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August 6, 2026
Our backyard is the home of two red-tailed hawk nests.
For most of the spring we just reveled in our luck of being able to witness the activity and energy bustling in our trees. Even the resident bald eagle of a nearby creek regularly visited to check out the hubbub.
By the end of July, though, the nests moved into the adolescent phase of fledgling preparation in which our relaxing, bucolic space was pierced by juveniles incessantly screeching to their parents, begging for attention as they refuse to fumble with their newly feathered wings out of the nest. Circling, the adults squawked back urging their now cumbersome and awkward offspring to test their abilities to get their own food for the first time. There is no rushing this process, which lasts for days and dominates the otherwise pleasant chorus of summer bird chatter, cicadas humming, children laughing and dogs barking.
At some point we resigned ourselves that the natural order of things will run its course and our yard will return to a more sanguine state — but only when the hawklets were good and ready.
As a child in Kansas City, starting a new grade each year felt a little like falling out of an increasingly crowded nest.
I remember becoming comfortable with my summer routine and enjoying the afterglow of accomplishing the previous grade. While I was excited to see my friends and teachers — and get some of the new privileges that come with next step — I still had a deep recurring fear that my previous ability to master each grade’s work was the result of some kind of magic and that illusion would have run its course by this fall, forcing me to crash back into the reality of not feeling good about myself, my teachers, my friends or my classes.
I wish I could say this was a passing phase, but I pretty much cried the first week of every school year until I eventually outgrew those worries (like when I gave up sleeping with my blanket — far into middle school) around junior year of high school.
Nowadays, raising children has an even more frantic and dominating timeline for them to hurry up and achieve. Youth club athletics, youth symphonies, summer classes can all add more pressure to have them jump phases and grow up.
I hope that Columbus Academy’s steady, traditional start is something you and your children can lean on, trust and enjoy — despite the scary newness that each year can bring in the beginning. I have no doubt your nests are feeling a little tight right about now and it is time to send your children off to their work at school. I am sure they have matured in deep and interesting ways, and we are preparing here for those bigger bodies and active minds to fill our quiet campus.
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