Just outside my office window, there’s a rhythm that’s taken hold.
Cradle.
Throw.
Catch.
Repeat.
I sometimes interrupt and yell out my window, “Work on your left!”
A group of girls has claimed the wall for lacrosse practice—no coaches, no cones, no whistles.
Just sticks, a ball, and that steady, satisfying cadence of effort meeting brick.
It brings me a real sense of joy. And, if I’m being honest, a bit of longing too. It brings me right back to when my own kids spent hours at the wall with a lacrosse stick – a “long pole” no less or on a little sheet of plastic snapping wristers into a hockey goal in the driveway.
There is something deeply good about a kid with a stick and a wall or a net. It’s where hands get better, where confidence grows, where frustration turns into progress—one imperfect rep at a time. There’s no shortcut to it. Just repetition, focus, and the willingness to keep going.
It’s the sound of practice turning into something more. The effort is paying off. Of a kid realizing, “I can do this.”
What I love most, though, is that no one told these girls to be out there. They organized it themselves. They’re coaching each other in small, quiet ways—“quicker hands,” “you’ve got it”—and just as quickly, they’re laughing when it all goes sideways.
They are, without knowing it, demonstrating some of our Core Virtues:
- Perseverance in every dropped ball they chase down and try again
- Responsibility in showing up for one another without being asked, they’ve assured me that when a window is broken, because it will happen, they’ll take care of it
- Respect in the way they share space and encourage each other
And maybe most of all, they’re embodying something we don’t always name but always value—joy in the work itself.
Schools, of course, are built on lessons, curriculum, and careful planning. But they are also built on moments like this—unstructured, unprompted, and entirely authentic.
Strong minds are growing inside our classrooms.
But just outside my office, with a tennis ball in place of a lacrosse ball thudding against a wall, I’m reminded that kind hearts—and capable, confident ones—are being built rep by rep
