Behind the Curriculum Curtain

Some time ago, our leadership shared in a faculty meeting an exciting vision to deepen our Christian foundation by embracing the enriching traditions of a liberal arts education. There was a unique tension that filled the air with this announcement. Eyes glanced across the room, shoulders stiffened just slightly, and you could almost hear the unspoken question on every teacher’s mind: “Is this another top-down mandate we just have to survive?”

As curriculum leaders and administrators, we’ve all been there—caught between the excitement of a visionary new direction and the reality of teachers who are already stretched thin and wary of the latest “big idea.” And now, here we are, introducing a liberal arts curriculum—a model rich with promise but easily misunderstood.

How do we bridge that gap between policy and purpose, between skepticism and shared mission?

I don’t have a perfect formula, but I do believe the journey starts with an honest acknowledgment: for many educators, “curriculum change” feels less like an opportunity and more like a loss.

A loss of control.
A loss of the familiar.
A loss of the assurance that they know exactly how to succeed in their roles.

The liberal arts prioritize real inquiry over passive listening, character formation over just vocational skills, and wisdom over fragmented internet knowledge, It asks teachers to embrace uncertainty. That’s exhilarating—but it’s also deeply unsettling. And this is where trust becomes the real curriculum we have to teach and model first.

Shifting from “Have To” to “Want To”

If the liberal arts curriculum is rolled out as something teachers have to do, it’s destined to fail. But if we can engage teachers in seeing it as something they want to be part of, we unlock a far more powerful dynamic.

The key question we must explore is: How do we make the mission visible, personal, and meaningful for each educator?

Not through piles of research articles left in our email or books left on our desks. But through authentic conversations—ones where we ask teachers what drew them to education in the first place. Where we listen to their frustrations about shallow teaching to the test. Where we invite them to imagine what it might feel like to help students wrestle with real questions—about truth, goodness, and beauty —instead of just memorizing facts in a book.

It’s in those spaces that the mission takes shape, not as an abstract philosophy, but as a living, breathing reason to teach.

Trust is Built in the Gray Areas

Implementing a liberal arts vision isn’t about switching reading programs or updating yearly pacing guides. It’s about inviting people into the gray areas—the spaces where they don’t have all the answers but can explore meaningful questions alongside their students.

And here’s the hard truth: that kind of vulnerability requires trust in leadership.

Teachers need to trust that when they step away from rigid content delivery, they won’t be penalized for a lesson that didn’t “go according to plan.” They need to believe that their professional insights and questions are not only welcomed but essential to shaping this new direction.

Leadership, in this sense, isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about creating the safety for others to explore without fear.

Moving at the Speed of Trust

There’s a temptation to rush reform. After all, the vision is compelling, the cognitive science research is clear, and the leadership team is ready. But trust doesn’t operate on a rollout schedule.

It’s built over cups of coffee, in quiet hallway conversations, through moments when teachers are asked, “How do you think this could work in your classroom?”

And it grows every time we choose dialogue over directives, and presence over pressure.

The Mission Begins with Us

In the end, transitioning from mandate to mission starts with modeling the very values we want to see in the classroom:

• Ask more questions than we give answers.
• Be open to feedback—even when it’s hard to hear.
• Celebrate small steps, not just big milestones.
• And above all, remember that before we embark on student formation, we must first engage in teacher formation by walking alongside our teachers as trusted partners in the journey.

That’s not something we can script. But it’s exactly the kind of unscripted, human work that makes a mission come alive.