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.  

——————-

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

Hiring a Coach: Five Questions

So here's an issue we often face as principals: We need to hire a coach. We also need him to teach in an academic discipline, such as Math, Science or English. Of course, we need him to be competitive, and to get the most out of our boys. And we need him to be fair, generous and forgiving of parents, who often lose perspective when their kids are involved. 

But there needs to be more scrutiny that that, right? I think so. Coaches have arguably the MOST influence in the school in shaping students’ attitudes about themselves, their school and their team-mates. If they’re good, they’ll be remembered with fondness twenty, thirty and forty years later, whereas the memory of even their best classroom teachers will fade into abstraction. 

If we want to create a Christian, optimistic culture in our schools, we better spend a lot of time hiring the right coaches.  I have five key things I want to find out through the interview and vetting process.

How do they measure success?

Many coaches judge success on the basis of wins and losses. In resumes, their overall coaching record is prominently displayed, or they are quick to point to the increasing # of wins they have each year in the same program. Look, I’m competitive! I like to win as much as the next person. But if we measure a boys’ basketball coach purely by wins vs. losses, we miss the far more important statistic: are his players better young men, having played for him? Do they have a better sense of self? Do they exhibit greater maturity? Have they grown in their faith? In the long run, these are the only things that matter. 

My son, who played football all throughout his life and is now 30, says he doesn’t remember the games or the scores. He remembers the bus rides, the bonding, the laughter in the locker room, the funny thing that a coach or player said. Will our student athletes look back with fondness and pride at being a teammate because of the culture this coach will create? 

When I was a younger man, I coached freshman basketball. One year, we were 16-0. I had a very athletic group of kids, and they were simply better than everyone else. The very next year, with a different group of kids, we were 0-16.  There wasn’t an athlete on that team! But I was much more “successful” with the winless team. Despite getting beat rather handily in many games, they dove for loose balls. They killed themselves to get back on defense. They ran suicides hard after practice. They worked on their foul shooting. They enjoyed each other’s company, without pretense.  On the flip side, my undefeated team realized half way through the season they were better than their opponents, and since we played each team twice, they quit working hard. Practices deteriorated. Attitudes worsened. I couldn’t wait for the season to end. I’d rate myself as a much more effective coach the season we were winless. 

We were blessed to hire Philip Rivers as our head football coach. Though he came to us after a long and exceptional career as QB in the NFL. he understands that high school coaching, to use his words,, “is much more important than football.” Where did he learn that? Not from the NFL, where the mantra is "Winning is everything!" It was his father Steve, who coached Philip in high school and is now in the Alabama High School Hall of Fame, despite never winning a state championship. “All of my trophies are in my desk drawers,” quips Steve, “in the letters I get from former players, who are now fathers, husbands, providers for their family, writing to tell me how grateful they are, how playing high school ball was so formative to their character.”

Exactly the point.

Second, how do they treat the kids? 

It isn’t about the coach!  Some guys, with egos the size of the Grand Canyon, forget this basic fact! Every action of a true coach is aimed at helping a kid grow up and helping the team win, so that they may celebrate together. They care more about kids as kids, and not just as players. 

I have no problem with coaching “hard.” I don’t agree with those who say a coach should never yell at a player—in cases where a kid is lazy, or selfish, or unsupportive of team-mates, it may well be appropriate to get his attention. But coaches inclined to coach hard must be even more magnanimous in their praise, looking for opportunities to build their kids up and help them stretch to become better people. 

I once hired such a fellow to coach middle school football. In his first game with us, one of his players got called for “unnecessary roughness” and a 15 yard penalty.  The coach called him to the sidelines, leaned down eye to eye, held his face-mask, and proceeded to give him a tough tongue-lashing, then walked away.  One of the mothers in the stands came up to me, upset. “I don’t think an adult should talk to our kids this way.”  My son had played for this coach, and I suspected what would happen next, so I said,  “Keep watching.” After a few moments of letting the kid “stew” in it, the coach walked back to the player, knelt down, put his arm around him, and had a silent conversation. You could see the boy nodding his head. Then, with a slap on the backside, the coach sent the boy back in the game. When the boy made a tackle a few players later, his coach was the first to high five him as he came to the sidelines. 

Third, are they good classroom teachers?

Because most coaches’ real passion is the sport they coach, most coaches aren’t good classroom teachers. If that sounds like a harsh generalization, so be it—that’s my experience in three decades of leading schools.  For too many, the teaching assignment  is a necessary “means to the end.”  There are exceptions to this generalization—pay them generously!  Do the coaches really see themselves as classroom teachers? It isn’t hard to tell. I once chided our head coach/math teacher because his voice mail said: “Hello, you’ve reached ___, the head football coach.” I asked him, to make the point,“What did he do the majority of the day with us?” “I teach Math,” he said, confused. “So you’re the math teacher AND the football coach here?” I said. “Just checking. You wouldn’t know it from your voice mail greeting.” 

Good teaching takes work. It takes good prep for classes, and frequent and timely feedback to students and their parents. When they come home from practice after a full day, they have every right to be tired. Yet there’s still work to do. They must be ready to go for tomorrow’s full slate of classes, and they must keep up with their grading. There’s no cutting corners. 

For this reason, where I can, I try to give head coaches one extra planning period during their season. I despise the notion that head coaches have no other classroom duties! I am not hiring monarchs! But, if I find a person I really want to hire for the sport but don’t believe he or she will be a good  teacher in an academic discipline, I will make them P.E. teachers. In one school I led,  I doubled the size of our P.E. program, prompting a department chair to complain: “He’s doubled the size of PE  but hasn’t added any academic teachers. He must care more about sports  than academics.” Actually, it’s the opposite. I refuse to prioritize the needs of our athletic program by filling important teaching positions with coaches who are only interested in their sport. 

I strongly disagree with scheduling coaches to teach the “lower” academic tracks, knowing that these students and their parents are less likely to complain about sub-par teaching. This is a pernicious practice,  but it is common. If anything, these students need our BEST, most committed, teachers! 

Fourth, how hard do they work?

I’ve learned you can’t “train” adults to have work ethic. If they cut corners, if they take days off, if they aren’t inclined to be looking at new ways to run the offense, or a new way to press, then it’s not likely they’re going to be successful as a coach. Competitiveness—the desire to get better and beat the other guy—is a great trait. It’s at the heart of sport. And usually, it drives people to work hard. 

I have little patience for coaches who imagine they can run the same offenses, year after year, regardless of their personnel. That simply smacks of laziness, just like the teacher who never rethinks or re-works his or her courses. When I talk to a prospect's references, I want to know their opinion of his or her work ethic, and I ask for specific examples as evidence.

Fifth, do they really believe in the mission of the school?

... or do they try to work around it?  I once hired a fella—a good guy—but he never really understood or bought into the academic mission of the school. He was raised in a different school system, and whether a student made a C, B or A was really inconsequential to him as long as he maintained eligibility. But as a result, he was consistently annoyed with teachers who gave make up tests after school, or offered to give students extra help after school. So his not so subtle message to his players: “You better not ever put yourself in the position where you must stay after school for extra help. If you come late, you’ll pay for it.” So his players—even those who truly needed the extra attention of a teacher—never dared to seek it out. Or they deliberately created an easy schedule so they’d never be challenged, so as to avoid the need for extra help. This coach didn’t last long—he was a clear misfit in our school. 

The next guy we hired saw the mission of the school as an asset. He believed that a school which demanded discipline and hard work helped shape kids with admirable work habits that transferred  into the weight room and onto the field.  Instead of swimming against the current by resisting the school’s mission, he swam with it, giving his program momentum and energy.  He’s still there, ten years later, successful and well respected.

I am sympathetic to the fact that coaches need their players at practice on time. For this reason, we start practices at 4 p.m., even though school lets out at 3:10, so as to avoid having athletes make “either-or” choices between tutoring and beginning practice on time. But I expect a lot of give and take between coaches and teachers for the sake of their kids—they need to talk with each other and not make the student the “rope” in the tug of war between them. 

Are they people of faith? The players will know instantly by their comportment, what they emphasize, their language and what they allow others to say, the kind of culture they create.  Given the enormous influence coaches have over their players, authenticity of faith is a non-negotiable. 

Must they be Catholic? I believe the “critical mass” of the faculty must be Catholic to form a Catholic culture in the school. So yes, I love to hire Catholic coaches, but there is room to hire good Christian men and women outside the faith whom we believe are excellent teachers or coaches. But I’ll be direct: in the life and culture of southern high schools, the head football coach has such an out-sized influence (remember, I’ve worked in Alabama, Tennessee and Texas), I look for dynamic, practicing Catholics. And where other sports are pre-eminent in the life of other schools, I would look for Catholics heading those sports, too. The momentum and energy such a coach brings to our school’s mission and culture are inestimable.