In just a few days, our Upper School boys soccer team will take the field for the first time in more than five years, and I have to admit this one feels especially personal to me. My senior son is on this team, so I am experiencing this season in two roles at once: as Head of School, incredibly proud of what our students and coaches are building, and as a mom, watching one of my own children get to be part of bringing something back to a school that has meant so much to our family.

Last spring, we had a dream to build this program back. We had zero players committed. Zero. We had an idea, two coaches who believed in it, and a whole lot of uncertainty about whether we could actually make it happen.

Today, we have 17 boys on the roster. Seventeen!!!

I keep coming back to that because it says so much about what this team represents. When you are rebuilding something, it is easy to focus on what you do not have yet. You can look at an empty roster and wish it were already full. You can look at a program that has been gone for years and think about everything that still needs to be figured out. You can wait for better conditions, more people, more certainty, or an easier path.

Or you can simply begin.

That is what these coaches and students have done. Our coaches believed this team was worth building before there really was a team. They kept showing up. They kept encouraging students to join. They kept practicing, planning, asking, inviting, and believing. And our students began saying yes.

Watching all of this has, naturally, made me think about Ted Lasso. Obv.

I love Ted Lasso because underneath all the soccer, it is really a story about belief. Not blind optimism. Not pretending hard things are easy. It is the kind of belief that looks at something difficult and decides it is still worth trying.

We talk a lot in education about grit, perseverance, resilience, and growth mindset. We want students to take risks, work through frustration, stick with difficult problems, and understand that being uncomfortable or uncertain does not mean it is time to quit. But those ideas can become just words if students never get to see what they look like in real life.

This team is giving our entire school the opportunity to see them.

Our students are watching coaches invest deeply in something before they know exactly how it will turn out. They are watching teammates commit to one another. They are seeing that you do not have to wait until everything is perfect to build something meaningful. You begin with the people who are there. You work. You learn. You invite others in. You get better. And then you come back the next day and do it again.

Sometimes you start with zero. And somehow, a few months later, you have 17.

That lesson reaches far beyond the soccer field. It belongs to the student struggling with something academically and wondering whether they are capable of mastering it. It belongs to the child considering a new activity but worrying they might not be very good at it yet. It belongs to the student auditioning, performing, speaking up, making a new friend, proposing an idea, joining a club, or doing anything else that requires the courage to risk being a beginner.

And it belongs to the adults in our school too.

Schools are built this way. Programs are built this way. Traditions are built this way. Culture is built this way. Someone decides something matters enough to try, and then a group of people keeps showing up long enough to turn an idea into something real.

As the mom of a senior, I am especially aware this year of how quickly time at TIS passes. Our seniors are beginning a year filled with lasts, but this team has also given some of them the chance to be part of a first. They get to leave behind something that was not here when they arrived. They get to help create an opportunity that younger students may someday take for granted. I am so outrageously grateful for that.

One of the things I hope every student understands before leaving TIS is that they are not simply inheriting their school. They are shaping it. Their ideas, their courage, their participation, and their willingness to keep going have the power to make this place better for the students who come after them.

Years from now, I hope there is a full Upper School soccer roster and students who assume soccer has always been part of TIS. I hope 17 eventually feels small compared with what this program becomes. And when that happens, I hope someone remembers to tell them about this team. About the coaches who believed it could come back. About the students who were willing to be the ones who started again. About the spring when there were zero, and the fall when there were 17.

Soon, I will get to watch them take the field for the first time. And while I absolutely hope they win, I already know the most important part of this story will not be found on the scoreboard.

They have already done something worth celebrating. They showed up. They believed something could be rebuilt. They invited others in. They kept going. And together, they built a team where there had been none.

As Head of School, I could not be prouder of what they are building for TIS. And as the mom of one of those players, I can already promise that I will probably be a little louder on the sidelines than my professional title might suggest.

We are brave and strong and full of grit. We are building, yes. And we are showing up. We are not giving up. We are not going anywhere.

Believe.