Hi Friend,

Have you ever had a moment where something so beautiful was unfolding, you had to act, even if it felt a little uncomfortable?

It happened to me last Saturday. I was sitting in a vast arena in Perth, surrounded by thousands, listening to the most breathtaking rendition of O Come, O Come Emmanuel.

It wasn’t just any version—it was sung partly in English, partly in Noongar, the local Indigenous language, by the incredible Gina Williams, accompanied by the WA Symphony Orchestra and chorus.

The song was magic—delicate yet powerful.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel isn’t as well known here, but it happens to be one of my favourite carols. I think because it’s less familiar, the audience didn’t automatically connect with it the way they did with more popular pieces like Hallelujah.

After the first verse, I don’t know what came over me, but I pulled out my phone, switched on the flashlight, and held it high. Just a tiny light in a sea of darkness, hoping others might join in to honour this extraordinary moment...

BUT...

Let me tell you—we could say my husband and daughter weren’t exactly thrilled.

“No one else is doing it,” they whispered urgently. “Just put it down!”

But I couldn’t. I believed in what I was doing.

Even as their whispers grew into, “Seriously, you’re the only one,” I held my ground.

For a while, nothing happened. I felt very small in that vast, dark space, but it didn’t matter... the music was incredible, and that was all that mattered.

And then—on the far side of the arena—I saw it. One tiny light.

Then another. And another.

Until the whole auditorium was awash with light.

When the song ended, I looked up to see Gina wiping a tear from her eye.

That moment will stay with me forever—not because I started something, but because everyone came together to finish it.

Everyone in that moment connected and felt as one.

Sometimes, believing in something beautiful means standing alone for a little while.

But when others connect and join in, the result is pure magic.

It’s the same in our teaching. Not every child—or parent, for that matter—will immediately see the value of playful, process-inspired learning.

Sometimes it feels like we’re just shining our little lights, waiting. But when they do connect, the magic of those shared moments is worth every second of waiting.

The Stringosaurus Resources Hub started with just me (and my first two brave subscribers, Marilyn and Sancha), and now it’s reached thousands of children and hundreds of teachers worldwide, with our community continuing to grow.

So keep going. Keep shining. You’re not alone—you’re lighting the way for others.

With gratitude and hope,
Laura 🦖

Stringosaurus Resources Hub

P.S. Have you ever experienced a moment like this in your life or teaching? I’d love to hear about it—just hit “reply” and share your story. I read every response!