When Chickens Come Home To Roost

June of 2023 was a not a good month for Catholic schools in the greater Boston area.

In February, St. Joseph Preparatory High School announced their doors would close for good at the end of the school year.  The Brighton, MA institution had occupied the former Mount Saint Joseph Academy and was the result of a 2012 merger between that school and Trinity Catholic High School of Newton, MA which was founded in 1894.

In March, the all-girls Mount Alvernia High School (also in Newton) announced plans to close and merge with Fontbonne Academy, another all-girls Catholic school in Milton, MA.  The Missionary Franciscan Sisters who ran Mount Alvernia said operations had become unsustainable because they were no longer able to continue living on the property.  According to a National Catholic Register article, one board member who later became its chair said the possibility of closing the school "was never once discussed" during her tenure and she accused the sisters of making their decision in secret.

Students of the Cambridge Matignon School were also blindsided when the 76 year old Cambridge, MA institution announced their closure just one month before graduation.  In all of these cases, the story seems to be the same.  Insurmountable financial difficulties coupled with declining enrollment led to each school's demise.

Many years ago, my niece's Catholic school enjoyed huge crowds during their annual Christmas pageant.  After just a few years, the place announced its closure as well.  Apparently enrollment hadn't dipped...it collapsed and she graduated with only six other students in her class.  The principal tried to put a positive spin on things by saying for over a hundred years the institution's mission was to educate young minds and now that mission was complete.  We were told to be proud of what the school had accomplished over the past century but such words did little to abate the feeling that something great was being lost.

Sometimes when Catholic schools close, failure is painted as an exciting opportunity.  That's how Father Mark Mahoney portrayed the 2016 closure of Saint Mary's School in Beverly, MA.  Under his leadership, that institution merged with the nearby Saint John the Evangelist School and was renamed The Saints Academy.  There was talk of closing St. Mary's School as early as 1975 but when Father Richard Johnson became pastor a year later, he set up Beano games and took other steps that helped stabilize the school's finances and enrollment.  A lot of good people worked so hard over the years to keep that place going.  Today, the building continues to sit empty.

Even though this blog has been critical of my experiences at Bishop Fenwick High School, I still feel these institutions are far too important to lose.  The parochial educational system offers the Church one of the greatest opportunities to renew itself.  Not only are young minds exposed to important character-shaping values, they can also find an oasis from the moral relativism that plagues modern society.

While there are many reasons for these school closures, it certainly doesn't help when young people seeking to increase their faith discover their parishes offer them no place at the table.  It also doesn't help when singles who willingly embrace the Church's teachings are left to fend for themselves and never get the chance to marry and have the children who would attend Catholic schools in the first place.

The Good Ones

Not every member of the faculty at Bishop Fenwick High School caused me so much grief.  In fact, there were some really good ones who stood out in my mind and it wouldn't be fair if I didn't mention them on this blog.

Mr. Steve Dalton:  This religion teacher was such a gentle soul.  He once told us that we all started off as a wonderful idea in God's mind and the day we were born was the day He could no longer keep the joy of who we were from the world.  Mr. Dalton often preached God first, then family and then career.  Sadly for us, he left the school after a couple of months into my Freshman year for a new job.

Mr. Kevin McCarthy:  Some of my lowest grades ever were in his advanced math classes.  I just wasn't that good with numbers but he tried to help with plenty of after school lessons.  I never did understand algebra all that much but my grades were excellent in his more practical business math class.

Mrs. Barbara Brigante:  Since I liked science, taking chemistry seemed like it would be really cool until I discovered there was a great deal of math involved.  I didn't do well in her class either but she was always very nice and patient with her students.

Mr. Andrew Parker:  He was our young and hip religion teacher.  For one assignment, we anonymously wrote down any question we wanted to ask him.  I submitted, "What is the air speed velocity of a European swallow."  When he read my note aloud, many students thought it was a dumb question.  Mr. Parker answered, "Five...no six."  He then flung himself backwards and shouted, "Ahhhhh!"  He got my Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference and after explaining the movie to the class, some students recalled seeing it on TV and admitted it was a pretty funny question after all.  One extra credit assignment had us praying with him for two minutes after school so we would learn to make time for God during our busy day.

Mrs. Kate Hawke:  A very agreeable English teacher who encouraged my writing.  At her suggestion, she helped me submit a poem to a literary magazine that featured content from area students.

Mr. John Farley:  He often used humor and fostered teamwork during religion class which included a course called Theology of Death.  Sometimes lessons were heavy like the time he told us about a student from years ago who had been killed in a construction accident.  Other times Mr. Farley lightened the mood with interesting assignments like having us bring in a death-related song.  I chose Julie Brown's The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun.

Sr. Charlotte Wickes:  Despite encounters with authoritarian nuns, she was one of the sweetest and most soft-spoken nuns you could ever hope to meet.

Ms. Kathleen Nolan: I don't remember too much from her English class but she called me one of the nicest students she had ever taught.  Where others saw negativity in me, she saw sensitivity and goodness. 

Ms. Suzanne Bertrand:  This pleasant and outgoing religion teacher discovered I loved trivia so we agreed to a head-to-head competition of Trivial Pursuit right in class.  I lost but it was all in good fun.  She also enjoyed the original Star Trek series and I often tried to convince her to give The Next Generation a second chance.

Mrs. Eileen Gibbons:  My homeroom teacher seemed to understand that I was having trouble fitting in at the school so she treated me with patience and understanding.

Mr. Paul Downey:  His civics class was pretty laid back and he often used humor to create a wonderful learning environment.  We shared a love of Benny Hill and I wound up lending him a VCR tape of the British comedian's antics.  His son attended the school with me but he was in the group of jocks who didn't resort to bullying.  (A credit to how his father raised him.) 

I think these teachers stand out in my mind because they not only went that extra mile for their students, they created a learning environment built on mutual respect.  My high school years were less than ideal but these great educators helped make those awkward times a bit more bearable.

Whose Problem Is It?

The last blog entry already had me thinking about Bishop Fenwick's authoritarian nuns when a letter in the mail announced the retirement of vice principal Sr. Geraldine Burns.  Inside was a glowing account of her tenure by former principal, Ralph LeDuc who said, “Her imprint on so many lives is indelible...”  All I could think was, “It's probably a scar.”

Looking up Sr. Geraldine on Ratemyteachers.com reveals some extremely negative comments.  While some of the nun's detractors admit she is good at her job, most are critical of her attitude.  Online review sites should be taken with a grain of salt but in this case, I think those disapproving remarks are quite valid.

Contrary to the smiling educator featured on the cover of that letter, I found Sr. Geraldine to be a cold disciplinarian who largely interacted with students when they did something wrong.  I had the pleasure of being sent to her office a few times, mostly for tardiness.  Was I depressed about something?  Were other students bullying me?  Perhaps there was trouble at home.  Sr. Geraldine wasn't interested in any of that.  I broke the rules so some kind of punishment was needed to curtail such behavior.  However, discipline without thoughtfulness fails to address a problem's root cause.

Around this time, an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation introduced viewers to Lt. Barclay, a smart but anxious member of the crew who had trouble fitting in.  When the chief engineer complained about this misfit's behavior, the ship's bar tender replied, “If I felt nobody wanted to be around me, I'd probably be late and nervous too.”  Eventually, the chief engineer used understanding and encouragement to bring out the best in Lt. Barclay.  The story really hit home with me.  Too bad Sr. Geraldine didn't watch Star Trek!

When educators adopt a “one-size-fits-all” approach, they can do more harm that good.  My quirky history teacher, Mr. Kawczynski loved playing devil's advocate because he thought it would build confidence.  For me, it created a climate of intimidation.  One particular discussion on morality led Mr. K to ask if we would ever pose nude in a magazine for a large sum of money.  Some of us said no so he kept upping the price to change our minds.  After he reached the multi-million dollar mark, I was the only one who still refused the hypothetical offer.  A wisecracking student asked what I had hidden in my pants that was worth so much.  The class got a good laugh but it was at my expense.

During tests, Mr. K sometimes whistled to break our concentration.  He said if we had focused minds like that of a Kung fu master, we wouldn't be distracted.  While discussing the need for more class participation, I got singled out as an example of a shy kid.  He then proceeded to do an exaggerated imitation of me struggling to ask questions.  Most reviewers on Ratemyteachers.com acknowledge Mr. Kawczynski's challenging behavior but they also praise him.  One student says, “Those who left bad reviews were probably a bit over sensitive...”  Call me overly sensitive but I don't think being mocked in front of the entire class made such a good learning environment.

When a teacher's personality clashes with a student, whose problem is it?  Since the job of an educator is to EDUCATE, more should be done to reach struggling students even if it means changing tactics.  Would the school descend into anarchy if Sr. Geraldine tried being friendlier?  Did Mr. Kawczynski have to shoot down all of our arguments with such vigor?  Our teen years can be extremely awkward because there is so much we don't know.  Sometimes students need their teachers to be mentors, not taskmasters.

As memories of high school fade into the background we tend to remember the things that made a big impression.  I don't recall many of the lessons from my classes but those bad experiences sure do stand out.  Inside that Sr. Geraldine retirement letter was space to write a personal note about her “positive” impact.  Sadly, I didn't have anything to say.

The Art Room Respite

I sat with an interesting group of friends and acquaintances during my lunch period at Bishop Fenwick High School.  Most of them embraced an alternative style but they weren't often shunned as outcasts.  Some successfully navigated their way through the school's different cliques while others didn't get bullied simply because they were female.  (Even the jocks had their limits.)  Almost everyone in our group had an artistic side and a few were so talented, they took an advanced art class.

At one point, these art students disappeared from the cafeteria.  As it turned out, their teacher had given them permission to eat lunch in the art room so they would have extra time to work on projects.  We weren't too keen on the idea of our cafeteria group splitting up so one friend in the class suggested we all go to the art room together during lunch.  The teacher wouldn't be there because she had trusted her students to work on their projects without supervision.  None of us thought a few additional students in the art room would be a big deal.  Famous last words.

Since the place was located in a small wing off the main building, it felt like a refreshing oasis far from the maddening crowd.  Someone found a radio with a tape player so a few of us brought in cassettes of our favorite bands for everyone to listen to.  It was nice having our cafeteria group remain intact and in many ways, lunch in the art room underscored our place in the school's culture: creative, thoughtful, quiet souls disconnected from the popular crowd.  With a nod and a walk down the hall, it felt like we were heading to a secret club but after a couple of weeks, these lunch sessions seemed routine.

One day, I was joking with an acquaintance when out of the corner of my eye, a nun appeared in the doorway.  She looked around the art room and wondered why we were all here.  A few kids tried to explain but she wasn't having any of it.  She got a piece of paper and a pencil and one by one, asked for our names.  In a display of resignation, I spelled out my last name for her.  We were then instructed to pack up our things and go back to the cafeteria.  I had just read George Orwell's 1984 so it felt like our little respite had been broken up by the Thought Police.  I was filled with a cold, sinking feeling and as we walked back down the hallway, I sang a line from the 1956 song The Party's Over to lighten my mood.

Many people think teenagers aren't too considerate but our group was very concerned about what this would mean for the art teacher.  None of us wanted to see her get in trouble because of our actions.  After an investigation by some of the nuns, we received a verbal reprimand and everyone was prohibited from leaving the cafeteria during lunch period.  The art teacher shook her head at us in disgust.  From her point of view, she felt we took advantage of the trust she gave her art students.

I didn't think what we had done was so bad because there was no malicious intent in our hearts.  We only wanted to maintain the comfort our lunchroom group provided.  There was no sense of entitlement and we were careful not to be disruptive.  The radio's volume was low and our conversations were subdued.  While the nuns had every right to discipline us, blindly handing out punishments just to keep everyone in line wasn't a very Christian approach.

During my high school years, I kept hearing the phrase “Fenwick is family” but the authoritarian nuns only saw our infraction and not the reasons behind it.  Did they care that some students were struggling to fit in?  Apparently not.

A Mother Knows

Fr. James Nyhan

Sometimes we see a darker side in people who are universally loved and respected.  Does this mean our perspective is wrong?

My mother's first time inside Bishop Fenwick High School was when she helped me purchase books at the start of my freshman year.  We passed the chaplain, Fr. Jim Nyhan, in the hallway as he was clowning around with a male student.  I didn't think much of it but later on my mother told me to be careful of that priest because she got the impression he was a pervert.  She explained, “Look at the way he was touching that boy.”  At times I had seen Fr. Jim engage in horseplay with some students but it was mostly quick hugs or a pat on the shoulders.  My mother said, “He was rubbing the kid's stomach!”  That raised a red flag in her mind and she added, “Don't ever let him touch you like that.  If he does, come to me and I'll handle it.”  You didn't want to mess with my mother.

There weren't many interactions with Fr. Jim during my years at Bishop Fenwick.  Maybe my mother's cautionary words created some kind of distance or perhaps it was because I felt like an outcast.  Even though I wanted to deepen my Catholic faith, being bullied had made me skeptical of Fenwick's squeaky-clean image and any talk of showing your school spirit made me want to run in the other direction.

In many ways, Fr. Jim was the embodiment of school spirit.  He was a very outgoing priest who led Masses in the auditorium, taught religion class, and even drove a school bus during away games.  A scholarship was later established in his name.  If anyone had expressed misgivings about him, they would have risked criticism by going against popular sentiment.  As it turned out, however, my mother's first impression of Fr. Jim was correct.

Abuse allegations against Fr. Nyhan surfaced a few years after my graduation from Bishop Fenwick and in April of 2006, he pleaded guilty to three counts of committing a lewd act on a minor between 1979 and 1980.  Reports said he would arouse himself by getting into wrestling matches with his victims and rubbing up against them.  “I feel badly this colored my otherwise fruitful stay in Charleston,” Fr. Nyhan said much to the dismay of his victims who were expecting a more contrite apology.  The plea deal spared Fr. Jim jail time and he did not have to register as a sex offender.

It's interesting that my mother figured out in 5 seconds what many couldn't see at all.  She feels the priesthood would be a much healthier institution if priests were allowed to marry.  My mother often says Jesus chose married men to be among His disciples including Peter, the first Pope.  Also, there are a small number of married Catholic priests who converted from other denominations.  For most parents, protecting their children is not an intellectual exercise.  When the Church received the first reports of sexual abuse at the hands pedophile priests, a visceral desire for justice was lacking.  Instead, the problem was analyzed and then covered up.  Ultimately, lawyers and reporters had to drag the Church kicking and screaming into the light.  Can unmarried celibate priests truly understand the pain felt by parents of children who have been victimized?  Their slow reaction to the sex scandal tells me no.

I spoke with a friend from high school recently and he revealed a disheartening story about Fr. Jim.  Like me, this friend wanted to deepen his Catholic faith so he sought out our chaplain to discuss becoming a Eucharistic minister.  Instead of offering encouragement, Fr. Jim wondered why he wasn't satisfied in his faith and why simply going to Mass wasn't enough.  The awkward conversation threw my friend for a loop.  Needless to say, he never became a Eucharistic minister and the seeds of doubt sown by Fr. Jim that day led him to question his Catholic faith so much so that he became an atheist years later.  What really troubled this former classmate was the deceptiveness of outward appearances since some of the most “holy” in our school were insensitive behind closed doors.  While many of Fr. Nyhan's former students and parishioners were shocked by his admission of guilt in 2006, some of us weren't surprised at all.

Going against the accepted beliefs of the in-crowd usually invites isolation and after a while, you can start to question what's in your heart.  Being a black sheep doesn't necessarily mean you're wrong, though.  Sometimes it means in a climate of phoniness, you can still see the truth.

The Joy of Female Friends

Many claim men and women can't be friends because sooner or later the sexual tension between them will be too great.  A search of the internet reveals scientific studies that confirm this but other findings refute it.  Television shows and movies like Friends, New Girl and When Harry Met Sally have the platonic relationships of the characters turn into bed-hopping adventures.  Even Scully and Mulder of the X-Files crossed out of the friend-zone after years of speculation from fans.  I have to laugh at all this because in high school, I was blessed with many opposite-sex friendships.

Bishop Fenwick offered an advanced creative writing class that was open to underclassmen.  Here I got to know a fellow student named Sharon who was a year ahead of me and soon friendship developed.  We also shared the same study session in the cafeteria so as everyone else separated into groups by gender, we sat together.  Eventually her friend Christine joined us and we had a wonderful time hanging out. 

Nothing about our friendship seemed odd or unnatural because it was rooted in mutual respect.  We were all somewhat nerdy so topics of conversation tended to be more intellectual.  These female friends were a breath of fresh air since they allowed me to be more emotionally honest.  Gone was the stifling machismo usually found among my male friendships.

A rendition of the alternative
 clique from our yearbook 

Sharon was good friends with a fellow classmate of mine named Jen and we eventually found ourselves joining her much larger group of girls during lunch.  Most of these kids were part of an alternative clique that existed in the early 90s even though it didn't really have a name.  Some of us labeled them “artsy” or “progressives” because they dressed differently, were into art and literature and shunned the bubblegum pop music of the day.  They resembled Jane Lane from the TV show Daria which debuted a few years after my time at Bishop Fenwick.

Jane Lane from Daria.

Most of these “progressives” had a grudge against the Catholic Church and felt out of place in parochial school.  One girl was very sexual and took it upon herself to promote safe sex and gay rights while another read the Bible just to highlight all the misogynistic passages.  Perhaps it was their way of rebelling against an environment they dreaded. I embraced them anyway because we still had a lot in common.  Whatever their opinion of Catholic doctrine, it wasn't going to change my beliefs.  They knew where I stood and some of them respected my opinions even if they didn't agree with me.  Among these friends, I could be myself and not get judged for it.

Being the only guy in a group of girls didn't bother me because at the time I believed any differences between men and women were mostly societal.  Did our friendships hit the brick wall of biology?  Not really.  The term “friends with benefits” didn't exist and many of us were still somewhat innocent about life.  (Since there was no internet back then, society was a bit more innocent too.)  Sure, the occasional fantasy entered my mind but we just weren't compatible enough to seriously consider crossing any lines.  Besides, I loved my female friends like sisters and didn't want anything to spoil it.

These unconventional relationships probably caused some classmates to question my sexuality but others thought I was getting inside information when it came to understanding women.  It piqued the curiosity of one of my male friends and soon he joined our lunchroom group.  Having female friends made me feel a lot cooler than I was.  Unfortunately, we rarely got together outside of school since we lived so far away from each other.  (Our parents never had to deal with co-ed sleepovers but that would become a topic of conversation in society many years later.)

Female friendships weren't limited to fellow classmates.  During my senior year, the guys in my study session “adopted” a small group of juniors who sat at the table next to us.  These girls had been amused by our conversations so we decided to start talking to each other.

While there are many horror stories of opposite-sex friendships gone wrong, my experiences with them in high school were largely positive.  Perhaps I'm more sensitive than many of my male counterparts who frequent strip clubs and sleep around.  One psychological experiment highlighted the differences between males and females by separating toddlers from a toy with a plexiglas barrier.  Boys typically hit the divider while girls tended to cry.  However, there was a small percentage from both genders who did the exact opposite.  When one of my cousins got married, the groom chose a female friend to be his best man.  Maybe guys like us are the exception to the rule.  It's difficult to say but no friendship can work if you're missing two key ingredients: trust and respect.

The Long Ripples of Thoughtlessness

The motto reads: "Overcome evil with good."

Catholic Memorial is an all-boys high school in the West Roxbury section of Boston and this March the local media was abuzz with reports some of its students shouted anti-Semitic chants during a basketball game.  The first few headlines appeared to place all the blame squarely on the school's fans and the story was quickly shared among a few of my more liberal Facebook friends.  Some of them used the news as ammunition to bash the Church while others were genuinely worried anti-Semitism was part of Catholic Memorial's curriculum.  A closer look at the situation would reveal a pattern of escalation from fans of both teams but this was cold comfort to those who were shocked by such offensive remarks.

The opposing team was from Newton North High School which is located in a community with a sizable Jewish population.  During these games, there's an accepted tradition among student fans to chant at their rivals in order to rattle the players and sometimes remarks can get offensive.  After trading a few harmless barbs, the Newton North kids decided to take it up a notch by shouting at the all-boys Catholic Memorial, "Where are your girls?”  They also hurled the term “sausage fest" at their opponents.  Now the gloves were off and Catholic Memorial fans responded by chanting, "You killed Jesus!"  With that, a line had been crossed and in the minds of many, it was no longer harmless mischief but hate speech.

Catholic Memorial's faculty quickly reprimanded the students and made them apologize and shake hands with the principal of Newton North at the end of the game.  In their zeal to criticize all things Catholic, some people conveniently glossed over the opposing team's "sausage fest" remark.  Perhaps that chant wasn't considered offensive enough but the principal of Newton North later discussed with his students their role in the incident.  Subsequent news stories would report these details more thoroughly but the damage was done.

Sin often has far-reaching effects even if we don't think so and what seemed like harmless fun at a basketball game would cause a great deal of embarrassment for the Boston Archdiocese.  The day before, Cardinal Sean O’Malley had called on Catholics to gain a deeper awareness of the Jewish faith when he celebrated the Second Vatican Council’s denunciation of anti-Semitism at Temple Emanuel in Newton.

On a personal level, I found myself having to reassure one of my Jewish acquaintances that anti-Semitism isn't taught in Catholic churches or schools.  I was actually in my twenties when I first heard the term "Christ killer" but it was during a discussion of religious intolerance on the PBS show The McLaughlin Group.  Why the student fans of Catholic Memorial so quickly resorted to using this anti-Semitic slur is something parents and faculty of those involved need to ask themselves.

It's safe to say sports are a big deal to many high school students and this was very evident during my years at Bishop Fenwick.  Not only did sports foster teamwork and discipline among my fellow classmates but also entitlement and cruelty.  Crowds can get so easily swept up in the mob mentality of team spirit and one only needs to watch news reports of the occasional post-game riot to realize that even fans of professional sports sometimes cross a line.  On a visceral level, the manhood of Catholic Memorial's players was insulted so their student fans decided to fight dirty.  Did they have a deep-seated hatred of Jews or was it just their way of hitting Newton North below the belt?  Only they know what was truly in their hearts at that moment.

We can do some pretty dumb and hurtful things in our teens…things we'd hate to be held accountable for later on in life.  However, if religious schools are going to promote a higher standard, then we need to expect a lot better from their students.

A School In Sheep's Clothing

Bishop Fenwick High School in Peabody, MA

My freshman year at Bishop Fenwick was unremarkable for the most part because I decided to keep a low profile.  The fear of being teased was still on my radar and despite all the speeches during orientation that described Fenwick as a family; I did experience random bullying.  It mostly came down to some of the jocks throwing their weight around by picking on the meek for no apparent reason.

I made a few acquaintances during the first week of classes and when we chose a small table in the cafeteria, a group of jocks decided to commandeer it by sitting right down next to us and telling us to move on.  We felt totally humiliated and sheepishly left to find another table.  Gym class often started with a lap around the football field and I would usually come in second place.  A couple of class clowns decided to call me "Ben Johnson" who was a disgraced Olympic runner accused of using steroids at the time.  So much for earning the respect of others by giving it your all.

The majority of bullying at Bishop Fenwick tended to be more subtle than what I experienced in middle school: a quick insult, a sarcastic laugh or a demeaning look.  Then of course there was being shunned.  I first encountered this during school Masses which took place in the auditorium.  When it came time for the sign of peace, everyone around me bent over backwards to give hearty handshakes to their friends but I was virtually ignored.  Perhaps keeping a low profile had its drawbacks.

One kid who attached himself to our lunchroom group was a bit socially awkward and it really irritated a couple of my peers to the point they just wanted him to stop hanging around us.  Sometimes they would drop hints or ignore him outright.  I didn't think this was right but in my meekness; did nothing to stop it.  One day he approached me in confidence to ask if everyone in our group disliked him.  I told him the truth and said I didn't have a problem with him but a couple of the other kids did.  He decided to stop hanging around us altogether and ultimately transferred to another school the next year.  One of my friends in the group thanked me for finally getting rid of him but I felt awful inside.

Should I have sat with the shunned student and risked being shunned myself?  Were the kids in my lunchroom group worth having as friends?  If Bishop Fenwick actually lived up to the high-sounding words we heard at orientation, these questions would not have been swirling around in my mind.  I noticed a fair amount of inconsiderate behavior from my fellow students that year.

One of the worst incidents actually happened in math class between a couple of trouble-markers and our rookie teacher.  They horsed around just to get a rise out of him but the situation quickly escalated until finally, one of them put a dent in a filing cabinet.  The teacher was so upset he had a meltdown right in front of us and left the room.  A couple of nuns came in to cancel class and he never returned to the school.  We had been assigned to write him get well notes which made for one very awkward experience.

The trouble was, not everyone attended this school for the same reasons.  I wanted to deepen my faith while others sought academic excellence without the Catholic values.  A good number of students placed a high priority on sports while others desired the prestige of a private education.  A few students didn't even want to be here but their parents felt it would be a good influence on them.  Catholic schools seem all too willing to de-emphasize their core values in order to accommodate everyone.  Looking back, I'm surprised by how little scripture made it into the curriculum.  We did have a great religion teacher named Mr. Dalton but sadly, he left Bishop Fenwick for another job after the first two months of my freshman year.  Subsequent religion classes lacked a solid foundation and seemed to be more "feel good" in nature.

As my sophomore year approached, I held out hope things would improve.  There were still a lot of students I didn't know so perhaps I would fall in with peers who shared similar sensibilities.

My Last Best Hope For Belonging

"A Catholic education is an advantage for life."  I've seen this slogan in various church bulletins over the years but how accurate is the statement and does it reflect a Christ-like view?  It all depends on your perspective.

Attending a pubic elementary school in the early and mid-1980s was a struggle for me academically but those years were also filled with great friendships and fond memories.  I even finished my last two years with good grades thanks to a couple of wonderful teachers.  Pubic middle school on the other hand would be a rude awakening.

In 5th grade, my friends and I were still carrying lunchboxes and playing with Transformers and G. I. Joes because back then kids were still kids.  Yet after a mere three months of summer vacation, we were suddenly expected to put all this stuff away because according to some unwritten rule it just wasn't acceptable in the 6th grade.  We quickly discovered our middle school was filled with cliques of jocks and toughs who had come from other elementary schools and soon I found myself on the receiving end of their bullying.  You'd get teased for wearing the "wrong" style jacket, failing to catch a football in gym class, watching cartoons or just about anything else they could think of.  Asking the faculty for help did little to alleviate the problem and on a couple of occasions, blame was shifted back to me when some of them wondered what I might be doing to not fit in.  I was well on my way to becoming a black sheep and throughout middle school my grades took a nosedive despite a few really great teachers who stood out from the crowd.

The thought of attending the public high school with my bullies wasn't very appealing given the place's bad reputation for fights.  I had taken a summer typing class there and the desks were covered in graffiti.  What really appealed to me was going to a Catholic high school...or at least what I thought a Catholic high school would be.  I envisioned a nurturing environment where teachers and students took their faith seriously and treated each other with kindness and respect.

My older brother attended St. John's Prep. in Danvers but my grades weren't good enough to get past their admissions department.  That suited me just fine because I really didn't like the idea of spending my high school years at an all boys' school.  I felt males and females could learn a lot from each other and in the right environments, their perspectives were complimentary.  I also hoped to find a girlfriend at some point.  Bishop Fenwick High School in Peabody, MA seemed like my best option since it was just a 15 minute drive away.  Admissions accepted my application despite the lack-luster grades and soon I was turning the page on a new chapter in my life where great possibilities awaited.

One of the school's orientation events took place at St. Mary's in Salem and included a church service with Bishop Fenwick's chaplain Fr. Jim Nyhan.  In his sermon he encouraged mutual respect and using a colorful analogy, he said whenever we treated others badly, we only disgraced ourselves.  During another orientation event, students put on a short skit where some of the kids pretended to be nerds while others were jocks but they all stood up for each other and became friends.  This sounded too good to be true.  In many ways it was.

We had been told "Fenwick is family" but during my years at the school, I would discover initial appearances weren’t just inaccurate, at times they could be downright deceptive.  The place did have its fair share of bullies and cliques along with an undercurrent of elitism.  From my perspective, the slogan "A Catholic education is an advantage for life" sounded an awful lot like bragging.