Seeing the Long Game
In Chess, the Bishop moves with long-range sight. It glides diagonally across the board, never rushing, always keeping the end in mind. The Bishop’s strength lies not in its speed but in its perspective — the ability to see the full field: what has been, what is, and what might be next.
At this week’s Parent Lunch, we explored a simple but profound question about perspective: Is the glass half full or half empty?
Instead of just a glass, imagine if the glass is a mirror — a reflection of how we look at our children, our community, and ourselves. Often, as parents, we feel pressure to “do the work” to steer our children toward success to ensure they’re on track, to push growth, to fill the glass faster. Yet when our sight narrows to only what’s missing, our children begin to believe they are what’s missing. The lightness of their wonder turns to worry.
The opposite extreme — seeing only the half full — can leave us blind to the opportunities that stretch us toward growth. Acknowledging wins boosts energy but the risk is an inflated sense of self and a block to building work ethic.
The Bishop models balance. It sees both the filled and the unfilled, the progress and the potential. The wise Bishop moves with vision, courage, and patience, knowing that the game is not won in one turn but over many deliberate moves.
At Acton, learners practice this every day. They set S.M.A.R.T. goals — specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-bound — and they adjust those goals through reflection and honesty. They learn that the goal itself matters less than the habit of seeing clearly: balancing gratitude for what’s been achieved with strategy for what’s next.
I’ll admit — I’ve had to learn this balance. A few years ago, I realized that my well-intentioned “half empty” feedback to my daughter — always pointing out what could improve — was quietly chipping away at her confidence. My love was there, but what she heard was, “not enough.” She began to critique herself before I could, and I watched her joy dim under the weight of my good intentions.
So, I shifted. We began a nightly family gratitude ritual — sharing one thing we were proud of and one thing we wanted to keep growing. I practiced seeing her effort before her outcome. Over time, I noticed her posture change — lighter, more confident, more willing to try. My lens changed first, and so did hers.
How can we parents carry the Bishop’s long vision into our own lives? How can we model that steady balance of gratitude and growth? I invite you to step into the same shoes as your learner:
Step One: Craft one SMART goal that matters deeply to you — not centered on your child but on your own growth. Maybe it’s nurturing a hobby you’ve neglected, restoring a daily rhythm, or building consistency in a personal practice.
E.g 1: For the next four weeks, I will spend 10 minutes each night reading a book or article that inspires wonder — something unrelated to work or parenting — and share one insight with my family once a week.
E.g. 2: Each weekday morning, I will pause for two minutes of quiet before checking my phone or email, reminding myself to see my family and my day with eyes of gratitude before reaction.
Step Two: Practice gratitude — for the effort, not just the result. Notice what’s full in your glass and speak it aloud, whether daily or weekly.
Whether the glass looks half full or half empty isn’t the point. What matters is how we choose to see — and how that sight shapes the heroes we see in the mirror and the heroes growing right beside us.