Issue 17 | 2021 | SJC Newsletter

The last two years have been quite an extraordinary time for the teenagers of St Joseph’s. In the last couple of months, we have moved toward a ‘living with COVID’ setting which promises a return to something like the pre-COVID world. As we find opportunities, between enjoying reinstated freedoms, to reflect on the last two years I wonder what we will discover.

I hope that one of the things that we will recognise is the capacity that we have to be generous and caring towards others. Perhaps our young men will understand that while they are young, healthy, vaccinated and resilient, that they sanitise, socially distance and wear a mask to care for and protect others more vulnerable. Enhanced recognition of one's obligation to others can only be a good thing!

This obligation is part of our story. In scripture, the first question that the creator God asks of young men is in chapter 4 which tells the story of brothers Cain and Abel. God asks Cain "Where is your brother?" and Cain (having killed his brother in a jealous rage) famously replies “Am I my brother’s keeper?" The rest of the story makes it quite clear that the answer is an emphatic yes. We are our brother's keepers and responsibility and care for all other human beings is the purpose of our creation. Perhaps our reflection of the last two years will remind us that we have all been pretty good at it!

For over two decades the St Joseph’s staff have gathered annually to celebrate what has become known as the ‘Staff Gratitude Dinner’. From humble beginnings in the old staffroom, to other larger onsite and offsite venues it has usually commenced with liturgy followed by a meal celebrating all that is great about working at St Joseph’s. Over the years it has been themed, (I recall riding a camel across Aphrasia Oval from Mass to dinner one year!), it has been a lunch, a dinner and last year an online gathering. In recent years it has come to include the presentation of Service Awards for long-serving staff, the Prof Frank Larkins Award for teaching excellence, and the Damian Moynihan Award for outstanding service by education support staff.

After frequent rescheduling, this event is being held this Thursday 28 October online. The staff have worked hard to support students throughout the year and this is an opportunity to pause and reflect on a job well done. My opening remarks at this gathering were as follows:

“Working with young people is the greatest job in the world. We occupy the privileged position of being welcomed into the lives of our students as teachers and support staff where we become mentors and role models. It is the greatest blessing we could ever experience, but for all that we take from the profession, there is a cost. It is personally draining and never more so than in the last two school years. While the rewards of the job are magnificent, the cost to us is significant, but we continue to give of ourselves… because we know how much our work means to the young people whose lives we are part of.

Tonight is a wonderful opportunity to celebrate who we are and what we do and acknowledge some of the exemplars amongst us who provide us with models of how we might do what we do even better. And acknowledge some of those who have served St Joseph’s with distinction for many years

But above all else, tonight is about saying thank you to each of you on behalf of the 1850 boys we teach and care for every day. I hope you enjoy this evening and look forward to the time when we can be together to celebrate in person."

The end of 13 years of schooling for our Year 12’s has no doubt caused much reflection in families. I recently read this article in the Sunday Age. The author; Michael McGirr was a teacher in an EREA school for many years and is a well-known author. I hope you enjoy his reflections on the graduation of a son.

My son’s final day of school is a turning point in both our lives

I have been looking at a photo of my son on his first day at school. He looks awkward in his uniform, a plain polo shirt with a sensible sun hat. He had spent his life to that point in exuberant fancy dress. There are photos of this in the album as well: the pirate, the goatherd, the magician, the spy, the musketeer, the clown. Now he looks worried. His shorts are propped up to his belly button. He is trying to hold it together.

My son has held it together for 13 years. Friday was his last day of school and, in that time, I have seen him grow in strength and dignity as he has weathered one storm after another. He is one of the most courageous people I have ever met, one of the most honest.

Maybe I say that because I have seen the friendlessness that comes from being a bit different in a tightly scripted environment. He has been both isolated and bullied; a beautiful letter of encouragement from the former principal has been pinned to his wall for years. I have realised how similar we are. Nobody has taught me as much about living with anxiety, about picking myself up and trying again. My son has learnt to laugh at those who are born to rule.

We don’t talk much about God because I know there is a point at which mum and dad have to shut up and let God do the talking for God’s self. I wonder now if he might have felt the hunger for God more authentically in a school that was not overtly religious. I am concerned that he has experienced belief as part of the uniform. Yet I also know there is so much tenderness and kindness beneath his unvarnished exterior that his life will be open and loving, searching for a deeper explanation of the mystery of his being.

My father died a few weeks before my final day at school. I am still coming to terms with that experience and, again, sharing these days with my son is helping to heal injuries I had almost forgotten. For this, I give thanks.

My son and I are normally the first two awake in the house. His mother, brother and sister will be still asleep as he systematically prepares his coffee. I will be on the couch at the other end of the room, for this is my quiet time. Since he was born, I have begun every day with the words of Psalm 63: “God, you are my God, for you I long, like a dry, weary land without water.” My son has been a big part of God’s response.

Stay well and God Bless