October 4, 2026
The Work of Staying Oriented
WHAT
Last week, I wrote about trees, about roots responding to gravity and shoots growing toward light, and about the possibility that education is less about predicting the future and more about helping young people become oriented toward what matters.
That idea has stayed with me.
It has also made me think about another tool for orientation: a compass.
A compass is wonderfully simple. It does not tell you what the terrain will look like, whether the trail ahead will be steep or smooth, or how long the journey will take. It does not eliminate uncertainty. It simply gives you a reference point.
Direction.
There is also an interesting wrinkle hidden inside the phrase true north. A magnetic compass does not actually point to geographic true north. It points toward magnetic north, which is not in exactly the same place and shifts over time. Navigators account for that difference through something called declination.
In other words, even a compass has to be calibrated.
I love that, because it suggests that orientation is not something we establish once and then never revisit. Staying oriented requires attention. It requires checking our bearings, noticing drift, and sometimes adjusting our reading without abandoning the direction that matters.
SO WHAT
That feels increasingly true in education, leadership, and life.
We often want certainty to do the work that direction is actually supposed to do. We want the five-year plan, the exact destination, the answer key, the guarantee that if we follow a particular sequence everything will turn out as expected.
But many of the most important parts of life do not work that way. Parenting does not. Learning does not. Leading does not. Growing up certainly does not.
The terrain changes. New information appears. Conditions shift. Sometimes we discover that the route we expected to take is no longer available. That is when orientation matters most.
A strong sense of direction allows us to adapt without becoming untethered.
For a young person, true north may have something to do with identity, purpose, curiosity, discernment, responsibility, and how one chooses to treat other people. For a leader, it may mean returning again and again to questions such as: What are we actually here to do? What matters enough that we will protect it? What are we willing to change? How will we know when we have drifted?
And for a community, perhaps one of the most important questions is not whether we all see the same route.
Are we oriented toward the same true north?
That distinction creates room for something powerful. We can disagree about routes. We can experiment. We can learn. We can change our minds. We can discover a better trail without losing our sense of direction.
NOW WHAT
I think this is part of the work we are doing at Mack right now.
Not drawing a finished map.
Clarifying our compass.
Our mission has long offered three powerful points of orientation: Keen Minds. Compassionate Hearts. Global Action. Think deeply. Care deeply. Act meaningfully.
As we listen, learn, and look toward Mack’s next chapter, other language is beginning to sharpen that orientation too: children being deeply known; learners being affirmed, challenged, supported, and empowered; inquiry connected to real-world action; a school designed for who children are and preparing them for where they are going.
Those ideas are not destinations. They are bearings.
That is one reason the compass is beginning to appear more visibly in Mack’s emerging identity work. It will show up in the experience of Mack Forward, connect to the story of Mack Unbound, and become part of the way we articulate what makes Mack distinctly Mack.
But I hope the compass becomes more than a visual.
I hope it becomes a habit of mind.
When something new presents itself, we can ask whether it moves us toward true north. When an opportunity appears, we can ask whether it aligns with who we are and who we are becoming. When the terrain changes, we can ask what needs to change and what needs to remain steady.
And when we discover that our reading is slightly off, we can recalibrate.
Perhaps leadership is not primarily the work of knowing exactly where everyone should go. Perhaps education is not primarily the work of handing children the right map. And perhaps growing up is not about following a perfectly marked trail.
Maybe the deeper work is learning how to stay oriented: to know what grounds us, to notice the light, to check the compass, and then to keep moving.
Rooted & Rising,
Bo
What is The Alpine View?
The Alpine View is a weekly reflection from the Head of School at Mackintosh Academy Boulder. It is a place to pause, notice, wonder, and make meaning together about learning, childhood, community, and the work of becoming. The view may change from week to week, but the hope is the same: to look closely at what matters and to invite conversation about the people we are and the people we are becoming.
