The Hardest Part Is How Fast It Goes

On Friday, three alumni came back to campus for an impromptu visit. I felt emotional the moment I saw them. I remembered them as little ones with backpacks that were almost as big as they were, and there they were on Friday as middle and high school students. Standing in front of me (and standing taller than me) were grown-up versions of the same curious, funny, bright kids who once roamed our halls.

I’ll admit, I never find it particularly helpful when someone sees me out and about with my own Kindergarten and PreK-3 girls and says, “Enjoy this stage, it’ll be over before you know it. You’ll miss it one day.” I know they mean well, but when you’re in the thick of it with the early mornings, the scheduling, the endless to-do lists, the remembering, the juggling, and the rinse-and-repeat of it all, it’s hard to slow down and see the beauty in each moment.

And just when you finally feel like you have it figured out, everything changes. The hardest part is how fast it goes. The bedtime routine that once worked, suddenly doesn’t. The shoe that fit yesterday, doesn’t fit today. They have a new best friend, a new favorite color, and a new food preference. Better keep up!

That’s one of the things I love most about Shlenker. Here, we get to walk beside families through all of those changes; the messy, funny, emotional, ordinary ones that make up a childhood. We see your children as they learn how to share, find their voice in class discussions, and show quiet kindness on the playground. We get to notice who they are becoming, even in the small, in-between moments that can so easily pass us by.

And we do that together. Parents and teachers share a kind of partnership that is rare and special. You know your child best, and we get to see them in a different setting each day. We have a front row seat for how they think, how they learn, and how they interact with their world. When we share those insights, your child feels something powerful: a circle of adults who truly see them, understand them, and care about who they are becoming.

That’s what educators call attunement. Attunement is about noticing not just what a child does, but how they feel and what they need at any given moment. It’s about seeing when their confidence wavers, when frustration hides behind silence, and when a small success deserves to be celebrated. It’s what builds confidence, resilience, and connection. It’s how children learn that they are safe, capable, and loved.

We’re all busy, and the days are full. But every once in a while, if we slow down enough to notice, we see what a gift it is to be part of their growing up. What a gift it is to be needed now, knowing that someday they’ll come back taller, older, and beautifully grown, and to know we’re giving it all we’ve got right now to help them get there.