One of the biggest challenges teachers face—especially in the early weeks of the school year—is building real relationships with students. You know, the kind that turn a group of strangers into a classroom family. My first principal once told me, “If you build the relationship, the learning will come.” (He also told me I needed to stop using duct tape as a classroom decorating tool, but I like to focus on the wise things he said.)
The problem is, those precious first days have started to slip away. With many districts now using the first week of school for testing, teachers are often stuck proctoring assessments instead of learning names, laughing with kids, or finding out who’s obsessed with dinosaurs or who’s got a knack for solving Rubik’s Cubes. The data might be important, but so is knowing which student just became a big sibling or who secretly brings a rock collection to school in their pocket. Relationship-building time is being traded for spreadsheets—and we’re feeling it.
So, when I’m lucky enough to get my class list before summer break, I start early. Not with a quiz. Not with a survey. But with a scavenger hunt.
It begins with a letter to students.
Actually, two letters. The first letter welcomes them to our class and gives a sneak peek of what’s ahead. The second letter is more mysterious. It’s tucked in a separate envelope, boldly labeled “Do not open until …” with a very specific date and time. Suspense is powerful, especially when you’re 10 years old and trying not to peek.
When the moment arrives, the second letter kicks off a journey. It sends students and their families to a specific location in town—maybe the local ice cream shop. There, the student is handed a cone, and on the wrapper? A clue. That clue leads them to the post office, where they have to solve a puzzle to unlock a mailbox with the next step.
From there, they might end up at the sandwich shop, where they ask for a napkin that—surprise!—has another clue written on it.
Each clue leads to another, winding them through downtown like mini detectives on a top-secret mission. Local business owners usually get into it, and families start laughing, guessing, and taking pictures. Some kids sprint, others stroll—but the excitement builds with each stop.
Eventually, the final clue brings them to the school, where I’m waiting with a smile, a handshake, and maybe a high five or two.
We talk. We laugh. I ask about their summer. No clipboards, no data charts. Just people getting to know each other. It’s our first real moment together, and it means everything.
Do all kids make it? No. And that’s OK. Some families are out of town, some have other plans—but even just sending that invitation builds anticipation and makes them feel seen. The ones who do participate get to explore their town in a brand-new way, bond with their family, and meet their teacher without the pressure of the first day looming. And I get to start the year already knowing something about the kid walking through my door.
It doesn’t take much to plan. A few envelopes, a couple phone calls to local businesses, and a willingness to look slightly ridiculous in public. But the payoff? It’s enormous. The relationships start before the bell rings. The trust begins before the seating chart is even complete. The kids arrive not just excited but connected.
And let’s be honest: Designing scavenger hunts is the kind of thing that keeps this job fun, even after 27 years.
Because in the end, learning is important, but connection? That’s where the magic starts.