Long before I became a parent, a New Jersey resident, or a candidate for our local Board of Education, I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Belize. I arrived as a young teacher with what I believed was a reasonably dangerous combination: enthusiasm, idealism, and just enough confidence to think I could be genuinely helpful.

The Peace Corps had other plans.

Like many volunteers, I arrived eager to make a difference. What I quickly discovered was that service has less to do with arriving with answers and more to do with asking questions. The Peace Corps is built around a simple idea: learn, share, contribute. The learning comes first, and it usually comes at the expense of your ego.

One of my earliest lessons involved chasing a chicken around my host family's backyard. Unfortunately for the chicken, it wasn't a recreational activity. A few hours later, with a newfound respect for what farm-to-table actually means, it became dinner. Peace Corps training had prepared me for lesson planning and cultural exchange, but not for poultry logistics. (If you ask, I'll tell you the gory details. I just don't think every reader wants them.)

I have a billion stories like that one: projects that worked, and plenty that failed so creatively they deserve their own category. More than once, I poured tremendous energy into what I thought was the problem, only to discover nobody else saw it that way. Belize taught me humility, sometimes gently, sometimes hilariously. When I left, I brought home more than an appreciation for hot showers and indoor plumbing. I brought home an understanding of what can happen when people bring different experiences to the same table with curiosity instead of certainty.

That's one reason I believe a core responsibility of a Board of Education is to create meaningful two-way communication between schools and families. A school board operates as a bridge between the community and district leadership. Traffic has to move both ways: understanding what families are experiencing while helping the community understand the district's goals, challenges, and decisions. Most importantly, people should believe their voice matters.

Trust doesn't come from perfect agreement. Healthy communities disagree. Different experiences lead people to different conclusions. That's normal. The question is how we approach those disagreements. Too often, conversations start with, "No, that won't work." What if we started with "What about?"

What about this idea? What problem are we actually trying to solve? Who else should we ask? What should we learn before we decide?

Those questions don't guarantee every idea becomes reality. They simply leave the door open long enough for a good idea, or a better version of one, to emerge.

Parent engagement is already Wyckoff's Strategic Priority #4, which tells me the district and community largely agree on the destination. The question is how we make that commitment visible in practice.

Perhaps a twice-yearly update on the district's strategic goals, written for parents rather than administrators. Not a declaration of success, but an honest snapshot of what's working, what isn't, and what's next. Families shouldn't have to decipher board minutes to feel part of the conversation. That kind of update could be one small way to make Priority #4 feel real rather than aspirational.

This also means designing that conversation around how families actually live. Mondays at 6:30pm we're in dinner and homework mode, along with juggling 47 other responsibilities. Livestreams, Zoom, and occasional community forums are absolutely worth exploring. We need to ask, how can we meet people where they are?

No single board member can magically improve the relationship between a community and its schools. Trust is built collectively, through hundreds of small interactions in which people feel informed, respected, and invited into the process.

One of the most valuable lessons I brought home from Belize is that communities are not projects to be managed. They're relationships to be built. They require humility, patience, and curiosity. Whether we're talking about a village in Belize or a school district in New Jersey, the work is remarkably similar. You learn. You share. You contribute. If you're paying attention, you usually leave having learned at least as much as you've given. That's the spirit I hope to bring to the Wyckoff Board of Education.