There are some ideas, thoughts, or concepts we simply cannot shake. Often they continue to occupy our thoughts–consciously or subconsciously–throughout our lives. For authors of literature, these are often referred to themes or motifs. Take Japanese author, Haruki Murakami, for example. It is hard to think of a novel where music (often jazz or classical) and cats (domestic or feral) do not appear. For James Joyce, it was the mathematical concept of the gnomon, the idea of truly knowing something by the part which has been removed. For Octavia Butler, it was often the challenges we face due to climate change and the way those changes often affect already vulnerable populations.

When these ruminations continue not just through one novel but through a whole body of work, it generally means the author is trying to reconcile something, to understand something better, or to make sense of their world around them. But it is not just authors who experience this phenomenon. We all do.

Several years ago, I wrote about the Ship of Theseus in one of our Through the Arch magazines. The Ship of Theseus is a thought exercise about identity that at its core asks this question: If you replace all the wooden boards that make up the Ship of Theseus over time, is the “new” ship still the Ship of Theseus.

I have to confess, I think about the Ship of Theseus question a lot. That may sound weird, and perhaps it is, but one of the main responsibilities of a Board of Trustees and a Head of School is to understand, develop, and guide the identity of the School. Over the years, decades, and centuries a school exists, the onus is on these school leaders to guide the institution and its community through change while protecting that which is immutable.

Depending on who you are, what your risk tolerance is, and other factors, change is either exhilarating or daunting, positive or negative. There are very few who are neutral on the concept of change. Change means adjustments, potential new challenges, and it means doing something different. As Head of School, it is my responsibility to work with the Board and our leadership team to determine our North Star and keep working toward it as if we are a headlight on a northbound train. We use that North Star–in the case of Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, our Mission and Portrait of a Graduate–to guide the decisions we make while staying tethered to our identity.

SSM has a strong history of adapting to new environments and new eras, and we have continued to work through the challenges and opportunities we can control and minimize the effects of those we cannot. This resilience is baked right in the very DNA of our school. As we look toward the future, we know that we are active stewards of an institution which has changed the trajectory of thousands of students’ lives. We know our role is to both serve our current students, families, and alums and to anticipate what future students, families, and alums will need. We know the importance of embracing change.

And we know no matter how many wooden boards we replace (or upgrade to steel and fiberglass) we must remain true to our mission. We’re just getting bigger, stronger, and faster. May that forever be a motif in Shattuck’s body of work.