It’s Sunday morning as I write this, my first blog of what I plan to be many, and a blanket of silky snow covers my corner of our Colorado world. I heard yesterday that 49 of the 50 states are blanketed with this snow, some with just traces, others with many feet. Magical feelings well up when snow starts to cover our world. It’s something beyond “snow day” and “roads closed”, it’s a return to that primitive feeling of nesting, of staying close and warm, unhurried. Perhaps, the piles of snow smothering cars and windows are womb-like, providing a comfort that radiates into feelings of well-being.

My thoughts turn to the world I know best: education- the subject of this website and blog. This is the world that has captivated every fiber of my being for the 46 years of my professional involvement as a teacher of Pre-K to 12^th grade learners, the more grown-up learners present in college classes and as Head of two schools.

The world of ideas and language – the expressive world of writing - is how I make sense of my constant quest for finding realistic and reliable ways to engage kids in the process of learning. When I saw the snow covering the creek this morning, a strange connection immediately intrigued me. The sun began to warm the day forming lace edges on the frozen water. Drip after drip widened the stream that was now snaking its way toward the wider creek. Children, like the flow of water, come into our lives with so much potential, so much possibility; yet, like the frozen creek, children need the warmth of a person (the sun in their lives) to unlock the amazing potential that rests within. Little by little and sometimes in huge ‘thawings’ children reveal their talents and gifts, their interests and passions. Watching the creek unfreeze showed many, many different patterns. Just like in my family of six children or in my classrooms of 20 or more. They all thaw (open-up) in different ways and at different times.

This unfolding, this thawing of each child lies at the core of my life and my work. I harbor a desire to return the work of educating children to the true meaning of the word educare – to draw forth.  In our pressured culture devoted to data demonstrating results in all things measurable, we continue to insert the funnel and pour in knowledge. I ask the question: How can we know who this child is? It is my strong belief that helping each child unlock their potential throughout their learning years will result in men and women who are responsive to their world by adding value and meaning to whatever they do. I do not pretend that this is easy, yet I persist in believing that it lies at the heart of reform, research, and renewal that can only give way to a re-dedication to each child. Wendell Berry, the poet, asks in a poem titled  “The Questionnaire” “Which child should we forsake?”

Essential Question: How can we break through the outer crust of bureaucracy and blame and return to the essential meaning of education – educare: to draw forth from  each child their best self, their gifts, their talents, returning them to a re-vitalized, enriched community?