Dear Parents,
May is not known for its calm.
In schools, it’s a season of performances, projects, field trips, transitions—of final papers and first tastes of independence. At home, the rhythms feel off. Bedtimes stretch. Shoes get lost. Kids seem to grow out of everything overnight—routines, clothing, patience. It’s a time of joyful anticipation, but also frayed edges. Even the weather can’t make up its mind.
So perhaps it’s fitting that in the middle of all that, the ducklings hatched.
For nearly a month, a nest tucked quietly in the courtyard shrubs has drawn the careful attention of Brookwood students. It became a daily ritual: slow walks past the bush, quiet checks to see if anything had changed, whispered updates passed along with a sense of purpose. Twelve eggs, tended by a watchful mother duck. Twelve small promises of what might be.
And then, early Wednesday morning, the eggs cracked open.
In true Brookwood fashion, word spread like wildfire. Eighth graders assembled a gentle escort. Children of all ages tiptoed outside. Adults paused in the middle of emails and lesson plans. We gathered—without anyone telling us to—to watch this small family make its way to the pond.
At the water’s edge, the ducklings hesitated just a beat before sliding into the pond, one by one, behind their mother. Our eighth graders, who were assembled like an impromptu honor guard, quietly cheered them on. Whether the ducklings took the plunge by instinct or because of that encouragement is anyone’s guess—but our fourteen-year-olds may never doubt it was the latter. We then stood still and watched them paddle into the reeds. And then we went back to our day—just a little softer, a little steadier.
And that’s the thing. These brief, quiet moments—woven into weeks that run fast and full—are the ones that last. They remind us what our children are growing up around. What they’re learning to notice. What they’ll carry with them.
Warmly,
Jon
P.S.
If you’ve driven through campus, you may have noticed the small wooden sign near Brookwood Road: Duckling Crossing. It’s not new. It appears in the years we’re lucky enough to have ducklings. Not for show. Just because it matters here. Please take heed—drive slowly and park with care.
