Celebrating the Class of 2024
Readers may recall that I love the ritual of the morning handshake at the Red Doors. Sometimes, in the winter and spring, our custom gives me a moment with a Grade 12 student as he strides into school, and—armed with news from Sandy Pelz, our Director of College Guidance—I can discreetly congratulate the senior on his recent admission to college. In the moment, this feels right: Getting to higher education is an accomplishment, most often born of hard work and sacrifice, so some gentle, personal recognition seems appropriate, especially when the boy is clearly excited about the opportunity in front of him. And I’ll happily admit that it gives me a charge to see a student’s face light up when I quietly mention that I heard about their admission to School X.
But as this year’s seniors prepare to become this year’s graduates, I want to make sure that my good intentions did not miscommunicate institutional priorities. I want to make sure that our graduates know that our esteem for them does not hinge on their plans for higher education. I want to make sure that our entire community knows the same thing.
Now, to be clear: I would not be at Browning, a college preparatory school, if I did not believe in the importance and possibility of higher education. And we should not minimize the significance of students setting and reaching goals, of aspiring to higher learning, of working to expand their opportunity and understanding. These are decidedly good things which deserve and which receive both our admiration and support.
But as we encourage our boys, we also want to ensure that they are not interpreting that encouragement as a variant of what David Brooks calls “the emotion of the meritocracy,” which promotes the notion that “if you perform well, people will love you.” As happy as we are for our guys when they find a college home that will challenge them, thrill them, and build on the intellectual foundation that they have set at Browning, it is vital to understand that our love for our students is not contingent upon the decisions of admissions committees. Our commitment to care is not the product of boys’ achievements; rather, it is the very condition of our relationships, the unmoving promise—the joyous opportunity—that every teacher, coach, and advisor embraces.
When I first arrived at Browning in 2016, Frank Bruni’s Where You Go Is Not Who You’ll Be, a retort against what Bruni described as “college admissions mania,” was popular among many independent school educators. I asked a colleague if it was something that we should encourage our families to read, and he replied, “If you do, you risk signaling that you don’t care about college or boys’ ambitions.” It was sage advice, and I am glad I took it—but I also hope that we can acknowledge that what makes us proudest is not necessarily the destination of our students, but the very qualities that those boys will be carrying to those destinations. Getting into college is a very good thing—but it is a still better thing to go there with a sense of the roles that honesty, curiosity, dignity, purpose can play in one’s learning and one’s life, to go there with dispositions of courage and compassion, to go there with open-minded intelligence and robust integrity. These qualities are the anchors of our mission, and these are the attributes which make us so optimistic about what Browning boys will do at the fantastic higher educational institutions they have been invited to join.
On June 11, I have the privilege of shaking hands with 33 students, our graduating Browning Panthers, for a final time. I will congratulate them again on their journey to college, certainly, but also for so much more. They will have our admiration, our hope, our gratitude, and—always—our love.
Thanks to all in our community for a wonderful academic year, and I wish everyone a safe, happy, healthy summer!