As I look out my window at the giant tent on the field below and watch box after box of new spirit gear arrive, I can’t help but hum, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year…”
I know. It is not Christmas. But you know those back-to-school commercials with parents practically dancing through the aisles, celebrating the return of structure and a little peace? That is about how I feel right now. My reason is a little different, though. Our campus is about to fill with people who absolutely love this place. And the joy and love they bring are palpable.
Admittedly, it is a long weekend. I am already exhausted thinking about it. We have spent the past week preparing to welcome grandparents and special guests into our halls, classrooms, and hearts on Friday. Friday evening brings the awards reception, my absolute favorite Tatnall event of the year, followed by the tent party with Kristen and the Noise. Saturday is packed with sports and community. Lyla has asked nearly every day since the tent went up whether it is the tent with the face painting and balloons. Several kindergarteners have been equally invested in finding out when the bounce house arrives.
And this year, with an Upper School student of my own, we won’t get to collapse after the games. We will shift into Homecoming dance mode: hair, makeup, pictures, excitement, and nerves as Audrey heads to her first Homecoming dance. Apparently, we are doing all the things.
There is so much simple fun in this weekend. I get to be surrounded by friends. My children get to be surrounded by theirs. They get to explore a familiar campus, find familiar faces, and enjoy a little more independence as they grow. There is a particular delight in giving my children a piece of what I remember from growing up: a community where people know your family, watch you grow, and are glad to see you.
And that brings me back to something we keep returning to this year: mattering.
The work of Jennifer Breheny Wallace, David Yeager, and Michelle Gielan keeps bringing me back to the power of being part of something bigger than ourselves. There is comfort in knowing we have a place where we are known and valued, where we have something to contribute, and where people will help us find our way when life gets hard. What I love about a community like Tatnall is that our place in it can grow with us. We can begin as the kindergartener waiting for the bounce house, become the teenager heading to a first Homecoming dance, and return years later as an alum, a parent, or even a grandparent holding a little hand on the way into a familiar building. Our role changes, but we still have a place here. We still matter to the people who call this place home.
Reading these ideas together, I keep thinking about the opportunities a weekend like this gives us. We can notice one another. We can celebrate someone’s contribution. We can introduce ourselves to a family we haven’t met yet, invite someone to sit beside us, or tell a former teacher about something that stayed with us long after we left their classroom.
I think about the possibility that one day our children will return to this tent as alumni. They will look for old friends, hug former teachers, and point out familiar places to someone they love. I hope they will feel what so many will feel this weekend: these people helped me become who I am, and they are still glad to see me. This weekend, we all get to be a part of that. I hope to see you there.
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