Always Trying

 

This year we have two gorgeous

yellow warblers nesting in the honeysuckle bush.

The other day I stuck my head in the bush.

The nestlings weigh one-twentieth of an ounce,

about the size of a honeybee. We stared at

each other, startled by our existence.

In a month or so, when they reach the size

of bumblebees they’ll fly to Costa Rica without a map.

 

There are many things to dwell on in this little gem, perhaps first and foremost the miracle of life and the power within. Schools are blessed with daily evidence of the power of young people, and it truly never becomes routine or unremarkable. Yellow warblers are small birds, maybe four inches long, and honeysuckle bushes are large, growing sometimes 20 feet tall, with small, yellow and white flowers and bright red berries. Though we may not know these relative sizes, we can (the speaker assumes) picture a honeybee and a bumblebee, and we can easily know that the former is far smaller than the latter. Still, a bumblebee is not big, and you wouldn’t give it much of a chance of flying all the way to Costa Rica from Montana—with or without a map. 

 

Perhaps because of my English background, I am most captivated by the missing comma in the last line of the poem. Grammatically speaking, there should be a comma after the word “bumblebees.” Its absence speeds up the line with urgency and a bit of recklessness—presumably exactly what it takes to get to Costa Rica without a map. What a joyous—and slightly unreal—last line! 

 

Of course, the natural world is full of miracles—like tiny, young birds, maplessly winging their way across thousands of miles to an entirely new climate. Considering this, I cannot help but picture dozens of Lower School students darting from one place to another, running past me shouting “Hi, Ms. Pelmas!”, eagerly launching themselves into a life that may have occasional guides, but really has no map. On the ice, the basketball court, the squash courts, and the pool, these students launch themselves into practices and competitions—trying and failing, or trying and succeeding, but always trying. They hurtle themselves across the ice, or lunge to intercept an opponent’s pass, or sprint to a drop shot, or launch off the starting blocks. They are ready to go, eager to get better, delighting in the competition they face. 

 

I am thinking particularly about our sporty and energetic students because February 7 is National Girls and Women in Sports Day. Sponsored by the Women’s Sports Foundation, and led by the extraordinary Billie Jean King, the day is marked annually by events nationwide. It honors the progress made by girls and women in sports, without ignoring that there are still challenges and barriers. We know the emotional and academic benefits of athletics for young people, and we know especially that sports help girls gain confidence, learn leadership, improve physical and mental health, and release their deep competitiveness. So February 7 presents a chance for us to celebrate girls’ sports, and the wonderful experience of athletics at Winsor. And also, perhaps, to celebrate what schools do best: help young people rise out of the nest and just fly.