Dear Boundless Families:
Everyone arrived safely yesterday. Also of cherishable note, they are feeling safe too.
This is good. Really good. Especially for the morning of day two. Being catapulted out of a Covid cave into a world where two-dozen humans are rubbing elbows can be a shocker.
I met Jayden late afternoon under a restless sky, and I asked him if he was here for the credits.
“Not really. I came here to be with people.”
Excuse me, but teenagers don’t say this kind of thing. It’s like a street-wise alleycat admitting he wants to sit down for a nice cozy meal with trusted friends. Can you please pass the serviettes?
But maybe there is something real here. Your kids are quite starved for human contact. While Covid was an introvert’s dream a year ago, mental health has since declined. Kids are lonely.
This tiny community is humming. And it feels fantastic. We are perhaps the only high school in Ontario open right now.
This is not audacity.
It’s about careful planning and wise execution, a local health unit that understands, and simply the fact that we are teensy weensy in size. Thousands of square feet of indoor space, plus 600 acres of outdoor wonderland, makes this feel just right. It’s like the whole world exists for just 15 kids and 15 staff.
It’s dog gone chilly here this morning. Ashley, their leader for the day, popped her head in my office and declared the group is going swimming in the rapids today.
“Are you nuts? It’s plus two!”
She cackled. “Didn’t you just blow the Boundless budget on comfy wetsuits?”
She has a point. But still.
I spoke to the group as a whole last night. I gave them three tips to survive.
1) Learn
2) Carry your weight
3) Look after each other
I also offered my respect. Eight kids are new here. For them to leap into the unknown, especially in these uncertain times, is an act of sincere courage.
Everyone is primed and ready to go.
Thanks for trusting us with your kids. I’ll be back at ya in about 10 days.
Warmly,
Steven
