We’re just three days away from the opening of Neil Armstrong Academy. As the big day comes, I want to paint a clear picture of what our school looks like.
Nearly every person who walks through our doors has the same reaction. It’s a somewhat humorous mixed bag. First comes the astonishment of what remains to be done. This is usually accompanied with the question, “Kids are coming when?” Then, slowly, excitement seems to overtake the astonishment as the individual takes in everything the new school will include. I’d like to walk you through those two steps here if I could.
A LOT remains to be done. When you enter the building on Wednesday, you’ll see large areas that don’t yet have tile down (concrete floors instead); display cases yet to be installed; entire areas of the school incomplete such as the library, the gym, the field, the playground; the internet not yet up and running; STEM labs prepped but not complete; missing furniture; construction equipment (roped off but still very present); areas designated for concrete not yet poured; soil piles; particle-board covered windows, planters not yet filled, etc., etc., etc. (Notice that air conditioning is not on this list. We have amazing air conditioning!)
We shared the following clip in faculty meeting last week, and it’s become the standing joke about the state of things. We keep saying, “Maybe on Tuesday!” (We just hope it’s not Tuesday, November 19).
After the shock of what’s not done begins to wane, the excitement of what this building contains takes over. Neil Armstrong Academy will be gorgeous. I don’t think I speak in hyperbole when I say it may very well be the prettiest elementary school in the country. (I’m already aware of at least one architectural magazine planning a story on our building). I’ve never seen a school with so many windows bringing in such a tremendous amount of light in the main areas of the school and in every single classroom. The geo-thermal wells are spectacular to behold and to feel the cold air they produce. The glass work in every area of the school makes the school look like a palace (and will surely drive Mr. Robinson crazy with the inevitable finger prints that will cover them). The iPads are humming (not literally . . . that would probably mean something wasn’t working with your iPad) and ready to be deployed one-to-one throughout the school. The incomplete rooms like the library, the gym, and STEM labs show their promise of how engaging they’ll be for our students. The design of the building is incredibly innovative and exciting to see. You can’t help but wonder what’s around the next corner. Classrooms are equipped with the latest and greatest including SMART Boards, document cameras, projectors, and audio enhancements. The teachers are literally the greatest group of educators I have ever seen, and they are optimistically making any and all needed adjustments to make as clean of a start as possible. etc. etc. etc.
All things being considered, for me, the excitement easily trumps the “building-isn’t-done astonishment.” As I’ve said before, I’d easily choose the beginning-of-the-year headaches and disappointment over an incomplete building in exchange for the school we’ll have for years and years to come. Mr. Sorensen, one of our sixth-grade teachers, made a comment that, for me, added a little more perspective to the bad situation. He said, “What an opportunity our students are going to have to get to witness the final stage of a building being built.” Knowing how much I’ve learned over the last nine months watching it, I think he’s exactly right. You’d have a hard time creating such an opportunity for children even if you tried. And, there’s really nowhere better than a STEM school for such a learning endeavor.
All that being said . . . be prepared to be shocked at the incompleteness and excited for the potential. I’m convinced we’ve got an extremely positive once-in-a-lifetime experience in front of us.
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