Transforming Lives... Realizing Possibilities

In June, I found myself not just as the CEO of Oakwood, or the son of its founders, but as a father watching his youngest daughter graduate from a school that has shaped much of our family’s life. For a long time, my belief in Oakwood was rooted in mission, in the idea that children who learn differently deserve a school built for them.

As an employer and a leader, I’ve always sought to bring in teachers and professionals of the highest quality, people who care deeply, who are thoughtful in their practice, who show up for students day after day with both skill and heart. 

I’ve always carried a sense of responsibility for the integrity of what we do. But when my daughter became one of the students in that classroom, one of the kids the mission was designed for, the stakes felt different.

You start to understand the fire that lives inside so many Oakwood families, the concern, the hope, the fear: Will they see my child? Will they understand her? Will they help my child feel whole again?

As a young child, my daughter was outgoing, confident; every stranger was a friend she hadn’t made yet. But after struggling for too long in a traditional classroom, that spark dimmed. Her dysgraphia was severe. Slowly, the joy she once felt in learning faded. She began to withdraw. We had support, including evaluations, tutors, and accommodations, but none of it was integrated across her day. Forty-five minutes of help couldn’t outweigh the other five-plus hours of school, reinforcing that she wasn’t quite keeping up.

When we brought her to Oakwood, I still wondered, would this be enough?

But then came the difference: every class, every teacher, every hour of the day, aligned. The same approaches, the same belief, the same message. She wasn’t just welcome here, she belonged. Her teachers encouraged her, and not just academically. They helped restore her confidence, her sense of worth, and her voice. They held the bar high, and they gave her the tools to reach it.

Today, my daughter can write. She can advocate for herself. She can explain how her brain works, what supports help her, and what she needs to thrive. That kind of self-understanding is not just academic success. That’s life success.

To the families just starting at Oakwood, I would say, don’t worry, truly. You’ve carried the burden for a long time. You’ve done everything you were told to do. You’ve fought for small wins. But here, you don’t have to fight.

Let Oakwood carry the weight for a while, so you can go back to being what your child needs most: a parent. Not a tutor, not a coordinator, not a mediator between your child and the school. Just a parent. Someone who laughs with them, encourages them, and builds memories.

That’s the gift this school has given me.

To those beginning the journey at Oakwood, when you see the transformation begin, and I know you will, make time to notice the possibilities unfolding. To the families and students who have already walked this path, thank you for continuing to be a part of the Oakwood story. Stay in touch. Stay involved. 

This article originally appeared in the Oakwood Newsletter in June 2025.