Humans, especially children, are natural observers. Over time, however, our curiosity gets squashed. We don’t stop to look at the skeleton of an old leaf, listen to the gentle pulsing of a river, or touch the smoothness of a fallen acorn. So, our joy diminishes. 

But here, at the Leelanau School, wonder is revived. 

As a new faculty on campus, I had a small moment in time which demonstrates this…

On move-in day, a freshman asked me, “Hey, wanna go checkout the river?” 

“Sure!” I said, as he ran ahead. 

We stood on the bridge together, sun beaming down through the trees. From another state, his excitement to observe Northern Michigan was wiggling out of him. Right away we spotted a toad on the muddy bank. The freshman bolted down, trying to catch it. 

The toad leapt into the water. 

We both laughed and the freshman knelt down, looking into the river. Almost meditating. Next, another toad jumped into the water. And another. And another! With each splash, we gasped, then squealed in delight. Joy rustled in the trees above and rolled down the river below. 

The campus here at The Leelanau School is filled with this wonder. And because the faculty know this, they take advantage. The river, the beach, the lake, and more become their classroom. Learning feels more natural here because, well, it’s often done in nature. 

This new student is a natural observer. And what he doesn’t even know yet is that, here, his wonder will bloom wildly. 

I’m unsure if he’ll remember this moment by the time he graduates. Because by then, he’ll have hundreds of similar ones where he took the time to observe and be curious. 

But for me, a new faculty, I’ll cherish this moment–and be grateful for both my students, and nature, that help revive my own sense of wonder.