Hiring a Principal

A school is only as good as its principal, at least over the long term. When we're looking for a principal, it is helpful to remember that we are "competing" against other schools to find the best possible candidate for our school. But too often, our application procedures are purely functional--what forms a candidate must send us before we might regard that person as a viable candidate.  

In contrast, I think we have a real opportunity to shape the kind of candidates we might get by the quality of our application process. 

I believe it's a mistake to begin the process asking for too much.  If our first "date" is loading someone down with paperwork--and the applicant isn't even sure if the employer might be interested in him or her--it's highly possible that he or she may choose some other suitor.  Better to ask only for a resume and cover letter on the front end. After we receive the resume, then WE can decide whether or not to pursue that person, and after an initial interview, make it clear that we're interested, and then ask the candidate to finish out the paperwork as a necessary prerequisite for a formal offer.  The key is this: we don't want to chase away talent before we've met them! 

I also believe it's worth taking time to create a distinctive job description for principal, so as to pique initial interest in the position. Bear in mind that a candidate is likely scrolling through multiple job offerings. Does our school stand out? Might we prompt an inquiry? Here's my attempt at that: 

Job Description for Catholic School Principal

The pay isn’t very good. Sometimes you’ll be gossiped about, and blamed for things that aren’t your fault. Occasionally, you’ll be mischaracterized publicly, or second-guessed for decisions you’ve made. You’ll be expected to be at a lot of night-time events, even though your work day begins at 7:30 a.m. or earlier. You’ll feel constantly behind on paperwork, late in responding to emails, never quite able to finish out your “to do list.”

You must broker peace between students, between parents and teachers, sometimes between employees. You are responsible for the safety of hundreds of children. You must minister to students who are wounded by dysfunctional families, divorce or separation. You’ll weep sometimes when you’re alone, overwhelmed by the crosses that some of your students carry. On particularly sad days, you may have to fire an employee, or meet with parents to tell them they must remove their child from your school.

On the other hand:

You are the architect in building a culture that can have a transformative effect on children—their relationship with God, how they regard themselves, and how they face their future. By the people you hire, by the policies and procedures you create, by the relationships you form, you will have a decisive impact on a community, and all those within it. You will exult in your students' success, celebrate their triumphs, beam with a parent’s pride as you watch them graduate—to high school, to college, to life.

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things,” Paul exhorts us (Philipians 4:8). The next principal of this school has the unparalleled opportunity to build upon what is noble, pure, and lovely in our students, enlivened by the grace of Christ within them.

And through weal and woe, good days and bad, like gold tested in a furnace, by refracting God’s light and mercy to those you serve each day, you will be reshaped, re-formed, and renewed-- becoming, however imperfectly, a new creation in Christ.

If interested, send us your resume and an introductory cover letter. 

The Spice of Life

I have a niece and nephew whom I would describe as "millennial Catholic yuppies." When my niece was pregnant with their first child, they began researching for the best Catholic elementary school in town, and once determined, began attending mass and tithing at that parish. Though it was on the other side of town, they’d heard only parishioners could get their children enrolled due to demand. Three years later, they moved to a neighborhood two blocks from the school. Now on the cusp of their daughter attending kindergarten in the fall, their plan is about to come to fruition. All is set. 

Except-- 

Last year, when their daughter was 4, my niece found out about a small Catholic elementary school with a three-day a week, half day program. Their daughter was anxious with other children, and the school sounded like a good intermediate step to get her ready for kindergarten (I repeat, my niece is a yuppie!). The problem was the school was a good 30 minute drive each way through traffic from their new home—ironically, much closer to their previous home. Well, my niece reasoned, they would try it, and if it didn’t pan out, no harm, no foul. 

But from the first day, my grand-niece has loved this little school. She looks forward to going each morning, dressing up in uniform like a “big girl,” and she babbles excitedly about what she did that day with my niece on their drive home. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the choice for kindergarten next year has become unclear. Will my niece enroll her in the “best” Catholic elementary school just around the corner? Or will she keep trekking through traffic to take her to this small, much less affluent, school each day? 

How can this even be a question? What is it about this little school that has so captured my grand-niece's imagination, and made her parents' decision so difficult? 

It’s a Catholic Montessori school--a really good one, in my niece’s estimation. It isn't much to look at--just an abandoned retail building, retrofitted into a small school. But the structured play, the joyful optimism, the exceptional catechetical program (“Cathechesis of the Good Shepherd”) and the generous, talented teachers all combine to create a school where my grand-niece and the other children are thriving. A small group of parents began it because they believed the Montessori model would be best for their young children. My niece told me recently, only half-jokingly, that she’s been looking for property closer to home so she can begin a Catholic Montessori school herself. 

Though this school is not a diocesan one, it's been on my mind as I think about our Church's schools, and especially our  preK-8 elementary schools. There’s no need here to get into a long-winded discussion of all the demographic, economic and social reasons they’ve struggled these last fifty years--that history has been well documented. I am only really interested in ideas that may help them, that may cause parents to reconsider our schools anew. And offering a “Montessori option,” I believe, is one of many ways, perhaps, to do just that. 

Here’s (part of) the problem. When we say a “diocesan Catholic elementary school,” we have in mind a template of what that means. The structure of the school is essentially the same, the curriculum conforms to “diocesan standards,” the qualifications for teachers are diocesan-wide,  the professional development of teachers and principals is mostly led by the central office, the schools follow the same calendar throughout the year, and the basic school hours, 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., 5 days a week, apply to all. Even tuitions are roughly the same!   

For larger, more affluent schools in thriving neighborhoods, the diocesan model works well; they can supplement the diocesan template with bells and whistles, and house their programs in newer, nicer buildings.  But for schools in declining areas with declining enrollments, why would parents send their children there, if they can drive an extra 15 or 30 minutes and get the same program at the affluent school, with all the bells and whistles, at nearly the same cost?

They won’t-- at least not in enough numbers for our struggling schools to turn things around. We’re frittering away too much time and money, stressing on how to “market” better, as if polishing up our veneer is the missing ingredient that will help parents see the light-- but the truth of it is, there is not enough that is compelling to persuade families to rejoin us. And if our schools are essentially the same, we’re just dividing up the (diminishing) pie into (smaller) pieces, without ever making the pie bigger. 

“Variety is the spice of life.” 

If we’re going to keep our diocesan schools open, we’re going to have to start giving parents true choices about where they send their children. Why NOT a diocesan Montessori school? Why not a “Classical Christian” diocesan school? What about a “diocesan Dual Language school,” with the boldly stated goal that “all students who attend our school from K-8 will be bilingual upon leaving 8th grade?” Why not experiment with calendars--if a year round school is appealing to enough families to make it viable, why not? What if a school decided it wanted to be open from 8-6 each day, so as to help working parents, and to do so, gave longer recesses and breaks to its students? What if a school decided to go longer hours Monday through Thursday but close at noon on Friday?

We must start thinking this way. Tim Uhl, the superintendent of Montana Catholic Schools who hosts a national podcast, once asked a question that haunts me: “Here’s a thought question, “ he said. “If our schools were free, would we fill them? And if not, why not?” While there’s no doubt that cost is a factor for some, my suspicion is that it’s really a value--proposition for most: not enough “red meat” for the money. We won't draw families back into our demographically-challenged schools unless we give parents a compelling reason to go.

We’re going to need to get creative to meet people where they are. And quickly! We are losing something precious.