Preschool Weekly Meditation Archive

 The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, Executive Director

A couple of weeks ago I received a message from a colleague in California, sharing with me two emails she had received from parents, one right upon the other.  The first elicited the reaction from her, “Why am I doing this?”  The second, received minutes later, provoked a very different response, what she referred to as, “This is why I do what I do.”

I think all of us can easily recall the contrasting responses, and in many cases they follow one right after the other.  At our new heads program in September, Aimeclaire Roche, Head of Bishop’s School in California, spoke of how the life of a school head can, “turn on a dime,” enduring a difficult conversation in one moment, celebrating a joyous occasion the next.  Moving so quickly from experience at the end of one spectrum to something almost exactly at the opposite, in virtually the next moment, was for her one of the most eye-opening experiences of being a school head.

As coupled as those contrasting situations can be for all of us, this time of year seems to hold more potential for the, “Why am I doing this?” type of experience.  The walls can feel as if they are closing in, and it is a long stretch until spring vacation.  We are juggling attention to the current academic year with increasing amounts of time devoted to next year.  The idealism we carried with us back to school at the beginning of the academic year can seem a distant memory.

All the more important to remember what my colleague remarked when I wrote to her to ask if I could use her examples as a base for an upcoming Monday meditation.  She replied that her big challenge – particularly perhaps this time of year? – is to seek out more of those “this is why I do this” reminders.  After all, she tells us, we don’t need to look far!  They are there for the finding; we just need to be attuned to them!

Voice and Pitch

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.Min., Executive Director

I am blessed to receive a large number of school magazines, alumni bulletins, and annual reports, on a daily basis, and I try hard to look through all of them. As much as one publication might seem to resemble another, there is always something unique and compelling that comes through about each school in all of those volumes that load up my “to read” pile!

In the most recent issue of the St. Timothy’s School (MD) magazine,* an alum of the school, Maisie Houghton, talks about her recently published memoir, Pitch Uncertain: A Mid-Century Middle Daughter Finds Her Voice. In the interview, Ms. Houghton refers to the impact a girls’ school, such as St. Timothy’s, can have on young women, most importantly that it can model how women, “can be good at things on their own.” She goes on to say that the larger purpose of her memoir is, “to share a sense of the greater concept of ‘voice’ with my readers.” Then she adds an interesting twist on the concept of voice: “I am still working on finding my proper voice, my certain pitch. Am I too strident or too timid?”

Reading the interview, I was struck not only by her reference to voice, but also to pitch. Many independent schools speak of helping students find their voice, and that is a most worthy, indeed urgent goal. Ms. Houghton goes on, however, to speak of pitch—what I interpret to be the how of that voice: how it is expressed, how that voice connects or does not connect with others, how that voice can best be heard. While the reference to voice focuses largely on the self, the notion of pitch involves not only the speaker but the listener, and how the voice that speaks can connect with those who are hearing this voice.

This distinction strikes me as an important example of what we are trying to do with students in Episcopal schools, at all ages and grade levels. We seek not only to help them find their voice, but discover a pitch that honors the listener. Voice may refer to self-expression, but pitch begins to touch on the quality and integrity of that voice, how it welcomes in others who will be privileged to hear that voice. Its focus on the how of speaking reminds us that the entire process, of which Ms. Houghton and all of our schools point to in valuing the finding of one’s voice, ends up being an intensely ethical process. The alternative would be simply be a plethora of disconnected voices, with important words, in the words of the Bible, “falling to the ground.” (I Sam. 3:19)

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.Min., Executive Director

Recently I read the results of a very interesting study done by two professors at Notre Dame Law School on the impact of a Catholic school’s presence in urban neighborhoods.* Specifically, the professors studied the differing rates of crime in neighborhoods where a Catholic school remained, as compared with neighborhoods where—as increasingly and dramatically is the case in many urban areas—a Catholic school had been replaced by a charter school, all in the city of Chicago. Utilizing data collected from police statistics in various beats in Chicago, they found lower serious crime rates in those beats that had a Catholic school in operation than from those without one. The study also found that a charter school replacing a Catholic school does not “replicate Catholic schools’ positive community benefits.” A Catholic school, in their view, seems to help suppress crime in a way that a charter school does not.

I do not pretend to understand all of the nuances implied in this study, nor make any judgments about the value of charter schools as opposed to Catholic schools. The study does lead me to wonder about the clear but often unarticulated value of a religious school presence in any neighborhood. What is it about a religious school that might have that calming, perhaps clarifying effect, an effect that even some very fine charter schools do not have?

So, too, it makes me think about how important it is for us to consider our schools’ presence in the community, wherever it may be. A good many of our schools have not had altogether harmonious relationships with their neighborhood—the scars many school heads bear from zoning meetings and neighborhood gatherings is testimony to that!—while other schools may point to a more harmonious, indeed pivotal relationship with their neighborhoods. Many of those schools that have been at odds with the surrounding neighborhood may also nonetheless play such a pivotal role. Regardless, there is such a thing as “school presence,” I believe, in the community, and all of the members of our school communities—students, faculty, staff, administrators, parents—need to be reminded of that presence. Particularly in a culture that can be very suspicious of institutions, the care with which we are a presence in the community is increasingly important. Who knows! We may be more important to the neighborhood than we realize!

* Nicole Stelle Garnet and Margaret F. Brinig, “Catholic Schools, Charter Schools, and Urban Neighborhoods,” University of Chicago Law Review, 2012.

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.Min., Executive Director

We celebrate our heroes so often in terms of what we see of them, “out front.” It is the important and tangible expression of their power and influence. Dr. King also teaches us that public presence is balanced by time alone, indeed that these times of aloneness are essential for the demands of prophetic leadership. Our students need to hear of that necessary balance, a balance that they are fortunate to take advantage of themselves in Episcopal schools.

What’s in the Bucket?
The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, Executive Director

You may know the story that Harry Mathews, former chaplain and retired school head, tells about a visit he made to Fiji. During that visit, he spent some time in a small village that was located on the banks of a swiftly-flowing and debris-filled river. While standing on the edge of that river one day, he saw a young boy on the opposite bank who proceeded to walk into the rapidly moving water, carrying a heavy tin bucket. Slowly, carefully, the boy slipped into the river, all of the time holding the bucket he was carrying above the water line. As the boy made his way across the river, Harry Mathews was struck by two things: first, the energy and courage it took to keep holding that bucket above the water; secondly, he kept wondering to himself, what was in the bucket that was so precious? What contents were so valuable that the child would risk his own safety to keep them unharmed?

Later, Mathews would discover the contents of the bucket—it was the boy’s schoolbooks!

It may not be schoolbooks, but chances are that all of the people who come to our schools each day—students, faculty, staff, administrators, and parents—come in part because of something they find at school, each day, that would be worth preserving in the same fashion. Each one of us, I dare say, have some things we cherish about coming to school that we would hope to keep above the water line.

The things we would put in our respective buckets may differ greatly, but as we draw toward Thanksgiving we might pause and remember the potential contents, those things that give us hope, meaning, indeed a sense of life itself. In some cases it may well be the very things we take most for granted in the course of our busy lives.

What would go in your bucket this Thanksgiving? What needs to be remembered, held up above the waters, in thanks to God for the blessings they bring? They may not only be the things we regard as precious and worthy of preservation at all costs, they may also be the very things that help us navigate the dangerous waters we must travel each day.

I wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving!