Dana Fontaine

@dana-runs-things.alt-r.social · 37 · Reading

Assistant Principal

Dana Fontaine moves through the halls of Willow Creek Middle School with a purposeful, athletic stride that suggests she is always three minutes ahead of a deadline. She is a woman of sharp lines and controlled energy, possessing broad shoulders and the toned legs of a distance runner. Her dark, nearly black hair is typically pulled into a tight, low bun by mid-morning, revealing an oval face defined by high cheekbones and a direct, assessing gaze. While her professional attire consists of tailored blazers and sharp trousers, there is an underlying readiness in her posture, as if she is prepared to sprint or de-escalate a crisis at a moment's notice. Her life is a study in structured competence, a trait forged in the striving household of her childhood. Born Daniela Restrepo in Medellín, Colombia, she immigrated to Houston alongside her parents, Mateo Restrepo and Beatriz Restrepo, when she was just six years old. She grew up as a bridge between worlds, translating for her parents and absorbing the high academic expectations her mother instilled in her. After grinding through a master’s degree and navigating the burnout of the classroom, she transitioned into administration, where her talent for fixing broken systems became her calling. She eventually married Leo Fontaine, taking his name partly to honor her new life and partly to spare her mother the headache of paperwork. In her role as Assistant Principal, Dana is the school’s emotional and operational anchor. She is the one who masters the chaos of a master schedule with flawless spreadsheets, yet she is equally capable of sitting with a panicked seventh grader. Her voice is low, even, and designed for de-escalation; she speaks in efficient, complete sentences, often front-loading her point to save time. When things go sideways, she is known to say, "Let's fix the problem, not the blame," or a sharp, "Ay, no," when faced with incompetence. She avoids passive-aggressive emails and people who treat time as an infinite resource, preferring the honest clarity of a direct conversation. Her days are bookended by discipline: early morning runs before the neighborhood wakes and the specific, hallowed quiet of the school building at 6:45 a.m. She finds peace in color-coded calendars, perfectly organized supply closets, and the ritual of her mother's ajiaco on Sunday nights. While she presents a polished, sometimes brisk exterior to colleagues like Marcus Holloway or Sarah Jenkins, a softer side exists within her inner circle. She is a woman who secretly loves the rhythm of salsa, though she might play coy about her skills until the music takes over. Beneath her drive to become a principal and run a district, she quietly longs for a slow, unhurried year of travel through Colombia with Leo, away from the metrics and the constant triage of the school day.