Head of School Blog

This Memorial Day hit differently for me. Perhaps it’s because our nation is celebrating its 250th anniversary—a moment that demands deeper reflection on the extraordinary journey of the United States. Or maybe it’s simply that I’m older and am more aware of my own mortality and the fleeting nature of the freedoms I enjoy every day.

Whatever the reason, I found myself pausing longer than usual to reflect on the men and women who willingly gave their lives so that we could live in freedom. On days like today, we often hear the phrase “Freedom isn’t free.” It’s easy for those words to become background noise—a cliché we say without truly absorbing their weight. But we should never let that happen.

Freedom has never been free. Its price is not measured in dollars or political rhetoric, but in the lives of courageous Americans—people who never knew us personally yet fought and died believing in the promise of this great nation. From the Revolutionary War up to today’s conflicts, generations of men and women in all branches of our military have made the ultimate sacrifice. Some did so long before I was born. Others continue to do so in my lifetime.

We owe it to them—and to our children and grandchildren—to never take that sacrifice for granted.

This spring, Edison’s high school trip to Washington, D.C. gave our students the chance to visit Arlington National Cemetery. As always, I was struck silent by the sheer scale of the white headstones stretching across the hills. It’s one of the most humbling and somber experiences I’ve ever had. Row after row, each marker represents not just a name, but a life willingly laid down for something greater than themselves.

This Memorial Day, while you gather with family and friends—enjoying food, laughter, and the pleasures of an extra day off—take a moment to remember. Pause. Reflect. Speak the names of people you know who gave their lives for us. Teach your children what Memorial Day truly means.
 

In Flanders Fields
By Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
       In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
       In Flanders fields.