The Joy of Mornings at the Red Doors

“Ready, sir?”

Browning’s security officer, Shane Beatty, is always so polite, and never more than when we’re at the Red Doors and ready to open the school day. I’m always a touch embarrassed that Shane extends me this honorific—if anything, the courtesy of “sir” should be going in the opposite direction—but it also draws my focus, because I know that 15 of the best minutes of my job are about to commence. I nod. Grinning behind his mask, Shane props open a door, and thanks the boys for their patience. Then, with an enthusiasm that’s both expected and sudden, the tide of incoming students pours forth, and another Browning day begins.

We initiate every morning, of course, with handshakes at the Red Doors. On the one hand, there is always a chance that there will be a surprise that arrives at our threshold: The Kindergartner who asks to bring his dog to lunch; the younger sister who tries to squeeze her way into school; the recent alum who is back in town on college break. But in the end, I find that it’s the expected cadences, the familiar touches that actually make our opening ritual so meaningful. There is no script, per se, beyond the handshake and the greeting, but spend enough time at the Red Doors, and you’ll see many happy returns of certain exchanges and commitments.  

For example, on most mornings, a half-dozen Lower School parents will linger at the door, just wanting to make sure their sons get up the steps to their classroom safely. I know that two Middle School students (clearly schooled on the niceties of hand-shaking) will stop in their tracks and gaze at me with attentive friendliness, so keen are they to demonstrate proper eye contact. It’s also inevitable that a Lower School boy will try to shake my right hand with his left, only to switch to his right, but then second-guess back to his left, until finally he grabs my outstretched paw with his right hand and issues a small cry of triumph. And it’s equally inevitable that the Upper School guys behind that same Lower School boy will patiently wait for him to sort it out, and quietly grin at his perseverance.

Just inside the doors, there are the expected beats as well. At some point, Theresa Rodriguez will dissolve the front desk in laughter by daring anyone to talk to her before she’s had her coffee, only to betray her irresistible kindness by immediately reassuring an eight year-old who left his backpack on the bus that she’ll help him call home. I’ll tell a Middle Schooler that I like his new haircut; in response, he’ll fix me with a look somewhere between gratitude, bemusement, and concern that I’m noticing his grooming tendencies. One of my greeting partners—Janet Lien, Eric Ogden, Danielle Passno, Ophelia Ma, or Jim DeAngelo—will gently wonder if I wouldn’t mind standing a little bit more to the left, the better to block the brisk autumn wind rushing through the door. Every Friday, a Grade 12 boy will join in the handshake fun, immediately becoming both a celebrity to Lower Schoolers and a figure of friendly banter (“What, did you join the administration? Can you call a Snow Day?”) to his Upper School mates. And, finally, a student will rush down 62nd Street as 8:16 a.m. (and tardiness!) draws closer, and closer, and closer… and find that Mr. Beatty always keeps the door open for a sprinting Panther.

Not everything is perfect all the time, of course. There are days when the rain falls too heavily, when last night’s sleep wasn’t sufficient, when the daily challenges of childhood and adolescence can make even the spunkiest boy wish he was still in bed. But more often than not, Browning guys bound, cruise, or stride their way to school with a sense that the Red Doors are the place to get congratulations on last night’s game, to find assistance with unruly shoelaces, and to receive expressions of admiration for the science project that they are trying to tug through the entryway. 

The joys of school life in general, and of Browning in particular, are many—but the way in which they are initiated on a daily basis matters. The people and the practices of the Red Door greetings announce Browning’s intentions, aspirations, and purposes every morning; indeed, if we are to be a place where every boy is known, loved and challenged, how we greet our community at its threshold provides both a literal and figurative gateway to all that our school is called to be. It remains, for me, an occasion of great meaning and one of deep thanksgiving, both during this holiday season and beyond.