Bloom Where You Are Planted

I am writing this on the train ride home from Education Reimagined’s Where Learning Takes Root Summit in Baltimore.

Nearly one hundred people gathered from both coasts and everywhere in between—educators, learners, parents, funders, community partners, and Education Reimagined staff. It is always difficult to explain gatherings like this to someone who has never attended one. The closest comparison I can think of is a spiritual retreat.

Imagine walking into a Buddhist meditation center without quite knowing what you’re getting into. You arrive carrying the weight of your own work, your own community, and your own questions. Then you find yourself surrounded by people who share a common belief: that young people deserve something better than the factory model of education we inherited.

These are people doing the hard work of creating learner-centered ecosystems. They are building communities where young people are known, families are engaged, adults continue learning, community partners become co-educators, and decision-makers are invited into the work so they can help direct the resources necessary for these ecosystems to flourish.

Ultimately, the goal is simple: when communities flourish, young people and their families flourish.

As always, the most powerful insights came not from the adults, but from the learners.

One of the final presentations was given by a ten-year-old learner named Uriah from a forest school outside Atlanta. During his presentation he offered a statement that stopped me in my tracks:

“Try to fit in without actually fitting in.”

I couldn’t let it go.

After the session ended, I found Uriah and asked him what he meant.

“Don’t try to change yourself trying to fit in with other people,” he told me.

“Stay the same and fit in with the group of people you actually fit in with.”

“So be yourself?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Be yourself.”

“Fit in, but don’t actually try to fit in.”

“Just be yourself and you’ll fit in.”

There was wisdom in that answer that many adults spend decades trying to learn.

Uriah loves football. He sees himself as an entrepreneur. He creates paintings with affirmations—messages like You Are Great—and sells them for five dollars each. He is already building a life around his interests, gifts, and sense of purpose.

Later, as the summit closed, we gathered in a large circle. One by one people stepped into the center to share reflections, gratitude, and commitments. At one point Uriah stood quietly in the middle of the circle, completely comfortable in his own skin, receiving the collective love and appreciation of the community surrounding him.

It was a beautiful moment.

I leave Baltimore carrying renewed energy, deepened friendships, new connections, and plenty of food for thought for the next leg of our journey.

The timing could not be better.

At FabNewport, we are preparing to launch Endless Summer, our year-round learner-centered learning community. Throughout the summit, people expressed excitement about what we are building. They asked questions. They shared ideas. Many want to visit Newport and see it firsthand.

That enthusiasm is encouraging, but perhaps the most important takeaway is simpler.

The future of learning may not be found in larger systems or more complicated solutions.

It may be found in creating communities where young people like Uriah can be fully themselves.

Communities where they belong before they perform.

Communities where they are known before they are measured.

Communities where they can discover who they are, imagine who they might become, and then bloom where they are planted.

That is the work.

And after this week, I am more hopeful than ever that it is possible.