This summer I went on a rafting trip in Idaho with my family. My parents would tell you that we went camping on this rafting trip, but I’ve been camping, and this trip was a far cry from roughing it. Guides set up tents for us, cooked meals for us, washed dishes for us; all in all we didn’t really do any work. As a seasoned camper accustomed to doing all of those jobs myself, I found this atmosphere at first bewildering, but soon very relaxing. I found myself doing stuff that five year olds do, such as playing in the sand. And more often than not, I found myself doing this stuff with five year olds. One in particular I would like to tell you about is a little British boy named Rory.

I don’t know how many of you have had the privilege to play in the sand with young children like Rory, but let me tell you, it is awesome! In between the summersaults, or “Deuto rolls” as he called them, Rory and I discussed seriously several career options for both him and me, which included, but were not limited to, Royal Air Force pilot, ship captain, and astronaut. Rory’s excitement and enthusiasm at the prospect of becoming any one of these was so genuine, so saturated, that I couldn’t help but wish that I was still five years old.

Eventually, our conversation turned to more serious topics such as mathematics, when I said: “Rory, how many hands do you have?!” And he said, “Ten!” And I said, “No Rory, you have ten fingers. How many hands do you have?” And he said, “I don’t know.” So I said, “All right, well go and get me three handfuls of sand!” So he goes running off like it is his life mission to find three handfuls of sand. He runs about ten yards, turns around, kneels down and takes the two biggest handfuls of sand that he can. He looks at both of his hands full of sand for two or three seconds, and then he looks me right in the eye and gets a huge smile on his face right before he opens his mouth wide and, I kid you not, plants his face into the beach. After picking up the largest mouthful of sand that he possibly can, he comes running back with a triumphant grin.

Think about if every student in every class at Shipley attacked every problem with the determination that Rory showed me in Idaho. This year, when we reach a point where we face the greatest risk to a good class—monotony—I challenge all of us, as a group and as individuals, to think about the way one of our Kindergarteners would attack a problem. Think about the curiosity and commitment that any five-year-old would show and aim for it.

Fortiter in Re; Leniter in Modo. A phrase that I have heard many times in my years at Shipley and I have learned that, translated from Latin, means: Courage for the Deed; Grace for the Doing. But that doesn’t really mean anything, so I translated it one more time into real English and it reads: Be courageous and challenge yourself to do the best you can at the hardest task you can find, and show grace by respecting yourself first, and those around you as you do it. While many of us can only hope to exemplify these words half as well as our Kindergarteners, don’t forget that in the end, what will really improve your experience and the experience of those around you is to aim for your best with courage and grace, but more importantly, with true, genuine, five-year-old enthusiasm.