A message from our founder Sophie: Thirty Years at Ridley
When I think about 30 years at Ridley, I don’t really think about 30 years.
I think about mornings. I think about little children arriving with sleepy faces and backpacks almost as big as they were. I think about parents saying goodbye at the door, sometimes confidently and sometimes with a little hesitation. I think about the first smiles, the first friendships, the children who couldn’t wait to come inside, and the ones who needed a little more time.
And I think about how quickly it all goes.
When I founded Ridley, I had a vision of a place where children would feel happy, safe and genuinely cared for. I wanted it to feel welcoming. I wanted families to know that when they left their children with us, they weren’t simply leaving them somewhere for the day.
They were leaving them with people who really knew them. People who would notice when they were having a difficult morning. Who would celebrate when they finally mastered something they had been working on. Who would remember the little things that made them laugh.
Over the years, I came to understand that those little things are really the big things. A child figuring out how to put on their own coat. Two children discovering that they want to be friends. Someone proudly showing an educator something they have made. A child who was once reluctant to speak suddenly standing in front of the group and sharing an idea. These moments don’t make headlines, but they are the moments I remember.
Children don’t all show us who they are in the same way, and they certainly don’t all do things on the same timetable. Our job is to notice. To listen, give them room and sometimes, simply to believe in them until they are ready to believe in themselves.
From the beginning, I knew children needed to feel valued and that they belonged. They needed to feel cared for, needed to be curious, needed to play, needed to be listened to. They needed to know that the adults around them saw them for who they were, not simply for what they could or couldn’t do yet.
Perhaps one of the greatest gifts of these 30 years has been seeing how many children and families have stayed connected to Ridley. Families who arrived with one child and came back with another. Children who left Ridley and returned years later as teenagers or adults. Parents who still stop by to say hello. Someone will look at me and say, “I went to Ridley.” And for a moment, I can see the little child they once were. That never gets old.
There is something very humbling about realizing that a place you created has become part of someone else’s childhood story. Ridley has changed over the years, of course. The classrooms have changed. The programs have evolved. Our understanding of children and learning has grown. And the little community that started 30 years ago has become something much bigger than I could have imagined.
But some things haven’t changed. We still want children to feel welcome when they walk through the door. We still want them to be excited about what they might discover that day. We still want them to build wonderful relationships with the people around them. And we still want them to leave Ridley knowing, in their own little way, “I can do this.”
When I look back now, I don’t think about numbers. I think about faces, little hands, laughter, hugs, paint-covered fingers, birthday celebrations, first days and graduations. I think about the families who trusted us and the educators who gave so much of themselves.
I think about the thousands of children who, whether they know it or not, helped shape Ridley just as much as Ridley helped shape them.
Thirty years ago, I opened a door. I never could have known how many people would walk through it. Thirty years later, I am incredibly grateful that they did.
If there is one thing I know for certain, it is this: Ridley was never really about the building. It was always about the people inside it.
And most of all, it was about the children.