What a Browning Education Offers an Imperfect World
Three weeks ago, 10 people were killed by a gunman at a supermarket in a Buffalo neighborhood. The victims were Black, and the act of domestic terrorism was allegedly carried out by a self-described white supremacist and anti-semite. The accused is an 18-year-old man.
Just last week, 21 people were slain at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. Nineteen of the victims were children; two were teachers All were murdered by a single gunman, before he himself was killed by responding police officers. The assailant was an 18-year-old man.
It is tricky to use this space to reflect on specific current events, because—sadly—we all have more than enough violence to process these days, from the horrors of the Russia-Ukraine War to both targeted and random attacks on our city’s subways. Giving attention to any one event risks neglecting the rightful concern over another. And, frankly, there has been an excess of commentary from journalists, politicians, and activists over the past month, and I’m neither interested in nor capable of outdoing them.
Still, the heartache of the present moment testifies to the importance of the education we give to our children in general, and to the relevance of Browning's mission in particular. From the outside, it's easy to assume that an institution like this one is a backwards-looking place designed to consolidate the gender and economic privilege of its members. Less cynically, one might wonder if college preparatory schools like Browning should focus exclusively on the development of students’ intellectual and academic skills, and leave social and ethical concerns alone. But for those of us charged with living its mission, the idea that selfish social reproduction or narrow scholastic training speaks to our fundamental purposes is misguided. Our aim is as plain as it is sincere: We exist to know, love, and challenge boys in the great hope that they will become men who contribute meaningfully to our world.
“I am both profoundly hopeful and resolutely proud that our graduates will lead their post-Browning lives in ways that demonstrate that our world is indeed worth saving.”
Our world has shown us repeatedly, and lately with greater urgency, that meaningful contribution will not only require excellence in academic pursuits, but also practice in social engagement, emotional awareness, and civic duty. When I note this part of Browning’s commitment to its students, I occasionally hear worry that the school wants to indoctrinate its members, or to “tell kids what to think.” But when we create space for a vigorous liberal arts education rounded out by a thoughtful concern for ethical development—we are not attempting to give ourselves undue authority. Rather, we are offering relevant contexts into which boys can extend their own reasoning and critical thinking, and to explore how our core values of honesty, curiosity, dignity, and purpose can help them make sense of the world, and help them determine how their own stories and actions could be a force for good—for meaningful contribution—in that world.
Because the world we have right now cannot be the one that we want for our children. This is not to say that our little school will eradicate racism, eliminate violence, or bring cosmic justice to a world that has been broken in so many ways. But there is both a challenge and an opportunity—what the philosopher Hannah Arendt termed amor mundi, “love of the world”—to think about what it means to care for the world despite its horrors. There is a challenge to explore how we can translate our limited circumstances into something more humane, caring, and healthy with careful reasoning and courageous action, even (and especially) in the face of ongoing degradation, violence, and deep violations rooted in structure and in history. This is not utopian dreaming; this is a pragmatic understanding of what education—what a Browning education—can offer in an imperfect world that needs something better.
Two weeks from now, when we send 29 accomplished, responsible, caring, and purposeful graduates through the Red Doors, this will be on my mind. Alone, our departing seniors are not going to save the world, but I am both profoundly hopeful and resolutely proud that these graduates—many of whom are 18-year-old men—will lead their post-Browning lives in ways that demonstrate that our world is indeed worth saving. This is what they are doing. This is why we are here.