Less than a year ago, I had the amazing opportunity to participate in an expedition to explore and learn about a revolutionary program in Finland called “Culture Kids.” It allows all children in Helsinki to attend two cultural events each year for free until they enter school. My primary focus was to investigate and experience how other cities, specifically Helsinki and Amsterdam, support and prioritize childhood and cultural engagement, and how they might translate into an applicable model for our own city, especially through the work of my organization, Children’s Theatre of Charlotte.
As I reflect on this experience (thanks to The Gambrell Foundation), what stays with me most isn’t some groundbreaking innovation or next-generation solution. Rather, it’s the deep commitment these cities have made to the basics: fundamentals of a meaningful childhood that we all instinctively know, but too often take for granted.
I didn’t find a far-off land powered by futuristic systems; I found places that have doubled down on foundational experiences and protected them as a shared commitment by the entire community, supported by public and private investments, for generations to come.
The most surprising revelation from visiting the “happiest country in the world” wasn’t in discovering a dazzling new model — it was in realizing how much they simply prioritize what matters. They make deliberate decisions to protect the most essential elements of life: play, exploration, creativity, connection, and community. These aren’t lofty ideals; they’re visible in everyday life, codified in their public systems and policies, and most powerfully, they’re available to every child.
I saw it in Helsinki’s comprehensive hobby program, where youth can choose from an array of fun activities — from soccer, to ceramics, to cooking — offered at low or no cost. I saw it in the way families gather around the arts, not just for entertainment, but as a shared language of expression.
I saw it in their built environment: courtyards, canals, and gardens designed not only for beauty but for human connection with each other, with nature, and with our own community. I definitely experienced moments of “awe” in both Helsinki and Amsterdam, where certain places would just quiet down the noise in my brain (the self) and free up perception. I could simply be wowed.
Ironically, the further I traveled, the closer I felt to home. I found myself remembering my own childhood — riding my bike to the public library, spending afternoons exploring different neighborhoods on my own, and attending weekend performances with family. These weren’t extravagant experiences, but they were defining ones that gave me a sense of identity, belonging, and personal independence, which helped shape who I am and support my natural curiosity.
It was a strange but comforting realization: the life I want for children in Charlotte isn’t so different from the one I had myself. The difference is in how we prioritize making that experience universal and sustainable – how we make it a promise, not a privilege.
This is where the Culture Kids model resonates so strongly. It’s not just about increasing access to arts and culture. It’s about articulating a shared vision for what a great childhood looks like — and then committing to it. If this matters to all of us, then all of us must act (speak, agree, collaborate) like it does.
We can’t do it alone, and we shouldn’t. The message I heard time and again from successful cities is that true change happens when we rely on one another, when we understand our role not just as individuals, but as co-creators of a community. A great childhood is not accidental; it’s designed, delivered, and defended by everyone — parents, artists, educators, architects, policymakers, and neighbors alike.
It’s a rather interesting challenge and an invitation to every grown-up. If we are to advocate for children to have creative, fulfilling lives, we must begin by modeling that fulfillment ourselves. When we make time for a hobby, pursue a passion, or engage in experiences that are special and personal to us, we better understand their value. And we become more authentic and effective champions of those opportunities for others.
Ultimately, an impactful childhood leads to an adulthood that values personal fulfillment, and that leads to a parenthood that naturally expects the same fulfillment for their children. This shared value helps build a community that thrives on the lived experiences we offer each other.
By starting with one child’s joyful engagement in the arts, we’re actually cultivating a long-term ecosystem of belonging, expression, and resilience. There are no influencers more powerful than parents in early childhood, and there is nothing more inspiring than seeing a parent express their passion about something they love.
We now have a chance to dream big and act small. Not small in ambition, but in specificity — in the carefully developed, well thought-out, and equitable solutions that build a better city for our children. Our version of the Culture Kids program offers a framework to do just that: to define, design, and deliver meaningful cultural experiences that every child in Charlotte can access, enjoy, and grow from.
What I brought home from this expedition to the Nordic countries isn’t a roadmap. It is a memory and a challenge. To return to what we know matters most, no matter where we come from or where we live. To give every child in our city a foundation of joyful, creative, and personal exploration. To build a Charlotte where cultural opportunity isn’t a gift — it is a given.
And maybe, someday soon, this promise won’t just belong to the happiest countries in the world. It can belong to us, too, and we just might call it the Charlotte Promise.