A few evenings ago, I opened the Netflix app on my phone and browsed “recommended” movies as I spun on the stationary bike in Proctor’s fitness center. I clicked on Moneyball (for the third or fourth time), and as I mindlessly listened to the dialogue, I thought little of the Hollywood dramatization of Billy Bean’s experiment to use data to measure the intangibles that would allow him to build a winning team out of the small market Oakland A’s in 2002.
The end of each trimester at Proctor celebrates the collective work of students enrolled in art classes. Usually, we gather in the Wilkins Meeting House before the spring musical to peruse the art, gently run our hands over the sculptures, woodworking pieces, and marvel at the creativity of our students across disciplines. But like everything else this spring, our celebration of student artwork must take a slightly different form.
When Proctor made the decision to spend the Spring Term learning remotely, the immediate question that arose focused on our academic schedule. Would we attempt to stay synchronous in our learning? Or would that simply be too complicated with students scattered around the globe with varying access to technology? Ultimately, we realized that at our core as a school is human connection, and when we are deprived of that connection, we struggle, and a fully synchronous schedule was born.
Our natural world is awakening around us, albeit slowly. Over the weekend, temperatures crept into the 70s for the first time in nearly seven months. Blossoms in the apple orchard have begun to flower, the grass is greening, dandelions abound, and yes the black flies have emerged as spring flood waters slowly recede back into the banks of the Blackwater River. As we watch the seasons change, we are reminded organizations like Proctor are living organisms as well.