The President-Principal Model: My Thoughts

In the decade of the 1990’s, the “President-Principal” model became the dominant leadership model for mid to large Catholic diocesan schools across the country. Though each school varies a bit,  in general, the President is the “Chief Executive Officer” of the school, responsible for financial affairs, long term planning and external relationships (alumni, publications, marketing), whereas the Principal is the “Chief Operations Officer” responsible for day to day operations, the hiring and supervision of teachers, student discipline, and meeting the needs of the students and their families.

From 1989 until 2001, I served as “principal” in this model at Montgomery Catholic High School with Dr. Tom Doyle, president. When he left to become the academic director of the Alliance for Catholic Education at Notre Dame in 2001, I became the “president” of The school and served in that role until 2008. I then moved to Pope John Paul II just north of Nashville, partly because I was ready for a change from the model. Here I am “headmaster” and share leadership with a number of “assistant principal” level persons, whom we call “Deans” or “Directors.”

As a person who has held both principal and president roles for a significant period of time and who is now the single leader of a school,  I think I can offer "insider" insights on the strengths and weaknesses of the model, at least from my point of view. 

The breadth of skills and talents required to lead a successful Catholic high school is daunting. Principals are expected to be curricular experts, human resource professionals, financial wizards, strategic thinkers, public speakers, counselors, fund-raisers, marketers, and super-athletic directors (because it’s not likely that all athletic issues can be resolved at the A.D. level). At the same time, people feel best about principals when they see them in the parking lot before school, or when they're in classrooms, or when they're at the majority of the school’s athletic contests and fine arts concerts. Parents expect principals to know them by name and know their children personally. 

Adding to the challenge is the likelihood that the principal became principal through the ranks of teaching, with training and expertise in history, English, Math or Science (or in my case, Theology), but without formal training in development, management, finances or law.

Thus the logic of dividing leadership into two distinct roles is impeccable: Let the president be primarily the businessman whereas the principal can be primarily the educator.  Let the president think about the future, whereas the principal can focus on the present. Let the president serve the constituency outside the school, while the principal serves the constituency inside.

Savvy readers will object at this point: “Wait, you’ve drawn those distinctions too tightly. Shouldn’t the president have an understanding of the curricula of a high school, too, rather than be simply a businessman? Shouldn’t he be involved in creation of the policies and have relationships with the faculty?  And shouldn’t a principal also be a long-term thinker and a fund-raiser and care about the external constituency of the school?”

Yes! And that’s where problems develop in what is theoretically a good division of labor.  In fact, most of the excellent presidents I’ve ever met were first excellent principals. They trained originally as teachers, then became principals, and eventually became presidents. They had, at least originally, the same lack of training and skill sets in finance and fund-raising that most first time principals have. On the plus side, this means presidents typically understand teenagers, the curricula and the culture of high schools in a way that makes their leadership wise and authentic.  On the negative side, they have the same burden of learning these "M.B.A. skills" on the go like anyone else.

So I believe what one will find in most successful president-principal arrangements is not necessarily different natural skill sets. That’s not even the best argument for the president-principal model. Rather, the argument is one of both time and experience—time, because by dividing jobs, each has the time to do the disparate jobs more thoroughly than a single person, and experience, because usually the president is a veteran of Catholic schools and has learned things along the way which he or she can pass on to the (usually) less experienced principal.

I don’t want to trivialize those advantages.  A president who was first a principal can indeed mentor a young principal in an authentic, integral way. Such was my case when Dr. Doyle hired me as principal when I was only 27. I was too young to even know what I didn’t know. But as new situations came across my desk, I was able to walk across the hall, talk privately with him and receive excellent advice. And for sure, it was great not to have to worry about tuition, budget, operational expenses or long range planning during those early years; truthfully, I was simply treading water, taking in occasional gulps of water, trying not to drown!

But there are also problems with the president-principal model.

First, as I have noted, most schools end up with two people who have the same natural skill sets and proclivities. Often that tempts both leaders to dabble in the other’s realm, creating conflict between the two. Frequent communication, and even friendship, is essential to the model.

Second, while mentoring is an advantage in the model, it’s expensive for a school to hire two leaders and pay market rates for both! Hiring subordinate staff, like a school business manager, is cheaper. And if the school hires well, many of these staff members can learn the job of principal as they go.  A Dean of Students or Athletic Director can learn a lot about conflict resolution, handling parents and supervising staff without the school needing to pay them as principals.

Most importantly, if the lines are drawn too tightly between principal and president, the president’s job is often unsatisfying. Most Catholic school presidents take on the duties of president to serve his or her school more effectively—not because these duties are inherently attractive to him or her.  There was a reason they majored in history, or Math, or Science, but not Business! As C.E.O., the principal-turned-president often loses day to day contact with kids and their families, narrowing the breadth and depth of relationships that sustain a principal when a principals’ job turns unpleasant: an expulsion hearing, or firing a teacher, or simply wading through the paper-work. For sure, a good president builds different relationships—with alumni, with major donors, with key constituencies—but these relationships are more fleeting and less “authentic” than those formed by helping parents raise their kids through their formative years. 

That was my experience, in any case. In 2001 when I became president of Montgomery Catholic, we began a major capital drive to build a middle school for grades 7-8, then changed two K-8 elementary schools into K-6 schools, and merged all of the institutions into one entity called “Montgomery Catholic Preparatory School.” Except for the fact I insisted upon teaching one class of senior theology, most of my time was taken up raising money, or talking to Boards, parish councils or pastors, or putting into place a centralized financial office. We were successful in those changes, and I am proud of what we accomplished, but by the end of my 5^th year, I felt like I was losing the deep, intimate connection with the families I had known and served for so many years. Those relationships made all the difference!

So in the middle of my seventh year as president, I proposed to our Board that we merge the two positions together for a time and that I hire a business manager to manage the school finances. I was successful as president and willing to continue, but I needed the connection more typical of the principal’s position. Half the Board agreed, whereas the other half did not, so rather than become cause for controversy, I decided to look for a new school that didn’t have the president-principal model, which led me to Pope John Paul II High School. 

After six years at JPII, I feel (for sure) some of the challenge of my “both-and” roles as headmaster of the school.  In my first evaluation, the Board wanted me to be in the hallways more often, while being seen more around town. I’ve adjusted by hiring (for the first time in my 25 year career), a full time executive assistant. I have six “assistant principal-like” leaders to run the day-to-day operations, including a Dean of Studies, Dean of Students, Director of Finance and Operations, Athletic Director, Admissions Director and Dean of Advancement.  These people give me enormous flexibility and allow me to be involved in the day-to-day life of the school.

Even so, the president-principal model remains the most dominant model for mid-size to large Catholic secondary schools. Were I to counsel presidents and principals, I would counsel them not to draw the job descriptions too tightly. For sure, the president aims outward, but a school's external reputation is a function of what's going on inside. For sure, a principal aims to the day to day, but those daily decisions have communal impact. For this reason, better to define the president's role as "outside-in" and the principal's role as "inside-out" to recognize both must collaborate frequently on roles. Because there is so much cross-over,  friendship is key. 

New Wine into Old Wineskins: Renewing and Re-Presenting Our Schools

In an earlier article, I discussed how I thought it was possible for a diocesan Catholic high school to also be a "prep" school, despite tensions between the two models. In that article, I looked at the four lynchpin issues of access, cost, academic program and faith that would be the likely "trouble-spots" in the melding of those two models.

In this article, I want to focus on how a Catholic school may present itself as a prep school to its constituents in terms of the kind of programs it offers, its market presence in the community, and small steps an existing Catholic high school might take to "re-present" itself, pouring new wine into old wineskins.

1) Begin with new, elevated ways to discuss the school and its mission, steering clear of tired cliches such as "body, mind, spirit" constructions. I've written more about this here and here. I think that too many of us working in Catholic schools underestimate the power and importance of what we do in discussions with others, and we need to speak about the transformative power of our school with audacious optimism and enthusiasm.

2) Consider renaming the principal of the school as "headmaster" or "head of school" and the assistant principals as "deans." When I came to JPII after nineteen years as "principal" and "president" of a diocesan Catholic school, I almost choked on my new title as "headmaster." It sounded too snobbish or preppy. In fact, the first year of my tenure, I introduced myself as "principal" reflexively, until the president of our Board finally took me aside and told me, "You were hired as the school's headmaster, not principal, and that title is important to us. We want to create a market distinction with other diocesan high schools, and language matters." Reluctantly, I have come to realize he was right--that small changes in language, costing the school nothing in terms of advertising dollars, can slowly re-position the school in the marketplace, elevating the school's image and distinctiveness. Language does matter.

3) Look "across the pond" for ideas. JPII has a sister school relationship with St. Edmund in England--we send about 15 students from our school to live with their families for three weeks, and they send theirs to live with our families. As I have written earlier, it's a wonderful way to establish a cheap, meaningful international program. But to the point of this article, I have also been fascinated by some of the practices of the British independent schools, a few of which we've adopted:

• The creation of "Houses" as a way of building internal school communities. Yes, think Harry Potter, minus dorm living. New students and faculty and staff are "sorted" into one of six "Houses" (we name them after popes, consistent with our school name), with one "Housemaster" (a faculty member),  100 students and six or seven teachers/staff as "advisors". All social life of the school is built around the House System. We play "House games" once/semester in which school closes down at lunch and kids participate in a variety of games. We have can food drive contests between Houses, "penny-wars," and all sorts of other things, with each House earning points for the "House Cup" announced in April. The kids love it. 

• As part of the "House" system, all students are grouped into "advisories" consisting of 15-16 students each. "Advisors" (the British call them "tutors") meet with their students a minimum of once/week to check up on how they're doing. Each advisory group is comprised of roughly four students from each grade level,  and the same group stays together during their four years, +/- the outgoing seniors and incoming new students. In this way, the advisor builds a long term relationship with his or her students, and we are able to build in a layer of pastoral care for all students on an ongoing basis. 

• "Assemblies" as part of the school schedule. Twice a week, our school assembles in the school auditorium for about 20 minutes. On Mondays, I have a 3-5 minute "assembly address" and lead the assembly, whereas on Fridays, the student body president is in charge. The last five minutes of both, students and teachers come to the stage to make announcements for their club or athletic team (which, incidentally, solves the "problem" of announcements in the afternoon that no one ever listens to). These assemblies give our school a common life and identity which are important for building the culture of the school. 

Advocacy Begins With Us

History credits Theodore Roosevelt as first to recognize the “bully pulpit” potential of the presidency—the idea that the office garnered so much press and attention that he could use it effectively to build coalitions of public support for his ideas, support which he could then leverage with Congress to pass legislation against the various entrenched monopolies and trusts he so famously challenged.

I am convinced as leaders of Catholic education, we too have a kind of “bully pulpit” within our dioceses and townships—and even within our own parent community—to talk about the transformational difference our schools make in the life of our kids--and to advocate for more students, more donations and more diocesan support.

But we don’t use this pulpit enough.

Part of the problem is we don’t create enough opportunities for us to speak to our constituencies. When was I first hired as JPII’s headmaster, I learned that all the students met twice a week for “assembly” and that the headmaster gave an “address” to the students as part of that. I had been principal or president for nineteen years, but had never presumed to speak to students on a regular basis—only at special events or after ad hoc meetings after a pep rally or a school mass.  “What do you talk about?” I asked my predecessor, a bit skeptical.  “I like to tell the narrative of the school,” he said, cryptically.

Honestly, I thought that was a little nutty, but I had vowed as the new principal to accept the traditions and policies of the school as they were handed to me before beginning to put my own mark on the school in my second year. So I gave a 3-5 minute “assembly address” to students every Monday, convinced early on that I would punt that tradition in my second year and give the minutes back to classroom teachers for additional instructional time.

But six years later, I am still giving assembly addresses once a week.   I have found they provide a powerful opportunity for me to set the tone for the school—to discuss my perspectives on events in the news, or what happened at last night’s basketball game, or something the pope said recently. The four-year cumulative effect, I believe, has impact on the way our kids think about things, and gives them a vocabulary and perspective about the way they talk about themselves and about our school.  I even post my addresses, now, on my Catholic Educator blog, and send a link to parents if they’re interested in reading them. Roughly 150-200 parents read my remarks each week.

They understand all this in Britain—English headmasters have been giving assembly addresses for centuries. Perhaps it’s that the British have more faith in the power of words to shape attitudes and move people to action than we in America, who have become cynical of speeches in light of the puffery and demagoguery of politics or marketing. But I think we could learn a lot from the British here—we can’t trust that words matter unless we commit to using them thoughtfully and consistently to build up our school and our students.

But it’s not only that we don’t create enough opportunities to speak. It’s also that we don’t use the opportunities we DO have already.

I believe that we as principals should speak at every PTO meeting, and every pep rally, and every public event, if only for a few minutes, ideally to tell a story about something that happened in the life of the school and to remind everyone of our mission and the good work our school does for kids. I think also we should work hard to ramp up our language and vocabulary about our noble purpose, as I have written about earlier here. 

A week before the graduation of her younger son, a mother of two well known athletes in our community came to see me. “I am here to thank you for what this school has done for my boys,” she said, choking back tears. “They’re not only going to college on athletic scholarships, but they’re both going to schools which are excellent academic institutions where I know they’ll be graduating with a degree that means something. I am proud of the young men they’re becoming, and this school had a lot to do with that.”

Those are the kinds of stories we as principals must seek out, tell, and retell over and over in our communities, using the “bully pulpit” of our position to shape how people think about us and talk about us. 

If we don’t tell the good news about our school, we can guess with near certainty that someone will fill the vacuum with bad news.

Lessons from Notre Dame on Marketing

I should begin with a disclaimer.  I have two degrees from Notre Dame. Three of my children have attended there, as well as my son in law and daughter in law. Suffice it to say I am a fan.

Even so, I believe Notre Dame's "What would you fight for?" videos are exceptional advertisements and among the best of any university in the country.  Here are a couple in the series that have been airing on NBC during home football games these last few years: 

 

Each of these commercials  follows the same script (you can find the whole series here): A problem is identified, often with a global theme. Then, a Notre Dame student or professor is featured who is working on the problem in some sort of significant, poignant way. And then the wrap up question: "Notre Dame asks: What would YOU fight for?" Fighting to build bridges (or for clean water, against tuberculosis, etc.)" says a student or professor. "We are... the fighting Irish!"

What is compelling about these commercials? Aside from their high production value, I believe the answer is simple. If you look at how most universities market themselves, they point all the arrows inward toward themselves: "Look how many national merit finalists we have."  "Look at this innovative program we offer." "Look at how much fun our kids have. " " Look at our beautiful campus."  "Look at the success of our athletic programs. " "Look at us!"

Yawn.

By contrast, the Notre Dame commercials consistently point the arrow outward. They focus on a problem outside of the university, but then feature how Notre Dame is working to solve this problem for others. The focus is not on how great the university's programs are, but on how the university "commissions" its students and faculty to make a positive difference in this world.

I believe this altruistic, outward emphasis resonates more deeply with the viewer, first of all because it taps into a general desire in all of us to do noble things with our lives.  We are at our best when we serve others and happiest when we do so. 

Second, by focusing on the mission of the university rather than its assets, the commercials avoid the self-serving "feel" of a commercial and instead issue a challenge to the viewer to do something great with their lives: What would YOU fight for? How does YOUR life matter? What can YOU be doing to make a difference in other person's lives? "Come to a university so that your life will matter for others" is the compelling message.

I think there's a lesson for us who work in Catholic schools. If we try to go toe to toe with our private school competitors by focusing on the school's assets (our accomplishments, our academic programs, our facilities, our various extra-curricular offerings) -- if the arrows are pointing inward-- we are not likely playing to our strengths, especially if other schools are wealthier and charge much more for tuition. But even if we are among the fortunate few Catholic schools that CAN compete on that level, it's not a terribly compelling story that draws others in. Everybody's saying the same thing: Insert school, insert program features, insert invitation to join the "club" and have these things, too.

But if our focus is outward, if we focus on our mission and the difference our students are making in the lives of others, we can tell a powerful story that attracts others to join us. Thinking along these lines, we've adopted the tagline "Faith leads us beyond ourselves," a quote from our namesake, JPII, speaking from Camden Yards in Baltimore, MD on one of his visits to the United States. That motto has helped us stay mission focused in how we talk about ourselves to others.

This last Saturday, one of our Houses, the House of Pius, hosted a 5K run that drew over 270 people and raised over $5000. The proceeds will be given to the Jason Foundation, which works with teenagers for the purpose of suicide prevention. We're working on a story that features pictures of the event and includes interviews with participants, faculty sponsors and representatives of the Jason Foundation about the good work they do.

Not only are these stories more compelling, they remind us in Catholic schools of what we're all about. 

Catholic "Prep"

A few years ago, we asked an advertising firm to conduct a series of small focus group sessions in the local churches, asking parishioners how they regarded our school as a first step in helping us sharpen our message. One comment from a participant in a local Catholic parish jumped out at me: “JPII needs to make up its mind: is it a prep school or a Catholic school?”

I understand the sentiment:  Traditionally, diocesan schools are broadly inclusive of a range of students both intellectually and socio-economically, whereas prep schools are typically exclusive: a function of costly tuitions and demanding admissions standards.  But we don’t believe it must be an “either-or.”  It’s been the on-going project of Pope John Paul II High School in Hendersonville, TN to create a “both-and” school since we opened in 2002.    

Is it truly possible for a diocesan high school to be both "Catholic" and "Prep"? I'd like to explain how we've tried to do that by  focusing on four lynchpin issues: access, tuitions, academic program and faith. 

I. Access

As a diocesan school, we are in service to the Church and its families. Regarding admission policies, then, we must accept a broader diversity of students than a traditional private school, recognizing, with James Joyce,  that the Catholic Church is the “here comes everybody” church.

But the responsibility to serve “everybody” doesn't fall exclusively on the high school. Long before formal schooling begins, it rests on the parents as “primary educators” to foster curiosity and a good disposition to learning.  It falls on Catholic elementary schools to help students acquire the requisite skill sets and habits of mind for more advanced work, holding students accountable and remediating where necessary. It falls on the broader Church, through generous subsidies, to support Catholic schools and to sustain the commitment of excellent teachers.

If a young man or woman applies to our school without these requisite attitudes or skill sets, we do not necessarily betray our mission if we conclude we cannot accept him or her. We are a "college preparatory school," we say, and that's more than a marketing pitch. The critical question is: Can the child be brought to a college preparatory level over the course of his or her four years within the scope of resources our school provides? I believe we should make that assessment generously, but sometimes the honest answer is "no" --a reflection of the brokenness of that child’s prior schooling or training.   

Some diocesan high schools assume the extraordinary task of fixing this “brokenness” by offering students a remedial track with lower student-teacher ratios, tutors and a separate curriculum. I applaud these schools, but don’t believe it is prudent to expect that all Catholic schools assume such a burden. The cost of getting these students to college readiness levels---especially when it’s likely the conditions that contributed to their existing state persist—require enormous resources beyond all but the wealthiest Catholic schools.  There’s a reason, after all, that schools which specialize in teaching kids with learning disabilities often charge thirty to forty thousand dollars a year!  If serving this minority forces the school to charge tuitions that stretch beyond the majority's ability to pay, we risk becoming a school that is only capable of serving the very wealthy.

Let’s move beyond abstractions to where the rubber meets the road: admissions cut-offs. JPII generally accepts students in the fortieth to sixtieth percentile or above as a matter of course, providing them with the option to pursue their studies in a “standard,” non-honors curriculum at one end, while offering an honors and A.P. curriculum at the top end.  Why 40-60? By definition, it’s dead average, and it’s hard for me to see how a school established by a diocese can exclude an “average” kid. 

But what about students who test below average? It’s a matter of degree, but generally what we look for in a “below average” applicant is an “above average” set of parents or an “above average” work ethic on the child’s part to compensate. We know that child will struggle, and without strong parents or an unusually strong work ethic, he or she will usually do poorly at JPII.  If we judge that the parents are truly able and willing to support their child at home and work as a team with teachers in the school, our experience is that a weaker student can succeed here, and we would readily accept that child. I admit those judgments are subjective, but that’s why we interview our applicants with their parents and also ask for report cards and teacher recommendations.

How far down the continuum might we go?  It matters if the student is Catholic or not.  As part of our primary mission, we stretch much further to include Catholic children. Still, there does come a point we cannot fix the brokenness that is evident in a child’s training and must deny acceptance. Over the years, we’ve certainly made the mistake of accepting kids who weren’t capable, a mistake which contributes to kids, parents and teachers becoming quite frustrated, and almost always, a mistake that ends with a sad parting. We may want to help every kid; in reality, we don’t have the program to do it.

II. Costs

Many “prep” schools use high tuitions as the gate through which they filter undesirable students and families, promoting an aura of exclusivity.  Most of those additional monies go into smaller class sizes of 14-15 students that the school then promotes in its literature as a justification of its high cost. The truth is there is no significant difference in educational outcomes in classrooms of fifteen students compared to classrooms of 20-22 students, so at JPII, we aim for an average of twenty. My own experience, confirmed by many veteran teachers, is that classroom dynamics don’t truly change until the 24-25 student mark, meaning there’s a large window to contain costs for Catholic schools interested in keeping tuitions lower, so as to widen access without diminishing the academic program.

But that logic can go too far. Many Catholic schools in this country are obscenely underpriced, a residual of the era in which nuns worked in our schools for virtually nothing. Veteran teachers in these schools have salaries in the high 20/low 30K range, whereas their advanced degrees and people skills would command starting salaries that are double or triple that in the corporate world.  While I am humbled by the vocational commitment of these heroic men and women,  I don’t believe underpaying our teachers is a template for long-term, sustained excellence. A great teacher may want to work for a Catholic school because he or she believes in our mission, but if the public or private school is paying ten or fifteen thousand dollars more per year, there are bills to pay and children to feed. The free market wins over time.

Being the lowest priced school in town is also problematic for this reason: Price drives perception of quality.  Would we feel better or worse if we found out that our surgeon charged half the cost of the other surgeons around town? By charging the least, we position ourselves as the “K-Mart” of educational options, undermining whatever monies or time we spend in marketing.

What then do I propose? Every market is different. But, since monies can be saved through adjusting class sizes without hurting outcomes, I believe diocesan Catholic schools that aim tuition at the middle of the market can provide a top tier program that competes head to head with the wealthier privates. Our tuition at JPII is about $12,000 for a Catholic family, which in Nashville, is a middle position between the most expensive private schools that charge 20-22K, and local private Christian schools that charge 6-8K. 

Even so, I am aware that $12K is well beyond the means of many middle class Catholic families. The median household income in the United States is $50K, and it’s only marginally better in my area, somewhere between 58-60K.  I believe it’s a poor strategic move on a school’s part to keep tuitions artificially low in an attempt to meet the needs of these families.  Doing so subsidizes families who could otherwise pay much more. Rather, we do better to amp up our financial aid program, providing select families with what they need while collecting full freight from everyone else. Colleges have been doing this for years; over 80% of college students in the United States receive some sort of financial assistance. Not only does that keep a college’s tuitions high, positioning itself strategically in the market, but the college can also use financial aid as a tool to entice the most desirable students to its school. We could learn a lot from them. 

 III. Academic Program

If the school has structured its admissions and tuitions as I have described, we believe it’s entirely possible for a diocesan Catholic school to offer an elite academic program for its brightest students, even while offering a solid, college preparatory program for everyone else.  

Though some educators will disagree with me, we believe this “two track” system is crucial if a Catholic diocesan school truly aspires to offer an “upper-end” option.  We’d like top students to take somewhere in the neighborhood of 6-8 or more Advanced Placement classes during their career, and we really want to push them to excel. We’d also like to encourage kids on the “cusp” of having A.P. level abilities to stretch themselves and take a few A.P. courses in their areas of strength, believing that good schools create a healthy amount of angst for all of its students, pushing them to go beyond themselves.

Even so, we recognize that Advanced Placement programs are beyond the capabilities of some students.  That fact often has more to do with prior training and skills than intelligence: a young man may have a high I.Q., but if he isn’t facile with Algebra I or II then he cannot be expected to have success in A.P. Calculus BC. If his writing skills are marginal, he cannot succeed in A.P. English.  

Some schools, spurred by egalitarian ideals, believe that “tracking” leads to inequities in access to the school’s best teachers. I’ve seen examples where that’s true, but it doesn’t have to be. We try to avoid it at JPII by asking our A.P. teachers to also teach classes in our standard program as part of their teaching load. That way, if our students score exceptionally well on the A.P. exams, parents of students in our standard program can be assured that the same teachers who spurred those top students to excellence are the ones teaching their children.  That’s important, especially if a school doesn’t want its reputation to drift toward “it’s only a good school for smart kids.” Such a reputation narrows the market for students, but even more importantly, it runs contrary to our diocesan mission to serve a broad range of students.

IV. Faith

Ultimately, the goal of all Catholic schools is to cooperate with God’s grace in the lives of their students to help them grow in faith, wisdom and charity. The acid test for a Catholic school is not the number of A.P. scholars or merit finalists, but the number of disciples it helps create over time. Even so, if a Catholic school is successful as an academic institution, it’s going to be a very attractive option for non-Catholic families who desire a first tier school for their children. At JPII, about  45% of our families are not Catholic. This presents a subtle temptation: should we downplay our Catholicity? Should we tailor our Catholic program toward the “least common denominator” between Catholics and our other Christian students in order to keep our “prep” image and appeal to the broadest market share?

No!

First, it would betray our Catholic mission. Our country is already awash in educational institutions that were originally founded with a religious charter that strayed from their roots and became secularized. If the “Catholic prep school” becomes just another “prep” school, it has lost its raison d'etre, not to mention its distinctiveness in the marketplace.

Second, our Catholic faith doesn’t require this false “either-or.” Ecumenism is a fundamental tenet of our self-understanding as Catholics, and the “outward-ness” that flows from our theology welcomes non-Catholics into our fold and values the contributions they make to our faith community. The surprising thing is that our non-Catholic parents often have less issues with our Catholicism than our Catholic parents! Non-Catholic parents expect the school to be Catholic, whereas the cleavages within our own faith are evident when “traditional” Catholics expect us to be more traditional and “progressive” Catholics expect us to be more progressive.  My response is that we aim to be neither “traditional” nor “progressive” but authentically Catholic, which means we want to expose students to the full scope of our tradition, from Marian devotions to social justice projects, from Gregorian chant to contemporary praise music.

So we are fundamentally Catholic in union with all of our students and families. Catholic theology classes are required of all students every year. We believe they should be intellectually rigorous if we don’t want the faith to become like “seed planted in shallow soil,” as often happens when religious training aims “more at sensation than sense,” to quote a former faculty member. We have a school-wide mass, including all teachers, students and staff, each Wednesday. We pray before school, before classes, before ball games, and before special events.  Occasionally we’ll have Eucharistic adoration, a reconciliation service or a Marian devotion in our gym. We have a Christian service requirement of all students, every year. Often the theme of my weekly addresses to students revolves around a biblical or a moral principle. We have divided our student body into six “houses” ala the British boarding school model, each named after an influential pope from our Church’s history. We have communion service as an option in our chapel before school begins each day. Our school is filled with Scripture quotes in hallways, gym and weight-room, as well as Christian imagery, statues and decorative displays—all for the purpose of reminding students who they are.  

As we see it, our mission as a Catholic high school is to be ourselves and welcome those who wish to join us. If we do that part well, there’s nothing wrong with also trying to be an outstanding “prep school”, too!