Revisit Experience

Head of School Dr. Peter F. Folan's Remarks, Revisit Day 2026

What you just experienced was not a performance. It was a window into our Weekly School Assemblies, a lesson in how we gather, and in the quiet power that resonates here: through words, through tradition, and through the simple act of gathering together. Assemblies begin with an inspirational reading that asks us to think. Are followed by a student voice that asks us to listen. These words—spoke together—ask us to reflect on who we are, and who we hope to become. That rhythm—reading, reflection, expression—is intentional. In fact, it is formative. And it is foundational to this place. Each week, we gather in this way because it matters. Because in a world that moves quickly, we believe there is value in pausing, gathering, and listening. In asking young people not simply to receive ideas—but to wrestle with them, to articulate them, and ultimately, to own them. That is why Public Speaking here is not about performance. It is formation. It is how students learn to stand with confidence, to give voice to their ideas, to take intellectual risks, and, over time, to come to understand themselves.

You also heard this morning our School Declarations, which are over a century old. They speak of gratitude, humility, and choosing the hard right over the easy wrong. They are simple, but they are not easy to live out. Because to live them—truly live them—requires practice. Daily practice. The power of this tradition and the hundred-year-old practice help instill these ideals and convictions into the hearts of our students. These words become a drumbeat and become the aspiration that we all strive to live towards, not through words alone, but through our actions.

Traditions matter as they hold us steady. They give us something firm to stand on as the world around us continues to change quickly. In my view, our world lacks solid foundations and common sense. Dexter Southfield has both. But a school cannot rest on tradition alone. The world our children are inheriting is changing faster than at any point in human history. We are well into the 4th industrial revolution: artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and global interconnection. 

History teaches us that times of rapid change come with a great deal of complexity and uncertainty. They also come with new kinds of questions, many of which have no clear or immediate answers. So, a critical question becomes: What does it mean to prepare a child for that world? Every morning, I ponder that question as I stand here atop Mt. Walley with the remarkable perspective it shares. To the east, Boston rises—its universities, hospitals, laboratories, and industries. To the west, something very different—trees, hills, and the quiet permanence of New England. And here our School rests—between them. At the intersection of tradition and innovation, of what grounds us and what calls us forward. We humbly accept this responsibility.

We do this first and foremost because we are clear about why we exist. Dexter Southfield exists for one clear and enduring purpose: To prepare young people to lead lives of consequence—intellectually, ethically, and with a deep and abiding sense of wonder. And that word—consequence—matters. Because it asks more of us. It shifts the focus from achievement alone to judgment, to character, and to humanity. In a world of constant information, noise, and motion, it is now more important than ever before to accept our responsibility to teach students how to think, not what to think. 

It is our responsibility to teach students how to ask good questions. How to analyze and discern. How to listen carefully and speak clearly. How to hold complex thoughts without rushing to easy answers. Because the future will not be decided by those who know the most—but by those small few who can think critically, judge wisely, and act with integrity. It will be led by those people who know how to share a meal, meet for coffee, and have a real, honest, and authentic conversation.

There is no question that self-learning machines and AI will process information faster than we could ever imagine, but only people can understand people. Only ethical people can exercise sound judgment. Our world needs people who can choose the hard right over the easy wrong. Dexter Southfield students recognize this reality. Here, we foster student voice and give our students the confidence to stand on their feet. Here, we teach our students to offer a firm handshake, to look someone in the eye, and to hold a door open. We remain unique in this approach.

These results show up in all parts of our campus. It shows up in our classrooms—led by teachers who know their students deeply, who challenge them to think, to question, and to engage. It shows up in our curriculum—where students are asked not simply to master content, but to connect ideas, to write, to speak, and to wrestle with complexity. And it shows up on our fields, courts, and stages—where coaches and mentors teach lessons that extend far beyond the game: resilience, accountability, teamwork, and humility. Because here, every adult in this community understands something simple: We are not just teaching subjects; we are developing people. It is why we are intentional in everything we do. It is why our model is distinctive: Single-sex education in the early and middle years, followed by coeducation in the Upper School. Not simply as a structure—but as a developmental philosophy.

It is a belief that young people grow best when they are first given the space to build confidence and voice —and then are challenged to engage meaningfully with others. Our academic philosophy is captured in three simple ideas: Low floors, high ceilings, and wide walls.

Low floors—so every student can begin with confidence, and no child feels shut out before they even start. High ceilings—so every student is challenged, stretched, and inspired to reach further than they thought possible. And wide walls—because there is no single path to excellence. Students here explore, create, build, perform, question, and discover their own way forward, led by women and men who care for them. This is not structure for structure's sake; It is a pedagogical belief. A belief that potential is not fixed. Growth is not linear, and every child deserves both support and challenge—at the same time.

Growth happens best through profound relationships. Here at Dexter Southfield, students are known by their teachers. by their advisors, and by their coaches. Students here are known well beyond what they produce—but for who they are becoming. Because we are a PreK–12 school, something else happens here that is harder to measure—but just as important. Here, everyone teaches, and everyone learns.

Our youngest students look up to our oldest, and our oldest students feel a quiet responsibility to lead, to model, and to care. Through that student mentoring relationship, something powerful is preserved: a sense of wonder. A sense of wonder still exists here. There is wonder in the questions asked. Wonder in the joy of learning. Students retain their wonder and fresh eyes in how they see the world—and one another.  Wonder is not something we outgrow, neither is childhood or adolescence here. It is something we must protect—and pass on. Joy and laughter need to be part of a school community. 

When students feel known and valued, and love coming to school, something shifts. They learn to take risks. They grow. They begin to discover not just what they can do—but who they can become. I see that transformation every day, and I hear it in the voices of our students here in Fiske Hall. A senior shared recently: “I didn’t find my voice all at once—I built it day-by-day.” Another reflected: “It wasn’t just one moment. It was a lot of small moments that slowly changed me.” Here, we realize that those moments are not just “small things.” They are profound moments of transformation. Because in the end, education is not about a single moment. It is a process. A journey. Shaped over time—through relationships, habits, expectations, and care.

So, when families ask, “Why does this place matter?” I believe that you can find your answer in what you just experienced here in Fiske Hall and what you will experience today. A community that pauses. That reflects. That listens. That cares. That knows how to laugh together. That holds high expectations and supports students on that journey. And when you ask yourself, “Why should I choose Dexter Southfield?” The answer is clear—this is a place that will know your children. It will challenge them. It will inspire them. It will support them. It will expect much more from them than they expect of themselves. And in totality, this will help your children become not only more capable, but more thoughtful, more grounded, and more human. There are many good schools, but there are few great schools, like ours. There are very few places where the School’s purpose is this clear, where the relationships are this strong, and where the work is this intentional.

We are one of the few places where students are not simply prepared for what comes next—but are shaped for what matters most. In the end, as E.B. White reminded us in today’s first reading, life is shaped by the choices we make. The places we choose. The people we choose. The mentors who will challenge us, support us, and help us grow. Because those choices shape not only what we achieve—but who we become, and each of you now stands at one of those moments. A moment to ask:

• Where will I be known?
• Where will I be challenged?
• Where will I be supported—and expected to grow?

At Dexter Southfield, we want students who want to be part of a community that matters. Students who want to be challenged. Students who want to grow. Students who want to make their mark. And if that is what you are seeking, then this just might be your place. Because here, our aspiration is simple: to be "Our Best Today, Better Tomorrow." Not in a single moment, but over time. In how we learn, in how we act, and in how we treat one another. Because that is how confidence is built. That is how character is formed. That is how a life of meaning takes shape.

And now, as you leave Fiske Hall, you have a chance to see it for yourselves. As you visit our classrooms, as you meet our teachers and students, as you walk our halls and fields, I encourage you to look closely. Step into a classroom and watch a student stand and speak with confidence. Listen to the questions being asked—not just the answers being given. Notice the way a teacher knows a student—by name, by voice, by potential. Watch how students interact with one another in the hallway, in the small moments between classes. Because those are the moments that matter most. Those are the moments where growth happens, friendships are made, and bonds are formed. Those are the moments when a child begins to become who they are meant to be.

And if, somewhere along the way today, this place begins to feel right—not just in your mind, but most importantly in your heart—then you may have found something important. You may have found your place, and we would be honored to do this important work with you. Thank you—enjoy your visit, and welcome home.