Dear Boundless Families:
Everyone arrived safely on Friday to a stunning afternoon sky. I hung out with the kids a little on Friday and Saturday evenings. It is Sunday as I write, with a little time on my hands. Why not gossip a bit?
A slew of new kids have brought fresh energy to our community. I am charmed by these younglings, who arrived in different shapes and sizes to represent Mexico, the Philippines, Ethiopia, Indigenous ancestry and, lo and behold, an Ottawa Valley boy. No self-respecting Boundless crew can be without a Valley Boy.
Fall pickleball is now buried in the snow. In its stead, I have hopes for the ping pong emporium, where you compete for glory beside the glow of a cozy wood fire that sometimes turns balls into teeny supernovas, and more often than not, shy teenagers into chatterboxes.
Last night I wooed most of the new gang and a few returning kids into said Ping Pong Land. It must have been minus 15 inside. The fire was quickly lit. Conversations came easily. D. stunned me with the thoughtfulness of his questions that seemed to roll off his tongue.
“What’s your name again?”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since the beginning, you say. What has your journey been like?”
“Is today what you imagined it would be in the beginning?”
I was stunned. Students practically never ask me anything, let alone from a place of such wisdom and curiosity. I told D. that he must become a journalist. It was his turn to be stunned. “No one has ever said that to me before.”
K.J. picked up a ping pong racket and was rusty at first. I offered to train him. Rolling his eyes, he probably thought I was an audacious idiot but he was too polite to say so. In 90 seconds his rust evaporated and he had this old man on the ropes. I am the reigning ping pong champ of this place. Now I am afraid.
Valley boy just dove right in and I imagine he finds this place a little too good to be true. During my intro speech on Friday night, I felt the weight of his gaze. He was analysing every utterance trying to get a bead on this place. I sense that this valley boy is a survivor.
I had this strange dream a few nights before the kids arrived. I didn’t realize it was about the new students until I actually saw them on Friday.
In this dream, I was on a ship that just landed on Mars. Students were with me, but they were nameless and faceless. We all jumped out of the ship and started leaping fifty metres in the air. We were all giggling with delight at the low gravity and atmospheric pressure of Mars, enabling these leaps of faith.
I told the students about the dream, in an almost impossible attempt to empathize with what it’s like to hop on a bus in the city, and presto, four hours later, they are let loose on 600 acres of wilderness, inhabited by people who look you in the eye with kindness and are prone to hug.
It must truly feel like Mars to these newbies.
I assure all new families that our new students are doing well. They possess an appropriate degree of skepticism. As it should be. I bet by the time you read this, they all will have bought in.
As for the returning kids, they just picked up where they left off in December, elated to be in a small tribe, ready for learning, and to cause a little s…t.
It’s lovely, the whole darn thing.
Thanks for sending your kids to us.
Steven Gottlieb
