I don’t carry many specific memories of my childhood education, though I’m sure I was presented with amazing lessons and opportunities. I have hazy recollections of playground and classroom scenes, and I remember fondly some of my teachers and their care of me. What I remember vividly are the emotions and learning I experienced while spending time with my grandmother.

When I was with her, the things being done were being done simply because they were part of her daily routine. Nothing special was organized for me; rather, I was simply invited into her world as she moved through the rhythms of her life. She baked, she gardened, she banged around with pots and pans, she gathered eggs, she sparkled with life. She was also pretty tough. If I fell down, she did not swoop in with concern or panic, but with a glance and a “Get up, you’re fine.” Invariably, I was indeed fine. This was good, because she kept moving through those daily rhythms like a finely trained dancer, and I didn’t want to miss a thing. What I learned from her about making a home, participating in life, and how to enjoy God’s Creation, has shaped me forever. 

I am confident my grandmother would have appreciated The Saint Constantine School.  Seemingly worlds removed from her rural home in Montana, this beautiful little school, tucked away in urban Houston on seven acres of naturalized playground, extends the same simple invitation to life that my grandmother extended to me. Our highly qualified teachers make beautiful syllabi and lead dynamic instruction daily in their classrooms. Students are challenged intellectually and academically. And perhaps the most important thing that happens here is the daily invitation to experience life in a most magically ordinary way. Students follow predictable rhythms, care for animals and plants, and feel the sun and the rain upon their faces. They sing and chant hymns and prayers daily to our Heavenly Father. Students learn to dance, weave, draw, and maybe even juggle from teachers who feel passionate about these leisurely pursuits and can’t wait to invite them in. Our students take some physical risks on our incredible acreage, and there are the inevitable cuts and bruises. These resilient children leap up and continue on because they don’t want to miss a thing.   

I do not have the words or space to fully describe what it was like to move along in my grandmother’s wake, to experience life and Creation as a child in her no-nonsense, loving, magical way—what it was to walk behind her as she moved through her garden, fingertips brushing flower tips as she quietly commented on their growth and beauty.

I doubt I have the skill to fully convey the wonder of our school. But I can invite you in: Come dive deeply into great texts with us. Spend quiet time brushing the winter hair off of a sleepy goat. Sing some songs in Latin and then collect warm eggs from the henhouse. Look for patterns in math problems after working with second graders to construct a fort out of logs. Take a page from my grandmother’s book and wander through the gardens, speaking softly to all sorts of growing things. Come and participate in the magically ordinary rhythms of life at The Saint Constantine School. You are most welcome here.