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In today's rapidly evolving educational landscape, online courses are revolutionizing how students learn. By supplementing traditional high school education with online learning, students can enjoy a more personalized and flexible educational experience. This approach not only supports academic growth but also prepares students for future success. With 54% of college students taking at least one online course (2022 BestofCollege.com Survey Data), and 4 in 5 college students stating that eLearning has positively impacted their academic results (McGraw Hill Digital Study Trends Survey), it's clear that this method of education is becoming increasingly prevalent and important. As parents consider the best educational options for their children, it's worth noting that online courses provide unique advantages that can complement traditional schooling. Expanding Academic Horizons With online courses and AVLI’s vast library of course offerings, students have access to a broader range of subjects, allowing them to explore areas of interest and prepare for the rigors of college. From economic and medical terminology classes to foreign languages and fine arts, these courses can ignite passions and prepare students for college-level work or careers in specialized fields. The ability to explore diverse subjects online can help students discover interests they might not have encountered in a traditional classroom setting, potentially influencing their future academic and career choices. The Power of Flexibility AVLI's online classes use both synchronous and asynchronous methods, providing experiences that meet individual needs while accommodating those who thrive in structured environments as well as those who prefer more flexibility and independence. This approach helps students grasp complex concepts effectively and allows them to spend more time on areas where they need additional support or to explore subjects of particular interest. One of the biggest benefits of online learning is its flexibility. Students can largely choose the time and place of their studies (so long as they are meeting course deadlines), reducing stress and enhancing focus. This adaptability is particularly beneficial for students with busy schedules, those who need to balance their studies with other commitments, and students with special circumstances such as illness that may prevent them from attending high school full-time. Preparing for the Future The digital skills gained through online learning are invaluable in today's tech-driven world. Students develop strong time management and self-discipline, essential for success in college and beyond. Online courses also simulate the independent learning environment of higher education, easing the transition from high school. The AVLI Experience At AVLI, we believe in the power of shared experiences. Hearing directly from those who teach and take our courses can provide valuable insights into how online learning complements traditional education. See stories from both students and teachers who have experienced our online courses. Their testimonials reflect the real impact of these courses on their educational journeys, showcasing how this blend of online and in-person learning creates a well-rounded and enriching high school experience. Overcoming Challenges While online learning offers numerous benefits, it's important to address potential challenges. Some students may initially struggle with self-motivation or time management in a less structured environment. These challenges often become opportunities for personal growth. AVLI provides support systems and resources to help students develop these crucial skills, ensuring they can make the most of their online learning experience. Supplementing high school education with online courses offers numerous benefits, from flexibility and personalization to expanded learning opportunities. As the educational landscape continues to evolve, embracing online learning can give students a competitive edge and prepare them for the future.

I like pickleball. I’m no fanatic, but once every few weeks or so I play for a few hours with a group of friends. This mixed group of “seasoned” adults rents two indoor courts every Monday and I sub in as needed. This is a great group of people with just the right mix of whimsey and competitive spirit. No one exemplifies this more than Molly. She was a soccer player growing up so when she is on the court she can’t help but to give her most competitive effort, yet she delights in long rallies and other’s good shots - laughing and celebrating even when the opposing team wins the point. Molly was a year ahead of me school-wise though I knew of her and our paths would occasionally cross in younger days. During the next stage of life, two sets of our kids attended grade school together. She has always seemed to be a person whose feet are firmly planted in the moment which is something I admire - noting that this is routinely a shortcoming of mine. (I’m trying to get better.)  Not surprisingly at our age, there are always little aches and pains the pickleball group brings to the courts. A few weeks back, however, I noticed Molly noticeably wincing, and though she continued to play, it was apparent that her racquet hand was really bothering her. The early stages of arthritis have begun settling in and this was a particularly bad day. As we walked out of the facility that evening, I asked her how she was doing. After a brief moment of thought, she acknowledged the pain, but then went on to say how fortunate she was to still be able to get out and to be active, noting what a great life she has been able to lead.  Her simple reflection struck me in a most authentic way, and it brought me back to a previous experience over 15 years removed -  my last visit with Fr. Mark Nieman, SJ. He was dying of cancer and I went to see him in hospice care in an attempt to brighten his day ever so slightly. I hope I had that effect, because what he provided me that day was so much more. He was at such a profound level of peace that it elevated my  spirits. He provided me with the gift of an example for how to encounter death that I hope to someday emulate.  Referencing diminishment, pain, and death seems a strange way of beginning an Advent reflection. After all, hope is generally associated with the opposite: that somehow if we just hold on everything will turn in our favor - at least that’s the lesson of every Hallmark holiday movie. The truth, however, is that pain is real, and loss and death are unavoidable. Sure, an occasional Hallmark moment occurs, but more often we live our lives in anticipation of our  miracle moment only to have it never materialize (at least not in the way we imagined). So is hope really worth it? More importantly, is it fair or honest to peddle in hope as a lever we use to assuage the distress of others in their difficult times? For me, the answer is an unequivocal and resounding “yes!” so long as we recognize the significant difference between hope (grounds for believing in the eventuality of desirable outcomes), grace (being bestowed an underserved desirable outcome), and anticipation (expecting a certain outcome based on probabilities). Hope requires our participation. In its simplest form, think of the person who “hopes” to win the lottery. The sensation of hope isn’t activated until the person actually buys a ticket: no ticket, no chance of the desirable outcome. Conversely, think of how deflated you feel after the defeat of your favorite sports team. For most of us, those feelings go away after a good night’s sleep as we come to recognize that we had no real influence on the outcome and, though it would have been great, we weren’t graced with a win. Based on their preparation, the players on the underdog team had earned the right to hope, while those on the favored team likely anticipated a victory. We fans really didn't have a dog in the hunt.  Why the semantics? Because too often we fail to recognize that hope isn’t some ethereal wisp we attempt to grasp, rather it is embedded in the raw energy of our work-a-day lives. Recently, America Media published an article by Jason Blakely  reflecting on his journey from atheism to being a person of faith where he states, “We are storytelling animals already living inside our stories—not stories that we command autonomously, but that we already find in midpoint in our families, cities, societies and worlds…[T]he actual human situation up to the present day is that meanings and stories cannot be eliminated from the world. Human existence does not seem to permit the subtraction or elimination of stories and meanings.” Rightly oriented hope, then, is our search for meaning within our unfolding stories. Our role in this search is to openly receive the events of our lives with dignity and gratitude, giving hope the opportunity to take hold. Though I have often previously referenced the Ignatian Daily Examen  as a valuable tool for reflection, until Molly’s comment that triggered my memory regarding Fr. Nieman, I don’t think I fully grasped how gratitude is really supposed to work in this context. The Examan provides us an opportunity to consider the entirety  of our day with gratitude, not just the moments that went our way. This helps us more fully understand our deepest, most cherished desires and to refocus our hopes accordingly.  In this way, hope is like the flame of a candle, providing light and warmth. I like this imagery because the strength of a candle’s flame is dependent on so many external factors (wind, moisture, oxygen…) that it can be hard at times to keep the candle lit. Life gets hard, and for some of us, it stays that way for so long that one’s flame can get snuffed out. One of my greatest fascinations with candles though is how a smoldering candle can be relit from the presence of a separate fire source. This only happens because there are lingering wax vapors present in the smoke from the smoldering candle that serve as enough of an accelerant to enable a nearby flame to travel back down the smoke and find purchase. The key then, even in our moments of great despair,  is to keep the candle smoldering. Somehow, some way, be grateful.  While this does require surrendering, it doesn’t mean giving up! If anything, gratitude requires our greatest levels of resolve, but because we are targeting our energies so acutely, the burden feels a bit lighter. So the next time this Holiday Season you hear an ad telling you how grateful you should feel and it makes you want to scream instead, take a deep breath and get back to living. It's there that your hope is present. For me, I think I’m going to add the Serenity Prayer to my daily Examen routine… God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference . CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman, AVLI President vol 7 issue 1

Back to school we go. Buckle up; it promises to be a wild ride. Recently, I’ve been talking about how administrators and teachers have been thrown into the deep end of the pool. While I think this analogy works, earlier today it occurred to me that while the depth of the water is important, it’s the capacity to swim that really matters. Reversing the old adage, for those in education in 2020, it’s “swim or sink.” While I certainly don’t wish to relive it, this spring and summer have graced me with some of the most rewarding experiences of my 25 years in education, particularly since founding AVLI (formerly Jesuit Virtual Learning Academy) in 2007. I’ve witnessed some extraordinary people going to extraordinary lengths to ensure that this fall we can do some very ordinary things - teach, share, learn, know, care, love. Whether it’s parents exploring options, administrators sharing strategies during sessions we hosted, or the more than 500 teachers who participated in AVLI professional development programming this summer, I see a lot of people trying to learn how to swim in these new waters. While these efforts have been inspiring, I’m reminded of an episode of the Big Bang Theory where Sheldon Cooper claims to know how to swim while never getting in the water, instead studying how to do so on the internet because, “the skills are transferable.” In spite of all of our planning and preparations, we won’t know if we can truly swim until we get in the water. With the start of the fall term, that time has arrived. It’s time to jump in! Truth be told, I’m not a great swimmer, and my most vivid memories of learning to swim revolve around one specific activity, the back float. This was among the first skills learned at a very young age, and I still recall the feelings. Few times have I ever felt such a confluence of conflicting forces. In that moment, it seemed as if nothing else mattered; my unyielding desire to float was met directly by an equally strong sense of self-preservation. In the end, fear carried the day. No matter how hard I tried to relax, the moment I felt that I might be sinking, I’d fight. To this day, I’m not sure that I could float. Interestingly, one of my most cherished parenting memories is helping my children learn to float. Standing by with my hands just below the surface of the water as they struggled with the same fears and desires I experienced thirty years prior. Knowing that they are safe. Offering reassurance, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you…” What a simple, powerful moment as a parent. I offer you my back float experiences in that you might find yourself in a similarly conflicted state heading into this school year. On the one end, you may be excited about the possibilities and emboldened by your preparedness. On the other end, there is most certainly a fear of the unknown. Will it be safe? How will I manage? What mental and emotional toll will this year take on students, teachers, staff, and parents? Will the strategies I’ve prepared actually work? Will students learn? The one certainty in all of this is that you will soon find yourself in the water (if you aren’t there already). The good news is that your preparations will pay off. At times you’ll swim and make progress. However, other times will likely be difficult. Things will change too quickly and you may struggle to find your bearings. These are the times when you will need to float - to surrender and trust the weight of the experience to keep you buoyant until you are able to swim once again. Prayer helps. During one particularly difficult period in the early days of AVLI (then JVLA), almost daily I would lie down on the floor in “star” position and imagine myself floating in a large pool. I’d bring to those moments all of my fears, anxieties, and feelings of inadequacy. Then I’d ask for help and simply wait until I could feel the reassurance of God’s presence keeping me afloat. Much like me with my kids, I think God cherishes these moments. I imagine God there, smiling, knowing that I am safe, and telling me, “I’ve got you.” Blessings to you and your families this school year. Be brave and swim hard. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 1

As an institution, De Smet Jesuit High School has exercised a guiding hand in my life since before I can remember. In 1983, the year of my birth, my father accepted a teaching post there before eventually becoming the Dean of Students for the rest of his career, retiring just a few years ago now. I attended school there from 1999 to 2002 where I participated in sundry sports, activities, and classes and, after four years at Loyola University—Chicago, I returned to teach in the English department where I’ve been for the last fifteen years. The De Smet faculty, staff, administration, and student body have all influenced my maturation in just about every facet of my life, but especially as an educator. The school—old enough to have whittle out some rare breathing room amongst the suffocating local competition, but young enough still to evolve with the world around it—the school actually engages with its students in a manner similar to its namesake, Belgian Jesuit priest Pierre-Jean De Smet, the missionary famous for his unconventional-yet-effective work amongst Midwestern, Northwestern, and Canadian Native Americans. Whereas the stereotype depicts the missionary charging into an unfamiliar territory and correcting the native peoples’ supposedly errant ways, updating their rituals with new-and-improved Christian replacements, De Smet interpreted the Jesuit mission as working with and amongst the people he sought to serve rather than condescending them with heavy-handed customs absent their defining context. He sought first and foremost to learn from the natives, to earn their respect and admiration, to become one of them, to exchange ideas with them rather than to indoctrinate these communities of people he wanted to help. De Smet eventually negotiated on behalf of the Native Americans with the United States government and even inspired from the natives a brace of warm nicknames: “Black Robe,” referring to his attire, and “Friend of Sitting Bull,” a more telling sobriquet that demonstrates his cache amongst even the aggressive adversaries of the Americans’ “Manifest Destiny.” I suppose De Smet taught the Native Americans in a way, but more importantly, he allowed himself to be taught. He entered these tribes with deference instead of harboring any preconceived notions of social or racial superiority. He fostered a community and expanded the works of Christ beyond traditional religious signposts that over time undercut the original message. Christianity, we all know, isn’t just a crucifix. And school isn’t just a textbook—at least, not anymore. The information the textbook offered in the past—the information the teacher had and the student wanted—that is now free and available at the push of a button; on the phones in their pockets, students can access information faster than any teacher could lecture it out and in greater depth than any textbook could explain it. School now is about skills: What do we do with the information we possess? How do we use our knowledge? These are the questions our students ask when they enter our halls, or, increasingly, our Zoom meetings. On top of that, our students now inhabit and control a territory—that brave new online world of computers and digital technology—that schools only have begun to explore. I believe we as Catholic educators need to plant our flag in this space, but only has Father De Smet would have it: learning from the students about their experiences and utilizing that knowledge to help them appropriate actual skills that apply to their world today and in the future. Only then, when we show the connection between the digital and the actual, will those two domains begin to converge for our students into one recognizable whole. Ultimately, helping our students make this connection is exactly what attracts me to the collaborative classroom and the Bridges project at AVLI. If administered correctly, the blended learning model has been proven to open new opportunities and awaken new intrinsic motivations for our students, and with AVLI already having developed the network, the philosophy, and the aptitude to push forward in this area, joining their mission was the obvious next step in my career. I look forward to learning from my new colleagues, certainly, as what they have built represents a colossal achievement for education as a whole, let alone Catholic schools; crucially, though, I take my new role as a way to learn more from our students, to help them find and become the best version of themselves rather than dictating what that is or may look like. School isn’t just a textbook. Catholic schools have known this from their inception. And now that the technology has caught up to this belief, I look forward to the challenge of designing and building a blended environment that prepares our students for whatever comes next. CONTRIBUTOR: Nick Dressler, Director of Collaborative Programming - Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 2

If you are anything like me, at least once a day I find myself shaking my head and thinking, “How in the world did we get here?” As many have written about recently, incivility appears to be the order of the day. Our socio-political climate is in a ditch and rather than grabbing a rope and climbing out, we instead grab shovels and dig deeper. It’s as if we are incapable of saving ourselves. If you’ve watched The Social Dilemma , a documentary on the power and influence of social media rooted in artificial intelligence (AI), it’s evident that the cards are stacked against us. I highly recommend it’s viewing. Here are a few claims from the tech insiders who produced the film. Social media (Facebook, Google, Twitter…) is free for a reason. It’s because we are the product. The customers are the advertisers. The AI algorithms associated with these platforms are efficiently designed to harvest our online footprint to keep us online and feed us content and connections meant to produce “gradual, slight imperceptible change in our own behavior and perception.” We’re being programmed. Fake news works. AI cannot discriminate between the truth and fake news. However, studies have shown that false information spreads at a rate six times faster than the truth. Since AI is built around expediently reaching the endgame, it biases toward fake news. Everyone operates with their own set of “facts”. Everyone’s feeds are completely different, optimized around each individual’s online tendencies. Not only can simple Google searches produce vastly different results, the AI algorithms intentionally push tangential information to our feeds to help shape the narratives of advertisers. This goes beyond simple confirmation bias to manipulation - surveillance capitalism. Disturbing. Right? No wonder it’s so difficult for us to get along. But economist and writer Arthur Brooks (see his book or talk ) points out that we’re not just angry with each other, we have contempt for one another. Most often, we genuinely care about the people with whom we are angry but are critical of choices they are making. With contempt, we believe that we are being motivated by love while our adversaries are being motivated by hatred. When motives are in question, trust cannot be established. In the absence of trust, dialogue is impossible. Even if we can’t exactly name the problem, reasonable adults recognize that there is one. Experience tells us that something has changed and not in a good way. What scares me more is that young people have grown up having known nothing different. Note that I am not damning technology as the root of all evil. Rather, there are certain pervasive aspects of the social dynamic of the digital world that have extraordinary influence when left unchecked, and there are few among us who understand it well enough to hold guard. So how do we pivot? Arthur Brooks suggests that to move from a culture of contempt to an orientation of love, we need to recognize that love is not a feeling, but an act and a commitment to “will the good of the other.” This is what makes loving your enemy possible. This doesn’t mean that we temper our stand on big issues, quite the contrary. Rather, it’s modeling consistent behaviors to resist showing contempt, demanding the same from others, and refusing to reward contemptuous behavior. This won’t necessarily change the minds of those with whom we most ardently disagree, but it will likely change their hearts in a manner that keeps people in relationship and civil society operating. This is where Catholic education at all levels can and should provide leadership. Our shared mission is to form young women and men of competence, conscience, and compassion. This necessarily means an oft-counter-cultural resolve to animate love, truth, and justice in their many forms - both conservative and progressive - and to humbly dialogue with those who disagree so as to come to a deeper understanding of the human condition in order to serve more fully. This begins with what we teach, but more importantly it’s about helping students understand how to think. At AVLI, we point our students to a core set of learner skills (see page 3 ) that we hope they improve through practice in our coursework. Key among them are the partner skills of self-reflection and self-transcendence. Both are critical to combatting the sirens of social media and crowd psychology on the one hand, and complacency on the other. Self-reflection calls us to critically direct our learning inward while self-transcendence encourages an outward focus. The result is a form of discernment, and it is at this intersection where we find ourselves most alive, grounded, and capable of responding to a world in need. I used the word “combatting” above which connotes conflict. In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius employs a meditation on the Two Standards, a standard being a flag around which troops would rally before battle. One standard represents standing with Jesus while the other represents standing with Satan. It seems like a pretty easy choice, but is it in today’s complex, divisive world? This is why it is so important at this time for our schools to embrace their Catholic identity, modeling care and compassion while continuing our search for Truth. We can be a light in the darkness. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 1

Tomorrow is Election Day. Do yourself a favor and be sure to smile and laugh at least once. Last week a friend sent me this 3 minute video clip from Monty Python's Holy Grail . I hope its silliness makes your day. I don't mean to make light of politics and the importance of this election, but it's important to remember that - no matter the outcome - the sun will indeed rise on November 4th, and we will be afforded yet another opportunity to be kind to our neighbor. Remember EVERYONE has a crazy neighbor so it's highly likely that YOU qualify as someone's!  CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 4

Bridges or walls? It’s a rhetorical question, but I’ll give you the answer anyway: you can take the question literally or figuratively, but either way, you should come up with bridges. The walls keep people out, the bridges let people in, and we’ve all been taught to include others, to get to know them before we judge them, and to love our neighbor despite our differences. It’s fairly straightforward. But, then again, maybe it’s not. If the questions asked whether we should build walls or knock them down, that’s easy—we should want to include others; down with the walls. But the question gives us a choice between walls or bridges. One or the other. And bridges do more than just let people in; they’re meant to connect two places or groups and therefore mean nothing if one side merely waits for the other to utilize them when they won’t themselves. It’s not enough to accept or even embrace others when they happen to come to us, when they stumble into our communities, our schools, our countries, when they seek our help or advice. No, we have to seek out differences. We have to want them. We have to take the bridge ourselves—to make ourselves uncomfortable—in order to become better. Build the bridge and walk across it to something new. I’ve been a classroom teacher for the last fifteen years, and so I feel qualified in saying that the classroom benefits from bridges the same as any other place. I think it’s safe to say, the teacher must embrace their students’ differences to foster a climate of improvement and growth; however, how often do teachers themselves travel across these bridges? When do we seek input from the students? When do we allow ourselves to learn from them? Are we ready to incorporate disparate individuals in our classrooms? Or do we build that bridge with no intention of ever using it ourselves? This year, I have commenced a new role as AVLI’s Director of Collaborative Learning, which is, amongst other things, in charge of building and administering the appropriately named Bridges project—an ambitious and innovative program through which students from two separate Catholic high schools connect to form one single class participating in both synchronous and asynchronous work, both virtually with the course teacher, and face-to-face with their respective on-site facilitators. My goal is to build this project from the ground up with all of these questions in mind—questions insinuated by that first one: bridges or walls?, and questions vital to a task where the physical distance between schools, students, and teachers can amplify difficulties inherent in even minor miscommunications. And so from the program’s inception onward, we must enact an intentional, methodical approach to trust building as the core of the Bridges program, because only a deep-seated trust between schools, teachers, and students can overcome the physical gap between them. Acknowledging this philosophy as paramount to the project’s success, the first thing I needed was a willing accomplice, who I found in the form of Bridget Bowers, an English teacher with me at De Smet Jesuit High School in St. Louis, a fellow Loyola University—Chicago Rambler, and a teacher not afraid to build and cross a bridge or two. Bridget will teach a Women’s Studies Literature course featuring students from De Smet and John W. Hallahan Catholic Girls' High School in Philadelphia. The course begins next year, but we’ve already broken ground. Our first step: reaching out to prospective students of both high schools for advice on course content—a course planning practice usually sacrosanct for the teacher. Bridget, though, knows and loves her content—one of the reasons she wants to teach it in the first place—and so in lieu of dictating an inflexible syllabus, she has instead created a lengthy list of familiar novels, short stories, poems, and criticism from which the students will choose in the form of a detailed survey from which Bridget will then construct units featuring these titles bolstered by a litany of appropriate online and in-person activities and assignments. Procuring student advice ensures a course that better represents all members of the classroom, and Bridget is more than capable of guiding them through the territory no matter the direction. Student choice may alter the pathway, but a capable guide ensures it in no way changes the destination. The objective, of course, is to utilize the bridge as a two-way avenue toward new success in the classroom. Bridget herself is fully equipped to teach the course, but we’re not waiting for the course to end to enlist student help; we’re reaching out now, during the planning stages to incorporate student interest and fan a symphony of trust between the teacher, the students, and the two schools well before we commence next fall. Thus, when we do start, we will do so at a canter as the students—those for whom we created the class—will witness the product of their input from the second they hit the ground. For more information about the survey, it’s results, the course building process, or the Bridges project as a whole, please contact Nick Dressler at ndressler@arrupevirtual.org.

Life is hard right now. We live in an action-oriented society where we are encouraged to “just do it”, and to “make it happen.” Young people in particular are extolled for their busyness, juggling clubs, sports, hobbies, work, and school. The more the better. After all, successful people are doers, right? So what’s a person to do when life shuts down - not just for a few days, but for a full year? Perhaps the action most needed at this time is to simply stay alert. Recently I have been introduced to three wonderful quotes, two of which I will share now and one which will be shared later in this article. "Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." - Frederick Buechner "God comes to us disguised as our life." - Paula D’Arcy In my 50+ years of life, I’ve been fortunate to have met many wonderful people, some of whom are at the very pinnacle of their professions and others who emit a warm inner glow that inspires. Through all of these encounters what I’ve come to appreciate is that none of these people have life figured out. We are all wandering in the wilderness. There is no path in life that ensures safe passage, however, those who appear to have things figured out the best seem rooted in purpose. They have acquired over time a set of beliefs that guide their actions. Many of these people were born into fortunate circumstances that encouraged reflective practice. Others figured it out on their own. While life might seem easier for these people, leading a reflective life is quite difficult. It involves a constant internal dialogue to make sense of new thoughts and experiences, the capacity to adapt accordingly, and the discipline and courage to stay true to the course even when popular opinion is headed elsewhere. But what happens when the sand shifts? Even for those whose actions are grounded in their beliefs, difficult times can be disorienting, causing doubt. Doubt, in turn, can cause us to slow or stop. Staying put when lost in the wilderness is often a sound strategy, but that shouldn’t keep us from remaining alert, seeking directional cues, and using our minds and senses to aid in our eventual rescue. Though it might not feel like it, staying alert is an action. Some of you might have had a reaction to my recent use of the word rescue . After all, we are taught to be strong and independent. No one wants to admit that they need help or, even worse, that they need saving . This is, perhaps, the hardest part of living a reflective life - surrendering to self and living in a vulnerable state. Staying put and remaining alert. Listening for the Voice calling in the wilderness providing a sense of direction and hope. It is important to recognize, however, that there are multiple voices in the wilderness competing for your attention. Like the Sirens of Greek mythology, some of these voices, though alluring, are destructive. Just as actions are often grounded in beliefs, beliefs need grounding as well. And what you ground your beliefs in makes all of the difference. A very good place to turn for that grounding is a faith tradition. Think of beliefs as a building’s foundation; it is certainly necessary in maintaining the integrity of the structure, but without securing the foundation to bedrock, the foundation can be easily compromised by turbulent events. A person’s faith is bedrock. It provides the anchor that tethers beliefs to a standard of truth. This is where a daily practice of reflective prayer like St. Ignatius’ Examen can be so valuable, particularly for a young person trying to mature into an authentic self. Reflective prayer marries a person’s internal self with his/her external world thus revealing an imperfect self that is redeemable through actions evermore oriented toward Christ and his witness. St. Ignatius refers to this as the Magis which leads me to my third and final quote, lifted from a recent prayer experience offered through Loyola Press’ Three Minute Retreat , "A life connected to Jesus means a life that loves more, forgives more, and gives more." That’s something worth striving for. A special plug for Catholic schools. As teens naturally exercise more independence, they begin to question their previously held beliefs which were often heavily influenced by their parents. Something will fill that void. Noting that a young person’s circle of influence primarily consists of those associated with their formal schooling, that is where he/she is likely to turn. While all schools hope to provide their students a foundation, Catholic schools drill deeper to bedrock, and they introduce through their programming reflective practices that will serve their students for a lifetime. May you find solace, peace, and hope during these difficult times. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 5

This is Part 2 in a series of posts entitled Building Bridges, in which Nick Dressler, AVLI’s Director of Collaborative Learning, chronicles the building of AVLI’s upcoming Bridges program. Click here for Part 1. Even in the presence of a competent instructor and an entire roster of ready-and-willing students, the building of trust between teacher and student and amongst the students themselves stands paramount to the success of any high functioning classroom. Without trust, higher-level learning skill demonstrations remain aspirational, locked out of daily classroom activities, and reserved for the “future” or the “real world,” both nebulous ideas of that which begins once the student has proven themselves smart enough to take part. Trust unlocks the door. If the teacher and the students trust each other, the willingness to attempt something new, to try and fail, and to accept feedback—all three essential to non-academy learning—now enter the fray. Vigor replaces rigor, and they’re off. The COVID-19 situation has proven the importance of classroom relationships. A lack of physical meeting time no doubt increases exponentially the importance of trust, and exacerbates the impact when that trust is absent. The Arrupe Bridges project, a blended, combined classroom coming your way next year will enjoy the benefits of face-to-face meeting time with half of the roster, but will also feature some online only and asynchronous elements, and so in building the program I foresee trust’s role as similar to that of the online-only format. Thus, with still about a year remaining, we already have begun sowing the seeds for a trust-laden environment, such is the importance of the characteristic moving forward. In the last installment of this blog of sorts, I recounted Bridget Bowers’s process of curriculum building through student influence—the idea being that a student entering an undoubtedly new circumstance will likely feel heightened anxiety or tension that can obstruct growth and learning from the get-go. In giving the students an opportunity to have their say regarding an array of content with which Bridget is already familiar, we hope to introduce students to an environment in which their communication and opinion matter all the way down to the unit planning level and allowing them enhanced authority over their own learning and fertilizing those all-important seeds of trust so they germinate as early as possible. In this case, the student influence took the form of a survey in which Bridget asked the students to rank titles in two separate sections: one for novels and plays, and the other for short stories. Rather than merely ranking the stories, though, the students assigned 100 preference points to the titles, indicating their respective degrees of preference and, indeed, lack thereof. This first half of the survey gave her some valuable information, but not necessarily the type we were expecting: The students did not indicate a strong preference for any one novel or play—the favorited titles all bunched around 11%-13% of the preference—however, there were two titles that lagged behind the rest, meaning, all things being equal, Bridget should consider removing those stories from consideration as she builds units for the course. The reverse is true with the short story section of the survey where the students indicated a strong predilection for “A Scandal in Bohemia,” Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s feminist-leaning Sherlock Holmes adventure. And again, if Bridget is equally comfortable instructing all of the titles, then she will theoretically engender greater interest, increased motivation, and, of course, trust as they begin the course. When the students are heard, when their tastes and tendencies influence the content, when who they are helps dictate the curriculum, that is when we approach the climate optimized for student achievement. For the next step, which will take place after Christmas break, Bridget will host a meeting with all prospective students to begin nailing down the course’s essential questions, another unit planning aspect that is usually restricted from student voice or even ignored altogether. Our goal with Arrupe Bridges courses is to leverage the unique opportunity of connecting students from two partner schools to create dynamic, rich learning experiences. By intentionally incorporating student voice into our design process, we sow the seeds of trust that will shape the classroom experience. For more information about the survey, its results, the course building process, or the Bridges project as a whole, please contact Nick Dressler at ndressler@arrupevirtual.org .

I want to revisit via a circuitous route my last post about Faith serving as a person’s bedrock - nuancing slightly my previous analogy. Last week I finished co-teaching with my associate Nick Dressler my very first class - a course called Playing With Legos which serves as an introduction to computer programming through the placement of virtual Lego bricks on a 3-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system. I enjoyed the experience immensely though there were moments that left me feeling more than a bit humbled. There will be plenty of lessons I learned that will be incorporated into future versions of the course. Still, there was substantial evidence of student learning which is the ultimate signal of success. A few days later on Christmas morning, my wife and I attended Mass at our parish church. Upon entering our assigned pew and taking my seat, I felt a most curious sensation, an overwhelming peace - contentment combined with purpose. At that moment, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It has been awhile since I have felt that way. In spite of a great effort by many, the Christmas service itself was underwhelming, filled with all of the expected COVID-related inadequacies. Still, I left filled with gratitude for my solitary grace-filled moment. The next morning, my wife and I were back at our church for the funeral services of a dear friend’s mother. Though the sensation of peace was replaced by grief, once again, I knew I was where I was supposed to be. Later that day while reflecting on these two experiences, I was reminded of a scene from the Big Bang Theory where Sheldon Cooper talks about his spot on the couch , “In an ever-changing world, it is a single point of consistency. If my life was expressed as a function on a 4-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, that spot at the moment I first sat on it would be zero, zero, zero, zero.” Perhaps it’s because I had been working with students on Cartesian planes all semester, but what occurred to me was that on Christmas morning and again at the funeral service the next day, I was at a point of origin - zero, zero, zero, zero. Exactly where I belonged. To refresh people’s memories, the Cartesian coordinate system was invented by 17th Century mathematician and philosopher Rene Descarte as a means of applying algebraic expressions to geometric shapes. The traditional 3-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system consists of planes on three axes (x,y,z), and positional values mark locations in relation to the point of origin (0,0,0). The 4th dimension introduces the element of time and it marks values in relation to a singular event. Think about taking a trip with your home serving as the starting point, (0,0,0,0). Using a 4-dimensional coordinate system, every moment of travel can be marked and described in relation to that starting point. In setting up my Playing With Legos course, I attempted to construct a well conceived travel map to guide students along their learning journey. Each week an ordered set of experiences and activities were introduced (Step 1, Step 2…) which served as destination points along the way. Each of these steps also served as an opportunity to assess student progress in relation to our starting and end points. This process likely sounds familiar to most teachers, and, based on my VERY limited experience, it is the easy part. Like a trip on a tour bus, things go wonderfully so long as everyone shows up for breakfast each morning and no one gets lost. While important , the Playing With Legos course I created proved to be nothing more than a theoretical construct with one of the key assumptions being that everyone is entering the course at a particular point of origin (0,0,0,0). The construct also necessarily assumes no knowledge of additional Cartesian planes - other courses, family dynamics, friend groups, extra-curriculars - occupying space within the worlds of individual students. Though counterintuitive in many ways, quality online teaching is about being present to the individual journeys of students: looking for timely clues in the data that indicates progress, confusion, or even resistance toward learning goals. This allows the teacher to enter into a relationship with a student to provide feedback, praise, correction, support, and perhaps most importantly, simple accompaniment. This is the hard work of teaching, but also the most rewarding. Presence is the gift a teacher provides a student. Almost everyone has a story about a teacher whose presence produced a “zero-zero-zero-zero” moment which proves to be influential for a lifetime. The vast majority of these experiences are positive and go unnoticed by the teacher, though occasionally it’s a negative experience holding sway. This is why good teachers matter. The call of a Catholic school teacher takes this one step further. Through a mission-oriented grounding of our presence, God is revealed. Does this really matter in today’s world? My gut tells me yes - not just because I want it to be so, but because of the evidence. During moments of great crisis and/or need, many people turn to prayer and places of worship as their point of origin (0,0,0,0) to provide a foundation, certainty, and a sense of purpose. Consider the response to the events of 9/11 when people across the world were drawn to churches, temples, and mosques. This is the bedrock I was referring to in my last post. Indeed, faith does serve as a person’s bedrock. While this is important to living our everyday lives, it provides an evermore solid footing during those most influential “zero-zero-zero-zero” moments when we are exactly where we are supposed to be. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 6

This past week I spent time with a number of schools discussing the important topic of learning loss among students in our Catholic schools due to the Covid-19 pandemic. While these conversations were meant to gauge schools’ level of concern regarding learning loss and to share strategic efforts, a different thread emerged that appears to be of equal or greater concern - the socio-emotional toll of the pandemic on young people. The teen years are important developmentally as the march toward adulthood begins in earnest. School counselors and leaders have seen worrying trends for a number of years, witnessing heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The isolation of the pandemic has added more complexity, and schools fear that normal socio-emotional growth is being stunted. Many young people are in a fragile state. They are bruised reeds wanting to stand tall but struggling to do so under life’s torrent. Fortunately, this is where Catholic schools do their best work. While academics are the first order of business for any school, the central mission of Catholic high schools is to witness the call of Christ which manifests itself most directly in the personal love and care provided to students by teachers, counselors, coaches, and school administrators. It should not have surprised me then that conversations about learning loss evolved into discussions simply about loss - loss of capacity to connect, guide, and support in ways that nurture the goodness that exists in each of our students. By their nature schools are busy places. Between classes, counseling, meals, clubs, and practices, I marvel at the amount of activity that gets packed into a single day. Within Catholic schools there exists a deeper sense of purpose behind the activity that animates with some urgency a shared call to build God’s kingdom. These activities provide a system through which a school’s teachers and staff demonstrate care, so when the system shuts down our capacity to care seems diminished as well. If anything, what this pandemic has demonstrated is the fragility of the systems and structures in which we invest vast resources to provide forward movement to our days. Whether in our jobs, relationships, or simply in traffic, for many of us (myself included), there is nothing worse than feeling stuck. Modern day society values advancement though we rarely take the time to consider to what end. It’s progress over purpose. For Catholic schools it’s progress toward purpose, so when our traditional systems fail us the solutions we seek seem imperative. Learning loss, yes, but more importantly how do we provide hope when surrounded by so much “stuck-ness” and isolation? Perhaps this is the time to consider Isaiah 43 more closely, “A bruised reed He will not break and a smoldering wick He will not extinguish.” Though we may want to charge forward in our efforts, gentleness may be required in whatever we choose to do. Recently I was introduced to the Japanese practice of Kintsugi which translates to “golden joinery”. It is the ancient practice of repairing broken pottery by artistically mending the fractured pieces using a special lacquer mixed with gold, silver or platinum. Kintsugi doesn’t attempt to return the pottery to its original state. Instead it celebrates each artifact's unique history by emphasizing its fractures and imperfections. In doing so, new beauty is born from the brokenness. Perhaps this should be our goal as we accompany young people through this fractured time. Maybe in our efforts to “make things better” we should focus less on returning to normal, and more on studying intently the broken pieces - recognizing the history and beauty that exists within and delicately setting out to restore and renew. It is also worth noting that the treatment applied in traditional Kintsugi contains precious metals. Similarly, when grounded in our Catholic ethos and performed with intention, the treatments we apply are themselves valuable and distinctly beautiful. It is through our collective effort that our students and schools will be revitalized. We are all looking for a reason to hope. In normal times, Catholic schools want to do big things with the aspirational goal being to set hearts on fire. Perhaps right now, a simpler goal might be to act small so as not to allow the smoldering wick to be extinguished. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 7

Of all of the prose used in rituals of the Catholic Church, I find the most beautiful to be a simple statement the priest utters near the end of the funeral Mass regarding the promise of eternal life - sure and certain hope. For me, this paradoxical line sums up well the imperfect journey we are all on. Merriam-Webster’s definition of hope is "to cherish a desire with anticipation." A hope is not the same as a wish, the difference being the concept of anticipation . We all wish we would win the lottery, but very few of us anticipate it actually happening. When we buy a ticket, we don’t expect to wake up the next morning a millionaire. With hope, however, there is a sense that by continuing to walk down a given path, the desired outcome will eventually be realized. Hope has the capacity to get us out of bed in the morning. Despair is the absence of hope, and it is easy to see how the pandemic has caused desperation in certain areas of our lives. Most troubling, however, is when this becomes our default orientation - what writer Albert Camus referred to as the habit of despair . My worry is that a number of people, particularly teens, might find themselves on the precipice of habitual despair. Many adults have suffered great loss during this time, however, our life experience provides us the tools to cope, and most can identify at least one area of our lives where hope remains. Most teens are not yet equipped with a full set of coping skills. In addition, during this important age marked by self discovery, relationships, and growing independence, teens have instead been tethered to home, parents, and boredom. For many teens, life as they desire to know it has ended. This is a real and substantial loss. They feel cheated. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you will note that I write about hope a great deal. I do so because I believe hope underpins all right-minded pursuits and it fuels perseverance and grit. I also believe it is the currency of Catholic education. Our Catholic faith animates the work of our schools. We start from the position that Christ succeeded in redeeming the world and thus hope exists eternally in spite of our brokenness. Our actions, then, are not oriented simply on helping students master subject matter, but towards accompanying students as they struggle to find meaning. No Catholic high school student can make it to graduation without confronting their faith life and relationship with Christ. And it is our faith that puts the “sure and certain” in our hope. This year has been particularly hard for all teens and their families. Schools have struggled too. Still, I believe that when the dust settles, despite numerous missteps, we will see that Catholic schools have shined. Psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl described despair using the mathematical expression D = S - M; Despair = Suffering absent Meaning. Catholic schools are meeting our students and families in their suffering, and we are doing what we do best - providing meaning. Pope Benedict XVI wrote in his encyclical Spe Salvi , “It is not by sidestepping or fleeing from suffering that we are healed, but rather by our capacity for accepting it, maturing through it and finding meaning through union with Christ, who suffered with infinite love.” Have faith, then. Persevere a bit longer. Lean into hope, no matter how hard that may be. And keep walking down the path of hope because the promise of Easter will be here soon. CONTRIBUTOR: Jeff Hausman is the Founder & President of Arrupe Virtual vol 3 issue 8