You definitely hear it before you see it. From my office, I get only a tiny peek at the top of our beloved and historic Sledding Hill. But what may be lacking in visuals from this vantage point is more than made up for by some rather awesome audio–the sounds of our students taking joyous revolutions down and up and down again across that snowy escape.
Our Sledding Hill, so named (I assume) for its most obvious winter glory, is a place for both being fully in the moment and, as I found on a recent visit, an excellent pinnacle for reflection. I offer these rather random thoughts as an appreciation of our Sledding Hill and its place in our community and in our hearts.
Low-tech/no-tech at its finest. We will always help our students explore, understand, critique, and master new technologies. You’ll see that on display later this month at the STEAM Expo. With that, as we well know, comes the growing need to be grounded in the joys, knowledge, and appreciation of simple things as well … like a humble plastic sled. Our children have a vast capacity and appetite to unplug. Just go sledding with them, and you’ll see.
Change your view once in a while. The Sledding Hill is a tale of two vastly distinct perspectives. Standing at the top, you see students going away, facing the other way. Off they go! The value, from that perspective, lies in seeing the huffing and puffing and smiles as they trudge back up the hill. You get to see the effort involved. Standing at the bottom of the hill, you see the reward–faces full of fun, and maybe even a bit of managed fear and risk.
You don’t know you’re doing hill training when you’re having the time of your life. Educators can be so sneaky sometimes. This is probably no better seen than on the Sledding Hill when Abbey Nyland and Alex Tzelnic bring out one of their physical education classes. The students are all in for the fun, but what they might not realize is that they’re getting one awesome workout going up that hill countless times in a class period. Don’t tell them, please.
Teamwork makes the scream work. Or we all need a push sometimes. From the bottom of the hill, you see another wonderful thing on almost every run down the hill. Students are constantly teaming up to help each other reach maximum velocities. They take turns pushing their classmates down the hill or ride together, likely with images of bobsledding gold medals in their minds. Learning about sharing and the power of collective effort is profound.
If only Sisyphus had a sled instead. Okay, maybe this one is a bit out there, but my visit to the Sledding Hill had me thinking about some scholarship on the Myth of Sisyphus, and that he may have actually enjoyed the repetitive nature of rolling that boulder up that hill over and over and over again. In life, there is definitely something to be said for coming to terms with and dealing with repetitive tasks and activities. Not everything we do at Belmont Day is as fun as sledding, and we strive to equip our students with the abilities and life skills to face and finish work that may seem like just one more trudge up that hill.
Our students today are part of an incredible legacy. Finally, a visit to the Sledding Hill is a form of time travel. The Sledding Hill transports you back across the decades at BDS. The snow gear has changed, and so have the sleds. Our community has changed significantly as well. Through our evolution these 99 years, the thrill of a great run and an epic wipeout on the Sledding Hill has remained the same, and I suspect it will for the next 99 and beyond.
Happy sledding, everyone. I wish you a very safe, restful, and fun February break.
