An Acorn Parent Reflection Written by Jared Roberts

My name is Jared Roberts and my oldest son, Prescott, graduated from Acorn in 2024 and my youngest son, Scout, will be a Mighty Oak this coming school year.

If you look down the line of apple trees you’ll notice that one is slightly out of line from the rest. It stands a little higher on the hill, a little taller, a little more pronounced. What looks good to the eye often contradicts the level or tape. Nonetheless, there it stands, poised, gnarled, stoic, steadfast. It’s limbs unfurling towards the sun and moss creeping up the shade of his north side. Perfection is difficult to discern. This tree is not without fault, yet it calmly exudes it’s own interpretation of perfection. Years of wind and rain and snow and sun have shaped it unmercifully. It’s scars readily apparent, it’s struggle to adapt, to fit in, to stand out, to reach forth and to withdraw when necessary have molded it. Each branch, each curved limb, each scar, each notch, each wrinkle tell a story. Some of triumph and many of defeat. Still, as the years accumulate behind him, he becomes more rugged, more poised, more weathered and more determined. The blossoms of years past are behind him and he knows not how many lie ahead. But this is not a hindrance, it is fuel to muster the strength to reach a bit closer to the sun, even if his scorched leaves prefer the solace of the cool shade. His roots digging deeper into the soil, his feet wet and grounded, surrounded by the petals of spring, yielding fruit as the nights once again turn cold. Perfection can not be measured, contained, defined or explained. It lies somewhere in the hearts and minds of those we hold onto so tightly for a time, only to one day be set free to create their own yield. It is not what we are or who we are or what we’ve done. It is the space we create for those around us. The space we leave for them. The space we allow them to flourish in. Taking great care in not allowing our shadow to cast upon them. So here that old tree stands. A little higher than the rest, a little more poised, a little wiser and a little more understanding. He does not do it boastfully, but so that he can watch his saplings spread out into his woods, dirtying their heels and developing their own scars. Like the bluebird laying claim to the prized gourd or the chipmunk hurrying to fill his cache before autumn, they spread their wings to the sky and carve carefully into the earth. Finding their own space where they too can step slightly out of line, striving to be like that old apple tree. They certainly have big shoes to fill.

When I was asked to write something for the Acorn newsletter, my mind immediately went to this passage I wrote for my late father on his 70th birthday. Though neither of our boys had yet attended Acorn School, reflecting back on it, I feel that it is the embodiment of all that Acorn School provides. Life can be hard, growing up can be hard, parenting can be hard, grasping hold of fleeting moments before they float away with time is perhaps the hardest of all. And now as we approach the final year of Acorn School for our second son I fear we may not be able to find a place where we can confidently enroll them and know that they will be cared for, encouraged and guided as if they were family.

We have placed our children in your capable hands and have entrusted you to allow them to grow from the erstwhile Acorn to the Mighty Oak. And in doing so we too have been treated like family and have found a community that, not unlike that erstwhile acorn, will grow together, will fail together, will triumph together and will be welcomed back with broad smiles and open arms. Wherever the path may lead, as wide or narrow, or meandering as it may become, there is always one that draws the heart back home. I believe the saying goes: “Once a Mighty Oak, always a Mighty Oak.” In this case, it is the acorn that doesn’t fall far from the tree.

In appreciation,

Jared Roberts