What is it about being in a room together? Not on a screen, not thinking about what’s next, not multi-tasking. But sitting across someone, sharing a meal, listening, laughing, and pausing long enough to really hear one another. There is something that happens when we gather. This week, as we hosted our second Parent Lunch of the year, I was reminded of something we hold deeply at Acton Academy Oshkosh: community is not extra, it is essential.

Picture this…a large hero board stretches across an entire wall. There are names, faces, and an array of colorful buttons—treasured badges. Beneath each name hangs a different constellation of badges—some many, some few—no grouping the same. Each badge holds a memory: a challenge wrestled with, a moment of doubt, a breakthrough, or a quiet decision to try again. This wall of heroes isn’t a wall of comparison. It is a wall of becoming. At Acton, we don’t give grades—we offer badges. This choice often raises an important question for parents, especially those new to Acton: Why?

Imagine this…you get into your car, turn the key, and pull onto the road. At first, you move slowly, then faster. You choose a direction, find your lane, and feel the ease of forward motion. Then—without warning—the momentum fades, your engine strains, and all of a sudden you stall. In that moment, the questions begin. What changed? Why did this stop working? How do I get moving again?

This moment is much like a child’s motivation. A child can begin something with excitement and confidence—only to slow, struggle, or stop altogether. Not because something is wrong, but because something has shifted.

There are words that strike and there are words that warm. Words have this magical power to transform the energy within us, around us, and between us. One of my favorite heroes, Maya Angelou became one of the most intentional wordsmiths of our time yet when she was a child she chose silence when words felt unsafe. She understood the power of words deeply. To her, words mattered because they shaped safety, they shaped belonging, and they shaped humanity. She once said “Words are things. You must be careful, careful about calling people out of their names…Someday we’ll be able to measure the power of words. I think they are things. They get on the walls. They get in your wallpaper. They get in your rugs, in your upholstery, and your clothes, and finally into you.”

If you’ve ever watched the Toy Story character’s series Forky Asks a Question, you know the magic of a character who looks at the world with simple wonder: What is love? What is a friend? What is cheese? Forky invites us to look at ordinary things with fresh eyes — child eyes — and suddenly the world feels softer, funnier, and easier to understand. This week, I found myself asking a new Forky question: What is a parent? 

Imagine this…you are far from home. You step into a room where the food is unfamiliar, the voices sound different than your own, and every place setting holds more utensils than you know what to do with. You wonder where to sit, how to begin, how to belong. Then someone meets you at the door with a warm smile, takes your coat, shows you the way, and suddenly—your shoulders soften. You’re welcome.

“Success is never final, failure is never fatal––it’s the courage to continue that counts.” –– Winston Churchill

There is a phrase you hear over and over again in the world of Chess. The match ends, hands extend, and regardless of outcome, two players look one another in the eye and say the same two words: Good game.

The purpose of the game is not about who won or who lost. It’s about honoring the journey that took place between the first move and the last.

“I have to be seen to be believed.” – Queen Elizabeth II

“Power is not given to you. You have to take it.” – Beyoncé

“To lead is to serve.” – Queen Rania of Jordan

The greatest leaders have always understood that true power is not about control — it’s about responsibility. Leadership, in its truest form, is about seeing the people around you, serving them, and using your gifts for something greater than yourself.

In Chess, the Knight moves differently than any other piece on the board. It leaps over obstacles, changes direction with courage, and always seems to find a path that no one else can see. The Knight reminds us that the most powerful moves in life are often the ones that break the pattern — that dare to think differently.

In Chess, the Bishop moves with long-range sight. It glides diagonally across the board, never rushing, always keeping the end in mind. The Bishop’s strength lies not in its speed but in its perspective — the ability to see the full field: what has been, what is, and what might be next.

At this week’s Parent Lunch, we explored a simple but profound question about perspective: Is the glass half full or half empty?

In Chess, the Rook is patient and powerful. It doesn’t leap impulsively like the Knight or move diagonally like the Bishop. The Rook waits, guarding the board with quiet conviction. Its strength is not in constant motion but in knowing when to step in and when to hold its ground. This is one of the great disciplines we practice at Acton and one of the hardest questions Guides and parents face: Do I step back or step forward?

Imagine this…you are standing on a long chessboard with black and white squares forming a quiet rhythm. You look across the board and you see a King standing calm at the back–steady, observant, waiting. Before the King are all his children, the pawns, lined up in a row. The pawns are small, eager, and ready to move. One pawn inches forward a single square. It feels small, almost insignificant–yet that single step begins the entire game.

Imagine this….you are about to walk on stage. The lights are bright, dozens of eyes are watching you. Your heart races, your hands sweat, yet you know you’re ready. You’ve practiced, you’ve made a plan, you have a clear vision of what you want to say and share, and with that confidence, you step forward.

Imagine this, it’s 12:45 on Tuesday and a challenge is given: Place your idea into the Promises Machine. At the sound of “3, 2, 1…Break!” learners scurry. Colorful sticky notes are grabbed in a hurry, markers squeak across paper, and the room fills with quick bursts of recognition: “Oh, I know!” “That happened yesterday!” “Yes — we need that one!”

A few weeks ago, I looked out over the wide, green fields at our Acton Main campus. So much life was sprouting — grass, clover, the future beginnings of an orchard. As I pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the long drive, I stopped suddenly. In the middle of all that green, one bright sunflower stood tall. This sunflower hadn’t been planted. It wasn’t intended. Yet there it was — rising, strong, and basking in the sunshine.

Imagine the first day of something new. You step into a room filled with voices, laughter, and unfamiliar faces. Your heart races a little as a thought bubbles up — Will anyone notice me? Will anyone choose me? Will I find a friend here?

It doesn’t matter if you are four, ten, or forty-five — that quiet question hums in the background of every new beginning. All of us long to be seen, to be chosen, to belong.

Imagine this…you are a young traveler stepping into a forest. The air is alive with whispers of adventure and one by one other travelers begin to appear. Some travelers are bold, some quiet, all carrying unseen gifts. No one yet knows each other’s names, but one truth is clear: no traveler can journey alone. 

It’s the final day of the 2024-2025 school year and to honor our journey I invite you to reflect on the flight path we’ve taken. Our takeoff was strong — filled with anticipation, curiosity, and courage. We soared through stretches of smooth skies and sunshine, where joy and discovery were abundant. But like any true journey worth taking, we also faced turbulence — bumps, storms, moments of uncertainty and challenge. This year, both our school and I were tested in ways we’ve never been before yet I believe we’ve emerged transformed, stronger, wiser, and more grounded in purpose. Now, as our plane touches down and engines begin to quiet, I ask: Do you see rainbows?

A young girl named Annabelle had a box of yarn and a passion for knitting. One day she knitted herself a jumper, her dog a jumper, and then quickly her neighbors, friends, animals — everyone in her community — and even houses and trucks! She transformed her black-and-white world into one filled with color and joy, simply by sharing her gift. Even when others tried to steal it, Annabelle’s creative and joyful generosity could not be taken.

Take a moment, right now. In your own work or life, what’s more important: completing the task or building the team?

Now imagine this…You and four friends are launching a small, local business. The dream? To be the best in your field. The vibe is exciting and full of promise—until it’s not. Two friends are arguing about who should lead, another is frustrated that no decisions are being made, and two others are quietly combing through documents, desperate to move things forward.