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Preparing the Whole Person

July 8, 2013

During the summer weeks, "From the Director" will bring to you some of our favorite entries from previous years. Today's blog first appeared Feb. 15, 2011.

My hope for students is that they have the opportunity to sample the broad buffet that a comprehensive education provides. That they experience both academic and non-academic programs, and both athletic and non-athletic activities. That they are a starter in one and a substitute in another – even a star in one and a scrub in another. That they perform in both team and individual sports, in solo and ensemble, onstage and backstage. And that they experience both winning and losing in generous proportions.

Any student who feasts on most of that menu will be ready for life – ready for life’s ups and downs and all the changes the future will surely bring.

In an address to Catholic school educators in England, Pope John Paul said:

“. . . the task . . . is not simply to impart information or to provide training in skills intended to deliver some economic benefit to society; education is not and must never be considered as purely utilitarian. It is about forming the human person, equipping him or her to live life to the full . . .”

High scores on standardized tests are terrific and training in vocational skills is desirable (I sincerely wish I had scored highly and could make something with my hands). But neither will save the planet.

The best hope we have for securing this planet for the generations who follow is forming the whole human person. And that is much more likely to occur through diverse and deep curricular and extracurricular programs of full-service schools, delivered by passionate educators.

Baloney

January 27, 2015

When I was in high school and college I worked a different job each summer, usually looking for hard labor that would help prepare my body for the next football season, and each time confirming that it would not be my choice for lifetime employment. One summer I worked at a lumber yard and paper mill complex along the banks of the Wisconsin River.
Every day I ate lunch with the men who had made this their life’s work; and I grew in ways both positive and negative as I listened to their conversations and tales. We all brought our own lunch pails.
One day, one of the more veteran employees opened his lunchbox and flew into a rage. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “Baloney again! I hate baloney.”
Trying to calm him down, another worker said, “If you hate baloney so much, just ask your wife to make you something else.”
To which the complainer replied, “That won’t work. I make my own lunches,” which resulted in an uproar of laughter from the rest of us.
I thought of this incident recently as I was preparing to meet with constituents about the rules they most love to hate: policies relating to coach and player contact out of season. Those are our most criticized rules.
But it occurs to me, if we don’t like the sandwich we’re eating – out-of-season coaching rules – we should remember: we made them ourselves, and we can change them. In fact, no one is in a better position to do so than we are. And no one has a greater duty to do so than we have, if we really are in need of a new recipe.