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!