What I wish I knew when I first started hiring youth is that the job itself is only part of the lesson. The real work is teaching confidence, showing up when it matters, and modeling what good leadership looks like. A ride to work, a kind word, or help cleaning up after a long day can mean more than any policy. When parents, supervisors, and mentors all do their part, young people learn that work is not just about earning a wage. It is about belonging and being part of something bigger.

Accessibility on Haida Gwaii is something we build together. From ramps and beach mats to small 3D printed fixes that make someone’s day easier, we have learned that inclusion grows through community effort and everyday care. We cannot do it all, but we can show up, stay grateful, and keep finding ways to make this island a little more possible for each other.

In this reflection on endurance and interdependence, I explore what it means to build strength not just in body, but in spirit. Drawing on lessons from fitness theory, caregiving research, and everyday life, I look at how endurance grows through repetition in the gym, in relationships, and in the quiet work of caring for others. As society moves toward convenience and individualism, I question what we lose when we avoid the weight of connection. From Canada’s caregiving crisis to the privatization of care, I argue that endurance is built through community, not consumption. A meaningful life isn’t defined by how long we live, but by how we show up for ourselves, for those with less, and for each other.

After seeing Australia restrict social media use for kids, I couldn’t help but think about how we, as adults, might need the same. We were the first generation exposed to this world — the trial run for living publicly. If we want the next generation to do better, we have to correct ourselves too. Accountability online isn’t about outrage; it’s about intention, empathy, and the quiet work of showing up with care.

This Field Note reflects on why I chose to study strategy and performance in rural and remote nonprofits. It’s about turning academic tools into something practical, shaped by how small organizations on Haida Gwaii actually work — where photos, stories, and community connection matter just as much as numbers.

The economics of dance can shift, and we can still dance. We can charge a little more at the door, rely less on booze, and value safety, care, and connection as part of the bottom line. Dances may not make as much money as they once did, but they still make meaning and that is worth sustaining.