This is what it looks like when learning becomes formation. Students are seen not just for where they are, but for who they are becoming. They are given space to try, to fail, to rise, and to discover that the abilities God has placed within them are not theoretical; they are usable, meaningful, and needed. In rooms like this, with voices raised and minds engaged, students begin to understand that they can enter complex situations, think clearly, speak truthfully, and act with purpose. And that realization changes them.

In Mrs. Moline’s classroom, learning is never just about the lesson. It is about forming the kind of student who trusts the environment, understands their place in it, connects with others, sees meaning in their work, and develops the skill to carry it forward.

Cold mountain air rushed through the field alive with movement. Feet were striking the ground in rhythm, voices rising in unfamiliar songs, laughter breaking through every barrier that language could have built as young people from Tirana joined Hillcrest seniors in the mountains for a retreat. Circles tightened, hands locked, and under a bright Albanian sky, a group of students who had never met hours earlier moved like lifelong friends. No hesitation. No distance. Just loud, unfiltered, and contagious laughter. This is where the Hillcrest students will lead a weekend getaway focused on identity, reality, and the good news of the Gospel.

It would be easy to measure this trip by what it costs. A week away from the final stretch of senior year. The financial weight of international travel. The disruption of routine. In a culture that values efficiency above almost everything, this kind of decision can feel impractical. But day two makes something unmistakably clear: this is not a break from education. This is its fulfillment.

Backpacks shuffled, laughter echoed, and then Mr. Peterson’s voice cut clean through the noise:

“Pick up a Bible. We have one for each of you to bring with you to share with a person you meet in Albania.”

And just like that… everything shifted.

This isn’t just a trip. It’s a sending.

Jesus sang before the cross. The early church sang through persecution. Hillcrest students sing on the road and bring those songs home. And now, it’s our turn. Because the story of Easter has always been sung.

They went to the Capitol to learn about advocating for life. They left understanding something even greater: that a healthy society depends on citizens who are informed, courageous, and willing to step forward.

As the voices settled and the lesson moved on, the hallway returned to stillness. But something lasting had taken place. Under Ms. Hosch’s guidance, these students are not just becoming better readers, they are becoming learners who trust order and who are being grounded in a truth that will carry far beyond the classroom.

Experiences like this reflect Hillcrest’s commitment to hyper-practical learning. Education here is designed to develop students who do more than absorb information. They are encouraged to observe carefully, ask thoughtful questions, and apply what they know to serve others. That means stepping outside the classroom and into the community. Whether it’s through internships, service projects, or business partnerships like this one, Hillcrest students regularly encounter opportunities to connect their learning to the real world around them. The goal is simple but profound: to cultivate young men and women who think clearly, communicate well, and contribute meaningfully wherever they go.

Experiences like this are part of Hillcrest’s commitment to connecting learning with lived experience. The forest of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a place of confusion, transformation, and ultimately restoration. By stepping into that story through live performance, Hillcrest’s 9th graders were able to see Shakespeare not simply as an author from the past, but as a storyteller whose insights still resonate today. And perhaps that is the lasting lesson of the trip: great stories are not just meant to be read, they are meant to be experienced.

The call to missions has been forming in the hallways of Hillcrest for generations of students. And as students gather for conversations like the recent lunch with Dave Narvesen, it is clear that the tradition continues.

Flags lined the doors. Countries were represented in color and creativity. Students hurried past in team hues, whispering about chapters they had finished the night before and debating which book deserved to advance. In classrooms, brackets were filling up. Medals were being earned. And quietly, steadily, something powerful was happening: children were falling in love with good books.

When children are truly known by their parents, their teachers, and their school, they don’t just learn more effectively. They live more faithfully.

Each month at Hillcrest, students are invited into something deeper than a lesson or a theme. Through a unified and intentional virtue program, the Lower School is being shaped in how students think, respond, forgive, and love. This January, that focus is Grace: loving others despite their faults.

Walking through the fourth-grade display yesterday felt less like stepping into a classroom and more like entering another century. Towers rose from tables, stone walls wrapped around courtyards, banners marked kingdoms, and drawbridges hinted at danger just beyond the gates in their dioramas. Parents and members of the Hillcrest community gathered not simply to admire displays of medieval castles, but to witness learning that had taken root and shaped imagination and understanding, and strengthened character.

President Luke Fiskness offered three principles that act like anchors to steady the classroom in Monday’s inservice. The first is to make room for rest; the pace of modern schooling can feel like a factory conveyor belt, but scholé insists on space to savor ideas. The second is to aim every lesson at what is truly worthwhile: the goodness of creation, the beauty of art, the truth of Scripture, and the wisdom of history. The third is to remember that people are not machines; we are created to worship and to wonder, not merely to produce. Those principles are simple enough to write on a sticky note and profound enough to change a culture.

The clubs meet for a 45 minute block once a week. They have the opportunity to change clubs at specific breaks in the year to explore more restful learning opportunities. Faculty and staff lead the clubs, connecting with students in a mentor relationship that moves discipleship beyond textbooks and home work assignments into a love of exploration and learning around interests the student holds.

The classical education model values exposure to the great books of Western civilization—not only so that students gain an affinity for them but also to cultivate wisdom, virtue, and maturity. Reading The Iliad, for instance, challenges students to grapple with themes like heroism and the consequences of pride. The Odyssey demonstrates the importance of perseverance, loyalty, and identity, while Herodotus invites reflections on human nature, cultural values, and divine providence. Tableau takes these vital lessons and moves them from head knowledge to heart conviction.

In a classical education, students progress from absorbing concrete truths (grammar), to grasping their deeper meanings (logic), to applying them in real life (rhetoric). Joy, commonly recogized as a “genius quality,” is especially vital for students to explore and develop. Joy fuels curiosity, resilience, and a love of learning—a spark that ignites both the imagination and the heart. This is one reason chapel matters so deeply at Hillcrest. It reinforces that real knowledge is never just intellectual—it’s transformational, guiding kids to integrate faith and wisdom.

Against the backdrop of proposed legislation in Minnesota that would permit abortion to the point of birth, the Comets for Life club gathered in St. Paul to join the March for Life.