Striving to be Great

My talk to St. Michael students on October 17, 2017

“Great hearts and minds to do great things" we say on our brochures and web page.   But what do we mean by the word “great”?

Remember that story from Luke’s gospel? A young man, perhaps not much older than you, comes to Jesus and says “Good Rabbi, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answers him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: Keep the Sabbath holy, Honor your parents, don’t lie, steal, murder.” “I’ve done these things since I was young,” he tells Jesus proudly. Jesus, eying him, says, “There is one thing further you must do: give all your possessions to the poor and come, follow me.” And the gospel says the young man walked away sad, for he was a wealthy man. 

My take on that story is the young man is basically a good guy. He’s following the commandments. But Jesus challenges him to go deeper than that—to be great. I think that may describe most of us: on the whole, we’re pretty good people. We’re not killing people, most of the time we’re not stealing, we don’t often take God’s name in vain, we’re not sleeping around. But God calls us beyond even those things. He desires us to be great. 

I read an interesting book a few years back by Jim Collins, called “Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap and Others Don’t”. He studied many companies on Wall Street, trying to figure out if there were common characteristics in companies that had out-performed the market by three times the general averages—the “great companies” —vs. those who had only done well, “the good”. One of his findings is very provocative: “Good,” he says, “ is the enemy of the great.” Listen to that again: “Good is the enemy of the great.”  What he means is that often the good companies were happy with their performance—“good” for them had become “good enough”, so they weren’t driven to seek more. Their vision in what they could be, what they could become, was limited, ordinary, and because of that—they remained  ordinary. 

I think that can be true of all of us: you as students, we as your teachers or school leaders. We often measure ourselves against others and say to ourselves, “Well, maybe I’m not studying as much as I should, but I’m doing a heck of a lot more that my friend in another school.” “Maybe I could be a better teacher, but I’m sure better than _______”. “Maybe I’m not the best principal, but I know I’m better than most”. That kind of thinking will guarantee that we’ll be at most, “better than average” students, teachers or principals, but we’ll never be great. We’ll never be the true difference makers in this world if being “good enough” is all we aspire to be. We’ll always be less than God dreams for us. 

One of the things I am proudest about St. Michael is we have one, simple, ambitious goal for you: we want you to be great. Look carefully at our mission statement: scholars, leaders and disciples of Jesus Christ--not just "students" but students who aim to be the best they can be; not just part of a group, but leaders, influencing others to be good; not just Christians, but disciples, true followers of Jesus. 

Dare to be great. That's not just a slogan: we think that through God's grace, you really can be great.   It’s why we want you be “renaissance students”—to strive to be good in many things: scholars, athletes, musicians, people of faith.  It’s why we give you the chance to earn 32 credits in high school. It’s why we ask you to take two years of foreign language and two years of the Arts—unique to area schools. It’s why your teachers push you to take Honors and A.P. classes, even if you’re not sure you can do it. It's why we don't have a lower, third academic level--it's college prep for everyone. It’s why we play sports, usually against much bigger schools, even if it means at times we get beat.  It’s why we emphasize the importance of a life of faith, Mass each week, theology classes that require work just like the other classes, and why we pray so frequently together. 

As we wind down the first quarter, don’t be like the young man who merely does the minimum. Challenge yourself to be more than that. God wants us to use all of our talents to the best of our abilities and he promises us that when we do so, we’ll thrive and be happy. Ask him to help you. He will. 

Onward and upward! 

The Best Policy

This is Mr. Weber's assembly address to JPII students on October 25, 2010.

So here’s a pretty common occurrence in high school: A student comes into class, smacking on gum. Especially if that person opens his mouth while he chews, it’s immediately obvious to the teacher (and everyone else). The teacher asks the student, rhetorically, “Are you chewing gum?” The student swallows the gum, again very obviously, and says “No”.

What’s the worst thing that might have happened to this student? “Please throw it away?” Maybe—a detention? Big deal, right? But what HAS happened, in this relatively trivial incident, is for a puny price, the student has sold out on his integrity to this teacher. He’s said, in effect, “I don’t value your trust, I don’t value how others perceive whether I am ethical or not. I am fundamentally dishonest.”

Many years ago there was a student at my other school who was frequently in trouble for disrupting class. We were a smaller school and there was not a Mr. McLaren, so I got to know this young man quite well. As frustrating as his behavior was, he had one redeeming trait: he would always admit what he had done. “Why were you sent out?” I’d ask him. “Well,” he said, “The teacher asked me three times to be quiet, but I kept talking. “ I’d get the written referral from the teacher which said “I asked him to quit talking three times, but he just continued.” He was a knucklehead, but I knew I could trust him.

One day, I received a phone call from a set of angry parents, claiming their daughter had been sexually harassed by this same young man. They demanded that he be expelled. The young lady had a perfectly clean disciplinary record. There were no eyewitnesses: this had happened in the late afternoon in our hallways, when there were no other students around. I spoke privately to the young lady, who was very specific about what happened—if it were true, the boy would certainly be expelled. But when I spoke to the boy, he denied it vehemently. “She’s mad at me because she likes me and I like some other girl,” he said. So it was he said—she said. The girl who was never in trouble vs. the boy who was always in trouble. But I told the boy, “As much as you’ve been in trouble, you’ve always been honest with me. I am going to rely on that honesty now. But if I find out later that you’ve lied—about this or about anything else, I will know that you’re not honest, that you’ve simply duped me, which will then causes me to revisit this matter and likely expel you. Do you understand?” “Yes sir,” he said, and “Thank you.”

I told the girls’ parents my decision and they were furious with me. A few months passed. I received a phone call from the father of the same young lady. He was so mad he could barely talk: “The same thing happened to our daughter by the same young man. You should have believed her the first time. “ I met with the young lady: “Where did this happen? When did it happen? What did he do?” She gave me very specific details. It was the same place as last time, with no eyewitnesses. But what she didn’t know was that between the first time and second time I had installed a video system that had taped the whole incident, and when I reviewed it, NOTHING she said was the truth. It was a complete fabrication—a complete lie. Instead of expelling the boy, I expelled the girl, much to the embarrassment of her family. Integrity matters. It matters in how people see you, and it matters in ways that we cannot possibly predict, as in the case of this young man.

So protect your reputation. It’s one of the most precious things you own. If you get into a situation and someone asks you a question you feel compelled to lie about, don’t. At the very least, simply say “I don’t feel I could answer that question truthfully, so I better not try.” At least, then, your integrity remains in tact.

In Robert Bolt’s biographical play of Thomas More, A Man for All Seasons, there’s a very powerful scene that relates to the question of truth-telling. You may remember the historical circumstances are these: Thomas More is Lord Chancellor of England, in effect second in command, under King Henry VIII, who wants a divorce from his wife Catherine so he can marry Anne Boleyn. The pope refuses to grant the divorce, which infuriates King Henry, so he breaks off the Church of England from the Catholic Church and declares himself as “supreme head of the Church of England” and demands that all of his subjects, including Thomas, take an oath to this effect. Thomas, in conscience, cannot do so, which causes him to be imprisoned, lose his title, his salary and his home. His daughter, fearing for her father’s life, tells him to say the words of the oath but mean otherwise to God in his heart. But More counters with this:

When a man takes an oath," Sir Thomas explains to his daughter "he’s holding his own self in his hands. Like water." (He cups his hands.) "And if he opens his fingers then — he needn’t hope to find himself again. "

When we tell what seem to be small lies, we lose our very selves, and once we begin losing our selves, it becomes easier and easier to tell bigger lies. There’s a joke out there about a man who asks a woman to sleep with him for a million dollars. She thinks about it and says OK. “Well, in that case, how about you sleep with me for $50?” She is outraged. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” “We’ve already established that, ma’am. Now we’re just haggling over the price.”

If you tell lies, even small ones, you are already establishing the kind of person you are. We’re just haggling over the details. Jesus said something similar:

"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much." Luke 16:10

To A.P. or not A.P.?

That is the question.

So we're at that time of year again when you must begin thinking about selecting classes for next year--unless you're a senior, involved in selecting which college you want to attend.

One of the common questions you'll be asking yourself is how hard of a schedule should you take next year. So, for example, should I take an AP class, or two (or three, or four)? What if I take the A.P. class and end up with a lower grade--will that hurt me for college?

Take the A.P. class.

Colleges won’t tell you this outright, but the truth is that grade point averages are so inflated and differ so wildly between high schools that colleges cannot use them to make any meaningful comparisons between applicants.

Instead, they increasingly rely on two simple measurements: entrance test scores and the difficulty of the curriculum taken in high school.

Mr. Brown has been collecting data for years now that confirms the primacy of test scores: Incoming freshman at schools like Belmont or University of Dayton have virtually identical high school GPA’s as Vanderbilt or Notre Dame, but Belmont students score an average of 25-26 on the ACT, whereas Vandy and ND students score an average of 33.

Fair or unfair, test scores allow universities to make a quick “apples to apples” comparison of applicants, regardless of which high school an applicant attends or region of the country he or she resides.

Unfortunately, this means that some students may work very hard in high school and get nearly all  A’s, but if their test scores aren’t within range of the freshman class to which they’re applying, they have almost zero chance of being accepted, unless they possess some virtuoso talent of importance to the university (like football ability) or are part of an under-respresented group the university desires.

The second critical variable in college admissions is the difficulty of curriculum taken while in high school.

On the “common application” now required by 400+ colleges for admission, there is a telling question that must be filled out by the high school counselor:

In comparison with other college preparatory students in your school, the applicant’s course selection is (choose one): “most demanding”, “very demanding”, “demanding”, “average” or “below average”.

I believe that if the counselor must choose anything less than “most “ or “very” demanding, you have very little chance of getting accepted to an elite school.

There’s a seedy side to all this. Because publications like U.S. News and World Report rank colleges partly on the basis of acceptance rates of applicants (thus determining whether the school is “very selective” or merely “selective”), colleges do their best to encourage as many applications as possible so they can reject as many as possible. The “common application” makes it easy for kids to apply to multiple schools and thus plays into this game very neatly. Ever since the common application became—well, common—the volume of applications to the typical university has grown tremendously.

Unfortunately, college admissions offices have not grown proportionately, meaning that counselors now must look for quick, simple ways to sort through the overwhelming pile of applications on their desk. College entrance scores and the difficulty of courses become even more important in this light.

Which brings us back to " A.P. or not to A.P.?"

Advanced Placement courses are based on first tier curricular standards. A.P. teachers must attend professional development workshops sponsored by the College Board to be certified to teach to these standards. They are typically among the school's best teachers. If a child spends a year being challenged by conscientious, talented teachers who are guided by demanding standards, the reasonable expectation is that the student will acquire knowledge and skills that will help him for life—and in the nearer term, improve his college entrance scores.

And oh, by the way, Mr. Brown can check off that “most demanding" box!

And if you're not in that AP or not category, be sure to take the most rigorous set of electives you can handle next year--the logic works the same way: If you push yourself, you'll do better on those national tests, which make all the difference. In the end, hard work matters. It really does. 

On Your Marks, Get Set...

This is Mr. Weber's opening day address to students at Pope John Paul II High School.

Welcome back and to our many new students—185 of you-welcome to your first day of school at JPII!

I have two simple questions for you as we begin the year: The first is: What kind of person you do you want to be?

There are many people in our world today who are cowards. A coward, in my mind, is a person who refuses to stand for something or become involved in things that matter. Metaphorically, they are people who refuse to get into the “game” and instead “sit in the bleachers”, ridiculing those courageous enough to play, cluck-clucking about how dumb someone else is, or how foolish or how naïve. Cowardice often takes the form of pseudo-intellectualism that mocks anyone who is passionate, or committed or excited about something. C.S. Lewis calls these people “Men without Chests” because they have no spirit, no passion, no strength of conviction, and says though they purport to be intellectuals, their heads are no bigger than anyone else’s, they just seem that way in proportion to their atrophying chests.

What kind of person do you want to be? Don’t be a coward! Join a club that sponsors a cause you believe in. Try out for a team, even if there’s a possibility of being cut. Throw yourself into your studies, even if at times you can’t make the grade you’d like. Become passionate about something. We have an amazing array of clubs, academic teams, athletic teams, and service organizations in this school. We'll be having an activities fair on Friday, during which all of these clubs will explain what they do, and seek new memberships. Join something. Don’t be one of those students who races out the door at 3:10, gets in the car and disappears until 7:50 the next day. Frankly, high school isn’t much fun that way. Stretch yourself, try new things, forgive someone you haven’t forgiven and forge new friendships.

The worst thing you can do? Settle. Settle for the status quo. Play it safe. Sit in the bleachers without ever entering the game. It doesn’t matter where you've been or what you did in the past. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been an 8 to 3’er each day in the past. There’s a new sunrise this year. New school years are a chance to stretch, to do something brand new, to grow and to reach. What kind of person do you want to be?

My second question is this: What kind of school do you want to be?

That may sound like an odd question. JPII has been a school longer than you’ve been a student here, and its reputation precedes you. But JPII's reputation as excellent isn't a coincidence. We are so regarded because previous student bodies insisted upon it. They took pride in JPII, and because of that, they made us special. How people will see us in the future now depends on you. Perhaps it’s one of our human failings, but people are very quick to judge groups on the basis of a single incident or the behavior of one person in that group. If a football player during a game takes a cheap shot, or if a fan says something inappropriate to the opposing fans, or if you’re in uniform after school and you behave poorly, people will conclude, however unfairly, that “JPII students are thugs”. It doesn’t matter how much advertising we do or money we spend –their entire opinion of us will be shaped by this brief incident. Each of you has tremendous power to shape others' opinion about JPII. I hope you will protect and defend JPII's reputation.

What kind of school do you want to be? Even more important than our public image is how you treat each other. Are you going to be a school that ridicules persons who look different or act differently, or are you going to insist on a culture where diversity and differences are welcome? Are you going to allow people to bully others, or are the upper-classmen in particular going to make it clear, we don’t do that here, because no matter how awkward someone else is, he or she is one of us? Are you going to be a school of slobs, or are you going to take pride in your school and protect our beautiful campus by cleaning up after yourself and insisting that your classmates do the same? Are you going to cheat or allow cheating, or are you going to insist with each other (long before a student is “caught” by a teacher or before a Veritas violation occurs) that this is a place of integrity? Will you treat teachers with respect, or will you tolerate disrespect? Are you going to be a place where reverence, integrity, faith and moral living is the norm, or are you going to allow JPII to become a Christian school in name only, no matter how hypocritical that makes us?

What kind of person do you want to be? What kind of school do you want to be? As we begin this new year, you’re going to have to answer those questions for yourself. But as you answer those questions for yourself, don’t forget to notice the needs of others and look to each other for support.

Let me end with a story.

While crossing the border on his bicycle, the 
man was stopped by a guard who pointed to two sacks the man had on his shoulders.

"What's in the bags?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"Sand to build a sandbox for my children," said the cyclist.

"Yeah right”, said the guard. Take them off - let's take a look," said the guard.

The cyclist did as he was told, emptied the bags, and 
 proving they contained nothing but sand, reloaded the 
bags, put them on his shoulders and continued across 
 the border.

Two weeks later, the same thing happened. Again the 
 guard demanded to see the two bags, which again contained 
 nothing but sand. This went on every week for six months, 
 until one day the cyclist with the sand bags failed to 
 appear.

Years later the two men happened to run into each other. "Say fella, you sure made us crazy", said the guard. "We 
 knew you were smuggling something across the border. I 
won't say a word - but what was it you were smuggling?"

The man smiled: "Bicycles!"

Sometimes, the most obvious things are the hardest for us to see. Let’s pay attention to each other. Together, may this be an amazing year for you and for JPII. God bless you.