Essentials

I leave St. Michael Catholic High School on Friday, and I think my leaving presents an opportunity for the school. Every institution must be open to change. Heads of school come and go, and with each new leader, the school has the chance to rethink its assumptions. This is part of the natural cycle of a school and the chance for each school to “begin again.” 

New leaders, however, are wise to make distinctions between the “essence” of the school they are inheriting, and the changeable elements that can be improved to better fit the needs of their communities. I’ve had the privilege to lead three Catholic high schools (Montgomery Catholic Preparatory School in Montgomery, AL, Pope John Paul II High School in Nashville, TN and St. Michael Catholic High School in Fairhope, AL), which has given me a chance to reflect on what I believe to be the “essentials” of Catholic high schools.  Here are my top four: 

We Cannot Allow Students to “Settle”— Every student in a school, regardless of aptitude, should feel a bit of “angst” about the classes they’re taking! I don’t mean they should feel hopeless, but that they should have a tinge of worry that if they don’t work hard, they won’t succeed. Nothing kills the academic culture of a school faster than putting kids in classes that allow them to float, without a lot of paddling! This is why I am generally against dividing students into more than two academic tracks. The capable kids should be encouraged to take the highest level courses available  as they move up the ladder, and not be allowed to “settle” with something in between A.P. and “regular” classes in their junior or senior year ( often misnamed “honors” courses) that give them an excuse not to work harder. And kids on the other end of the spectrum should not be allowed to “settle” on remedial courses that don’t prepare them for the world ahead. In three schools and 34 years as principal, I’ve never presided over the “third track,” whatever the school may call it.  No, it is not prudent for even the most capable students to take 7 A.P. classes at a time—they can mix and match  A.P. classes and electives to create a reasonable schedule. And no, taking regular classes is not an easy path for kids who struggle, but if we are being honest with them, life is hard, and they must develop the work ethic to face it.  If teachers are available to help them after school, if the school puts in place thoughtful policies such as “50” as the lowest test grade, and if teachers are inclined to give kids who work hard the opportunity for  retests and second chances, these kids will succeed and become our proudest graduates, having achieved a real milestone. 

Relationships. Relationships. Relationships—Just as the three most important characteristics of real estate are “location, location and location,” so too does the quality of the relationships in a school determine its success. Those relationships go in every direction: from teachers to parents, from teachers to each other, from teachers to students, and between the students themselves. 

While that may seem obvious, it’s easily forgotten as schools age, and job descriptions, policies and duties begin to settle. As tempting as it is to set policies for reasons of efficiency and to “pre-solve” the many issues which are likely to come a principal’s way, the danger is if these policies remove the human element and the pastoral judgment required to handle the particular needs of a child in a particular circumstance. That’s why I’ve always resisted spelling out “X” disciplinary consequences for “Y” offenses. Our handbook says something like “Disciplinary consequences include after school detentions, Saturday detentions, in-school and out of school suspensions and expulsions. The school administration will decide which is appropriate, based on their judgment and the interest of the student and school.” Even for the super serious stuff, like drug and alcohol use at school or a school function, our handbook says the student is liable for expulsion.   

Of course, handling each matter pastorally, rather than bureaucratically, is becoming increasingly difficult. Dioceses face the reality of lawsuits, and our parents are much more inclined to immediately call the police to report issues at the school, even if the principal has already taken steps to protect the safety of students. It would great if principals had time to gather all the data and prayerfully consider how to handle the tough cases!  But I don’t believe we should simply resign ourself to these new realities and give up! Families in difficult circumstances need us to handle their child with care and love. That’s the message of the gospels; it’s the message of the parable of the lost sheep and the parable of the wheats and the tares. Bureaucratic policies and the threat of lawsuits can wipe out the human element to the detriment of everyone! 

Both-And— I once knew a girl who was a softball phenom. For the age of 7 through her senior year, she was the best player on whatever team she played on. Largely due to her abilities, her youth teams usually played all the way to the end of the summer in national championship games, just in time for “fall ball” and then onto the high school season in the spring. As she neared graduation, she was offered scholarships to several well known D-1 programs. I noticed she was unhappy, and called her into my office to talk with her about what was wrong.  She began weeping: “Mr. Weber, all I’ve done with my life is play softball. I’m sick of it. I haven’t done fun things like my classmates have, and here I am at graduation, without any close friends. I don’t want to play  softball in college. I want to be a regular student. ” And so she declined the scholarships and attended the college like every other student. I was proud of her. Last time I saw here, she was doing quite well. 

There’s a clear lesson here: Children flourish when they’re encouraged to engage in many things—and the more different, the better. That was a big reason we wanted to have 8 periods per semester. Taking 8 allows them to take a band or choral class, for example, even while they take weights and conditioning as required by their sport. It isn’t Chamber Choir OR football, but “both-and.” I believe this is good for the teenager’s soul—that they are happier and healthier.  I heard a comedian say his wife was in labor with their first child for 30 hours. His punchline was “I don’t even want to do something that feels GOOD for 30 hours!” And yet we end up doing this to kids all the time, convinced that unless they play (insert sport here) year round, they won’t have the skills for a college scholarship. Our children’s happiness and health aren’t worth it. And if they’re some of the truly rare kids who are athletic enough to make a living playing professional sports, then they have the ability to play a lot of other sports along the way in high school—witness the fact that most players in the NFL or NBA starred in multiple sports.

A Vibrant, Ecumenical and Confident Faith— When I was a younger principal, I feared if we came on “too strong” about our Catholic faith, it would offend our Protestant families. But I have come to understand that our Protestant families know exactly what they’re signing up for when they place their children in our schools, and they expect us to build a dynamic Catholic culture here. They want their children to be exposed to adults who give joyful witness to their faith! Yes, of course we should be ecumenically sensitive.  I was once given a gift of a large Marian statue for our athletic fields, and told I could put whatever I wanted on the plaque. I didn’t choose the title “The Mediatrix!” Instead the plaque simply said “Be it Done Unto Me According to Thy Word.” (Luke 1:38). Better to appeal to what we share in common, Scripture, than to emphasize our differences. 

Even so, I also believe it’s a dreadful mistake to water down our witness to some sort of “lowest common denominator” with our other Christian families. It’s the sometimes unusual, often fun celebrations that make our Catholic faith so interesting to our students!  In my first year as principal at John Paul II in Nashville, Mardi Gras came and went, without fanfare. This was totally unacceptable to me, borne and raised in the city that began Mardi Gras parades (that’s right New Orleans folks, it began here), so the following year, I loaded up 5 pillow sacks of candy, and told the administrative team to go into live classrooms, shower the kids with candy, and say “Happy Mardi Gras!” The students, of course, loved it.  Our kids need to see that our faith enlivens us!   That’s why I believe the “critical mass” of our faculty must be Catholic, but it’s also why ALL of our faculty and staff need to be practicing, joyful Christians. 

And confident ones! I am not persuaded that we should give “room” in our school for Christian adults who are struggling in conscience with the fundamental teachings of our faith. Yes, of course we should give people space, to the extent they are individuals!  But I am not hiring people to work in a factory or a retail store. I am hiring ministers of the faith, who themselves must be authentic, living witnesses of that faith to our students, so that their faith is ignited! Catholic schools should be  “furnaces for formation,” I heard someone say recently. Amen! 

——

I am convinced that Catholic high schools can develop many personalities, and no two schools are the same. But the most impactful Catholic high schools, the ones that truly advance the trajectory of teenagers’ lives, both as students and as people of faith—are those, I believe, who incarnate these four essential beliefs into their policies and practices. In the end, we are building a culture, and the culture will determine the school’s success more so than any program or strategy.

May God bless St. Michael Catholic High, and all those who work in Catholic high schools across the country.  Ours is noble work! 

Kit and Caboodle

When they say it, I know they don’t mean it as I hear it. 

But words shape our thinking, and I find that development professionals use this phrase often. In advising us how to set up a successful campaign, for example, they might say: “We need to get the ‘Catholic piece’’ just right.”

Let me suggest the first step in getting the “Catholic piece” just right is to forever ban that phrase in discussing our schools. Unwittingly, the phrase suggests that the Catholic faith is a component part of our operations, a box to be checked, literally, a “piece” we must attend to. In fact, creating a dynamic, creative Catholic culture that leads our students to become disciples of Jesus Christ is our essential mission, our raison d'être, the whole ‘kit and caboodle.’ Yes, I believe we also have other obligations: to be excellent academically, to offer good athletic and fine arts programs, to help kids become physically and mentally healthy, etc. But if we aren’t not building a vibrant Catholic culture as the context within which all these other things are happening, we may as well simply call ourselves another private school.

I have the same objection to characterizing the faith as one of the “pillars” of the school, alongside the other “pillars” such as academics, the arts, athletics or fill-in-the-blank. Again, this implies that faith is one of the component pieces, albeit an important one. But if we’re using metaphors, faith is not one of the pillars; it’s the very foundation upon which all other pillars stand. 

What a vibrant Catholic school offers its students and families is an alternative culture wherein the faith is practiced in a way that is “normalized” for its students. Through the authentic witness of its teachers, coaches and staff, students are invited to participate in this alt-culture— praying, worshipping, learning and serving —practices that become so integral to their daily lives that they almost don’t notice. This is the great blessing of our schools: that the life of faith is NOT an extraordinary add-on, not a retreat nor just a Sunday thing, but something natural, everyday, the air that we breathe. That “air” then elevates everything else, creating an optimism for excellence, buoyed by the transforming power of God’s grace active in the life of our students.

Let's Quit Talking about the 'Whole Child'

Language matters. This is my third article on that theme, arguing that we miss the opportunity to use evocative language to discuss our mission,  or even misconstrue the mission itself, when we use words or phrases unreflectively to describe ourselves. I wrote earlier we should stop saying parents “sacrifice” to send us their children, and in another piece, that we shouldn’t use the phrase “the Catholic piece” or talk about our faith as one of the “pillars” of our school. This time, I’d like to suggest we do away describing our mission as a focus on the “whole child" and its accompanying list of minds, bodies, spirits, hearts,  souls, etc. 

It’s not that the "whole child" emphasis is philosophically wrong. Indeed, our schools should be more broadly concerned about kids than just their minds— we do care about their spirits and souls! My objection, rather, is that it’s a repetitive theme that came into vogue in the 1970’s  and has  hashed and rehashed in our schools ever since. It's uninspiring! We can do better. 

There’s an oft-repeated story in a diocese I know. A Catholic elementary school invited two Catholic high schools in the area for a “Parent Information Night” for their 8th grade families. The moderator asked each principal to make a ten minute “pitch” to the parents,  and then he’d open up the meeting for questions.  The first principal made the traditional presentation, invoking the many ways his school help students grow in mind, body and spirit. He was articulate, and his bit went the full ten minutes. The second principal walked up to the microphone and said “Our purpose is to help your child become a disciple of Jesus Christ.” He spoke for a few minutes more, then sat down. 

The bracing simplicity of the second principal’s statement stole the show, as the story is told. The parents were fascinated, and asked that principal many more questions than the first principal. Tactically, his strategy worked, because by the end of the night, even through his initial presentation was shorter, he ended up with much more “microphone time,”  responding to parent’s questions. It was clear that his language resonated. 

And that’s my point, really. There’s nothing wrong with the “whole child” emphasis, but it lacks evocative power to move people. In fact, I suggest that in today’s world, where we are inundated with advertisements, social media, talking heads, and 24 hour “news,” that LESS IS MORE--that pointed, simple phrases are much more powerful that longer, wordier statements. We can see this same sentiment in web page design (featuring fewer words, more white space, more pictures) or in home decor design (bright white, no clutter). Home stereo systems now rely on blue tooth instead of wires. Cars emphasize the “clean look” in dashboard design. Everyone likes simple. 

So how can we be simpler and more evocative in our self descriptions? I’ve spent some time tooling around school web pages, and here are some of statements I like:

• "We share we share in the responsibility to prepare students for college and beyond,  while helping them to grow to become persons of faith, virtue, and wisdom." (Montgomery Catholic Preparatory School, Montgomery)

• “Catholic. Marianist. Forming our Students into Remarkable Men.” (Archbishop Moeller, Cincinnati)

• “St. Michael aspires for its students to become scholars, leaders and disciples of Jesus Christ” (St. Michael, Fairhope, the school of which I'm principal)

• Heart of Mary Catholic School seeks to form students who are faithful to Jesus Christ, committed to their studies, and proud of themselves and their school." The "tagline" for the school is thus "Faithful. Committed.Proud!" (Heart of Mary Catholic elementary, Mobile, AL). 

I've traveled with our students to the March for Life in Washington D.C. several times. One year, I think in 2010, the weather was miserably cold and snowy, but that didn’t dampen our students’ enthusiasm—they were proud to be witnesses to life, and thrilled to be marching with hundreds of thousands of other teenagers for that cause. About half way through they began singing, including one song,  “Lord Prepare Me to be a Sanctuary."  the lyrics of which are simple: 

Lord prepare me, 
To be a sanctuary
Pure and holy
Tried and true
With thanksgiving
I’ll be a living
Sanctuary, for You

I got choked up as I heard our students sing this, over and over—not just because it’s powerful to hear teenagers be so joyful and public about their faith, but also because it’s the purest, most simple iteration of our mission as Catholic schools that I’ve ever heard:  to help our students become living sanctuaries for the Lord. 

Let’s take time to simplify and elevate what we say about our selves, reminding our students, families and teachers of our most essential task! 

A Job Description for 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 mis-characterized 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 (Phil 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. 

Our Inclusive Mission--Proud to Proclaim It!

In the world of many independent schools, there are certain code words  used to convey the sense that enrolling allows you to not just join a school, but the country club. “Competitive admissions,” “premier,” “superior” and “elite” are part of a brand that speaks of exclusivity and privilege, and the tuition, averaging $27,800 for 8th grade schools and $31,800 for high schools (NAIS, 2020-21) seals that impression, though most give financial aid to students who meet specially targeted criteria. 

In contrast, the mission of Catholic schools is broader. Novelist James Joyce once said about Catholicism that “it’s the here comes everybody Church,” and so the aim of our schools must be to educate the “everybody,” including the best and brightest—those with aspirations to attend our nation’s best colleges—as well as those with more parochial goals. 

I am proud of our inclusive mission. The problem is when we speak about this broad emphasis in the marketplace, what would-be prospective families often hear, whether we use this language or not, is that we’ll aim our academic programs to the middle, adapting a kind of “lowest common denominator” approach to reach the “broadest possible number.” In other words, the parent hears that we’re good for the “ordinary” or “average” kid, but not so good for the high flyers. Perhaps that perception should help us enrollment wise, as by definition “average” describes the most number of people, but the problem is that few parents think their children are ordinary, and even if they did, they’d want more for him or her. So ironically, we end up appealing to a very narrow segment of the school market precisely by saying we serve a very broad one. 

I’ve written many times about crafting our mission statements to be more aspirational (here, here,  here and here) reflecting our belief that God’s grace is truly transformative in the lives of our students. Our mission should focus on our desire for students to discern and accept God's magnificent plan for their lives. Overlaying our schools with soaring rhetoric is part of building a school culture and a marketing “brand” that is entirely consistent with the belief that students are children of God, temples of the Holy Spirit, and thus capable of doing great things! These themes channel a deep desire of parents for their children that resonates well in the marketplace. 

But even while aiming our mission statements to be more aspirational, we must celebrate our inclusiveness as a strength, not a liability!  It’s the gospel, after all!  So I try to do that in our admissions materials and in my orientation talks.  Here’s perhaps my best stab at it recently, taken from our handbook: 

As a school that professes to place the gospel of Jesus Christ before all else,  our mission is much grander than serving only the intellectually elite or the economically advantaged. Such homogeneity often makes schools stale—too similar in values, tastes, and sensibilities. Rather, it’s the chemistry and interplay of students with different aptitudes and socio-economic backgrounds that give Catholic schools their authenticity, their liveliness, and perhaps even, their “flair.” 

That's right--flair! Yes, we have smart kids, and our job is to challenge and push them to strive for excellence in well-taught honors and A.P. classes. Yes, we have weaker students, and we must lead them to strive, too, by offering them a solid college preparatory program. In the end, we are not a country club, but an interesting amalgam of the "everybody,"  united by a common faith and mission.  Let us proudly proclaim it!

The Case for Small Catholic Schools

Small Catholic schools are under duress. Of the many thousands of Catholic schools which have closed in the U.S. since 1965, most are of the smaller variety--less than 300-400 students. The reasons are many: lay teachers cost more than the nuns of yesteryear, city demographics have changed, leaving schools in once thriving areas orphaned from their socio-economic base, and the priority of passing on the faith has weakened among many middle class Catholic families. 

That's a shame. 

The evidence is pretty clear: Small schools out-perform larger schools on a variety of fronts. Though one can never apply general principles to every specific school, on average, smaller schools have better academic results, lower drop-out rates, less behavior problems and higher rates of student participation in extra-curricular activities. For a kind of layman’s summary of the research, go here. 

Advocates for larger schools usually make two arguments in response. The first is that larger schools are much more economically efficient. The second is the smaller Catholic schools don’t expose students to the diversity of thought, cultures and opinions typical of the much larger public elementary school.

I want to address both of these. 

There is no question that if we measure efficiency by input variables alone, bigger is better. Building a school that houses 1200 students is much cheaper than building three distinct schools with 400 students in each, and it’s much cheaper to operate as well. One cafeteria, not five, a single library, the same athletic facilities—all significantly larger, yes—but building one and not three is cheaper in the net. And operationally, funding a single administrative team, a single development office, a single admissions office, counseling office, etc. costs less. 

All this makes sense to us—we see these same efficiencies at work at Walmart. But before we too quickly buy into the “walmartization” of our schools, we must look at output variables, too: How do we weigh the lower costs of large schools against the better outcomes of smaller schools? One innovative way to do so is “cost per graduate.” Looking at high schools as an example: Because drop-out rates are higher for larger schools than smaller ones, researchers at New York University looked at 128 high schools and determined that whereas costs per pupil were about $1400 higher in smaller schools, the costs per graduate were virtually equal. Further, if one factors in the social costs of a higher drop out rates in terms of health, getting a job, chances of being on welfare, chances of going to prison, and other the quality of life indicators, larger schools become more expensive in the long term. For more research on the “Dollars and Sense: The Cost Effectiveness of Small Schools, go here. 

The second criticism of small schools is they don’t expose students to the same diversity of thought and cultures of larger public schools. In this line of thinking, students from public schools have a head start in competing in the "real world" than those who have been cloistered by the smaller Catholic school. 

But G.K. Chesterton, a Christian apologist and author, challenged that notion. Writing over one hundred years ago about the virtues of smaller communities, he says something I believe is highly relevant to the school discussion today: 

It is not fashionable to say much nowadays of the advantages of the small community. We are told that we must go in for large empires and large ideas. There is one advantage, however, in the small state, the city, or the village, which only the willfully blind can overlook. The man who lives in a small community lives in a much larger world. He knows much more of the fierce varieties and uncompromising divergences of men. The reason is obvious. In a large community we can choose our companions. In a small community our companions are chosen for us. Thus in all extensive and highly civilized societies groups come into existence founded upon what is called sympathy, and shut out the real world more sharply than the gates of a monastery. There is nothing really narrow about the clan; the thing which is really narrow is the clique. The men of the clan live together because they all wear the same tartan or are all descended from the same sacred cow; but in their souls, by the divine luck of things, there will always be more colors than in any tartan. But the men of the clique live together because they have the same kind of soul, and their narrowness is a narrowness of spiritual coherence and contentment, like that which exists in hell. A big society exists in order to form cliques. A big society is a society for the promotion of narrowness. It is a machinery for the purpose of guarding the solitary and sensitive individual from all experience of the bitter and bracing human compromises. (G.K. Chesterton, Heretics, #14, 1905)

Reading Chesterton, I was reminded of a recent conversation I had with graduating 8th grade girls from St. Patrick School —a K-8 Catholic school of approximately 150 students in Robertsdale, Al.  I asked if they were excited to be “moving on" to the new high school where I am principal. As one might suspect, they were looking forward to it!  But one girl’s response was both endearing and telling: “We’re excited, yes, but we’re a little sad, too. You know, we’re like brothers and sisters here at St. Patrick-- and we've fought like brothers and sisters all these years, too!--but we've always worked it out. Even though most of us will be in high school together, it won't be the same, and I think we're going to miss that." 

What a beautiful testimony of a young girl that makes Chesterton’s point exactly. In very large schools, we can pick friends who are like minded, who share our socio-economic status, our likes and dislikes, our world view. We need not concern ourselves with those outside this worldview, even if such people are all around us. But in smaller schools, we don’t get to choose our companions--they are chosen for us--and the colors of  living and growing together —Chesterton would likely call it the adventure—occur when we must learn to get along, just like brothers and sisters of a family. 

Rather than shutting down smaller Catholic schools then, and creating bigger, regional schools, we need to be more creative about exploring models that allow some of the administration of the schools to be regionalized (long term strategic initiatives, development, admissions efforts, financial aid programs, fund-raising) while encouraging the individual schools to exist and thrive in their important ministry. We did such a thing in Montgomery, Al in 2005 with very positive results. I've discussed other possibilities here and here. 

In addition, as leaders in Catholic schools, we need to readjust our perspective about what we often project as a weakness (our size, our need for more students), and instead promote it as a strength, something akin to the martial arts of jujutsu. In jujutsu, the aim is for a smaller opponent to manipulate the opponent's force and momentum against himself, taking advantage of the fact the smaller party is likely more agile and quick. In large schools, students often become anonymous. In contrast, we need to proudly discuss the advantages of our smaller size noted in this article, to talk about family, to tell parents that our schools are places where "everybody knows their child's name," and where he or she will be known and loved!    Though as Americans we're weirdly fascinated by "bigness," the truth is,  when it comes to placing our kids in a school,  what we desire most of all is that they are places that love our children!  

Let's Quit Saying Parents are "Sacrificing" to Send Their Kids to Our Schools!

Language matters, and over time, it shapes our thinking. That’s why I advocate that we ditch using “sacrifice” to describe what parents do when they send their children to Catholic schools. “Sacrifice,” in simplest terms, means “to sell at a loss” or to “give up something.” If we tell parents they are “sacrificing” to send their children to us, we are telling them, literally, that they are doing charitable work to send us their kids, when in fact, they are doing exactly the opposite: they are INVESTING in our schools for something of great value for their children. 

Do we praise parents for their “sacrifice” in purchasing a nice home for their families? Do we extol parents for “sacrificing” to buy their kids a car? Do we thank families for “sacrificing” to take their families on vacation? Of course not. These are value propositions. We judge homes, cars and vacations as worthy of our money.

By using the language of “sacrifice” we unwittingly devalue our schools, projecting ourselves as weak and puny, beggars for our parent's charity. Here, instead, is our value proposition:

Catholic schools provide a first-tier education for their children, within the context of a joyful, practicing community of faith.  

 

Catholic schools help students discern God’s will for their lives, which leads to their life-long happiness.

Catholic schools help kids get to heaven!

The truth is, paying to send their children to our schools is the best investment a parent can ever make! 

Let’s get our swagger back! 

Difficult Meetings with Parents, part II

(In my previous post, I suggested a process when we respond to parents if they contact us concerning grievances, or concerns about how a particular teacher has handled their child. In this post, I take up the situation when we as principals must contact parents to meet about a serious disciplinary incident, including the possibility of expulsion. )

What if WE must be the initiators of really bad news with parents? 

FIRST, long before involving the parents, we must establish the facts. I can’t emphasize how important this is, to keep the future meeting with parents from becoming an “us vs. them” match or a “he said —she said.”  If we walk into a meeting with a disputed set of facts, the meeting will go poorly. I guarantee it. 

If we receive information from another source, we should get as many facts as possible from that source. If that source is a secondary one, we should press that person for as many details as we can, then get to the primary source. When did this happen? Where? How many kids were there? Were there any adults around? Can they confirm?  Did a faculty member see something? Has it been discussed on social media? What are other kids saying? If it’s marijuana, where did her or she get it? From another student? Off-campus? How much did they obtain? We should press for every detail. 

We should also consider if it's a school matter, or if it's a matter properly handled by parents. If it's more a parent matter, then we can go lighter on the "hard press" for truth. I don't wash my hands of it, as I want to pass on to parents what I know for the sake of their child, but if I am leaving it in their hands, then I don't need to reconcile differences or inconsistencies--rather, my role is to point those out and then leave it with them. I believe it's our responsibility to alert parents of any matter involving the health and safety of their child. But if it's not a school matter--if it happened off campus and the school's name is not involved--we alert the parents and leave it for them to handle, offering our support to them if they ask for it. 

SECOND, assuming it's a school matter, I recommend we meet with the child, alone. We should tell him or her that “we’ve received some concerning information that we must act on, but before we do so, we need to treat them like adults, let them know what's going on,  and give them the opportunity to tell us the truth.”  If it’s not a question of expulsion, we should promise him or her that if he or she is honest, our discipline will be more lenient, though we’ll have to do something (and we must be true to our word!). In this meeting, before we begin to ask questions, we should tell assure him or her that we will not ask them for information about who else was involved,  but that we will ask them to be truthful about themselves. Teenagers appreciate not being forced to “rat out” their friends. And truth is, we should be able to figure out other folks involved without asking them to do so. The one exception: If the issue is drugs, I will insist the child tell me who the dealer is. That’s a question of the health and safety of the student body.  

If the child is evasive, we’ll need to be clever—perhaps even detective-like. We should drip out a single fact and ask the student to explain, never letting him or her know how many more facts we have or don't have.  In the case of a group incident, we can’t give the culprits a chance to “get their stories straight.” The thing about lying is it takes a lot of effort to keep stories consistent, and the orchestrator of the lie must predict the questions we might ask. So I ask unpredictable questions!  Two kids once came late to  school, claiming they had “gone to Hardees for breakfast together, but their car broke down. “ I suspected they were simply skipping morning classes. “What did each of you have for breakfast at Hardees?”  "How much did it cost?" "Who ate more?" I asked them a lot of questions like that, separately. They claimed they didn’t remember. “Of course you do—if you really just ate there.” I replied. So they guessed, but their partner in crime guessed differently. Turned out the “Hardees” cover wasn’t sustainable.

Once we’re begun an investigation, we must keep all parties separate, with no phone text access. 

The aim is to get the kid to admit to something, even if he or  deliberately downplays the extent his involvement. He only smoked one joint. She had just one beer. Once the foot is in the door, we can press for more.  If we can’t establish a reliable set of facts, then we should stop and pursue more leads. Otherwise, the most we are going to be say to the parent is that we have a  “troubling rumor that we cannot confirm, but that we cannot keep from you as parents.”  

THIRD, once the child admits his or her role, we should have the child call the parent over their cell phone while in our office,  to explain what he or she has done (parents almost always answer their kid’s cell call).  Let the parent interrogate the child to get the facts, or perhaps vent. We want to make sure the kid has told the parent everything. THEN, we get on the phone to schedule the meeting. 

FOURTH, for the meeting,  I suggest we meet only with the parents at first. The purpose is to seek out a kind of common ground so that when we bring the kid into the meeting, the school and parent can speak in “one voice.”  I find that when the student is there from the beginning, a parent sees himself or herself as the child’s “advocate” against the school. I am trying to establish the opposite relationship—that the parents and school are allied together and agree the child’s behavior is unacceptable. 

I usually ask the parent to repeat what the child told him or her about the incident, and then add any missing details thereafter.  It's important we're talking about the same thing! I ask him or her to tell me what the conversation was between the two of them at home about the incident.  I am trying to do several things with these questions: First, to empower the parent as an important person in this discussion. Second, I want to measure the level of “buy-in” the parent has with the school as to the seriousness of the event. Because I want us to speak in one voice, if I feel the parent is not quite with me, I may be willing to (privately) modify my final judgment—what I might have reasoned was a three day suspension, for example, I might modify to a two day if I think that can bring along the parent to the side of the school. I know many of my peers disagree with me on this, but I believe it’s crucial to try and establish a common ground. Otherwise, as soon as they get to the car, out of earshot, the parent will say (best case) “Yeah, they really went after you. but we’ll have to live with it.” Worst case? Well, let’s just say whatever chance this incident had to reset the trajectory of this kid’s life is zero.

FIFTH, particularly in really serious cases—long suspensions or expulsions—we should tell the parent what we’re “leaning toward, but haven’t made a final decision about, as we understand how important this is for your child, and I want some time to think and pray about it. “ I also invite the parent to react to where I am “leaning.” The fact that my decision isn’t “final” gives the parent a chance to absorb the information and include his perspective in my considerations. And most parents appreciate the fact we’re willing to think more and pray about it!

SIXTH, we should invite the student into the meeting.  I usually reposition myself to sit next to the parent, facing the kid, so that the symbolism suggests we are both addressing the kid as one voice. If it's a possible expulsion, I tell them what I am considering,  but that I am going to take a day to think and pray about it. And this isn’t merely “technique!”—I really do pray about it after we meet, giving me a chance to reflect on the meeting and the incident through that lens. It also gives us a chance to end the meeting more cordially! I ask the child if there is anything he or she wishes to say at that moment, giving him the chance to make a last minute appeal.  We stand up, shake hands and I promise to contact the parent the next day, or Monday if the meeting is Friday. 

SEVENTH, if it’s going to be an expulsion, I must talk through the matter with our superintendent, per policy. I find this step to be helpful. We care about kids, and expulsions are serious and difficult for us, a heavy weight to carry. I  appreciate being able to share that weight with someone else.

EIGHTH, I email the parent the final decision. I don’t “justify” it in writing; the written justification will sound too trite to bring any consolation, and could be used against us. We have already reviewed the issues face to face. We’ve given both the parent and the child a chance to make their argument, and we’ve all had time to reflect and pray. I will not engage in an email argument post hoc. Time to move on.  In the event of an expulsion, I sometimes give the parent the opportunity to withdraw the child for “personal” or “family” reasons so that “expulsion” is not on the child’s permanent record. This softens the sting some.They must write me a letter to this effect, which also has the effect of minimizing the chance of legal action. I would not make this offer, however, if I believe the child could be a threat to the health and safety of students in other schools.  

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Why do all this?

It's tempting to look away, especially if the incident in question occurs outside the school "walls." But our mission is the moral and spiritual formation of our students, first and foremost, and these are important moments where if parents and school are in agreement,  we can affect really positive change in our kids' lives.  Even if the matter is purely a parent matter, if we come across information they should know, I think it's our responsibility is to give them the best information we can. 

There are times,  alas, when we simply can’t get to a place where the school and the parents agree. In these circumstances.  I am apt to say: “My wife and I raised four children, and we love them dearly. But there were times when WE didn’t agree about the best way to discipline them. But we never doubted that each of us wasn’t trying to do what’s best for them.  So it is, some times, between schools and parents. We both want what’s best for this child, but disagree, in this case, how best to handle the situation. In such cases, it's a question of whose decision it is, and supporting each other in our roles.  Despite our disagreement, I hope you know I am trying to do what is best for your child from the perspective of my role as principal, just as I am sure you're acting for your child's best interest as parent. “

Difficult Meetings With Parents, part I