But, WHY?

There's a children's podcast from Vermont Public Radio that I absolutely love called But Why: A Podcast for Curious Kids. If you haven't listened to it, I highly recommend it. It embraces the ubiquitous "but why" questions to explain the most complicated phenomena.

And if you're a parent, you already know that "but why" is perhaps the most irritating question in the English language, especially during the toddler years when it happens approximately every thirty seconds. This relentless questioning emerges between ages 2-4 as children develop the ability to understand cause and effect. They're not trying to drive us crazy (though they often succeed)—they're building the foundational thinking skills they'll use for the rest of their lives.

As children get older, "but why" can become even more annoying. When someone who is not a toddler asks this question, it's easy to feel challenged—like they're saying "I disagree" or "I want to drive you nuts." And paradoxically, it's particularly unhelpful to ask a misbehaving child, "But why did you do that?" because most of the time, they genuinely cannot answer.

Here's the thing: I love a "but why" question from a kid. It opens a world of pedagogical opportunity. When a child asks "but why," they're showing us exactly where their understanding ends, and curiosity begins—a roadmap for what they need to learn next. It reveals their schema, misconceptions, and readiness to grasp new concepts. I have never been annoyed by this question, even from my own children, and I'm proud to say I've never used the phrase "because I said so."

But I've absolutely fallen victim to defensiveness when an adult asks me "but why"—particularly when I've made a decision, given a directive, or shared a strong opinion. My inclination is often "because I have said so," and I have to actively choose not to give in to that impulse. The most helpful advice I've received in order to productively engage a "but why" question from a grown-up is twofold: First, when feeling defensive, go to curiosity—try to understand the question more deeply, then answer it. Second, skip the story in your head and give the person asking the opportunity to clarify their story. Don't assume challenge; take them at their word that they're seeking clarity or deeper understanding. I have leaned into explaining my thinking and reasoning—even for rejecting certain options—with the help of teachers and parents who have asked for more transparency. Thank you all for helping me be a better partner to you.

Today, we share first-semester progress reports with parents. Any educator will tell you that progress report season is stressful. Any administrator will tell you that progress report season is brutal. The simple reason is that it's a lot of work to do this as meaningfully as children and parents deserve. There are other reasons for administrators: teachers ask many questions in this process, and often they are "but why" questions—so do parents.

A teacher might ask: But why do I need an illustrative example? Isn't it enough that I'm explaining this is a pattern I've tracked? But why do I need to share a strength if this is overall an area of weakness? But why should I say anything beyond "your child is doing absolutely great in everything" if that's the truth?

A parent might ask: But why do you need to break down every single skill and assess it according to grade level? But why do you have to say all these nice things about my kid that I already know? But why did a teacher mention X and not Y?

"But why" questions are naturally stressful—as per my explanation above. Over the years, our senior team has leaned into these questions about progress reports, and it was incredible this year to read them all (as I do before they go out, after multiple rounds of editing, and in conversations between teachers and their supervisors). These reports are detailed and specific, provide a larger picture, are data-driven, and—most importantly to me—reflect educators who deeply know and see their students, even if they haven't yet figured out how to support them in each of their learning edges.

These reports have improved significantly because teachers have asked the simple question that initially seemed challenging to me: "But why do we write these?" In other words, are we all on the same page about the purpose of these reports and the outcomes we're trying to achieve? They have improved significantly because parents have asked a simple question: "But why are you telling me this?" In other words, how do I make sense of this information, and what does it require of me as a parent?

In the spirit of "but why," I'd like to share some of my thinking on progress reports. Here's why we write them: A written report provides a comprehensive record—a higher-level, organized overview of your child's school experience and year-to-year institutional memory that tracks growth over time. These reports provide actionable data to inform decisions about supporting your child, engaging with them on specific topics, and leaning into their interests. They honor different communication styles, serving families who process information through written formats and allowing you to revisit and reflect over time. The process makes us better teachers—it's one of the times teaching teams pause to reflect together on a student's overall development, and the act of writing, organizing, and editing elevates this reflection to a deeper level. Finally, they're a gift of nachas—an opportunity to celebrate your children and share the joy we experience watching them grow.

But here's another "but why" question we often hear: But why do we give a snapshot of a child in this way? In other words, my child is a dynamic individual who cannot be reduced to a checklist or an anecdotal account.

You're absolutely right—no child can be fully captured in any single document. So why do we use this format? Because we value each student's unique strengths and are committed to fostering their individual growth, and to do that well, we need systematic ways to understand where each child is in their learning journey. Instead of traditional grades, which research shows can increase stress and hinder learning, we use a more holistic assessment approach. Teachers conduct regular individual assessments, and progress reports reflect the data gathered through these assessments. The progress report checklist provides developmental benchmarks that guide our teaching, while the progress report narratives tell the individual story of your child's learning. This combination doesn't reduce your child to data points—it honors both the universal milestones we use to support growth and the unique person your child is.

As you read your child's progress report this weekend, I encourage you to enjoy the nachas, take the honest learning edges in stride, and remember that each of your children is a beautiful, whole person who cannot be reduced to one document. Appreciate the insight this thoughtful document provides—and know that it represents countless hours of observation, reflection, conversation, and care.

Thank you, parents, for entrusting us with your children. It is a gift to teach them, to get to know them, and to partner with you in their growth. Thank you, teachers, for the effort, attention, love, and precision it takes to write these reports. And thank you, children, for all your efforts and growth over this first semester and for being the most wonderful people to write about.

And if, after reading your child's progress report, you find yourself with questions—well, you know what to ask. But why? Just like Vermont Public Radio, we’re ready to engage in all your “but whys”!