“…when you look at the numbers, the budgets, and the enrollment projections, you also remember the children and families behind those numbers. Remember the little girl who only needed someone to say, ‘Hola. ¿Estás bien?’”
Read Natalie's full testimony
Hello everyone,
First and foremost, I would like to thank you for taking the time to meet with us today. My name is Natalie Sandoval, and today I'd like to share what Cottage Lake Elementary means to my family and me.
I am a proud Northshore School District alumna. I attended Woodmoor Elementary, Northshore Junior High, and graduated from Inglemoor High School. Growing up, I didn't speak or understand a single word of English. Spanish was the only language I had ever known. I remember my parents telling me about all the wonderful things I would learn at school. I was beyond excited for my very first day. But little did I know just how difficult that first day would actually be.
Not knowing the language everyone around me spoke was heartbreaking. I watched other children communicate so effortlessly, make friends, and express their needs, while I could barely say hello. Within minutes of the bell ringing, I had already given up hope. I remember putting my head down, feeling completely out of place, like I didn't belong. But thankfully, I had a teacher named Mrs. Gatter.
Mrs. Gatter spoke very little Spanish, almost none. But she knew two phrases:
"Hola, Estás bien?” which translate to, "Hello, Are you okay?"
Two incredibly simple phrases. Yet, to a five-year-old little girl who felt lost, scared, and completely alone, those words meant everything. She made me feel seen. She made me feel safe. She made me feel like I belonged. Shortly after, I was enrolled in ELL, English Language Learner, a program that helped me learn English as my second language. As I slowly learned the language, Mrs. Gatter continued encouraging me, helping me make friends, and reminding me that I was capable.
I eventually graduated from the program in fourth grade. But even after I was no longer her student, Mrs. Gatter continued checking in on me. Sometimes I would stop by her classroom on my way home just to say hello. Years passed, and during my senior year of high school, our English teacher gave us an opportunity. She asked, "If there was one teacher you could invite to your graduation, who would it be? Write them a letter, and we'll see if we can track them down." Without hesitation, I thought of Mrs. Gatter.
I knew she was no longer teaching in Northshore, so I figured the chances of her receiving my invitation, let alone attending, were slim to none. But I wrote the letter anyway. Because although I had been fortunate enough to have many wonderful teachers throughout my education, Mrs. Gatter was the one who had made the greatest impact on my life. Not because of a particular lesson she taught me, but because of her empathy, her kindness, and her genuine care for a little girl who needed someone to believe in her.
Then came graduation day. As my group was preparing to walk across the stage, I came out of the tunnel and suddenly heard someone yelling:
"Natalie! Natalie! It's me! I came! I made it!"
It was Mrs. Gatter. She was there.
I ran straight into her arms, and tears immediately began rolling down my cheeks.
All those years later, she had shown up for me once again. And I thanked her for never forgetting me, for continuing to support me, and for being there from the very beginning.
Later that night, after all the celebrations were over, I stayed up talking with my parents about how incredible it was that Mrs. Gatter had been there from start to finish. And my parents said something I will never forget.
"So were we. That's what we hoped for when we bought our home."
I remember asking, "What do you mean?"
They explained that they had intentionally purchased their home because it was within the Northshore School District, Woodmoor elementary to be exact. My parents had planted roots in Woodinville because they wanted my brother and me to grow up in a community where we would feel welcomed, supported, and given every opportunity to flourish.
You see, as children, we don't really think about those things.
We don't ask why we live where we live.
Why we attend a certain school.
Or why we walk the same sidewalks every morning.
We simply live there. We go to school. We walk home.
But that night, I finally understood.
My parents hadn't just purchased a house.
They had chosen a community. They had chosen a school. They had chosen a future for their children.
They wanted a safe neighborhood where my brother and I could play without fear. A neighborhood filled with other children who attended our school, where friendships continued long after the final bell rang.
And those walks to and from school?
Those were my mom's favorite moments.
Because those were our one-on-one conversations. The moments when she got to hear about my day, my friends, my worries, and my dreams.
I didn't realize how special those moments were until I became a mother myself. And now, I understand exactly what my parents were looking for all those years ago.
When my husband and I were searching for a home, it wasn't about the size of the house or how beautiful the kitchen was.
It was about the community. The teachers. And most importantly, the school. We chose our home specifically because of Cottage Lake Elementary. The moment we toured the school, we knew this was where we wanted our future children to grow up.
Today, we have two boys attending Cottage Lake, and in 2028, our youngest will begin kindergarten. Cottage Lake is within walking distance of our home, and that is one of the things I treasure most.
Because now, I get to experience those same walks my mother once shared with me.
Only this time, I'm the mom.
I get to hear about the games my boys played at recess, the songs they sang, the books they read, and the friendships they're building.
And sometimes, those walks lead to conversations about much bigger things.
At Cottage Lake, inclusion isn't simply something written in a mission statement.
It's something our children experience every single day.
Starting in kindergarten, students are introduced to disabilities. They're taught what disabilities are, what they might look like, and, most importantly, how to treat and respect someone who may have one.
Those lessons have helped shape my children into empathetic, understanding, and compassionate individuals. They don't look at someone with a disability and see someone who is different or less capable.
They see an equal.
They see a classmate.
They see a friend.
That is what true inclusion looks like. And Cottage Lake Elementary is living that vision. Our family has also experienced firsthand the incredible support Cottage Lake provides to students with different learning needs.
Like me, my children have needed English Language Development services because English is also their second language. They have also needed Individualized Education Programs, or IEPs, to support their learning and development.
Our youngest son has faced challenges with speech and motor skills. There have been times when even my husband and I have struggled to understand what he is trying to communicate.
Before he started kindergarten, we shared our concerns with the school and his teacher, Mrs. Morrison. And what Mrs. Morrison did for our son is something I will forever be grateful for.
She listened.
She took our concerns seriously.
She checked in on him constantly and made sure he was okay.
She understood that sometimes, when he said he understood something, he really didn't. Not because he wasn't trying, but because he was still learning how to process and communicate information. And instead of simply moving on, she took the time to make sure he truly understood.
She met him where he was.
She gave him patience.
She gave him encouragement.
And most importantly, she gave him the confidence to believe in himself.
As a mother, there is no greater peace of mind than knowing that when you aren't there to protect, comfort, or advocate for your child, someone else genuinely cares enough to do so. And that is exactly what the teachers and staff at Cottage Lake do.
Not just for my children, but for every child who walks through those doors.
They make children feel seen.
They make children feel heard.
They make children feel valued.
And their dedication doesn't end when the school bell rings. These are teachers and staff members who show up at Little League games, soccer matches, science fairs, cross-country meets, and community events.
They celebrate their students' victories, encourage them through challenges, and remind them that they matter, both inside and outside the classroom.
I was fortunate enough to have Mrs. Gatter in my life. And today, my children are fortunate enough to have Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Sanfelippo, Ms. Baer, Mrs. Simpson, Mrs. Hanning, Nurse Brittany, and so many other wonderful teachers and staff members who have made a lasting impact on our family.
And that brings me to why I am standing here today.
Because Cottage Lake Elementary is not just a building.
It is a place where children find their voices.
Where friendships are formed.
Where differences are celebrated.
Where children who may feel lost, scared, or misunderstood are reminded that they belong.
I know firsthand how much one teacher, one school, and one community can change the course of a child's life. Because I was once that little girl who didn't speak English.
I was once that little girl who put her head down because she felt like she didn't belong. And because someone cared enough to lift my head back up, I grew into the woman and mother standing before you today.
My parents chose Woodmoor because they believed it would give their children a better future.
Years later, my husband and I made that very same choice by choosing Cottage Lake.
And now, we are asking you to protect the community and the future that so many families have intentionally chosen for their children.
Closing Cottage Lake Elementary wouldn't simply mean closing a school building.
It would mean disrupting friendships, separating children from trusted teachers and support systems, and changing a community that generations of families have worked so hard to build.
For children who depend on consistency, familiarity, and trusted relationships to thrive, those changes can mean so much more than simply attending a different school.
I understand that difficult decisions must be made. But I ask that when you look at the numbers, the budgets, and the enrollment projections, you also remember the children and families behind those numbers.
Remember the little girl who only needed someone to say, "Hola. ¿Estás bien?"
Remember the children who need a little extra patience, a little extra support, and someone who believes in them.
Remember the families who chose their homes because they believed in this school.
Because a school's value cannot be measured by enrollment numbers alone. Its true value is measured by the lives it changes.
My parents got to watch their children grow up in the community they chose.
I hope my husband and I get that same opportunity.
And I hope that in 2028, I will be walking all three of my children to Cottage Lake Elementary together.
Down the same sidewalks.
Through the same neighborhood.
And through the doors of the school we intentionally chose to call ours.
Please don't take that future away from our children.
Thank you for your time, for listening to my story, and for considering what Cottage Lake Elementary truly means to the families who call it home.