Agents of Change

In a post almost one year ago to the day, I wrote about my big brother, Joe. Today's entry features my brother once again.

Joe is a football player. Yes, that's right. He plays football for a living. Professionally. He has for over 10 years. He holds the record for the Jacksonville Jaguars for the most consecutive starts. He's a long snapper. And, before you think just how easy of a job that is, I challenge you to try it. Quarterbacks who complete over 50% of their passes are considered pretty good. Likewise, other positions are "graded" based on a percentage of accuracy. A long snapper, though, must be perfect. All the time. Unlike the kicker who is known whether or not he shanks a punt or dog legs a field goal, the long snapper is only known when he fails to meet perfection. Fortunately for my brother, he is Mr. Anonymous in the NFL (okay, not really...he is such a goofball that he actually has an underground following and is often featured in commercials and other TV spots in the hometown markets of the teams he has played for).

So, what place does my brother serve in a blog about Catholic education? Truly?

Joe does a lot of public speaking. Many Church groups, schools, foundations, and other organizations tap into his charisma and invite him to speak. In a few weeks, a group of School Administrators in Ohio will host my brother for a conference at which he will be the keynote speaker. Seriously. So, Joe asks me what playing football has to do with being a school administrator. My thought exactly. But, he's my brother so I gave it some thought. A lot of thought, actually.

Here is my brainstorm:

As a long snapper, my brother is the person responsible for some sort of change to take place on a football field. If he is snapping for a punt, the offense will be changing to defense. If it's a field goal or extra point, the same transition will take place. In a sense, he's the catalyst for the offense to, barring a fake that goes for a first down or a penalty, switch over to the defense. Joe enacts change on a football field. The punt starts with him, the field goal is initiated by his bent over spiral. These changes, in many ways, can win or lose games depending on their success or failure.

Teachers are agents of change. Principals are, too. Education itself is built upon the moving foundation that everything changes. The student comes to us and is changed because of our efforts. The greater the change, unless wholly unsuccessful causing the student to severely regress, the better.

As Catholic educators, this change goes even deeper. Teachers must catalyze a spiritual transformation in addition to the intellectual one (the physical change is pretty much a given although we do have an impact on it as well - PE classes, cafeteria menus, recess times, how many sugary sweets we allow into our classrooms!). Again, the spiritual life is based on the idea of growth. It is based on the principle of people changing - changing their hearts, their minds, their behaviors, their lives.

This should make sense. Our Model, our Inspiration, our Teacher, Jesus Christ, was the Ultimate Agent of Change. He says, "I have come to set the world on fire and how I wish it were already blazing!" (Luke 12:49). He gave us a New Testament, a new law, a new code, a new discipline. He gives us new life. As schools that are based on Him, we would do well to follow His great Example of embracing and enacting.

My brother can't hold onto the ball. He must release it, he must do all that he can within his power to ensure the proper trajectory and flight and then let the ball go. Holding on too long can have an adverse effect. He's an agent of change on the field. It's what he does.

As Catholic educators, it's what we do, too. We're agents of change. Like Joe, our margin of error, because we're dealing with changing lives, is non-existent.

And maybe that should change our view of Catholic education.

And long snappers.       

Re-Accreditation Re-Creation

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” 

-Mother Theresa

In January of 2011, the Administration, Faculty, Staff, students, parents and community of Incarnation Catholic School embarked on a 13 month journey to design a plan for our school’s improvement as a part of this re-accreditation by the Florida Catholic Conference.

During this time, we have looked at who we are, who we have been and who we would like to be.

We have refocused our attention on our Mission Statement, written during our last Accreditation visit in 2005 and refined for this current one.

We have analyzed our strengths and weaknesses, inviting teachers, parents and students to offer a realistic assessment of our school.

We have studied test scores, enrollment and demographic trends. We have scoured the pages of the latest and most reliable educational research for the most successful and valid educational strategies and philosophies.

We have synthesized all of this information and worked to create a document for Incarnation’s plan for school improvement.

At the same time, we have progressed as a school. Objectives in lesson plans have become more specific, student-centered, and measurable. Appropriate scaffolding up to higher order thinking skills has been incorporated into teachers’ planning. Time-on-task, student engagement and maintaining instructional time have become areas of focus and importance. All community members have been challenged to more wholeheartedly follow Christ, ensuring that He remains the Reason for this school that bears the Name of His Incarnation.

All of this work for the past 13 months has led us here, to this night, the beginning of our Accreditation visit.

But in many ways our journey is just beginning. If possible, I encourage the ICS community to consider the past 13 months as time of preparation. Much like budgeting, planning, and packing for a vacation or the stages of pregnancy prior to giving birth to a new life, our work over the past year has brought us to this moment.

The moment where we point our sails in a new direction. The moment where we courageously push off and ask for God to do whatever He needs to do to draw us closer to Him.

The moment where we start to become the School that we were created to be.

To coincide with our teachers’ good work with planning, instruction and assessment, our plan for school improvement challenges students to enhance their learning to learn skills – those study habits and routines that will help students take ownership of their learning. Furthermore, students will be taught how to assess their own work, being able to judge for themselves their level of understanding and how or why certain aspects of a lesson need further explanation, attention or remediation.

Along these same lines, students will be challenged to solve problems through critical thinking and other higher order skills. Interdisciplinary units; common, school-wide philosophies and vocabularies; and a greater emphasis on deeper levels of understanding will become hallmarks of all instruction and learning.

And if Christ is at the center of our school, our School Improvement Plan strives to bring students into the school’s heart, allowing students to encounter the living Jesus by taking more ownership of and having more involvement in the faith life of our school.

Incarnation Catholic School has undergone many changes over the past seven years. There is a new principal and administration. Teachers have come and gone. Our student population has evolved. We have a Pavilion, covered walkways, elevated sidewalks, renovated bathrooms and many other improvements throughout our classrooms.

God willing, over the next seven years we will experience a season of recreation and revitalization at Incarnation Catholic School enabling us to accomplish all that we have set forth in our Accreditation report. Our goals are lofty yet realistic. Our efforts will be constant and tireless. Our faith has been, is now, and will continue to be firm in Jesus Christ.

  

Our time is now. Let us begin.

Eat Your Vegetables

Recently, I came across a news story in which the US Congress named pizza as a vegetable. Now, I like pizza, and it can be relatively healthy depending on the crust type, sauce and toppings. But, no matter how much tomato paste or sauce, a vegetable it is not.

I suppose the thought behind such a ruling is that the tomato sauce under the cheese has enough actual tomatoes to qualify as a bona fide vegetable. And, with a one year old who is starting to have a more discriminating palate, I understand the concept behind strategically and covertly placing vegetables in food (we have to do the same thing to Elizabeth with meat!). To suppose that getting kids to eat real vegetables is impossible is defeatist. To suppose that encouraging the consumption of pizza as a replacement for vegetables is immoral.

Making a pizza and passing it off as a vegetable is undoubtedly cheaper and unhealthier than securing and preparing fresh and unprocessed vegetables.

This is yet another example of our country's woeful treatment of its children. It is another example of big business dictating what's best for us. It's another example of our country's stubbornness to change to meet the best interest of its children.

For example, research proves that a long summer break makes it harder for students to retain knowledge. Yet, summer breaks remain and will most likely never be replaced with year round (interspersed with more frequent, albeit smaller breaks) school. We know that recess and physical activity is good to combat childhood obesity and is a good stress relief, especially for our sedentary and technologically dependent society. Still, many schools are cutting such programs because of a lack of funds. The arts can inspire, enliven, improve behavior, and increase math scores. Sadly, many schools have eliminated the fine and performing arts classes and clubs.

Bankers who needed government bailouts live in excess. We pay millions of dollars to professional athletes and hundreds to see them play insignificant (with all due respect to the Patriots and Giants) games. News stories are sensationalized to attract the largest viewing audience. Potential political candidates raise and spend millions of dollars trying to sway votes. Once elected they pass legislation to call pizza a vegetable.

We waste millions of dollars but can't seem to find the money to do what's best for our kids.

America is a great country, the greatest in the world. But, in order to remain this way and not get left behind by other countries who have somehow managed to give health care to all citizens and educate students to be some of the top thinkers and innovators in the world, we must do more than lower our standards for our children's health and overall well-being. Doing something as simple as involving children in the production and preparation of vegetables and other healthy foods can make them more interested in trying them (ICS Garden). But, school gardens cost money. Taking the time to teach children about their health benefits and ways in which they can be prepared takes effort.

Money, time, effort. We sacrifice these things for so many less important things. We must be willing to sacrifice them for the sake of our children.

If not, we may as well save Congress some time and taxpayers some dollars by declaring Jolly Ranchers candy a fruit.

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

Sir Isaac Newton, in a quote about his many accomplishments, humbly stated, "If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." Newton understood that his intelligence and all of his many discoveries depended on others' abilities, talents and knowledge of his teachers, predecessors, colleagues and rivals. Newton unarguably possessed innate intelligence and would have undoubtedly risen to some level of excellency on his own. But, because of those who had gone before him, taught him, challenged him, and supported him, Newton wasn't just excellent.

He was legendary.

He is legendary.

In many ways, all of us can "see further" because of the giants upon whose shoulders we stand. In many ways, for many of us grandparents serve as those giants. While parents do the grunt work and most of our formation, grandparents give us a sense of stability. Grandparents give us a sense of history. Grandparents give us a sense of belonging. They are living proof that all will be okay- all of our many trials and catastrophes of today will pass into memories of tomorrow. They may have been the first people in our families to go to college, come to this great country, speak English, start a business or convert to Catholicism. Maybe they worked multiple jobs to send our parents to school. Maybe they served in WWII, Korea, Vietnam or the first Gulf War. Maybe they unabashedly hang on to their cultural traditions, their native language and their sense of style. When we stand on their shoulders, we get a better sense of who we are because it gives us a better sense of who we were. We can see further because of them.

We may thank grandparents for the large checks that come in the mail on birthdays and Christmas. We may appreciate them for their stories of how things used to be. We may laugh at their eccentricities or joke at how set they are in their ways. Chances are good, though, that we don't necessarily recognize them for the gift of faith. Not only are they responsible for igniting some sort of faith within our parents, they are ultimately responsible for the spark in our own hearts, too. Whether they are believers who pray a Rosary after every daily Mass, or non-Church goers who believe that, just like hospitals are only for those who are sick, churchers are only for sinners, some aspect of the grace present in our lives was made manifest by their faithfulness.

Our Catholic Church and our Catholic Schools can definitely see further because of their faithfulness. Baltimore Catechists and instructed by the good sisters and nuns, priests and brothers of the golden age of Catholicism in this country, their belief and faith in not only the Church but also its educational system has helped to sustain us through scandals, economic hardships and other reasons cited for dwindling Church attendance and Catholic School enrollment. They gave our Parishes the traditions of our Carnivals, Festivals, Fish Fry's, Shrines, Collections. They may have even been responsible for helping to build its actual walls. They went to our schools when there were 50 students from various grade levels in the same classroom taught by the same saintly sister. Many of them had brothers, sisters and cousins who entered the priesthood and religious life.

Just like in our human families, our grandparents supply our Churches and Schools with history, tradition, foundation and stability. They remind us that these institutions have been through much worse than our current situations and that they will, because of our faithfulness, remain long after we are gone. They are the giants supplying the shoulders allowing us to see further than they did.

They are our models. They are our inspiration for someday helping others to see further than we can right now.

They are our past. They are hope for our future.

They are legendary.

They are giants. They are grandparents.          

Become Who You Were Born To Be

In one of my favorite movies of all time, "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King", Elrond (the King of the Elves) tells Aragorn (the rightful albeit reluctant King of Gondor) to "Put aside the Ranger. Become who you were born to be." It is the moment in the trilogy in which Aragorn finally starts to accept his bloodline, his heritage, his position as King. It is the moment where he becomes that which and who he was created to be.

The Gospel reading from this upcoming Sunday, the first Sunday but the beginning of the second week of Ordinary Time, follows a similar theme (John 1: 35 - 42). Jesus meets Andrew and his brother Simon for the first time. After one look at Simon he changes not only his name (Peter) but also his role in the world. Putting aside the fisherman, Peter is to become the Rock upon which Jesus will build His Church. While Peter's path to fulfilling his potential after this moment is anything but rock-solid, in this moment Jesus changes Peter's course. It is the moment that Peter starts to become who he was born to be.

Tomorrow marks the end of the Church's Vocation Awareness Week, a week to focus on and pray for an increase to priestly and religious vocations within the Catholic Church. Incarnation Catholic School had a priest, Fr. David Toups, come to speak to our students about vocations. We prayed the Prayer for Vocations as a school community every day during morning prayer. At Mass on Wednesday another class was given the Vocations Cross, beginning their week-long focus on praying for an increase in vocations (this, by the way, is a weekly practice with the Cross rotating among the different classes of the school).

But, every week in a Catholic School should be Vocation Awareness Week. Our goal should be threefold: to evangelize, to catechize and to educate. In accomplishing this mission, we should be able to ignite the faith and cultivate the intellect in such a way that young people give serious thought and consideration to a priestly or religious vocation. If Catholic Schools are doing what they are supposed to do, priests, brothers, deacons, sisters and nuns should naturally result because of our efforts.

Vocations should be a natural result because our goal should encompass helping all students to become who they were created to be. The truth is, everyone has a vocation. Not everyone is called to priestly or religious life; but everyone is called. Jesus is giving all of us a new name and a new role. He is calling out to us. He is giving each of us a vocation.

Vocation, from the Latin vocare, meaning "to call".

Are we listening? Do we even know how to listen? Do we recognize His voice? Can we hear it above the incessant noise of the world? Do we have the courage to answer His call? Especially if the call is to the priesthood or religious life?

If Catholic Schools are doing things right, the answer to the questions above should be an irrevocable and resounding yes. Our students should know that God's vocation for them is beyond their hearts' greatest desire. They should believe that following this vocation will give them greater fulfillment than they could ever imagine.

They should be taught to listen for God's call. Make vocation, in the broad and general sense, yet intimately connected to priesthood and religious life, a constant refrain.

They should be taught how to listen. Teach them scripture and examples of others- Mary, Joseph, Peter, Paul, Moses, Noah, Samuel-  responding to God's call. Teach them how to pray and that prayer must not always be us barking at God. Teach them that praying also needs to entail sitting in God's presence listening. Teach them that listening means unplugging and does not require a controller or earbud.

They should be encouraged to boldly go where and do what God is asking of them. This is counter-cultural. It may not bring fame. It may not bring fortune. It may not be easy. It may not make sense to others. It will, however, bring fulfillment to themselves, to others, and to establishing the Kingdom of God.

Be blessed.

Be bold.

Be who God created you to be.

Become who you were born to be. 

The Reason

It was so long ago. It took Him so long to come.

But, come he did.

Angels sang praises to God for this Child’s birth.

People from distant lands gave gifts foretelling His future worth.

He lived,

He died,

He lived again.

All so that you and I may share in this Life.

Born of a virgin,

            An apparent impossibility

Born in a barn,

            Among cows and sheep

Born with the responsibility of saving mankind.

He was divine– a great Prince with the royalist of blood.

But, fortunately He was more than just that:

                HE WAS ONE OF US.

He laughed,

            He cried,

                        He yelled, failed, loved...died.

He died.

He died.

He died.

The most powerful of Kings, more powerful than life or death

Subjected Himself to both before conquering each one.

He lowered Himself to pain, suffering, humility-

            To death on a tree

                        For nothing less than all humanity.

He entered the world like a slave

            And left it like a criminal.

Because of Him Death lost its sting on human souls.

He triumphed by living after it.

So that we,

            If we choose

                        Could do the same.

Jesus’ birth was a miracle.

His life was a ministry.

His death, a tragedy.

His Resurrection was the reason for the miracle.

And He,

            In all of His magnificence,

                        Is the Reason for the season. 

Emmanuel

In John, Chapter 3, verse 16, we hear, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

Like John the Baptist growing inside of Elizabeth, we, too, should leap for joy upon hearing this message. God loved us so much that he gave us His only Son, so that we could have eternal life. Just the fact that eternal life in Heaven is possible to us should set our hearts on fire for God.

The mystery of the Incarnation changed the world. If Jesus doesn’t come, we don’t have Christmas, we don’t have the New Testament, we don’t have the death or (more importantly) the Resurrection. We don’t have a Catholic Schools. We don’t celebrate the Eucharist. We don’t have salvation.

And even though we understand the Incarnation to have this kind of impact, we don’t always appreciate it. Our wonder and awe of how Mary gave birth to the Son of God gets overshadowed by candy canes and gingerbread.

So, in the spirit of Jesus’ parables, let us consider the Incarnation from another perspective:

For God so loved the world…

Max had always loved ducks. For years he had enjoyed them returning in the warm summer months to the lake outside of his cottage. He would spend his days watching them, at night he would lay out more seed for them to eat. The ducks became the subject of his paintings, a recent hobby he had acquired. Max even went so far as to name two of his favorites: Herb and Norma. He would pray for their young offspring. He would delight in their swimming and flying, playing and quacking. It was joyous for Max to have these ducks visit his pond year after year. In fact, it was the best part of his life.

…that He gave His only Son…

Max had lived in the cottage for his entire life. As it sat on a coastal town, Hurricanes had become second nature for Max. Too old to evacuate, and really nowhere else to go, he would hunker down, boarding up his windows, stockpiling water, batteries, candles, and other necessities, but would otherwise be unfazed by the powerful storms. Miraculously, he and his cottage had survived every Hurricane that had crossed his path. 37 to be exact.

So, when 38 arrived, Max had no idea that it would be the one to take his life.

…so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish but have eternal life.

It was late in the day and the clouds had been rolling in since mid-afternoon. Feeling the coming tropical storm in his bones, Max began the process of nailing two-by-fours across his windows. “If I start now,” he thought, “I can be done and enjoying supper by 6:00.” Hammering the last nail into his wooden home at about 5:30, he chuckled to himself as he loved to be early. What else did he have to do?

Preparing his meal took no time at all: opening the can of soup, putting it on the stove and cutting and buttering his bread took less time combined than waiting for the soup to boil. As he waited for the steam and bubbles, he located his water supply, gathered up his flashlights, candles and matches, took mental stock of his Hurricane prep-list, and set his table.

Max sat for dinner precisely at 6:00 and as he bowed his head in prayer, he caught a glimpse of the time, smiled once more, and took his first bite.

It was at this time that he heard the first clap of thunder. The pitter-patter of rain on his roof soon followed. Paying it little attention, Max dunked his bread in his soup, softening and flavoring it, before bringing it to his mouth. The broth tasted salty, which was a nice complement to the tartness of the sourdough-rye he was using tonight. Max was so entranced in his meal that he didn’t even flinch as the powerful winds pelted the cottage with rain.

Finishing his meal, Max got up to peak outside at the storm’s wrath. As he squinted through a small slit in the wooden coverings, he saw the tall palm trees bending to the left. Rain fell sideways in sheets. The wind howled. His tiny cottage trembled with each thunder strike. Taking this as commonplace he was about to go and clean his dishes from dinner when he noticed Herb and Norma. Cowering behind a tree, Herb tried his best to shield Norma from the storm, spreading his wings and hugging her, exposing his back to water, twigs and other flying debris.

Max’s eyes immediately fixated on the ducks. From inside of his cottage he began yelling and screaming at them, “Herb! Norma! Go to the shed! Get out of the storm!” As he shouted he pointed at the shed to which he was referring. Located just a stone’s throw from his front steps it was only a few feet from the Herb and Norma’s sheltering tree. The place where he kept his gardening tools and other odds and ends, it was built of concrete, a remnant of the army barracks that at one point was housed on this very plot of land. It was sturdier than his cottage.

Max went on encouraging his duckling friends for a few minutes, experimenting with different tones, volume levels and even words. Realizing his attempts to communicate were in vain, Max brainstormed some other possibilities.

He ran and retrieved a flashlight. As he had many from which to choose, Max selected the most powerful beam in his reserve. Given to him by Sheriff Briggs, Max new it was strong enough to cut through the rain and reach his web-footed friends. Opening a window, Max hammered out one of the wooden planks. “It will weaken my defenses a bit,” Max considered, “but it’s the only way I can get this light to them.”

Turning on the flashlight, Max shot its beams onto Herb. Jiggling it a bit, he then traced the path from the ducks into the shed. Herb must have thought ill of this light as instead of it leading he and his bride to safety, it caused him to leap into the air, only to get thrown back to the earth by the fierce winds. Herb lay motionless to the right of Norma, who began to burrow deeper into the ground.

Max’s heart dropped into his stomach. It was a pain that he had not felt in quite some time. Thinking out loud, he sighed, “I have to save them. I have to save them, but I will have to get closer to do so.”

Max stood in front of his front door long enough to check his body for the necessary rain gear. Boots, pants, coat, hood, glasses. “Well, I can’t cover myself in any more plastic and rubber,” he judged. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

He was immediately struck by wind and rain. Stumbling back a bit, he leaned forward, stepped out onto his porch and closed the door behind him. Moving as quickly as his old body would allow, he darted in the direction of Herb and Norma. As he got closer, he called their names, “Herb! Norma! It’s Max! I’m hear to save you!” The roar of the rain bouncing off of his waterproof hat and hood muffled the sound of his own voice. He scrambled through the mud and water, inching closer to his friends. Drawing closer he bent down to scoop up Herb. “Norma is at least behind the tree,” Max’s mind raced. “I need to get Herb out of this rain.”

As he stooped down, Max slipped on an exposed tree root. He tumbled to the ground, the left side of his body taking most of the impact. Water seeped under his rain gear. He felt his clothes underneath begin to dampen. He rolled over and reached for Herb. His hand brushed Herb’s wing, causing Herb to once again spring to life, furiously flapping his wings and honking. Max tried to chase after Herb. “Herb, I’m trying to save you!” Max yelled. “Please, go into the shed!”

Bringing himself up onto his knees, Max tried every conceivable hand motion and gesture. He tried calling out like a duck, cupping his cold and wet hands over his mouth and buzzing into his balled up fists. This only caused Herb to stir even more, squawking and getting tossed around by the winds.

Max got up and moved toward Norma, bracing himself on the trunk of the tree to steady his attempt at retrieving her. She flew out of his grasp, staying close to the ground as she fled. Max ran after her. He was growing tired. His heart was beating rapidly and it felt like it was about to erupt. He staggered. He gripped his chest.

A moment before Max’s heart gave out, he thought to himself, “If only I could become a duck, I could communicate to them and lead them to safety. If only I could become one of them…”