Dr. Naomi Johnson Booker’s Story:Resilience Over Retreat
- Oct 1
- 3 min read
By Dr. Naomi Johnson Booker
I have faced moments in my life that tried to knock me down for good. But each time, I made the choice to rise—sometimes shakily, often in tears, but always forward. My story is about the power of not retreating, even when everything is falling apart or burning down in front of me.
Without warning, I was struck by a brain aneurysm—no symptoms, nothing doctors could trace except stress accumulated over decades. I was leading two school campuses, navigating a difficult divorce, and trying to lift everyone around me, without noticing the toll it was taking. I underwent a nine-and-a-half-hour surgery, followed by six months of grueling recovery. I awoke, face bandaged, and could see out of only one eye. I had lost my speech and my confidence for a time. For months, I was so panicked that it would happen again— this time when I was home alone. I wore a Med Alert device in case that occurred.
To cope, I underwent intense therapy with a post-traumatic stress disorder specialist. I also tapped a friend who had survived a brain tumor. Then, one day, as I sat by the pool, I realized I had forgotten my Med Alert device. It was then I realized my transformation had begun. It hit me: I can do this. I was coming back, physically, emotionally, mentally, despite the obstacles of fear and PTSD.
But just as I began to regain my footing, tragedy struck again the following year. On a freezing January morning before dawn, our charter school, my life’s work, a blazing 5-alarm fire burned my school building to the ground. As I stood there, watching helplessly, a voice inside taunted: “You survived your aneurysm just to lose everything.” Obstacles followed everywhere. People understandably doubted we could recover. It took a lot of work to convince parents to keep their children enrolled. The school district only offered its most unusable buildings. I felt helpless.
But I made a decision. I told my staff, “We’re not retreating. We’re going to figure this out.” We hustled, found a temporary building in the dead of winter, piece by piece we rebuilt from nothing—no records, no supplies, just a small community driven by faith and determination. Then, museums and nonprofits across Philadelphia opened their doors to help educate scholars. People showed up for us because they saw we wouldn’t give up on the children.
I kept pushing forward guided by the mantra my grandmother gave me: “It’s not how you fall, it’s how you get up.” That mantra still drives me today.
Through those dark times, I changed. Problems that might have once defeated me became fuel to burn.
But it’s not over. Our K-8 charter schools need a high school. Three times, our application was defeated by special interests opposed to charter school growth. Though I recently turned 80 and have six decades of service behind me, I stay in the fight, believing the right door will open, as it might now with new opportunities. I owe it to my community and my students. Although we cannot have our high school the traditional way, I pray the right people will recognize the work we’ve done and partner with us, so our scholars, most of whom live below the federal poverty line, can have the high school they deserve.
I hope my story shows others that when life tries to burn everything down, you can be the one thing left standing—and continue to fight no matter what.
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