The post below was taken from Dr. K's speech during the Opening Service at Salem Church, marking the first day of the 2026-2027 school year. These early remarks set the tone for a year of reflection, growth and learning. 

Officially, welcome back to school! And a special welcome to all of our new students joining us this year. We’re so thrilled to have you back on campus, filling our classrooms, hallways and playgrounds with the joyful noise of learning, play, friendship and community.

When I was thinking about what I wanted to say to you this morning, a strange, random memory came back to me, something I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. I was in fourth grade when my Language Arts teacher handed our class a poem to read together.

Now, I had read poems before. I knew what poems were. They rhymed sometimes. They had short lines. Sometimes you had to memorize them. But this poem was different, at least for me. It was called “The Secret Heart,” by Robert Coffin. I actually had to scour the internet last week to find it again!

In the poem, a young boy wakes in the middle of the night and sees his father standing near his bed. His father thinks the boy is asleep. He strikes a match and cups his hands around the flame so the light won’t wake him. And as the boy watches, half asleep, the light shines through his father’s hands. For just a moment, it looks as though his father is holding a glowing heart.

Can you picture that? A tiny flame inside his father’s cupped hands, forming the shape of a heart. I remember reading that poem as a child and suddenly understanding something I had never thought about before. The father wasn’t telling his son that he loved him. He wasn’t giving him a present. He wasn’t even expecting his son to know he was there. He simply wanted to look at him. To make sure he was all right. And somehow that tiny flame showed the boy—and showed me—something enormous. I remember the feeling. It was almost as if the light from that match went on inside of me.

For the first time, I understood what poetry could do. A poem could show me something I had seen a thousand times and make me see it differently. It could help me notice something I had never thought to notice. It could take something as small as a match flickering in someone’s
hands and help me understand something as big as love. And thinking about that poem made me realize what a wonderful thing that would be to wish for all of you this year: that you notice or discover something amazing for the first time.

Maybe it happens with a poem, like it did for me. Maybe it happens in science, when you suddenly understand why something in the natural world works the way it does. Maybe it happens in math, when a problem that seemed impossible suddenly makes sense. Maybe it happens in art, or music, or on the stage or on the field. Or maybe it happens when you understand a teacher, a parent, a friend, a classmate, or even yourself, in a way you hadn’t before.

Isn’t that one of the great gifts of learning and growing? The world may not have changed at all. But suddenly, you can see more of it. As we ring in this new school year, I hope you will do two things. First, look for the light. Pay attention to those moments when you suddenly see something you had never seen before. Second, be the light for someone else. Do something kind when nobody is watching or keeping score. Include somebody. Notice someone who is having a hard day. Encourage someone who needs it. Be the kind of friend and classmate others can count on.

Look out for our newest students—and our new teachers, too—who may be excited to be here but also feeling a little nervous about their first day. You may never know what a difference one small act of noticing can make. The light of a match is a very small thing. But sometimes a very small light is enough to help us see something that was there all along. So keep your eyes open. Keep your minds and your hearts open. Let your light shine. And pay attention for those moments when suddenly—the light goes on. One of those moments might be so special that, like me, you’ll still remember it forty or so years later.

Happy new school year, Dragons.