A third-grade student came to my office a few days before winter break to deliver a gift: a tiny gingerbread house, small enough to rest in the palm of my hand. Over the next few weeks, it migrated across various surfaces—desks, tables, countertops. I smiled each time I saw it, and I resisted the urge to swipe candy off of the roof, letting it stay as it was: a perfect reminder of a child's kindness and care. Nearly three weeks later, the Eaton fire consumed much of the town around his family's home, leaving behind a reality that felt impossibly heavy.
In the days that followed, I found myself deeply moved by the incredible generosity and grace of the Poly community. Our steering committee members have been unwavering in their dedication, working tirelessly to make a difference. The Parent Association Leadership has shown extraordinary creativity and care, stepping up in ways that inspire gratitude. Volunteers worked tirelessly collecting and sorting donations. And then there are the countless individual acts of kindness—quiet, profound gestures that remind me of the power we all hold to lift one another.
On Saturday, after the gravity of the fires had begun to settle, I spoke with a group of faculty, student, and parent volunteers during their lunch break. I shared a story about a man clearing cinders from his car. At first, he felt frustrated by the task until it struck him that the ashes were not just ashes—they were the remnants of people’s dreams. And in that realization, his sweeping transformed into something profound: an act of care for what others had lost.
Our responsibility as a community is much like his—to gently hold the dreams of those impacted by the fires and nourish them with generosity and grace. The gingerbread house still sits on our kitchen counter. It was a child's gift, yet it has come to symbolize something more: how we show up for one another when it matters most.
JWB
*This letter was published in the Outlook printed edition on Thursday, January 23, 2025.