May 20, 2009

Wishing I had chosen differently

By Mary Bartek

I have nothing against public schools.  I taught in the public system for 28 years and, except for college, I myself was a product of public education.  Even while investigating the possibility of pursuing a principal’s position in the Archdiocese of Denver, I made it clear that, while I believed in the mission of Catholic education, I also held public schools in high regard. 

The goal of public schools is to educate students as morally upstanding citizens of the world, I asserted.  Just because they can’t talk about God doesn’t mean they’re not trying to do God’s work.  True enough, perhaps, at least in classrooms where teachers allow a strong moral compass to direct their work.  But unfortunately for me—and especially for my own children—it took my becoming a Catholic school principal to realize how much more Catholic schools have to offer.  Looking back on my children’s public school education, I wish I had chosen differently.

Granted, both school systems have strong academics.  I lived in a neighborhood where there was no need to fear the public schools or doubt their ability to educate.  High CSAP scores and statistics that promised eventual success in college encouraged me to rely on the local school system.  My children would attend religious education classes through our parish, just as I had growing up.  If it was good enough for me, it was good enough for them.  What I had neglected to take into account, however, was how different our local school and neighborhood culture were from those I grew up in.

Churches dotted the landscape of the small Pennsylvania town where I grew up.  Six independent parishes served the Catholics; at least a dozen other churches existed for the remaining population.  Not everyone was Catholic, my mother told me, but those who weren’t worshipped at some other church.  In my hometown, her statement was very close to accurate.

Mass attendance was assumed, but the church’s influence spread beyond religious services and into our social life.  Large religious education classes, lasting two hours every Saturday morning during the school year, meant enjoying time with school friends as we learned about our faith.  Each summer, the town’s biggest event was the volunteer firemen’s carnival, but the many church bazaars ran a close second.  And, yes, we did perform religious hymns under the guidance of the public school music teacher.

Fast-forward many years to my days as a young mother.  My firstborn daughter, a quick study with a good memory, was not yet 3 when she recited the Lord’s Prayer by heart.  Religious education classes and sacramental celebrations were a part of her growing up years.  Still, something was missing.  Despite our family’s Mass attendance and support for the Church, my kids would ultimately lack the pervasive Catholic and religious culture that I had so taken for granted in my own formation.

The incidents I recall were similar for both girls.  They’d mention a school friend and, just out of curiosity, I’d ask whether that friend belonged to a church.  As elementary kids, their responses reflected confusion.  “How should I know?” they asked.  As they got older, their answers ranged from, “Nobody talks about that stuff,” to an appalled, “That’s not something you ask. It’s personal!”  Somehow, they had come to believe that even the mention of religion was taboo.

Mind you, my children’s friends—Catholic or otherwise—were not the problem.  The problem was that my kids’ idea of Catholicism stayed so tightly and tidily wrapped in their time actually spent inside a church, never flowing into the other parts of their lives.

That’s why I wish I had moved them to Catholic school.  Not all the kids who attend Catholic school are Catholic, but most are.  And all the kids who attend those schools share the advantages I had growing up in a community that wasn’t afraid to wear its religion in public.  They go to Mass with friends.  They see the cute boy in their class receiving Communion.  When a reference to something moral or Biblical comes up in class, nobody is embarrassed.  Nobody thinks it’s weird.  A spiritual nature permeates the social fabric of school and, therefore, of life.

I feel blessed in my current position.  Yes, I loved my work in public schools. Then, as now, I enjoyed working with kids of various backgrounds and religions.  But if I had it to do over again, I’d have given a lot more thought to enrolling my own children in Catholic school.  Going to a school where Jesus is allowed into the lunchroom and the classroom, where praying with friends is natural and no one is embarrassed when the subject of religious affiliation comes up—those are gifts I wish I had been wise enough to share with my kids.

Mary Bartek is principal of Good Shepherd Catholic School in Denver. She is also the author of a middle grade novel, “Funerals and Fly Fishing” (Holt 2004), and of numerous magazine and newspaper articles.