2020 has been an anxious year for grownups in America. Lockdowns, racial unrest, political polarization, and a close election have all threatened to unravel the best of us.

Yet, here at Ambleside, school life appears almost normal, and our community “bubble” is largely untouched by the anxiety around us.

I am reminded of these words from Matthew 18:3, “Unless you ... become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Every day at Ambleside, I get a deeper glimpse of what that means by watching these young people live each moment, unaffected by the tumult in the world around them.

Mornings offer the first glimpse. Like clockwork, the school doorway bumps open as a small brigade of students, loaded down with folding chairs, begin setting up seats for our outdoor classrooms. The brightly colored tents provide a backdrop for the camaraderie of shared duty.

The handwashing station is next, as students race the cart of empty water containers down the hill to the outdoor spigot. After water jugs are refilled, the load is pushed to its post on the sidewalk, ready for the many pairs of hands that will be scrubbed efficiently throughout the day.

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The school day begins as always, with students getting out of their vehicles loaded with backpacks, coats, and water bottles, only now they greet adults with an elbow bump instead of a handshake and patiently wait to get their temperatures checked if their parents forgot to fill out the health app that morning.

Morning worship is in the classroom, with the hymn of the week and the prayer of the day radioed over the walkie talkie. There is a quiet sense of reverence at this start of the day, and occasional humming, singing, or hand clapping as the students and teachers join the chorus over air waves.

In the classroom, students have adjusted peacefully to the regimen of distancing guidelines, masks, plexiglass dividers, and added cleaning chores at the end of the school day. Some of our students join morning classes over Zoom, while teachers move a small speaker from student to student so they can hear.

Distance learners are dressed in uniform and ready for each school day, with white boards and books nearby, and there is a genuine sense of accountability, even though participating from home. Some even ask their teacher for permission to use the restroom.

Afternoons are joyful times, as classes move outdoors. A nature study class is working at the picnic tables, Spanish class is in one tent, music in another, and in the field beyond, the kindergarteners are rolling down the sand hill. Outdoor classrooms have naturally trained students to sing more fully, speak more clearly, and give more attention despite outdoor distractions.

But this journey has not been without challenges. One of our outdoor tents blew over in a strong wind. An entire class had to move home for instruction because their teacher was quarantined. Our Field Day of games was an adjusted community event, without our family potluck and favorite fried chicken. Veterans Chapel and Christmas programs are different this year with less mingling of classes, more distancing, and a greatly limited community audience.

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Yet these children are living in the moment—simple, trusting, resilient, and adaptable—trusting they are known and cared for wholly. This is a picture of the kingdom of heaven, and yet again, the children show us the way.

Unless You Become Like A Little Child