Rector Writes is a thoughtful and engaging blog series that provides an insider’s perspective on life at Chatham Hall. Written by the Rector, it offers a unique blend of reflections, updates, and inspirations drawn from what makes Chatham Hall so unique. Each post delves into topics that matter most to the community, from academic achievements and campus initiatives to personal anecdotes and global trends in education.
Whether celebrating student successes, exploring the school’s rich traditions, or sharing visionary ideas for the future, Rector Writes invites readers to connect with the heart and soul of Chatham Hall. With its conversational tone and insightful content, this series is a must-read for students, parents, alumnae, and anyone who cherishes the transformative power of education.
Years ago, if someone had asked me if my children would ever attend a boarding school, my answer would always have been, “No.” – possibly even, “Definitely not.” Although my husband and I attended (single-gender) day schools, both had a small but significant boarding population. During my school days, almost all boarders were British girls with a parent in the military services posted overseas, thus necessitating a boarding environment to prevent frequent moves. As I moved into high school, and in response to the economic challenges of the mid to late 1980s in the United Kingdom, girls from Dubai, Brunei, Hong Kong, and Malaysia began to occupy more of the dorm spaces. Even though I was close to many boarders at my school, hosting sleepovers and college trips with my family, I could never imagine myself as a boarder.
My husband and I indirectly approached our sons’ education with the same lens because we'd always been day students.
Although I enjoyed working in a boarding school early in my career, just after my husband and I were married, I’ve worked mostly in day schools, all-girls, all-boys, and co-ed. Our sons attended day schools through lower and middle school, and we had not considered a boarding environment a possibility for either of them. When our older son was in his final year of prep school and considering high schools, we assumed he would move on to a local private high school and expected his younger brother to do the same in a few years. We lived in a state that only had one single-gender school – for girls – and I was working in it then. However, our family had previously lived in a state where our boys and I were all part of a single-gender school – for boys. Our sons missed it, particularly our eldest, and it took him a long time to adapt to his co-ed prep school when we moved, which was very rare for him. We put this down to the general challenges of settling into a new school combined with typical middle school ups and downs. However, deep down, I think I knew it was more than that. And, indeed, it was.
As high school beckoned and we moved into the season of applying for the next step, our son announced that he wanted to look at McCallie, a boys’ boarding school in Chattanooga, Tennessee. We had connections to the school and the city but never suspected our son would be interested in this path. I confess that his pronouncement of interest (from the back of the car on the drive home from school) took my breath away, and I struggled to maintain my composure from the front of the car. It got worse when my younger son piped up that he would like to go to McCallie one day, too. I remember wondering if we had done something that was causing them to want to “flee the nest.” We like spending time with our kids – I wondered if they enjoyed spending time with us. I clearly recall feeling my heart sink. What would I do if our family of four wasn’t actually a family of four a lot of the time for these next few precious years? I’d never imagined that reality and had a very hard time picturing it, let alone considering how I would cope with it.
My husband and I discussed it at length after our son had made his case for wanting to explore McCallie. His reasoning was extremely sound; we agreed that it was (frustratingly) reasonable and measured. We’d both hoped that we might be able to find holes in his proposal and shut the whole idea of boarding school down. But his thinking was clear: he missed how he felt in an all-boys school, wanted to return to it, and felt that he was independent enough to manage a boarding school. He gave great examples, so great that we found we couldn’t argue with him. At the age of fourteen, he’d accurately portrayed his needs, knew where he could go to develop most fully in high school, and could show that he was sufficiently responsible to handle a boarding environment. My husband and I had to admit we should allow him to explore this idea. We did so reluctantly and with a strong belief that he would feel drawn back to a day school environment and would, therefore, continue to “come home to us” each night for the next four years. Little did we know how things would develop.
Our son went on to explore, apply, and be accepted to McCallie, the only boarding school to which he applied. As this was spring 2021, the pandemic still curtailed campus visits, so we did not go to McCallie’s campus until after an offer had been extended to him. Up until the moment we stepped onto the McCallie campus with our son for a post-acceptance visit, my husband and I were fully confident that this would not happen. We even felt that a campus visit would convince our son that he should remain “at home.” As soon as we were greeted on campus by boys and teachers, and before we even got to our first meeting in the admission office, I turned to my husband and said, “Oh no,” realizing what I was going to say next: “This is perfect for him. He has to come here.” My husband agreed, and the next two hours served to underscore that feeling repeatedly. The school was perfect for him. He shone brighter and more authentically during those two hours than we had seen in a long time, even though we had thought he was thriving in his prep school. He lit up, and every place we looked, we could see his next four years clearly and simply. We both knew this was where he had to go.
Just like that, we had to decide. Which would be the overriding deciding factor: what we knew was right for him or what we might prefer? We could clearly articulate why we liked him home with us, but we could also clearly see the path that McCallie could give him. So, we made the least selfish decision that we’ve ever made as parents. We committed totally to giving him the opportunity to attend the all-boys boarding school that he had chosen - the school that had chosen him–and, therefore, us. It was not an easy decision to make, and it required trust in our son and in the school that he (and we) chose. But almost immediately after he committed to McCallie, that reemerging light inside him shone brighter and steadier. He looked forward to becoming a boarder in a way that was contagious. He began to covet and collect McCallie shirts and wear a lot of blue and white (McCallie’s colors). When he wore his McCallie tie, belt, and socks to his prep school graduation, I realized that, in his heart, he was already prepared for his departure. It was only me and my husband, who weren’t quite there yet.
As the drop-off weekend approached in August of 2021, I shed many private tears. I did not want my son to know or see my struggles with how much I was going to miss him. It was hard not to focus on what I felt that I was giving up or losing. It also did not help when friends and family freely, and without invitation, offered their thoughts on boarding schools. The most vocal were against it (although they had never experienced it, and many had never visited or known anyone connected to a boarding school). Some subtle questions about why I was “allowing” my son to “go away” were implied. As I knew how much I would miss him, these comments hit me hard. Before he left for school, I didn’t yet know what benefits and gains would occur for him and our family in the future. I leaned into my trust in him, our chosen school, and the process of change as an essential part of life.
As much as I dreaded drop-off weekend, it was the turning point of my feelings about our commitment to boarding school. Our son got more and more energized as he participated in orientation, and his sense of himself was evident in every relationship that he began to form. His agency with his own education gave him more confidence to push himself further and to achieve more. When the most dreaded moment, the goodbye, happened and he walked away from us to return to his dorm, my husband and I agreed that we could not be sad when our son was that happy. I had expected to cry most of the six-hour drive home. Instead, my husband and I spent that time talking about the opportunities that now lay ahead for him and wondering what new adventures he might discover. I distinctly remember feeling a small but strong glimmer of happiness within myself and beginning to see hopeful gains and possibilities instead of absence and loss.
My son is in his last year at McCallie, and our younger son will become a boarder next fall. In the intervening years, my sense of purpose in this path for both of our boys has gathered momentum and strength. I have seen commonly held myths about boys’ schools and boarding schools demolished daily. I have come to appreciate and value the gifts a boarding school environment has given my son and our family. My son has experienced being entirely himself, both in and out of class, for his entire high school career. He has been held highly and firmly accountable for responsible behavior and pushed to be a leader on dorm, as well as in class and on his team. Much of the tension that builds around the minutiae of daily school life has left our home, and the time we spend with our son is richer. We value our time together and approach it differently and with more care than before. We have learned how to communicate well and authentically from a distance. He knows how to reflect our family values in daily life when away from home and how to build on them from McCallie’s mission and culture.
We look forward to our son embracing his college adventures with the same spirit with which he approached McCallie. We know how to miss him at home and do it attentively and honestly.
We don’t miss him less; we miss him differently – because we know that the experiences and opportunities that he’s received have developed him more fully into the person that we were striving for him to become. We feel blessed to have found a true partner in educating and raising our son. We have remained active partners in his daily world and in the trajectory of his life. We have not lost; we have gained. We have all gained more than we ever thought possible.
Our son has received a lifelong and priceless gift: the foundation of an exceptional boarding school education in a setting that has allowed him to identify and become his most authentic self. I believe that there is no greater gift.