Please accept my apologies for being so hard to reach. My name is Cam, and I run a classroom of 12 students as their primary educator for a private/alternative charter high school in Houlton, Maine, called Carleton Project.
Our educational philosophy is more of a mission statement for those who do not feel as though traditional K-12 properly supports the concept of a heliocentric-type of differentiated curriculum, which cultivates aspects attributed by intrapersonal learning experiences.
This is my third year with Carleton Project, and this work is deeply personal to me. Houlton is my place of birth, meaning that I have already been through the very model of education which ultimately comprises and escorts a developing archetypal “Human” brilliance into a cookie-cutter, collegiate-prep, state-led Consumer, catalyzed by institutional negligence.
And thus, for me, the faculties of education have undoubtedly found themselves now more closely and commonly associated with a game of identity politics. As each generation passes, we drift ever further from its altruistic roots. The Western world should ideally strive to implement and improve its foundational K-12 \rightarrow university \rightarrow post-grad \rightarrow so forth framework, and return to the roots of our Western philosophies which demand a concerted effort towards achieving penultimate academic excellence. It is our duty for the next generation of learners to ensure all questions, both asked and unasked, are given space to explore and develop.
This brings me to the interest on behalf of my institution, involving your particular program. My goal would be to connect our curriculums together and prepare ourselves to experience the world, opening a fundamental gap between what’s offered to the town’s general public—which is often a state-led manufacturing of people who have no interest in what Learning truly means—and what we can provide.
A partnership could define what limits there are that have been established between the established order and a primary learner. Fundamentally speaking, if given an avenue for expression, the gray colors of this town could become painted once more with a vibrant, more cultured collective Mind. The possibilities are endless if what’s shaped by our collaboration together can be cultivated, shared, and well-structured.
I have only hesitated to reach out because we do not have much state-backed funding, and every student already pays out of pocket to attend. However, we do have a record of securing grants and other scholarships, and resources are at our disposal—not to mention the possibility of a school fundraiser.
I would be very interested in discussing this possibility with you further when you have a free moment.
Okay @everyone, I said to expect a weekly reflection from my point of view and so here it is. My intention will always be to simply offer a more insightful perspective, in relation to our progress on a weekly basis. Okay? And so yes, it’s a lot of words [but it is not jargon]. I genuinely care about your learning and am always concerned with finding ways of articulating growth. A lot of our learning is dialectic, and so not only do I expect open communication, but it’s actually somewhat of a requirement.
Tomorrow is Friday, and as we all know, our Free Fridays are earned.
Last week I harped on the importance of feedback and the need for you to be inquiring more seriously about what it is exactly you’d like to learn—and how I can better help you do that.
Many of you do this naturally, and this may in fact just be a matter of personality, or the inclination to remain within the safer habits of how we’ve learned to communicate our inner world. I’m not saying that I expect you to share everything, but I am saying that regardless of who we are, we each face a similar limitation: the boundary of our own understanding.
This boundary shows up quietly. It appears when we assume we already know, or when we avoid asking questions because we fear looking lost. It hides behind confidence and comfort. But learning—real learning—only begins when we admit that what we currently know is incomplete.
This is not weakness. It’s the first act of courage.
Growth happens at the edge of what you understand, not within the walls of what you already do well. Every time you struggle, every time you get confused or frustrated, you are actually brushing up against the next layer of your own mind. That tension means you’re right where you should be.
So this week, I want you to notice where you feel resistance. Where do you stop yourself from asking, from exploring, from engaging? What questions are you avoiding because they make you uncertain? That is the territory where your next breakthrough waits.
As your teacher, I don’t expect perfection, just honesty. I expect curiosity. And I expect that you give yourself permission to not have it all figured out yet.
Let’s make it our shared goal to meet the limits of our understanding with humility, humor, and persistence. If you can do that, you will learn faster, retain more deeply, and build the kind of wisdom that lasts far beyond this classroom.
So keep reflecting, keep questioning, and keep showing up as yourself. The work you’re doing now will matter later in ways you can’t yet see.
See you all tomorrow.
—C.S.
Part2 — Weekly Reflection 2
Dear Students,
This week, I’ve been paying close attention to how each of you approaches your work and how you show up for the group. I want to take a moment to recognize what I’ve seen and what I hope you carry forward.
@Matt, you’ve shown me respect not just by keeping a more consistent workflow, but by bringing your full self into this space. You connect with your peers and with me in a way that is entirely your own, and that authenticity is rare and valuable. I really appreciate that. Your portfolio is not only interesting; it’s informative, and it reveals the care and thought you put into your work. Keep leaning into that.
@JJ, even with our little hiccup yesterday leaving the group behind, you’ve shown me that you are very much present, very much engaged, and very much here with all of us. It’s inspiring to watch a student care about others without compromising who they are. Your integrity is real, and that kind of character will carry you far. Next week, carry yourself with intentionality and presence. When I ask you to do something, it’s only ever to inspire you and never to take away the freedom and independence that are such a strong part of who you are.
@Brook, you’ve found your place in the group naturally while keeping a personal drive that is all your own. I can see your curiosity and your openness to explore things from different perspectives. That said, I’d like to see a bit more consistent focus in your routine. Some days, you and JJ end up talking for nearly two hours without making as much progress as you could. That’s okay, your conversations are worthy, but sometimes they pull others away from their own work and exploration. I want you to recognize the value of balance here, not as a limitation, but as a way to protect your own and others’ growth.
@Abigail, in the short time we’ve interacted, it’s already clear how productive and insightful your mind can be when you feel seen and recognized. I look forward to the perspectives you’ll share on faith and philosophy. Your portfolio is something I’m very invested in watching develop over time. Remember, this space is yours just as much as it is ours, and I will continue to challenge you in ways that help you uncover your personal truth.
@Kev, your willingness to grow, to listen, and to take in guidance is a real sign of humility. That humility, combined with your authentic heart, is a core strength of yours. My focus with you has been to help you articulate the movement of your emotions so that your frustrations can make sense, resonate with others, and inspire yourself. I see a lot of myself in you, maybe because of the grandparents theory, maybe just because some values are innate. You’re an old soul. Give yourself the grace you deserve, and you will always find your way.
@Orchid, it has been incredibly rewarding to see you come out of your shell and reveal who you are and what you bring. I was surprised to hear from you that your work ethic used to affect you before Carleton. Since then, it’s obvious that you inspire yourself naturally—a rare and powerful ability. At the same time, I notice you can be stubborn. That can be a strength once it’s paired with humility. Remember, your way isn’t always the only way, even if it feels right. That internal pressure can be channeled into strength if understood.
@Eric, like Kev, I see parts of myself in you. Maybe it really is the grandparents theory, maybe not, but there’s something familiar in how you approach your work and your spirit. I admire your vulnerability, your dedication to the arts, and the way you pursue something that feels like a calling. No matter what path life takes you on, don’t ever give up on those ambitions. And remember, what you seek is also seeking you.
@Aiden, we are still getting familiar, but even in your first week, I can see a quiet strength and resilience in how you carry yourself. Keep opening up. You’ve found a place here that will accept you and embrace you for who you are, and that is something worth holding onto.
@Landon, it was really good seeing you again this week. Believe it or not, we miss having you around. I am proud of how you’ve kept your head down and pushed through, but more than that, I’m genuinely happy for you. You’re smart, capable, and clearly finding your path. Keep going. You truly have it in you.
Part 3 { To REDACTED; A promised follow-up to your emailin regards tomy Ontology lecture }
Dear [Redacted] Student,
[],
You could gather the sums and the numbers, fold them into equations and servers and centuries of careful calculation, and still not touch the infinite dignity of our Creator’s mind. That is my opening conviction. It is not a posture of despair but of witness. We do not approach God by measurement. We approach by humility, hunger, and something that looks a lot like feeling. Emotion is not mere softness; it is an instrument. When held by faith it becomes a transmuting key. They will try to compute the soul. They will fail.
I asked for time to reflect because there are many paths forward. I do not claim the one true map. I only offer what has been shown to me in my small hours and my long walks. I will not rashly declare that what I think is the Gospel truth. No. Again. No. In fact, or to be clearer, it does not matter to me whether you judge my statements to be true for you. That is not the point. My willingness to stand with Carleton is not a hunger for title or mastery. It is an acceptance of purpose, a willingness to be carried by something greater than my own cleverness.
Anyways, I believe learning is essentially triadic. The triangle is not a decorative symbol for me. It is the way thought moves: thesis, antithesis, synthesis. From friction comes shape. From contradiction comes refinement. This is how virtue grows. If learning is only the accumulation of propositions it will rot into ideology. If it is the movement of minds toward one another and toward that which is beyond ourselves, it becomes sanctified. That motion is the curriculum I want to build with you.
I am not the teacher your imagination sketches. I am not interested in performance, in spectacle, in proving anyone wrong. I do not preach to secure allegiance. I want to reveal what is alive in me and to watch what that might stir in you. In this I am simple. There is an economy to my simplicity: what I hold, what I give, what is borrowed.
You are a fellow Christian and that changes how I speak to you. When I say I would endure another’s illness upon myself, I speak in that strange Christian register of empathy which moves beyond sentiment and becomes sacrament. When grace arrives it feels like a river without banks. The currents pass through us with dignity. They do not sweep us like debris. They lift and refine. When Christ felt forsaken on the cross, something cosmic wept. That sorrow still walks the earth. When it rains, sometimes I remember that sorrow and my own small tears open like windows. Cry then, [REDACTED]. Let your tears be for what is holy. Do not weep for noise or posture. Weep to find what is true.
You named Spinoza and Plato and the older enclaves of philosophy. I read them as people who have some of the map and not all of the terrain. Spinoza’s pantheism collapses the necessary distance between Creator and creation. It confuses the image for the origin. Yet even in that mist there is longing. A man groping with logic can still point to the Light, if only by accident. Plato wasn’t Christian himself although Plato with his Gnosis gives us structures to think; Spinoza gives us hunger; both must be read with a heart that bows. If we read them without the fear of being wrong, we can let their parts become our parts only insofar as they return us toward Christ.
Knowledge will confine you. It will promise sovereignty. I say plainly that knowledge without surrender becomes an idol. Everything we think we own is borrowed breath. The words we write are echoes we inherit from parents, tutors, ancestors, the dead who spoke into a world we now occupy. I do not teach because I have sovereignty. I invoke because I want the thing we learn together to be a shared enactment of faith. Invoke not evoke. Let the work call us toward transformation, not simply recall what we already had.
If you sense my devotion and wonder if it is performative, know my failure before you infer my pride. I fail often. I have been wrong and will be wrong. If my articulation of devotion looks unholy, blame the clumsiness of my tongue before you blame the heart. I ask you to judge my course by the fruit of humility and love, not by my rhetoric. If my openness about faith ever feels intrusive, say so. I will honor your boundaries. I am here to steward a space for inquiry, not to annex a soul.
There are things in our society that choke the possibility of searching. Political idols, sterile debates that substitute scoring points for insight, tribes of certainty that mistake volume for wisdom. Both sides hold Christians but neither sits at the summit of insight. That will change only when we practice a kind of intellectual humility that is also spiritual courage. We must build practices that return us to the things that actually matter.
I refuse the posture of a single final authority. I refuse to be penultimate or ultimate. I will not put on the garb of infallibility. But I will stand as someone committed to helping you find what you were given. Everyone holds a gift. The task of a teacher is to keep the path clear enough that light can pass. I want to wake that light in you and in myself. That is why I am here.
Let the record show that my curiosity is not neutral. It is charged by devotion. It is not academic for its own sake. It is sacramental. That may make some of my language feel overripe. That is the trade. I will not soften the flame just to avoid discomfort. The work of the spirit is sometimes a holy disquiet.
For your portfolio: if you want to use these as a reaction assignment, do it. I encourage you to wrestle with what seems false and what seems luminous.
I will close with one insistence. Do not make knowledge a god. Do not let intellect become the end. Keep your heart open to the rain. Let Scripture be the soul food it claims to be. Remember that to know Christ is not to master Him but to be mastered by love. That is my plea and my practice.
Very useful, and thank you for keeping everyone filled in. You’ve also managed to prompt me into writing a closing message for the week.
At the end of each week, I take time to slow down and reflect on how we’ve grown. I look closely at how each of you learns, how you adapt, and how your individual paths begin to unfold. With some of you, it takes longer for me to see what truly helps you thrive. With others, the understanding comes right away. Either way, I can see something distinct forming in each of you, a direction that feels alive and personal.
All I ask is that you continue to show me what you want to learn and why that matters to you. Keep showing that you are here for one another. Believe that learning happens when we stand together in honesty and purpose. This week, your individuality has been vivid, your creativity undeniable. Each of you holds strength and potential that reaches far beyond this space.
Still, we must stay open to feedback. When it is given, it is not meant to harm you but to awaken you. Feedback is an act of belief. It means someone sees your potential and refuses to let you settle for anything less. We each have something within ourselves that still needs to be faced, something that keeps us from becoming who we truly are. Find that place. Confront it. Transform it. And through that transformation, learn how to lift others as they rise too.
Expect a weekly reflection from me moving forward. I usually write these sorts of messages into my own logs, which I keep to help me organize my thoughts. But I’d like to begin offering my thoughts not as jargon, but as structure — something that might give strength when we are uncertain. I offer you courage to remind yourself what allows you to move forward with purpose.
And let me say this clearly: you could build one of the strongest portfolios I have ever seen if you truly recognized how powerful your mind is. Your cognitive abilities are rare, and I hope you stop taking them for granted. I am genuinely impressed by what you have shown. But remember, part of true intelligence is the willingness to listen, to grow, and to receive feedback with humility and grace. I’d like to see what you’ve been working on this past week on Monday.
Stay open-minded and remember that you hold the keys to your remembrance as a Carleton alumnus. Make us proud.
Part 2
I’ll get her address next time I talk to her. And yes — it’s unreal, to be honest. God’s gift to me. I quite literally run a school of teenagers who have been cast out of a system I spent my entire adolescence trying to understand and find worth within. That gives me a unique empathy, a way of guiding how others learn and think. It’s like I can read their minds sometimes — wild, almost unexplainable.
At twenty-six, I’ve never been closer to Christ. My faith has been forged through isolation and long seasons of grief. I’ve stopped asking into the sky, “Why me?” and instead seek the Giver of Gifts to converse beyond time — the testament that answers, “Why not me?” That’s the conversation I long to have with our Creator someday.
My faith is blindingly strong, perhaps so strong that I cannot hold my own heart against the weight of it. Does that make sense? At times, I nearly neglect my body under its intensity. Some days I don’t even like the taste of water. My neurotic tendencies lead me to fear that some sickness is growing inside me — superstition, perhaps, but I am afraid of hospitals. I do have a precancerous throat condition that I probably need to treat with more personal care and self-compassion.
The truth is, I feel too much — not merely in the emotional sense people often label “feminine,” which is absurd — but in an otherworldly sense of what moves Feeling itself into existence. I need to think about that, to make meaning of it.
So yes, my life and career may align, but do I? Am I supposed to? Does that even matter when most of existence ends, and all things are remembered — redundantly, perhaps — without Faith?
I am overwhelmed with thought today. Forgive me. This is why I justify my reclusiveness. I feel safest expressing myself freely, though I worry I might overwhelm others. I don’t mean to come across as excessive or diluted. It’s simply how my mind works, and I share it with you because you are accepting — and I recognize that about you.
∆Remember Us∆ 