When I ask ninth grader Tim Smith to spell his name for the record, he says, "T-I-M-O-T-H-Y." Not Tim—Timothy. It's the name his parents gave him, and he wants it written right.

"I like to make stuff," he says. "I chop down trees and build things—doghouses, birdhouses, maybe even radios." He laughs a little, because to him, it's not a strange idea at all. Timothy has wood right by his house, so he takes a hatchet, chops down trees, and uses multiple knives to chisel shapes. For him, the instinct to build and tinker has always been there. "My dad and my papaws are electricians," he explains. "They taught me how to wire speakers and radios. That's how my wiring began."

This year, that hands-on creativity found a new home in the district's freshly minted STEAM Lab—a place where science, technology, engineering, arts, and math converge in ways that have quickly made it the heartbeat of innovation at Joppa-Maple Grove.

Fifth-grade teacher Jesse Dummitt helps oversee the initiative. "It started in the library," she says, "but it's grown beyond that. It's accessible to anyone—elementary through high school. Kids sign up, come in, and make things." Some are coding in TinkerCAD to design rockets and dice; others are feeding cardboard through "Beaver Bots"—small cutting machines that work like sawmills, only for cardboard instead of timber. There's a 3D printer humming constantly, a laser engraver ready to etch designs into wood, and a new banner printer that can produce everything from posters to murals. "We've even had pre-K and kindergartners in here building with magnetic tiles and Legos," she smiles. "Everyone finds something that excites them."

For Timothy, that excitement lives in the details. "I designed a 3D rocket," he says. "It's been going around quite a bit." He explains the process like someone who's done it more than once—designing on the computer, then handing it off to a classmate who's smart enough to slice the file and make it printable. "We download it into one of the USB ports and then download it to the printer," he says. "Sometimes it comes out tiny, so we fix it and make it bigger." His friend has made up to twenty dice for teachers, each one a small testament to what happens when ideas meet tools.

There's something striking about the range of Timothy's world: hatchets and knives on one end, 3D printers and USB drives on the other. Both require precision. Both require vision. And both are available to him now, in ways they weren't before.

Dummitt sees that transformation unfold every day. "There are kids who may not feel confident in math or reading," she says, "but they come in here, and suddenly, they're lit up. They find something they love doing—and maybe for the first time, they feel successful in a school setting." That's the quiet genius of the space: it turns learning into play and lets discovery happen sideways, through fun. It opens a door to a whole new reality—something kids enjoy doing, whether or not they're "good" at it yet.

What makes the lab's existence even more meaningful is how it came to be. Joppa alumnus Gary Miller, Class of '96, funded much of the effort after returning to visit his old school. "He grew up with very little," Dummitt explains. "He'll tell you himself—people here gave him a chance when life was hard. Now he and his wife are giving that chance back to others."

Miller's generosity has been transformative. Beyond the equipment, he's funded student scholarships, paid for college expenses, and even stepped in personally to help a student who had delayed graduation finish strong. "He told her, 'If you choose to go to college, I'll make sure you get there,'" Dummitt recalls. The young woman not only graduated but now has a path forward that might not have existed otherwise. "That's not just paying for a class or a book," Dummitt says. "That's changing that kid's life—and not just her life, but her whole family's. He's not doing it for recognition. He's doing it to give one kid one chance."

Stories like that ripple through the district. During a summer STEAM camp that launched the lab, the community rallied behind the new initiative. "We asked for small things—Kleenex boxes, toilet paper rolls, anything that could help kids build," Dummitt says. "People started dropping off bags full of supplies." Soon, the space filled with the hum of creativity: marble runs, popsicle-stick bridges, circuit fans, and cardboard inventions of every shape and size.

Walk by the library now and it's like looking into a fishbowl. Kids press their faces to the glass, trying to see who's in there, what they're doing. Inside, there are clusters of students—some huddled over code, others sketching plans, still others watching their designs take shape, layer by layer. "There's someone always in there doing something," Dummitt laughs. "It's so fun to watch."

What's happening, of course, is bigger than 3D printing or laser engraving or even building cardboard sawmills. It's transformation. It's a small district proving that opportunity doesn't belong only to big schools with big budgets. It's a teacher seeing possibility in every student and a community proving that generosity multiplies when you invest it in others.

Timothy says he might want to be a police officer someday—maybe K9 unit—or perhaps an electrician, like his dad and grandfathers. Whatever he chooses, he'll bring with him the same instinct that makes him chop down trees just to see what he can carve from them: curiosity, skill, and the willingness to try.

And that's what the STEAM Lab is really building—not just projects, but people.