(2/2004) -  In the Berkshire hills, snow has already fallen. Its whiteness suggests a hushed peace, an infinite space, a blank canvas for possibilities. Looking out on these fields, one might imagine that we have all the time in the world for friendship, for learning, for growing. This is what boarding school should be.

The reality for most families is quite different. In our accelerated family lives, time is scarce. The structures of our day demand that our children become commuters, spending hours each week in cars and in buses. But adolescents cannot move at adult speed. Teenagers need time and space to think, to work out ideas, to make friends, and to sort through the complexities of life.

Schools are tightly structured, too. Our political leaders, concerned with standards, now mandate standardized tests that dictate curricula. The school bell makes little room for intellectual detours and wanderings in the library that may take an entire afternoon.

Girls get the message loud and clear: to get into a good college, they must excel at many things—sports, activities, academics. They must perform perfectly on statewide tests. They fill their schedules with club meetings, community service, music lessons, and soccer. They work incredibly hard. If they reach their goal of college acceptance, they face another challenge. Recently, this newspaper reported on an epidemic of “burnout” among high school students. Admissions directors from Harvard, Duke, and similar institutions expressed alarm at rising numbers of high achievers who “burn out” in their first year of college.

Here, the snow falls almost in slow motion. Here, there is no rush. We have all day to talk about Dickens or the Election —over breakfast if we wish, and as we walk together between classes. In the small community that is a boarding school, we have the gift of time.

The gift of time gives young women the chance to attend to a broader curriculum, which might include advanced science and math courses, another language, the history of other cultures, art. It means time to read deeply, to imagine fully, to explore with more derring-do. In boarding school the day does not end at 2:30. There is a guest speaker tonight…a concert in the living room…a basketball game to play.

The gift of time means time with teachers—teachers who live in the school community, teachers who have time after class to talk, to encourage, to know what makes each girl different. It means time to make friends, important friends, friends for life. Because there is time, the friendships of girls in boarding schools grow beyond the force of cliques. There is no room for cliques in boarding school, no room to exclude anyone, because each person matters.

The gift of space creates independence. In boarding schools girls become self-reliant. They manage the quotidian details of their lives on their own. That's exciting—it's the first step to independence. Living at school offers space to reflect. It is space to become responsible, to mature, to carve an identity. Teenagers have to take risks to grow. But in a boarding school we can make sure the risks girls take are positive. Girls then develop the confidence to try, the competence to win. They acquire the powers of resilience, perseverance, and self-discipline.

Young people need the time and space to develop their intellects. They need opportunities to gain independence, to explore their limits. Most of all they need community. Whatever schools we choose for our children, the best gifts we can give them are the gifts of time and space, time and space to become happy, curious, and accomplished, time and space to experience the joy—not just the difficulties—of growing up.