At Parker, progress isn’t just a buzzword: it’s the foundation we’re built on. From the start, Parker’s mission has been to help students learn by doing, to ask questions, and to keep pushing toward something better. But lately, it feels like in the rush to keep up with what’s “new,” we’re quietly letting go of what once made Parker feel like home.
Some of that change is necessary. Certain traditions, like the Egyptian Museum or Woodland Peoples Day, reflected outdated understandings of culture and representation. Reexamining them was the right thing to do. But the growing trend of simply removing old traditions instead of updating them raises a bigger question: How can a school that celebrates progress also hold onto its past?
Parker’s traditions aren’t just throwbacks. They’re the threads that tie us to one another and to generations before us. They’re the reason alumni come back decades later and feel instantly connected. When sophomores run County Fair, when fourth graders take the stage for the Greek play, when everyone dresses up for Halloween, those aren’t just fun events. They’re shared memories that remind us that we’re part of something bigger.
And as those moments disappear, something in the community disappears with them. The younger students don’t get to see their older peers lead these events, and the sense of continuity between classes starts to fray. If the pattern continues, even long-standing traditions like the Greek play could be next on the chopping block.
Of course, Parker has good reasons for reevaluating traditions. The concern around cultural appropriation is real, and schools have to be careful about how they represent other cultures. But why does the solution always have to be elimination? Why not use those same days, like Woodland Peoples Day or the Japanese Tea Room, as opportunities to teach cultural appreciation instead? Imagine if students could learn not just about a culture, but from it, with context, reflection, and collaboration.
Beyond the classroom, these changes have also reshaped the community. Parents who once packed the auditorium for performances or visited classrooms to see projects now mostly interact with the school through emails or donation drives. These shifts have made Parker feel less open, less like the model home we pride ourselves on being.
All of this ties into a deeper identity struggle. Parker has always tried to balance being both progressive and traditional, a school that encourages students to challenge old ideas but also honors the history that shaped them. But the more we lean into change, the more it starts to feel like we’re losing that balance.
A progressive education is about questioning, experimenting, and evolving. But Parker is also about community, continuity, and shared purpose. Those things don’t have to be opposites. In fact, they can coexist. When we strip away all the rituals that once marked the passing of years, the plays, fairs, assemblies, and celebrations, we also strip away a lot of what makes Parker’s learning environment feel human and whole.
Many schools say they value community. But Parker’s has always meant something more: it’s an intergenerational network built on stories, traditions, and shared experiences. Community expands past the people that inhabit the school any given year. The tiles on the walls, the archives of “The Parker Weekly,” the MX readings, the echoes of performances from decades ago, those are reminders that this place is part of a story still being written.
If Parker wants to maintain the balance between progressivism and tradition that has made this school so special, then it should also be serious about preserving and reimagining its traditions, not discarding them. Reform is harder than replacement, but it’s the kind of hard work that actually embodies the school’s values. Recently, it has felt as if we are taking the easy route that will ultimately hurt us in the end. Rather than asking which traditions should stay or go, we should ask how they can evolve to reflect the present while still connecting us to the past.
When traditions vanish, it’s not just the event that disappears, it’s the sense of belonging that came with it. It’s the pride of showing your work to your parents. It’s the thrill of seeing older students perform something you’ll one day get to do, and the knowledge that you’re walking the same halls as generations who laughed, learned, and grew before you.
Progress and tradition don’t have to cancel each other out. They can coexist if we put in some extra work. Maybe that’s the next step in Parker’s evolution, not just changing, but learning how to carry our history with us as we grow. After all, progress doesn’t mean forgetting where you came from. At Parker, it should mean remembering, then doing better.
