For better or worse, I’ve always been an “early bird” when it comes to arriving at school. From the time I began as a second-grade teacher, I’ve found value in arriving before anyone else, while the building is quiet and I won’t be interrupted. It’s true, with people come interruptions.
God bless us! Even as a school principal, some 28 years after I first walked into a classroom to teach, I cherish the start of my day at the school. Each day, as I drive up in the darkness, park in the same spot and enter the darkened brick building that is 17 years older than I am, there’s a certain excitement at the anticipation of what the day will bring at my Catholic school.
I walk in the building and head toward my office, flipping light switches as I go. As the lights come on in the hallways, it’s as if I’m waking up the building. The building doesn’t really come to life, however, until the students and staff arrive. That’s when the building that is Asheville Catholic becomes a school. It’s true – anyone who is familiar with our Catholic schools will tell you that there’s an energy that animates our buildings only when the students and staff arrive. It isn’t there when the halls and classrooms are empty. It isn’t there when I’m working in my office, the only one in the building. It’s an energy and an animation that comes from God Himself.
As we celebrate Catholic Schools Week, I’m reminded of a wedding Mass that I attended once. The couple to be married had asked the priest to bless a crucifix that they would hang over the front door of their first home, and the priest used their crucifix as the focus of his homily. He picked up the crucifix and showed it to us, holding it up so that we could only see the back, and he said, “This is the cross. The cross was once a symbol of fear and intimidation used by the Romans to scare their subjects into obedience. It was a symbol of cruelty, torture and death. Today, it has a profoundly different meaning to Christians and non-Christians alike. It is a powerful symbol of Christianity because of what Christ endured upon it. This cross represents the love of God.”
The priest then flipped the crucifix around so that we could see the image of Christ hanging there. He said, “This crucifix, with the image of Christ suffering to eventually die for our sins, represents sacrifice. The cross represents love, but when we consider what Christ endured for us, it represents sacrifice. Love and sacrifice.”
I look at our Catholic schools in a similar way. The buildings that make up our schools symbolize the love that we have for God and our students. When we view these buildings as schools, full of children and dedicated staff members, we see the sacrifices made. These sacrifices include the financial sacrifices that families make to send their children to
Catholic schools, and the sacrifices of all those who have given financial gifts to our Catholic schools. They represent the sacrifice of time, the hours upon hours our staff members put into educating our children and making our schools the places God meant them to be. Places of love and sacrifice.
But what’s sacrifice without someone for whom it is intended? What would Christ’s sacrifice mean without all of humanity for whom to sacrifice? Indeed, what would the sacrifices of parents, donors and school staff mean without students? The answer, of course, is nothing. Catholic Schools Week and the very essence of Catholic schools is all about our students. It’s all about bringing our students closer to Christ by their daily interactions at schools where Catholic values are ubiquitous. These interactions are countless and are a swirl of conversations and activities that often bring laughter and sometimes tears. Regardless, Christ is present through it all. He is present through His love and His sacrifice.
And I would say the same of our Catholic schools. In spite of all that is going on in the world around our students – a world that often brings joy, and sometimes tears – our Catholic schools are present through it all. They are present through their love and their sacrifice.
Mike Miller is principal of Asheville Catholic School. Beginning in the 2024-’25 school year, he will serve as assistant superintendent for the Diocese of Charlotte Catholic Schools.