My love letter to boarding school …
When I was a little girl, I wasn’t the type to daydream about my wedding. While many of my friends imagined dresses, flower arrangements, and played endless games of M.A.S.H. to learn who they would marry, I spent my time daydreaming about something a little more unconventional: life on a kibbutz.
I was captivated by the idea of a shared life—a community where everyone played a role, where people truly looked out for one another, and where the work was purposeful and deeply rooted in service. The thought of knowing all your neighbors not just in passing, but intimately and genuinely, felt like a dream worth chasing, no matter how different it made me feel from my peers.
I never did end up on a kibbutz, but in so many ways, I found the next best thing: life on a boarding school campus.
Here, in this unique corner of the world, I’ve discovered a community that embodies many of the same values—communal caretaking, differentiated yet collective responsibility, and a shared commitment to something greater than ourselves. We live close, we work closely, and we all, in our own ways, contribute to the raising, teaching, and guiding of young people. I’m not a faculty member, I’m just married to one, but boarding school life is a family affair. It’s as rewarding as it is demanding, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Raising a child in this environment has offered so many unexpected blessings. While our son has a wonderful dad, when he’s here with us on campus, he’s part of a household with two moms—and a neighborhood filled with other incredible adults who love and support him. Every day, he’s surrounded by dads "dadding their hearts out," moms cheering at every game and performance, and mentors who teach by example. It’s a village in the truest sense, and I know he's grown up seeing that love and family come in many forms.
It’s also a space where our son, and the students we live alongside, learn that community isn’t something you consume—it’s something you co-create. They learn it in the way our neighbors stop by with extra cookies, or offer a hand with a late-night dorm duty, or simply show up, again and again, because showing up matters. These boys may arrive as strangers, but by the time they leave, they’ve been shaped by a family that extends far beyond their roommates or teammates.
This isn’t just a feeling—it’s something researchers have been observing for decades. In his landmark book Bowling Alone, sociologist Robert Putnam discusses the decline of social capital in American life and argues that communal ties are essential to a healthy, resilient society. Boarding school life, in many ways, bucks this trend. Here, social bonds aren't fading—they’re thriving. And as a result, we’re nurturing healthy, resilient children.
When I first suggest boarding school to parents, many of them balk at the idea, concerned about “sending their child away.” As a parent, I get that. AND - I also see all the ways that boarding school creates double the joy and double the opportunity for students. It deepens your bench – providing a broad community of adults who offer wisdom and care to your child. (More on this in next week’s post.)
Ten years in, this place has become home in the deepest sense of the word. It’s where we’ve laughed, cried, celebrated, and grown—not just as individuals, but together. And for the students who pass through here, this hilltop becomes more than just a school; it becomes a second home, a second family, a second chance to feel seen, known, and loved.
Someday, deep into my retirement, you might find me tending a garden in my own little corner of a kibbutz. But for now, I’m quite happy to call this boarding school hilltop my home.