On a mild May day, a dozen-plus four- and five-year-olds traipsed across a small bridge that served as a stage of sorts, grasping diplomas in their tiny hands. Parents wept as teachers read a personal poem for each student. It was the annual celebration for graduating “garudas,” the name Alaya Preschool gives its oldest students.
The small, Buddhist-inspired organization was founded alongside Naropa University in 1976 to serve Boulder’s budding intentional community. Today, Naropa owns both the school itself and the property on which it is located.
Like its higher education twin, Alaya’s curriculum is grounded in contemplative education. The grounds, tucked away from view on 19th Street in North Boulder, are rich with trees and gardens, a bicycle obstacle course and play structures built by devoted teachers, parents and community members over the past 45 years.
“There is something unique and special about the land that Alaya Preschool sits on,” says Kaitlyn Sullivan, the school’s assistant director. “The impact from the families and children that have been there in the past is held on that land.”
The future of the property, however, is less secure. Finding itself with too much space and too little money post-COVID, Naropa is trying to sell the school and the land it sits on. Parents, teachers and other supporters have organized themselves into a group called Friends of Alaya and are attempting to raise the millions of dollars needed to buy the school and its property.
Passion is high, but so is the price tag. The group is still at least $1.5 million short, and the clock is ticking. But the community isn’t losing faith.
“I think that one thing Alaya has instilled in all of us is ‘What is the information that we have at the present moment?’” says Rachel Euser, parent of an Alaya grad who now lives in California. “I’m sure that this plan will sort of forge as we move forward with the intention in mind that we are going to keep the school afloat, knowing that children are being fostered in this way to go out into the world, I just think that this community will band together.”
Euser says her family loves Alaya so much that their houseplants are named after Alaya teachers. They visit Boulder in the summers so their kids can go to Alaya camps.
“There is magic at Alaya,” Euser says, “and I do know that magic tends to deliver itself. This is a tall order, and I believe with my full heart that we can do it.”
‘Always tight’
Institutions of higher learning across the nation have tightened their belts as college enrollment has faced more than a decade of overall decline. For Naropa, a private university with less than 1,200 students, that’s nothing new.
“Naropa is a small liberal-arts college,” says President Charles “Chuck” Lief. “We are always tight financially.”
But the COVID-19 pandemic added stress to an already precarious economic environment.
“Unlike many, many schools, we didn’t lay off a single person during the entire pandemic,” Lief explains. “That cost us a lot of money, because we lost students for natural reasons. We made the decision that we were not going to furlough our staff because they had families in need. But that no question cost us money, and we’re still catching up.”
Other effects of COVID also factored into the decision to sell Alaya, like the switch to remote learning.
“We are now at a place where 50% of our student body is online,” Lief says. “That was from virtually zero pre-COVID. We have more real estate than we are going to have any near- or long-term need for. We still have a lot of in-person students, but we have way more space than we need.”
The property was recently appraised for $3 million, according to Alaya’s director, Rachel Steele. (Naropa officials declined to confirm the appraisal price.)
Naropa agreed that, however much the land was worth, that’s what Friends of Alaya would pay for the land and business combined.
“If I were to sell it to Bright Horizons or one of the bigger early childhood chains, that’s a different story,” Lief says. “Then I would want to value the business as well, because it makes decent revenue. But for this group, that number is zero.”
So far, the group has raised $400,000 in actual and pledged donations. They have until December to get the rest, which is when Naropa wants to have the sale completed.
Steele praised Lief as a “champion” of Alaya. He and his wife, Judy, were founding Alaya parents. One of his children went on to teach there. Lief himself was Alaya’s lawyer in the 1980s.
“The reason Alaya stayed connected to Naropa so long was because of Chuck and his dedication to the school,” Euser adds.
Though there was confusion and fear over the sale in the beginning, Lief says Naropa and Friends of Alaya are now “on the same page.”
“I don’t have to take a backseat to anybody in terms of my commitment to the place, for sure,” he says. “It’s just a question of whether or not Naropa is the right home for a preschool when we don’t have a preschool education program. I think the answer is no.”
‘We’re going to get that money’
For parents, keeping Alaya alive is about more than preserving the school’s unique education offerings and history. They also worry about where they and other parents might go.
“If Alaya closes,” says assistant director Sullivan, “43 [preschool] spots in Boulder would be lost.”
Boulder County is “facing somewhat of a crisis” when it comes to availability and affordability of childcare for kids ages zero to five, says Kaycee Headrick, CEO of the Early Childhood Council of Boulder County.
Since July 2023, 11 licensed child care programs have closed in Boulder County, removing capacity for approximately 450 children. The most common reasons for closures are workforce shortages, financial hardships and regulations requirements, according to Headrick.
“While during this same time new programs have opened, these new programs are skewed heavily towards toddler/preschool slots, leaving pervasive gaps in care for children ages 0-3,” Headrick wrote in response to emailed followup questions. “We estimate in Boulder County that for every five infant/toddlers who need care, only one can access it.
“Our council has really deep relationships with providers across the county,” Headrick says. “We don’t want any providers closed, and we know that Alaya in particular serves as such a legacy entity. Generations of families have gone there. We’re working with Rachel and her team to support them in any way they might need.”
Another location is “not off the table as a last resort” if Friends of Alaya can’t come up with $3 million by December, Steele says. But, in her mind, “there is no other comparable location.”
For now, everyone involved is focused on their financial goal. Lief says that if Alaya ends up on the open market, Naropa would not be including the business in the sale.
“With all eyes on this right now, we’re going to get that money,” says Paige Doughty, an Alaya parent who is chairing the fundraising efforts. “This has been in our awareness for at least a year.
“I talk to the teachers, and they’re, like, ‘We’re going to do our job and we know it’s going to work out because we’re so held by this community.’”
Louise Brooke, who has taught at Alaya for 15 years, says at the beginning of the process, “there was definitely a bit of stress, but even then, there was optimism.”
“Basically what I felt is just a little bit of sadness or disappointment or stress at the very beginning, hearing about it all,” she says. Since then, “I’ve just heard a determination, a kind of a fierce determination mixed with optimism. We can do this together.”
Want to help save Alaya?
Donations are being accepted at savealaya.org. Friends of Alaya is hosting a benefit concert at the Fox Theatre in Boulder on Sunday, Sept. 22 with performances by Emma Rose’s Sound of Honey and Hunter Stone Band. Proceeds will go to fund purchase of the school.
Editor’s note: Adam Perry helped organize Alaya’s benefit concert.