FROM THE RECTOR

The Rev. Charles Wynder greets Fourth Former Gabriel Taylor after Fall Convocation.

Tradition and Evolution

The New Hampshire fall we know — the maples along Rectory Road turning shades of red and yellow, the daily fog rising from earth still warmer than air, the prevalence of soccer balls and field hockey sticks in the Coit cloisters on the way to dinner in the Upper — contrasts sharply with the changing world in fall 2022, as news outlets and media streams deliver it to us. Sitting here in the Schoolhouse on a Saturday morning, the building hums like a beehive as students live the rhythms that decades and indeed, centuries of students here have lived before them. Sixth Formers are working hard on college applications. The Ballet Company is preparing for the upcoming Nutcracker performance, and the faculty “littles” have their first rehearsal as angels today.

Classes will run the morning; games, races, and rehearsals will consume the afternoon. After the Fiske Cup preliminary round tonight, students will linger over brunch tomorrow in the Upper, invest themselves in church services and clubs and homework and friends on Sunday, all to begin anew on Monday morning in Chapel. My Monday mornings begin early, with weekly breakfast with the Sixth Form Officers (known as “SFOs” in our acronym-addicted community), during which time we eat together, talk through School issues, and share our perspectives. I am not certain, but I suspect that these rhythms have been constants through generations of alumni and faculty who have lived here. The rhythms are known, comforting, and healthy — the work of a mission-centered high school, blessed by extraordinary commitment and investment by generations of grateful alumni, parents, employees, and friends.

As we note in the recently-published introduction to our new strategic plan, excellence evolves, and so must we — as a school and as a community. It is tempting for St. Paul’s to resist change. In our confidence in our history and identity, in the vivid adolescent impressions and experiences that become part of the fabric of our lives, it can be hard for some in our community to hear and acknowledge the need for cultural and responsive change. But the fact is that even as they sit in those well-worn chapel seats and walk the paths of the grounds, our current students, growing up in a rapidly evolving world, need that response from us. They need us to be knowledgeable about adolescent brains and human development — about the important roles that structure, boundaries, sleep, and health play not only in school performance but also in health for life. Our students need us to make the best choices possible about where to direct their work and attention as the body of human knowledge expands exponentially. And growing up in a culture of complex online interactions, gaming, vaping, and consumerism, they need us to help them establish the personal structures and strength to incorporate their experiences in the current world, even as they build “purposeful lives in service to the greater good” around core principles that won’t fail them, even if those same principles require them to live to a higher ethical and, yes, hopefully spiritual standard than the world seems to demand.

All of this work requires us to seek out and define excellence for our students in ways that will not be perfect, on which we will not all agree, but in ways that build on our strengths in service to the important ways our school fulfills its mission in the world.

As we seek to “draw forth what is best” in ourselves and in each other, in the spirit of educere and educare, we do so with the commitment to affirm the School’s and this generation’s responsibility to serve the greater good. That service is our most important tradition, and it is the special connector from past to present to future, as much part of the rhythms of our school as are the teenaged voices outside my door on the kind of beautiful fall morning we all know and love.