What curriculum do you use?

It’s one of the most common questions we receive.

The short answer is simple:

We use the world.

Promontory does not purchase a packaged curriculum from a large publisher, and that choice is deliberate.

First, comprehensive boxed programs are expensive. That cost inevitably gets passed on to families. We prefer to invest directly in people, in small cohorts, sustained dialogue, and exceptional educators, rather than in shrink-wrapped materials.

Second, education is not static. By the time a mass-produced curriculum is printed, shipped, and implemented, it is already aging. In a world where knowledge evolves rapidly, flexibility matters.

But the deeper reason is philosophical.

Every large curriculum publisher carries an embedded worldview about what learning should look like — how fast it should move, how it should be sequenced, what should be emphasized, and what can be skimmed. When a program adopts a single purchased system, it implicitly adopts that perspective.

We choose not to be confined by one voice.

Instead, we design our own curriculum internally. That does not mean improvisation. It means clarity first.

We determine what intellectual habits we want students to develop: precision in mathematics, depth in reading, analytical writing, interdisciplinary thinking, sustained problem-solving, public reasoning. Then we go out and select — or build — the best resources available to serve those aims.

In mathematics, for example, that might include rich problem-solving texts such as The Art of Problem Solving, classical works like Mathematics for the Million, Jo Boler's methods, or carefully selected recreational challenges from Martin Gardner’s collections. It may include mental calculation techniques inspired by works such as Secrets of Mental Math, or structured algorithmic systems like the Trachtenberg method.

In other domains, we draw from primary sources, contemporary research, UNESCO and the UN SDGs, carefully chosen digital platforms, and materials we design ourselves as a faculty.

This approach is not scattershot. It is curated.

Finland — consistently one of the highest-performing educational systems globally — grants teachers substantial professional autonomy to design learning experiences suited to their students and their own pedagogical strengths. We respect that model. When teachers are reduced to delivering scripted lessons from purchased binders year after year, intellectual vitality diminishes. When educators are trusted as designers, their expertise grows — and students benefit.

A living curriculum is adaptive. It responds to student readiness. It incorporates emerging scholarship. It allows interdisciplinary connections to develop naturally rather than being forced into artificial boxes.

Most importantly, it places responsibility where it belongs: on the educators.

If we design the curriculum ourselves, we cannot blame a publisher. We must know exactly why we are doing what we are doing. That accountability strengthens rigor rather than weakening it.

There are extraordinary resources in the world today. When those resources are placed in the hands of deeply thoughtful, experienced educators working in small cohorts, the result is not chaos. It is coherence without confinement.

In a fast-moving world filled with opportunity and complexity, students do not need a program that trains them to complete pages. They need an education that trains them to think.

That is the curriculum we use.

The Importance of Pen-and-Paper

Why We Research on Screens — and Finish with Pen in Hand

We live in a digital world, and our students do too. We use technology deliberately and without apology. It allows for efficient research, comparison of sources, collaborative drafting, structural revision, and visual production. When students are gathering information and shaping ideas, screens are powerful tools. They expand reach, accelerate access, and make refinement easier.

But when it is time to finalize thought, we slow everything down. We move away from the keyboard and return to pen and paper.

There is a substantial and growing body of research showing that handwriting activates neural pathways that typing does not. Writing by hand strengthens memory retention, supports fine motor development, and deepens conceptual processing. Psychologists describe this as increased “encoding depth” - information is processed more meaningfully and is more likely to endure. Handwriting forces selectivity. A student cannot transcribe everything the way they might on a laptop. They must choose what matters. That friction is not a flaw; it is formative. It cultivates discernment and ownership.

There is also something profoundly human about sitting quietly with a legal pad and a pen. You can scratch out a sentence without deleting it from existence. You can circle a word, jot a note in the margin, draw a quick diagram, or even doodle while thinking (a practice explored in The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron). The physical act of shaping letters on paper slows the mind just enough to allow ideas to settle into coherence. It is contemplative without being sentimental. It demands attention.

Even leaders operating under extraordinary pressure have recognized this discipline. During his presidency, Barack Obama would regularly retreat to handwrite letters to ordinary citizens. He drafted them first on yellow legal paper before rewriting them carefully by hand on official stationery. He later reflected that the act of pressing pen to paper required a quality of attention that typing simply did not demand. Regardless of one’s political views, the principle is worth noting: handwriting enforces presence.

In our learning community, students move intentionally through phases. They research digitally and shape their thinking collaboratively. They then synthesize and refine by hand, allowing ideas to pass through a quieter, more intimate filter. Every six weeks, each student produces a filmed “Defense of Learning” presentation. They articulate what they have learned, justify their reasoning, and reflect publicly. Other students assist in writing, directing, and production. By the time a student stands before the camera, the thinking has already been shaped, slowed, and owned.

Technology accelerates access. Handwriting integrates understanding. Public presentation solidifies mastery. It is, in many ways, the difference between retaining, honoring, and strengthening what is uniquely human in us and simply climbing onto the intellectual equivalent of a Robovac and letting it carry us passively through the learning experience. One path requires creative tension, attention and intention. The other requires almost nothing at all.

In a world dominated by screens, the simple act of writing by hand has become almost countercultural. We consider it essential.

Why we use a multi-age cohort

Our learning design is intentionally multi-age, and the reason is both practical and research-backed. Students do not develop in neat, age-locked increments. They grow unevenly, brilliantly, and unpredictably. A mixed-age environment allows each student to breathe into their real level of mastery instead of being confined to a narrow age bracket.

Younger students benefit from daily exposure to more advanced thinking, language, and habits. They see what is possible and grow toward it naturally. Older students benefit just as deeply. Teaching, mentoring, and modeling strengthen their own understanding and build empathy, leadership, and patience. Explaining an idea is one of the most powerful ways to master it.

A quality classroom also rejects the illusion that learning flows in only one direction. The teacher should model being a learner alongside the students. Even with decades of experience, a teacher remains part of the intellectual community, asking questions, refining ideas, and thinking out loud. Multi-age learning reinforces this shared culture of inquiry.

Traditional classrooms are some of the last places where people are sorted strictly by birth year. Outside of school, life does not work this way. When neighborhood kids gather to play football, they do not exclude one another based on age. They gather because they want to play. They adjust, collaborate, and make it work. Real communities are multi-age, and real learning communities should reflect that truth.

Life itself is a multi-age adventure. We bring that spirit into our classroom. Helping, assisting, thinking, and building together — while treating one another with dignity and respect — creates a wellspring of joy that cannot be manufactured in isolated age silos.

Families should not worry that individual needs disappear in this model. They do not. Instruction is carefully guided and monitored by experienced staff so that each student receives work aligned to their current level. The multi-age structure adds social and intellectual richness; it does not replace individualized support.