Good morning. It is great to see you all here. I have been waiting for this, the real start, of the school year for some time. I am also grateful that fall seems to have arrived after the brutal heat and humidity of the last few days.

I would like to spend my time with you this morning sharing three summertime encounters to frame my hopes for you and this community in this year.

The first encounter came as a memory I had over the summer of my high school Algebra II teacher, Mr. Chase. I remembered several things about Mr. Chase—that he was an incredibly patient and kind teacher, one who respected and cared for kids in a no-nonsense, not very flashy way. I remembered spending a good deal of time getting math extra help from him at 7 a.m. three mornings a week. He was very generous to me and many, many other students. There is a high probability that you will have a teacher like Mr. Chase at Kent.

But what I remembered most about Mr. Chase had nothing to do with his abilities as a classroom teacher or as a kind human being. What I remember most about Mr. Chase was the fact that at truly random times I would see him bend down and pick up litter on the campus of my high school—gum and candy wrappers, popsicle and lollipop sticks, apple cores, orange peels, you name it, he would pick it up and throw whatever it was away. I am sure he did this all the time, but what I most clearly remember was Mr. Chase doing this when no one was near him—when no one was watching—or when he might have believed no one was watching. As I said, I was watching. This is self-incriminating, but I used to see him do this when I was looking out the window daydreaming in my other classes.

The second reflection comes from a conversation I had with another head of school this summer. The head of a school very much like ours. We were talking about our schools and the challenges we face in educating you in this moment in history—in this particular age. He told me a story about a conversation he had last spring with one of his students and her inappropriate use of technology. It had come to the attention of the head of school that the student had posted something offensive about another student on social media. Unfortunately, this is not a terribly uncomm on misstep. When the head of school asked the student if she had written what was posted she said, “That wasn’t really me; that was me on social media.” 

My final reflection from the summer comes from a visit I had with a graduate of the Kent School Class of 1965. I will call him Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith is deeply appreciative of his time at Kent and the life-long friends he made. He believes he was formed as a human being at Kent School in this very Chapel. Mr. Smith has been successful professionally, but he is most proud of fostering more than 20 children over the last 30+ years. These children came from broken homes, and many suffered from addiction or abusive relationships. Many of these children, but not all of them, were saved by Mr. Smith’s love and commitment.

Mr. Smith is a wonderful example of someone who has lived the mission of Kent School. He has actively contributed to the greater good without fanfare or the need for praise. (I have used Mr. Smith as his name because I know he would not want any recognition for his work). When I think of Mr. Smith, I think of these inspiring words attributed to the theologian, John Wesley: “Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.”

Today is the first day of the School year. And is it most appropriate to pause and think about how we live together this year. A wonderful thing about this community is that it is dynamic and ever-refreshing. Last Wednesday, we welcomed over 145 new students into this community and two weeks ago we welcomed several new faculty and staff members who will have an immensely positive impact on the School.

Each year presents us with an opportunity for introspection and improvement as individuals and collectively as a community. I believe the energy we feel at the beginning of a new year is fueled mostly by the hope of good things to come—new friendships and successes. When I was a high school student it was a perennial l late summer ritual of mine to think about what I wanted to achieve and more importantly about what kind of person I wanted to be in my school
community. I hope you all have gone through a similar mental exercise or even talked through
your thoughts with a family member or friend.

I would encourage you to do a similar mental exercise regarding your role in the community.

Finally, let me return to my three summer reflections I offered earlier. I offered them not as a multiple-choice question. Who are you? Or who do you want to be? A. the authentic Mr. Chase, B. the seemingly duplicitous social media user or C. the saintly Mr. Smith? This was not my intention. My intention was to suggest to you that each of these three examples lives in each of us. All of us. Our complexity and imperfections are what make us human. Similarly, our complexity and imperfections are what make us a real community, not a utopia.

I ask you to consider these two questions throughout the year: How do we support each other with compassion when we are not our best selves? How do we celebrate each other when we are our best selves? I personally am going to reflect on these questions this year. If we all commit to being compassionate toward and supportive of one another, I am certain it will be a great year.

I wish each of you a truly wonderful year.