Leave Room for Wonder

To hear this blog from the Walkers themselves, just click play.

They say you should never bury the lead. I don’t know if I follow that wisdom on these blogs. Some of the wisest, most meaningful advice comes at the end. I let you get to know the person I walk with. Let them find their way into your heart and then allow their wisdom to land in a way that might stay with you.

I’m breaking that mold this time. Actually, this walk breaks many molds. It is my first walk with a child. Allow me to introduce 10-year-old Parker. He has this to say at the end of our walk.

Parker: That’s one thing adults are terrible at, is leaving room for wonder.

They are a lot more worried about getting stuff done.

But wonder, there’s just… Yeah.

You can hear the exasperation. He is in a state of disbelief that we have lost it. It felt like we were disappointing him. He admits we are still creative – especially his mom – but wonder, that’s another story altogether… another level deeper than creativity or curiosity. And we’ve left it behind.

For you to understand, I need to start at the beginning. The thing is when is the beginning? Should I start chronologically with the day six years ago that Parker sidled up next to me while I was preparing to shoot a Headspace for Wheeling Country Day School? We wanted him to attend to the camera. He wanted to investigate a buckeye. So we did. We wondered about its layers, its outer skin. I’ll be honest I remember well how terribly hard it was to slow my world down to his speed. I had a schedule. Luke and I had to get this video recorded. Had Parker known that, he would have been disappointed in me.

Perhaps the story starts in November 2020 when I sat by my friend and mentor, Bill Hogan, as he transitioned from this life. He had asked me to come see him. He had some wisdom to leave me with. Truthfully, it was the first seed of these walks, but I didn’t know it yet. That is the way it was with Bill. He suggested something and then let it germinate with you until you were/are ready to embrace it. I guess I was a slow learner. In addition to a few other personal guideposts, Bill told me, “Keep doing it for the children. Yes, you’re smart but that’s not what your gift is. You are doing the work God intends for you to do when you do it for the children. Love them, that’s really all there is.” I kept that as my north star in my final years as Head of School and certainly in the best work we did to scale the CML. The children were the driving mission.

When I started these walks, I focused on leaders… I lost my way a little bit until I found myself sitting on the same bed in the same room with Bill’s wife, Susan. I was holding her hand wondering … no not wondering, considering… wonder has a different meaning in this walk… considering what stories I should share. As I talked about Ella and Grace, she rolled and hugged my arm tighter. Her action stopped me. I could hear Bill’s voice telling me “Keep doing it for the children.” I told Susan all about Bill’s wisdom charting the course for my life.  As I got in the car that night, I was resolute about one thing, I needed to start walking with children too. They have something to say and too often no one is listening.

Later that week I asked Parker’s parents if he could be my first. I chose him not just because of the buckeye he introduced me to, but because his eyes light up when he sees me almost as much as mine do. As you can tell by his sage warning, he is wise beyond his years. Perhaps all children are wise until the years begin to silence them. Regardless, this was a voice I needed to amplify.

Ironically, the microphone wouldn’t pick up his voice. You could hear mine but it was as if I was alone. We traded mics and traded back. No luck. I observed the synchronicity of wanting to amplify a voice that the microphone could not pick up. I had to be persistent and patient and curious to find a solution. No schedule this time. We walked for almost an hour and I could sense our conversation had taken its full course, but I knew to keep listening. I have to exude patience. I could have easily ended our walk, but I didn’t. I kept recording… that’s a lesson that I’ve learned in over 20 walks, I cannot be in a rush to push stop. Some of the best nuggets of wisdom come at the end when you think you’re already past the end. That’s one thing adults are terrible at, is leaving room for wonder.

I totally botched the beginning of our walk. I picked Parker up at school and made the typical, yet fatal error.

Liz: I asked you, How was school today? And you said-

Parker: Good.

Right. Then I immediately was like, Wow, that is the wrong question.

Liz: What did you learn at school today that you now know that you didn’t know when you woke up this morning?

Parker: I learned that a division problem is the exact same thing as a fraction. The first number, just say we were doing 37 divided by 2. The 37 would be on the top. It would be the numerator, 2 would be the denominator. That would be called an improper fraction because the top The total number is bigger than the bottom number.

Parents, take heed. How was you day? is such a throw away question that we should do just that. Throw it away.

Liz: Does something start out hard, like learning fractions in third grade, and then get easier later?

Parker: Yes.

Liz: Can you give me an example?

Parker: It’s like… At the start, you’ve never heard of this, so you’re like, How am I going to figure this out? Then as you start doing it, it starts making sense. Then it gets into a habit of, Oh, this is what I have to do when this comes up or this comes up. So yes, it’s hard when you start, but when you get the hang of it, it’s a lot easier.

We talk about the fact that you have to make a lot of mistakes in the process of getting the habit of it. You don’t need to feel foolish when you make a mistake. It is part of the learning process.

Liz: What’s it like to make a mistake?

Parker: For me, I like being on point, but now that I’m older, I realize that making mistakes help you a lot more because you think more. If I got this wrong, what’s another way I can do it. It just helps you think a lot more, and that’s what gets you smarter. Because when you’re a kid, or if I was in third grade, I thought multiplication. I had no clue what it was. But then when I started getting taught about it, it was just so much easier. If I got it wrong, I would wonder, how do I fix it? That just made me learn a lot harder and think about a lot more stuff, and that’s what got me that smart.

Liz: What’s it like when you raise your hand and you get it wrong? Can you talk to me about that? I assume when you say that, you mean you raise your hand to answer a question?

Parker: Yeah. Okay. What’s it like to get it wrong? In second grade or fifth grade. Anytime. Anytime. When I was a kid, I would have thought like, Oh, my gosh, these kids are going to make fun of me if I get it wrong. But now that I’m older, they won’t do that. Even if I’m wrong, it’s not like it’s the end of the world because Like I said, when I get it wrong, I always find a new way to get a different answer and hopefully get it right. I learned that even if I get it wrong, my brain will help me find a different solution to get the right problem.

Liz: Did you see kids make fun of you, or did you just worry that they would?

Parker: I worried.

Liz: Do you see kids making fun of other kids?

Parker: No, I don’t. That’s how I realized that even if I get the problem wrong, I won’t get made fun of.

He is ten. He already has a voice in his head telling him that people will make fun of him if he gets it wrong. He is working on it. I can imagine that voice rearing up and Parker telling it to take a seat. What is allowing that to happen? What is giving him the muscle memory to push out that voice? I think it’s sports. Not sports alone, but sports with a coach who cares more about development than winning.

Liz: So what do you do when you make an error on the baseball field?

Parker: My coaches and my dad say, move on to the next play. If you miss a ground ball, move on to the next play. They say, if you hit a home run, move on to the next play. Be happy, but I just stay neutral.

Liz: I like that. It’s the same thing, whether it’s a home run or an error.

Parker: Just move on to the next play because now that I’m just eager I want this next play to make up for my error. But younger me, I’d probably pout the whole game. But yeah, if I make an error, I would want to make up for that play and say, in my head, I want this next ball. I want this next ball, just so I can make up for the next play.

Liz: That mental narrative of I want this next play is probably what’s going to make you a better player than the kid next to you.

Parker: Yeah.

He has a refrain that he repeats like a mantra while he waits for the next play. Maybe that tempers any negative voice in his head. The mantra alone won’t make him better though. He makes it clear to me that it will also take a lot of dedication to be the best he can be – maybe even make it to the major league.

Parker: [Dad] makes me work as well as my mom. Actually, no. Let me rephrase that. They don’t tell me to go work outside, go hit off the tee. They want me to go do that by myself. My dad wants me to ask him if he can come out and help me and fix some stuff. It’s really up to me on whether or not I want to be the best I can.

He unlocks the magic to his mindset – you need to know you are loved and then you can build on that. As Bill said, “Love them, that’s really all there is.”

Parker: It all starts as a kid. Your parents love you. They want you to be the best you can. That just makes you want to be more of a leader. My coaches said, be a leader. Being a leader isn’t just telling people what to do. It’s giving them a high five or telling them they’re good at something. And then that just makes them want to hang around you more. So like my dad says, “Don’t change who you are. Just be yourself.”

Because other people might just walk out on the field, right? And they see you hustling. Coaches are telling. You want to lead them, to listen to their coaches. You want to help your friends. If they end up being better than me, that’ll make me even more happy because that just proves that me being a good leader brought them there.

Liz: I love that.

In the eyes of this 10 year old there are two goals: be happy and be your best. It doesn’t have to be THE best, just be YOUR best. He is willing to put himself out there as a role model, a leader. He will hit off the tee when he needs to – that’s not beneath him. He will hustle on to the field every time. He will listen to his coaches. He will focus on the next play rather than pout about the last one. His favorite game was one he lost. The championship in a baseball tournament that left them holding the runner up trophy. They had lost the very first game and had to prove themselves in every other game to reach the top of the bracket. They also had lots of time at the beach. I dare say that was his favorite game because he got to be a kid and do his best on baseball diamond.

As we walked, I was sure there were enduring lessons he learned from baseball. When I asked what he would want adults to know about life – what wisdom would he share, he returned to the simplicity of having a catch with your dad.

Parker: As a kid, my dad, as a kid, he promised that if I ever have a son, even if it’s winter, I’ll go out and have a catch him. He told me that even if he didn’t want to have a catch, he still came out. He said he wants to make this sport fun for me. If you’re a parent that coaches, that’s just it, you want to make the sport fun for them, make them want to keep playing.

Playing catch with your dad is a cultural touchstone of love and connection, transcending a simple game of throwing and catching. The rhythmic exchange of a ball becomes a ritual of connection, symbolizing patience, trust, and the transmission of love across generations. Beyond the physical act, having a catch embodies a moment of pure, uninterrupted relationship where presence is everything.

I would love one more catch with my dad. I remember our last one well. I was an adult. I was coaching varsity softball. I didn’t think I was throwing well enough. I met my 72-year-old father at Linsly and we had a catch.  I was transported to my childhood. I didn’t have lesson plans to review, or laundry, or grocery shopping or any other badge of adult life. He didn’t have a hospital to run. We were simply present with one another. I think there was wonder in that moment.

Parker would have been proud.

On that November night, Bill had also said, “I didn’t paint to make something beautiful. I created art to let my soul speak to all the other right people. You’ll know when you meet the people you connect with, trust them.” So I will walk with children and amplify their voices for “all the other right people.” 

I am walking with leaders after all. I am walking with “right people,” those who lead with their heart. Thanks Parker… and Susan… for walking me back to Bill. He saw me. It is what drew me to him time and again…especially that last night when he said, “Think with your heart.”

Bill would have loved getting to know Parker.


Liz Hofreuter

Founder GEN-Ed

Not your typical researcher or consultant, Liz connects lived experience to transformative leadership. To uncomplicate leadership and education, every story matters and she is just getting started.

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