Being Part of a Community

We lived on Main Street just outside the town center for several years after our kids were born. The bakery, public library, and toy store were a couple of blocks away, and the walk required crossing the street. While Concord would never be described as a bustling metropolis, the road through the town center was often filled with tourists looking for Walden Pond, the North Bridge, or Louisa May Alcott’s house. With slow-moving cars and well-marked crosswalks, our children pretty quickly got the idea, and for a reasonable period everything worked out just fine. However, once they realized that cars were required to stop when someone was in the crosswalk, their logic tested our parenting skills. “If they are supposed to stop, why can’t I just go?” We tried our best not to scare them, but the stakes were high, so the “yes, and” paradigm shift began.

We are in the throes of similar conversations on campus now that we have all returned from our virtual and hybrid worlds. What I have the right to say or do sometimes conflicts with what is the responsible thing to say or do as a member of the community or my own self-preservation. Some of it is the natural byproduct that comes from reemerging from isolation or transition from a carefully curated group of contacts. The messiness and discomfort of experiences that come from renewed socialization can feel more pronounced and complex. Understandably, the exhaustion and anxiety that has built have made it more difficult for some to engage in the familiar ups and downs of adolescence and school life, testing the resiliency that our community marshaled during the heights of the pandemic. The always-present tension that exists between the rights and responsibilities of being a community member is perhaps even more amplified than before we scattered to our homes a year and a half ago. 

Perhaps the perils of crossing the street is an imperfect metaphor for what it means to be part of a community, but the idea of pausing and considering the consequences, intentional or not, of our actions or words is worth considering. Does what I say or do take something away from myself or someone else? Are my actions meant to provoke, to teach, to welcome, to dismiss? Am I willing to consider that I might be wrong or blinded to the implications of my actions? The three pillars of our mission—academic excellence, personal responsibility, and service to others— are the constellations that frame our north star. Each one depends on the others for definition, inspiration, and support. At Poly, we are no different, and that is what gives me confidence that we will navigate these challenges with generosity and grace. PolyStrong!

JWB