Do you remember walking across the rainbow? Every year, our community begins with the same simple ritual. Learners, parents, and Guides gather together and cross a rainbow walkway. Some children skip from color to color. Some carefully tiptoe. Some hesitate making their first step over the threshold while some parents linger before letting go of a hand that suddenly seems just a little bigger than it did the year before. The ritual never changes but the people crossing it always do. At the time, it simply feels like the beginning of another school year. Looking back now, I think it is something much more.

There is something irresistible about wanting to know how the story ends. Will the hero succeed? Will the mystery be solved? Will everything work out? Sometimes we want to skip ahead, peek at the final page, and reassure ourselves that everything turns out just fine. This week, our studios have been living in that feeling. Tiny rooted plants that have spent the last month growing in water and finally finding homes in pots. Bath bombs are drying, lemonade recipes are being tested and retested, the garden is overflowing, and the chickens seem to be working overtime.

“At my last school, everyone judged me. Here no one is judgy.” One visiting learner quietly shared her story with me as she reflected on her day at Acton. She shared that she used to love unicorns. When she was younger, she wore unicorn pants to school until other children teased her that unicorns weren’t “cool.” She stopped wearing her unicorn pants because she wanted to fit in. I asked her if she still likes unicorns. She quietly answered, “Yes.” I listened a little longer before sharing something I hope every learner comes to believe.

The fabric markers came out and blank white company t-shirts were spread across the table. After working through disagreements, overcoming obstacles, and finally finding their rhythm, one Entrepreneurship team was ready to create their company swag. Two teammates had stayed after school, two had already gone home. They all had discussed their overall plan but not everyone was there to create it together. They were so eager, excited to get started, and yet as they uncapped the markers the two learners hesitated. I asked, “If you were one of your teammates and went home, would you rather your team get started and finish the shirts or would you rather they wait so you could be part of the experience?”

This week, Discovery learners participated in something that only happens once each year at Acton: standardized testing. Desks gathered together and learners grouped by age, everyone working on the same thing at the same time. A timer, raised hands, and for a few days the studio looked surprisingly traditional. What made me laugh most came from a handful of Spark Land learners who are currently visiting Discovery as part of their studio transition. As testing began, they quickly asked if they could take the test too.

“Welcome to Chef Owls! How many are in your party? Inside or outside today? Do you have any allergies our Chefs need to know?” Those were the words greeting families last night, spoken confidently by six, seven year, and eight year old hosts at the door. Chef Owls, a restaurant named by learners, run by learners, hosted and cooked by learners, opened for one night only.

“What kind of manure is best––cow, chicken, or worm?” This was the question that learners and I discussed while in the garden, turning compost and preparing beds for planting. The soil in front of us was a blend of chicken manure from our coop, thriving worms doing their quiet underground work, decomposed food scraps from our kitchen, and yes a few bags of cow manure to give everything an added boost.

There was a quick wrinkle of noses with an “ewww!” Then came a pause and the words,“That’s actually kind of cool.” Because it is! What looks like waste is rarely wasted in a regenerative system.

“We can do this the typical way,” I said, holding up a bowl. Then I set it down. “Or…we can travel to Italy.” I poured one cup of flour directly onto the table. Giggles. I made a well in the center and cracked an egg straight into the mound. Gasps! I picked up a whisk. “We could use this.” I paused. “Or we could use these.” And I placed my hands into the flour. The learners erupted “What! Yes!”

Spring has a quiet way of teaching us about change. The air softens, the ground shifts, buds appear where branches once looked bare. Growth rarely asks if we feel ready, it simply begins.

Just like Spring, at Acton, we are in a season of change. This week, several Spark Land learners began visiting Discovery Studio, stepping from a small pond into a larger one. They have earned their badges, their leadership has blossomed, they are ready for greater challenge, and still, readiness does not make transition easy.

Recently, more new faces have been walking through our doors. Adventure Guide hiring interviews, Open Houses, Family Tours.

With every visit comes something unexpected––perspective.

When you live inside Acton every day, it begins to feel normal. The hum of Core Skills, learners leading meetings, young children confidently shaking hands with adults and one another, shoes tucked by the door, a kitchen constantly in use, a studio that feels more like a home than a hallway of desks. And then someone new walks in.

Have you ever had a moment when you realized you are no longer who you thought you were? Not because you changed overnight, but because someone else reflected something back to you that you hadn’t fully seen. Last week, at the Acton network conference, I had one of those moments. It didn’t happen in a breakout session, it happened over breakfast.

At Acton, we talk often about the Challenge Donut. In the center is the comfort zone––warm, predictable, easy. Outside the donut is panic––overwhelming, discouraging, too much. But the actual donut––icing, sprinkles, and all is the challenge zone. It’s the place where learning lives, where growth happens, where the good stuff is.

Yesterday, the Earth completed another quiet trip around the sun, and so did I. There is something grounding about that thought. No matter how busy life feels, the orbit continues. Another year, another layer of growth, another chance to become.

Birthdays are fascinating. Some adults celebrate loudly, some stretch them into weeks, while some quietly pretend they have stopped counting. But for children, birthdays are pure magic.

A month ago, I had the privilege of spending time with Ali and Ramiza Faraz, the leaders of Acton Academy Lahore, during an Acton leadership gathering. I was inspired not only by their school’s remarkable growth and unwavering commitment to learner-driven governance but by their warmth, humility, and deep belief in young people. It was clear that Ali and Ramiza are dreamers, doers, and change-makers who have courageously built something lasting in their community. 

When did you learn to do laundry? Were you a child, a teenager, or a young adult standing nervously in a college basement with a pocket full of quarters? I learned at eighteen. I remember staring at unfamiliar knobs, unsure how much detergent to pour and genuinely worried that everything I owned would turn pink. My mother trusted me to drive a car but for some reason she was not ready to let go of the washing machine. I was, in her words, “ready for folding.”

There is something magical about the beginning of a new Quest. The studio feels different, materials are fresh, questions are bigger than answers, and there is a quiet wonder in the air. What will this become? Will I love it? Will I be good at it? What might I discover? This week, our two studios began two different Quest journeys yet both Quests are journeys of creative and practical exploration. Spark Land began Handwork Quest and Discovery began Fashion Design Quest.

In one of the Tinkerbell stories, something magical happens. The fairy dust, the very thing that powers their world, begins to fade. What once flowed freely slows to a trickle and the fairies panic. Without dust, there is no flight, no sparkle, no magic. Through courage, collaboration, and discovery, the dust begins to flow again. First trickle, then stronger, and finally….a roar! An abundance. When I think about a learner finding a calling, I think about that fairy moment.

When you hear the word school, what comes to mind? Bells, desks in rows, homework, tests, a certain feeling in your stomach, excitement, pressure, all of the above? For us parents, the word school carries a very specific image. We did not grow up at Acton so when our children describe their day and use words like “freedom” or “choice” or “self-governance,” it can feel unfamiliar, even disorienting.

There is a moment most parents know well. Your child is overwhelmed, confused, facing something new, and every instinct in you rises up and says: I’ll handle it, I’ll make this easier, I’ll fix it.

Recently, I spoke with a friend who was navigating a big life transition with her daughter. There were decisions to be made, logistics to figure out, and questions her daughter didn’t fully understand––and some her Mom didn’t know either. My friend was worried and said “I just want to protect her.” As she shared her concerns I asked, “What does your daughter get to decide?” Then there was a long pause and she said “Oh, I’m not sure. I didn’t think about that.”

What is it about being in a room together? Not on a screen, not thinking about what’s next, not multi-tasking. But sitting across someone, sharing a meal, listening, laughing, and pausing long enough to really hear one another. There is something that happens when we gather. This week, as we hosted our second Parent Lunch of the year, I was reminded of something we hold deeply at Acton Academy Oshkosh: community is not extra, it is essential.