What should college be about?

As I write this, our seniors are immersed in the college application process and their teachers are being inundated with requests for recommendations. Conversations about whether a particular college is a “Common Application” school and “Do you want me to submit the recommendation through Naviance?” opens up the brave new world of technology as it applies to the college admissions process. The bulk of their recommendations will be written by their teachers and college counselors; but every year, two or three seniors will, for a variety of reasons, want a recommendation from the School’s President. I don’t mind; it keeps me involved in their lives as students and aware of how their high school career has prepared them for college and beyond.  Plus, having taught English in a previous life - two or three recommendations a year is a light load!

The college application process is probably the most intellectually and emotionally draining experience of the four years teenagers will spend in high school. It is so stressful that, just shy of ten years ago, La Salle launched “Camp College,” a week-long program during the summer between junior and senior year in which students devote their time to the identification of colleges that represent a good “fit” for them (along with, what our College Counselors call, “safety” and “stretch” schools) and drafting the all-important college essay. Needless to say, Camp College fills up fast.

With nearly a third of our students earning a 4.0 GPA each semester of attendance (with similarly impressive performances at the 3.5 and 3.0 marks), I know our graduates will enroll in selective and competitive colleges and universities.  The performance of the Class of 2014 illustrates my point: 30 students matriculated at a UC campus (six students headed off to UCLA) with another 24 attending CSU. Private colleges and universities enrolling members of the Class of 2014 included: Brown, Carnegie Mellon, NYU, University of Chicago and Notre Dame. The University of Michigan, Ohio State, Purdue, VPI, Oregon, Indiana (Bloomington) and LSU represented some of the competitive out-of-state public institutions who received members of the Class of 2014. I’m not surprised by these results; over 60% of the Class of 2014 earned Honors at Commencement - the highest it’s been in five years.

We are particularly proud of Renaissance Forster ‘14 and Elizabeth Lynch ’14 who achieved the rare accomplishment of being admitted to West Point - from the same school (less than 30% of military academy nominations will be admitted). I can’t resist the temptation to make the point that Renaissance and Elizabeth highlight my firm conviction that La Salle, a coeducational school, can nurture leadership skills in young women as successfully as our single-gender counterparts assert.

Still, these impressive results beg the central question about higher education in the 21^st Century: to what end? Is a college or university education meant to be the capstone of 16 years of formal education, rounding out a student’s knowledge and honing in on a particular area of study called a “major?” Or is its purpose to ground a student in the rigors of a professional discipline that will provide access to employment after graduation?

Like many educators, I would argue for both outcomes. Higher education has always concerned itself with the education of both the mind and the person.  It is a false dichotomy to argue that one should take precedence over the other. I favor the perspective of Harvard Professor and cultural critic, Louis Menand (he hails from my home town in upstate New York), who captured the problem of confusing higher education with employability when he recently asserted:

“Education is about personal and intellectual growth, not about winning some race to the top.”

And yet, college students today are “voting with their feet;” they are choosing majors and concentrations that align themselves with the utilitarian end of higher education. The Pew Survey (2013) of higher education reports that 60% of college students are not liberal arts majors; the #1 major is business and more than twice as many degrees are awarded in parks, recreation, leisure and fitness than in philosophy and religion. This isn’t to suggest that these trends are misguided, just that they are incomplete with respect to what college preparatory schools like La Salle aspire for their graduates.

            The quality of college placements earned by the Class of 2014 suggests that our students leave La Salle knowing that both the mind and the person must be stretched over the course of the next four years. I believe their four years at La Salle have prepared them for what the Pew survey also reports - which is that the vast majority of graduates from a four-year institution say their college education helped them grow intellectually and to mature as a person. In other words, college may teach students as much about getting along with people as it does about analyzing Shakespeare’s sonnets (or mastering a spreadsheet).

            Our recent Annual Report highlights our successful Advanced Placement program - a critical element in providing our most talented students with a college-level academic program which nurtures their ability to interpret, synthesize, and use evidence found within a wide range of sources. This is the essence of a college-preparatory education and our AP and Honors curriculum is available to any student willing to challenge his/her ability to stretch their minds under the tutelage of extraordinarily talented educators.

            This is why I look forward to the opportunity to write letters of recommendation for those seniors who request it. I know that their academic preparation, active involvement in and out of the classroom, on and off the field has enabled them to approach the college application process with confidence that they will successfully meet the challenges they will face in the next chapter of their academic career.

On the road again...

“If you don't know where you're going, any road'll take you there”

Beatles aficionados will recognize this as the refrain to Any Road, the Grammy nominated opening song on George Harrison’s posthumously published album Brainwashed. Harrison performed it in public only once - in 1997 - just a few years before he died of cancer at the age of 58. Harrison frequently used the line to describe his good fortune that he always knew he wanted to play the guitar professionally. What Beatles connoisseurs may not realize is that the line was drawn from a rather famous interaction between Alice and the Cheshire Cat in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland:

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.

"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.

"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.

"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.

"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

I was reminded of this delightful interaction as I reviewed the results from the parent survey that was recently distributed electronically as part of our WASC/WCEA/Strategic Planning process. Not surprisingly, we received robust feedback regarding what works and what needs improvement at La Salle (for more on this, please plan on attending Back to School Night on Thursday, January 8^th). It was clear to me that our parents - indeed all of the School’s constituents - want to know what road La Salle is taking as we embrace a future not ours to control. And, cerrtainly, unlike Alice, we don’t want to get “somewhere” just for the sake of the getting.

We know that the essence of strategic planning resides in an institutional determination to choose a path forward which will advance the Mission while, at the same time, preparing for a future of twists and turns that will - inevitably - attempt to derail progress. We saw this dynamic play itself out during the implementation of our 2001 Strategic Plan.[1]   One of the goals, for example,

Aggressively pursue creative opportunities to resolve existing facilities limitations and which will maximize the delivery of the curricular and co-curricular program.

took over fifteen years to implement (finding a suitable off-site location for Baseball so that the existing space can be used to support the construction of new buildings as part of the School’s Master Plan). In many ways, La Salle faces a much more uncertain future now than it did fifteen years ago. Back then the economy operated at full steam, there were three applicants for every available seat and the School was expanding programs and renovating facilities to meet the needs of the students entrusted to our care. Now, the lingering effects of the Great Recession and the bust of the baby boomlet (there are 50% less students in surrounding public school kindergartens today than a decade ago) challenge the School to continue its focus on program and facility improvement while coping with a decline in earned income.  Happily, charitable giving from all of  La Salle’s constituents has enabled us to continue to renovate facilities and to support program enhancements that meet the needs of our students.  That having been said, it would be like “whistling in the dark” if the School assumed that all would be well if we just stayed the course…which is why strategic planning is so important to La Salle’s future well-being.

As a result, we have spent the last semester gathering data regarding the School’s strengths and challenges with a view towards examining their implications at a Strategic Planning Workshop on February 27/28. The time will be spent seeking answers to these critical questions:

• What are the central elements of La Salle’s Mission which must be preserved and enhanced over the course of the next decade?
• What strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and challenges confront the School, going forward?
• What should the School do more of, less of, to respond to a future not ours to control?
• What resources are available to the School to meet the challenges of an uncertain future and how can they be effectively leveraged?

Given that La Salle has not only survived but thrived over the course of the last five decades, I am confident that we will be able to successfully chart the course of the first decade of the next fifty years.  

 

So, in response to the challenge of George/Alice, I would like to quote a German proverb:

What's the use of running if you are not on the right road?

I am absolutely confident that La Salle’s strategic planning exercise will (like it’s 2001 predecessor) make sure we are running on the right road.

---

[1] To view that document go to: http://www.lasallehs.org/s/639/2col.aspx?sid=639&gid=1&pgid=359&sparam=strategic%20plan&scontid=0

Na kana I Hawai'i (Saints in Paradise)

           

Recently I was privileged to visit the island of Moloka’i (Hawai’i) where the sad story of the forced relocation of victims of Hansen’s disease (Leprosy) played itself out for a little over a hundred years. In 1865 the (then) Kingdom of Hawai’i, in an effort to stem the spread of Hansen’s disease, decreed that all Lepers would be forcibly relocated to the isolated Kalaupapa peninsula on the island of Moloka’i. Children were taken from their parents as well as brother from sister and husband from wife. Even after the discovery of a variety of treatments beginning in the 1940s, it wasn’t until 1969 that the state of Hawai’i formally rescinded its isolation laws.

            What made my visit to Moloka’i so privileged was the role the Catholic Church played in caring for the physical, material and spiritual needs of the Lepers. Beginning in 1873 a young Belgian priest, Father Damien De Veuster, asked the Bishop of Hawai’i to be sent to Moloka’i in service of the Lepers. He was the first non-Leper to live on Moloka’i for an extended period of time. More than ten years later he was joined by Mother Marianne Cope and two Franciscan Sisters. Mother Marianne assumed responsibility for the Colony upon Father Damien’s death and, for the next 35 years, would faithfully - and cheerfully - serve the patients of Kalaupapa.

            On that visit I was privileged to “meet” Mother Marianne for the first time. I say for the “first time” because I have known about her for virtually my entire life. At the time that she accepted the request for nursing sisters to be sent to Hawai’i, Mother Marianne was Superior General of the Franciscan Sisters of Syracuse - the same nuns - a hundred years later - that taught me in elementary school and my sister in high school. Sister Bonaventure, my eighth grade teacher, was a native of Hawai’i. We grew up knowing the heroic story of Mother Marianne and her Sisters.  Needless to say, when the opportunity to visit Moloka’i came up, I jumped at the chance to “meet” Mother Marianne.

            By all accounts, she was a remarkable woman. While still in her thirties, Mother Marianne founded Saint Joseph Hospital (the hospital in which I first greeted the world) and at a fairly young age - 40 - she was elected the second Superior General of the Franciscan Sisters.  A little over five years later, Mother Marianne accepted the invitation (the only affirmative response to a letter that was sent to 50 other religious orders) from the Kingdom of Hawai’i to staff a hospital for Lepers. Having never encountered the scourge that was Leprosy, Mother Marianne boldly asserted: “I am not afraid of any disease.” In 2005 Mother Marianne followed Father Damien into the halls of sanctity when the Church declared her a saint.

            The Bishop of Honolulu, Larry Silva (the first native-born resident of Hawai’i to assume that office), accompanied us on the visit to Moloka’i and preached the homily at Mass that day. The Gospel - Luke 10:25-37 - contained the parable of the man robbed and left for dead on his way to Jericho (I’ve previously commented on this passage in my Blog:  http://lasallehs.blogspot.com/2013/07/who-is-my-neighbor.html). In that parable, Jesus asks the central question that goes to the heart of Christianity: “Who is my neighbor?” There isn’t enough space to recap the answer to that question, save that it includes the man who stopped to give aid to the one left for dead. Then, Bishop Silva posed this rhetorical question: “In the Ebola epidemic, who is the neighbor?”  The obvious answer is the medical professionals who have responded to the rapid spread of this deadly disease.  Sounds a whole lot like Father Damien and Mother Marianne!  But Bishop Silva pushed us to consider a more complicated perspective with respect to this question.  Father Damien and Mother Marianne were utterly ordinary people (indeed, both were immigrants) who, when confronted by an extraordinary challenge, simply said yes.  What fascinates me about Mother Marianne - to this day - was her speedy and uncomplicated commitment to a destiny not her own. Bishop Silva challenged us to look at ourselves from the perspective of Father Damien and Mother Marianne: as ordinary individuals who - at one point or another - are (and will be) surprised by God’s invitation to be neighbor to someone else.

            As I spent five hours on my return flight from Hawai’i, I had time to consider the challenging perspectives my visit to Moloka’i forced me to consider with regard to my own life. I thought about Bishop Silva’s challenge to constantly ask myself the question: “Who is my neighbor” and somewhere, over the middle of the Pacific, I realized that this is the exact same question we ask the students of La Salle (and all Lasallian schools) when we challenge them to: Enter to Learn and Leave to Serve. At La Salle, everything related to the activities of Student Life, of the Retreat Program, of the various drives to respond to the needs of the homeless and the marginalized are designed to inculcate in the students entrusted to our care a sense that anyone who is in trouble needs a neighbor.  Like Father Damien and Mother Marianne, we need to listen to that “still, small voice” that is God challenging us to figure out who we need to be neighbor to - and then - to act on it.

 

The road to Calvary

          

  A friend recommended that I go see the movie, Calvary. It covers seven days in the life of an Irish priest serving in an isolated parish on a windswept corner of County Sligo.  The film opens with the priest, Father James, hearing confessions.  A man enters the confessional and reveals to Father James that he was abused from the ages of 5-7 by a now-dead priest.  He intends to extract retribution by killing Father James seven days hence. “No point in killing a bad priest,” he says. I’m going to kill you because you’ve done nothing wrong.” The penitent wants the world to know the trauma visited upon him and, in his mind, what better way than to kill an innocent man?

            It’s easy to see the parallels between the movie title, Father James’ predicament and his journey of seven days. Father James’ “road to Calvary” takes a week to complete and is filled with the flotsam and jetsam of encounters with a variety of unruly, unappealing and often unlikable parishioners.  Father James deals with each of them with a mixture of patience, righteousness, humor and even, sometimes, anger. Needless to say, this parish priest is respected, but is not popular.

            Father James’ isolation in relation to his parishioners caused the recovering English teacher in me to focus on two moments in the film which paralleled scenes in Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar and Mark Twain’s novel Huckleberry Finn (hang in there).  With respect to the former parallel, there’s a scene in the film where the Pub owner, smarting from a losing encounter with the priest, says to one of his customers: “(Father James) needs to be taken down a bit.” His words reminded me of Cassius - who had his own issues with Julius Caesar - when he said to Brutus:

“Why, man he doth bestride the narrow world / Like a Colossus, and we petty men / Walk under his huge legs and peep about.”

Later in the film, having acquired a gun for the purpose of defending himself on the seventh day, Father James wrestles with his conscience - he had just chastised a parishioner for thinking there are exceptions to the fifth commandment - and pitches the pistol into the stormy waters of the Atlantic ocean, thus committing himself to the final confrontation with the man who intends to kill him. That scene echoed the words of Huck Finn - “All right then, I’ll go to hell” - when he commits himself to freeing his friend, Jim, the slave.  I won’t act as a spoiler for the rest of the film, should you decide to see it; but I do want to comment on the theological and ethical elements in Calvary which should, I think, resonate with what we try to do here at La Salle for the students entrusted to our care.

The word and the place of Calvary are synonymous with the Christian understanding that Christ’s death represents the sacrifice of an innocent man in order that the sins of the many can be forgiven.  I’ve always struggled with the cause and effect of this core element of our Christian faith. It seems so incredibly outsized as to be incomprehensible. And yet, having watched Calvary, the priest’s belief that he will be able to convince his potential murderer to abandon his malign goal makes sense to me (especially after he throws the gun into the sea). In short, innocence forms its own moral compass. The film reinforces this point when, in a debate with one of the other characters about the difference between recrimination and forgiveness, Father James blurts out this blockbuster:

“We have too much talk about sins … and not enough about virtues, I think forgiveness has been highly underrated.”

It is all too easy for organized religion to dwell on sin more than on virtue - we see this played out in the news headlines on a daily basis, it seems. Rarely, though, do we devote as much time to the Gospel virtue of forgiveness…hence Father James’ comment. This is particularly problematic during the stormy adolescent years of high school. Confrontation - not forgiveness - is often the dominant social paradigm among teenagers. At La Salle, we seek to tilt the scale towards forgiveness by surrounding our students with adults who are also on a journey towards becoming more forgiving.  We don’t always get it right, but we know that our goal to produce good students and good people necessitates that we keep trying - just as Father James kept trying to win over his recalcitrant parishioners to more fully embrace Gospel values.

I suppose I will always wrestle with the magnitude of Jesus’ sacrifice; but in watching Father James’ journey to Calvary, I have a better idea how to encourage our students to imitate Christ’s example, who, at the time of His Calvary, forgave his persecutors.

The Don Draper Problem in Real Life...

I must admit that I have never liked Don Draper.  I tried liking him in Season One of Mad Men; largely because the critics said I should like the brutally honest way in which the hugely popular TV show portrayed the rough and tumble, testosterone fueled battle for gender and career dominance in the decade of the sixties.  After having watched about a third of Season One, I realized that, contrary to the critics’ perspective, not only did I find Don Draper repulsive (irrespective of the later revelation of his traumatic childhood) in his personal and his professional life, but I also found him “unwatchable.” By that I mean, even for this recovering English teacher there is a certain level of verisimilitude which deserves to be ignored; if only because there are aspects of Life that don’t require imitation by Art.  In the case of Mad Men, Don Draper’s odious treatment of women, including his - then - wife, is all too much still with us in the second decade of the 21^st Century. I’m not at all clear as to why any thinking person needs Television to remind us that Draper’s aggressive, self-absorbed and misogynous persona continues to haunt the halls of corporate America some fifty years later.

These musings surfaced after reading a Blog entry by New York Times writer Michael Port entitled:  The Don Draper Problem: Root Out Your False Narratives. His column makes the case that Draper, the protagonist in Mad Men (actually, he’s the antihero of the show), is ultimately undone by the, rather farfetched, back-story in which Draper assumes the identity of an Army buddy killed in the Korean War. Port’s column highlights the brutal price Draper pays decades later for (literally) burying his secret identity.  What irritated me about Don Draper’s character (and to a lesser extent, Port’s deconstruction of it) is how little attention was focused on the price paid by family and friends who unknowingly suffered because of the (unacceptable) ways in which he compensated for his secret past. However, Port uses Draper’s dysfunction to make the case for personal authenticity in our every day adult interactions.  He explains his point this way:

 

“A great deal of the literature around "authenticity" really comes down to this question (do) we have the courage to talk about who we really are, not just who we want others to think we are.”

 

Don Draper’s fatal flaw, in effect, was his creation of an identity that was at odds with who he really was. And while Draper’s dramaturgy is an extreme case - even for the most credible of viewers - Port’s point is well worth considering.  He hit home with me when he posed this, all too common, scenario:

 

“Think about how some of us add on layers of personae to gain others' approval while hiding parts of ourselves that we think are embarrassing.”

 

Of course, we all do this to some extent. What our family knows about us is not necessarily the same as what our friends know about us (and some times, vice-versa). Port isn’t suggesting that we should become completely transparent in all situations - that would spell disaster for most of us; but he is making a compelling case for the value of being vulnerable in front of others, especially with respect to those aspects of our lives that keep us from being our best selves.  As evidence for this  never-ending challenge, Port sites Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg's success as the author of the bestselling book Lean In as an example of someone who was willing to name her internal conflict around intimacy, marriage and having children.

 

            At La Salle, it is not our role to encourage teenagers to be vulnerable (they are often able to accomplish that in highly unattractive ways all by themselves); but it is our role to nurture authenticity in their public and private behavior. Adolescents are fully capable of hiding their weaknesses from themselves and others. What they need to learn - and what Don Draper learned too late in life - is that personal authenticity (and its cousin, integrity) is strengthened when they allow themselves to be vulnerable in the presence of those who care about them - their parents, extended family and, at La Salle, their teachers and coaches. I have been privileged over the last 16 years to observe our students blossom because of the trust they placed in a teacher or coach who challenged them to be their best selves.

            So, I suppose that Don Draper’s character is worth paying attention to, if only to remind ourselves that a lack of authenticity - and integrity - can cause any one of us to walk down a path we didn’t intend and probably won’t result in a life well-lived. As our teenagers gear up for another school year, its worth noting that the most important outcome of their journey through their four years at La Salle is that they become good students and good people.

Together and by Association...

I recently received an email from a La Salle alum who is an undergraduate student at the University of Southern California, inviting me (and others) to follow his Blog he had created to chart his summer internship at the Hong Kong outpost of USC. On many levels, he’s a remarkable young man. As a high school student, Roque regularly achieved a 4.0 GPA (or higher), was on our track and field team, involved in Student Life and was a Student Ambassador; oh, and he was a San Miguel Scholar as well. Most members of the La Salle community know that the School provides nine San Miguel (full tuition) scholarships to incoming freshmen from Catholic elementary schools who demonstrate financial need and academic potential. Over time, they have proved to be an impressive lot - earning an average GPA of 3.1 - similar to that of their tuition-paying counterparts at La Salle. Even within the talent pool of the San Miguel Scholars, Roque is unusual.  His drive to achieve in and out of the classroom was evident from the first moment he stepped on campus. He embraced life at La Salle with a gusto that is rare among young adolescents.  So, it was no surprise to me that Roque was awarded a full-tuition scholarship to attend USC’s Marshall School of Business.

Having just completed his junior year at USC, Roque’s enthusiasm for learning opportunities didn’t begin with his journey to Hong Kong. He had already served as a Fellow at a marketing firm based in New Jersey and he was one of ninety students selected last summer to intern in Taipei for two months through the University-sponsored Global Fellows Internship Program. Now he’s in Hong Kong assisting in the launch of the University’s international academy this summer. This internship is highly competitive and Roque was one of two USC students selected to participate.  All this while excelling in his course work and being selected as captain of the USC Trial Advocacy Team…and now he is blogging about the experience.

As I thought about how much Roque has accomplished in three short years, it occurred to me that, in addition to his intellectual talent, intense commitment to the task at hand and amazing resolve, there is an additional factor, rooted in the culture of La Salle that, as the Marketing Committee of the Board of Regents likes to remind me from time-to-time, is often obscured by our tendency towards modesty in celebrating the accomplishments of our students. That factor - embracing diversity as an educational end in itself - pushes our students to become their best selves in the four short years they spend with us. Embracing diversity has been at the center of the philosophy of Lasallian schools across the globe since Saint John Baptist de La Salle founded them over 300 years ago. As one commentator once observed: 

“La Salle believed that rather than undermining society, the education of the poor and working class would lift all of society.” 

Indeed, so successful were his schools that middle class and affluent families were soon attracted to them. Brother Gerard Rummery, a prolific educational philosopher on the unique value of Lasallian schools framed their contribution this way: 

“The counter to this (schools segregated by wealth and class) was the school which "ran well" (a frequent expression of De La Salle), where all children could come irrespective of their social status, and where all could obtain the basic education which made them capable of obtaining useful steady employment, thereby enhancing their human dignity.” 

In short, Brother Gerard notes that “La Salle made it possible for the poor boy and the better off boy to sit on the same benches.” This was a key element of De La Salle’s educational genius and continues to characterize today’s Lasallian schools located in over 83 countries. By making it possible for wealth and class to become irrelevant in the school, De La Salle made it possible for teachers and students to learn from each other - “together and by association.”

            At La Salle, we celebrate the rich dynamic that is created when students from all walks of life gather together in the same space.  We know that the bonds of friendship - of association - nurtured in an ethnically and economically diverse world benefits everyone and makes it possible for students to become their best selves. At La Salle, Roque’s story is impressive, but not unique. We expect every student, regardless of background, to seize opportunities as they present themselves, to stretch the limits of their imagination and to look to their peers for lessons that only a diverse student body is capable of producing.

            I asked Roque if I could share his Blog with the readers of this space. He was happy to give me permission: 

https://roquehk2014.blogspot.com/ 

Oh, and by the way, he just made the second round cut for a position next year as a White House intern.

 

 

 

 

Be careful what you ask for...

           

It never occurred to me when I was teaching American Literature in New York during the early 1980’s that, twenty years later, I would end up living in the land that became the focal point of John Steinbeck’s novel The Grapes of Wrath.  I still vividly remember teaching my students the various symbolic elements of the novel’s climactic (pun, intended) conclusion in which the Joad family, having escaped the drought-impacted plains of the Great Midwest for the more temperate climate of California, encounter a week-long downpour of rain that floods their temporary encampment, and forces them to seek higher ground.

            The plight of the Joads was brought home to me in a meaningful way on the first weekend of March when Southern California - finally - experienced a proper winter storm. In the course of 72 hours, five inches of rain fell on Los Angeles; this - not surprisingly - led to flooded conditions in various Foothill communities and mudslides in Glendora and Asuza.  Prior to that weekend, California was headed into what many climatologists believe could be the worst drought in the state’s recorded history. 

            The “recovering teacher” in me takes note of the irony inherent in the Joads’ fictional predicament and our own, modern-day dilemma, in which the admonition: “be careful what you ask for - you might get it” is in play. The Joads sought relief from drought, only to experience an even worse calamity - floods. In a similar fashion, Southern Californians prayed for rain, only to have our prayers answered with a vengeance.  Unlike the aftermath of the 2009 Station Fire, however, in which 43 homes in the hills above Glendale were damaged by mudslides triggered by the 2010 El Nino weather conditions, the recent March storm resulted in only minor residential damage.  Still, nearly 1000 homes were subject to mandatory evacuation orders during the three-day storm.

            It’s tempting to jump on (or off) the environmental band wagon when events like the Station and Colby Fires inevitably lead to flooding and mudslides…and yet, it was ever thus here in the Golden State. Scientists have recorded soot on pre-historic cave walls here in Southern California which suggests that pollution and climate change have always played a factor in the encounter between humans and the environment.  That having been said, still, it is worthwhile to consider what, if anything, we ought to be doing to avoid (or cope with) the inevitable cycle of fire and flood which appears to be the only constant in Southern California weather patterns.  In point of fact, the question is really larger than that; and it is underscored by the experience of the Joad family.

            Through no fault of their own, and, in order to survive, they escaped one environmental disaster only to be confronted by a different - and equally devastating - weather event. The novel ends with a rather mysterious - and controversial - moment in which Rosaharn, the Joad daughter who just lost her newborn to the excruciating conditions of extreme heat and lack of food and water voluntarily ministers to an emaciated and starving stranger sharing their constrained patch of dry land. Steinbeck’s message is inescapable: human beings are responsible for how we react to environmental disasters and, even more so, for the generation of hope in the face of implacable and arbitrary threats to our existence on this planet.

            I’m reminded of this imperative whenever I discover stories of our alums who look to make a difference in their particular corner of the world.  The Spring issue of Lancer Magazine, for example, features a piece on Ryan McEvoy ’96 who, without intending it, pioneered the introduction of LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) principles here in Pasadena.

As we gear up for a capital campaign to build a practice gym, aquatics and fitness centers, I am mindful of the precarious state of California’s water and energy supplies - as illustrated by the March climate events. It makes sense to me that we need to ensure our new buildings are as energy (and water) efficient as possible…if for no other reason than because the cost to operate these buildings will only increase pressure on raising tuition, going forward.

That having been said, it’s the inspiring example of alums like Ryan McEvoy ’96 who remind me that the Joads' picaresque journey to California not only represents “art imitating life”, but that their story of grit, determination and - yes - heroism can teach us a great deal about how to respond to life’s twists and turns - especially when it comes to things we can’t control - like the weather.