Head of School Blog

After eight years, an era has officially come to an end. Gabe and Seth, the two longest-enrolled students at The Edison School, have graduated from high school.

The reality hit me last week as I surveyed the parking lot and noticed their cars were missing. For a moment, I stood there and let our eight-year journey flash before me.

I was fortunate to have a front-row seat to their lives. When they enrolled in the 2018–2019 school year—my first year at Edison—they were little, wide-eyed boys, unsure of themselves and wary of another new school. Hurt by adults before, they kept their guard up, quietly testing whether Edison could be trusted.

That first year was full of trying to figure each other out. Many of the teachers they started with have since moved on, but in recent years they’ve enjoyed rare stability with the same educators pouring into their lives. That consistency helped them with their academics, but more importantly, it gave them space to learn about character, resilience, and friendship.

I’ve watched them struggle to make connections, only to build a deep, abiding brotherhood with each other. I’ve seen them slowly lower their walls and share struggles they once kept hidden. They’ve patiently endured my many “lectures” about life, leadership, and character. Of course, they also loved the day I was their homeroom teacher and butchered a word in our quote of the day. Seth instantly caught the mistake and made sure to share it with Gabe in our Google Classroom. That one error has been a running joke they have enjoyed for years. 

This year, the three of us met regularly to talk about what comes after Edison— my beliefs on leadership, keeping your word, why character matters more than reputation, and what I believe is the surest path to a fulfilled life: choosing to serve others. Legacy has been a buzzword for the past several years, so we even discussed that and how it tends to take care of itself when you consistently do the right thing.

Eight years felt far too short. Gabe and Seth have transformed from those hesitant little boys into confident young men ready to make their mark on the world. One message I often repeat was this: always leave people better than you found them. They did exactly that for me. I am a better person, and a better educator, because they were part of my life. 

To their parents—thank you for trusting us with your sons. To Gabe and Seth, I am incredibly proud of you both. Remember, I’m only a phone call or text away, anytime you need anything. Thank you for an unforgettable eight years.

Sometimes I wish time travel were real. If it were, I’d go back and visit every teacher I “tormented” (or, more accurately, learned from) as a kid. Back then, I just wanted to survive the class and move on. I had no idea how deeply they would shape me decades later.

Now, as I approach 30 years in education, I find myself longing to thank them—not just for the academic lessons, but for the ones that built my character. Teachers have a unique power. Next to parents, few adults influence a child’s future more profoundly. The best educators pour their hearts into other people’s children every single day, driven by a quiet belief in each student’s potential.

Teaching means facing challenges, setbacks, and sometimes even ridicule with grace and dignity. It requires selflessness, humility, and a passion that goes far beyond a paycheck. Great teachers give pieces of themselves, so their students can become their best. 

Over my career, I’ve been fortunate to work alongside many outstanding educators. But the team I’m privileged to lead right now is truly extraordinary. They don’t just show up—they fully embrace Edison’s mission and core values while modeling what it means to be an ideal team player.

Every day, I watch them patiently guide students through difficult moments with calm and compassionate care. They arrive each morning committed to transforming young lives, one interaction at a time. This week is Teacher Appreciation Week, and it feels especially meaningful. While I deeply appreciate everything they do for Edison’s students, I am equally inspired by them. 

To every teacher reading this, thank you. Your work matters more than you know. The seeds you plant today will bear fruit for generations.
 

Recently, I had the privilege of taking a group of Edison’s high school students on a multi-night trip to Washington, D.C. For many of them, it was their first time on an airplane and their first extended time away from family. The emotional roller-coaster was real: fear and anxiety mixed with excitement, joy, and pure enthusiasm.

The trip pushed our students in multiple ways, being away from home, trying things they had never done before, and confronting difficult moments in our nation’s history. This trip wasn’t easy, but as President John F. Kennedy famously said when he spoke at Rice University about the moon landing, “We choose to go to the moon... and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

As educators, part of our responsibility is to challenge young people. Of course, we want to protect them, but protection should never become a barrier that keeps them from stretching, trying, and growing. Real development happens when we step into the unfamiliar.

One of my favorite quotes captures this truth beautifully. Max DePree said, “In the end, it is important to remember that we cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are.” Growth requires facing new and sometimes uncomfortable situations. Each time we navigate challenges successfully, we build resilience. The more we do this, the more natural it feels—and the bolder we become in seeking our next opportunity for growth.

It falls to the adults in a child’s life—parents, teachers, and leaders—to see their potential and gently but firmly push them toward it. When we consistently shield them from difficulty or let them avoid hard things, we unintentionally limit their potential. In doing this, we risk raising children who remain children in adult bodies.

I know this can be tough. Kids push back with familiar refrains: “I can’t do it.” Or. “It’s too hard.” The temptation to rescue them in these moments is great. But standing alongside them—offering guidance, reassurance, and presence—gives them something even more valuable: a sense of security knowing someone who has walked this path before cares deeply about their success. When they reach the other side, the pride and confidence they feel prepare them for even bigger challenges ahead.

A powerful example from our D.C. trip was a young lady who had never flown before. She desperately wanted to join us but was scared of flying. On the first flight, she sat in the middle seat between me and another chaperone. Takeoff and landing were the hardest parts for her. Yet by the time we reached our gate at Reagan National, she was already talking about wanting to fly again. On the return flight, she specifically asked for a window seat so she could look out and take in the view.

By encouraging her to face her fear, offering calm reassurance, and simply being there with her, we helped her turn something daunting into a rewarding triumph. That’s the kind of growth we want for all our students.