – thanks for following along, and we will see you next time.