Dear Parents, Teachers, and Parishioners,
As we prepare for our first round of parent-teacher conferences in two weeks, I’ve been reflecting on what these meetings truly represent. They’re not just about grades or goals; they’re about partnership. They’re about the sacred trust you place in us to help form your children not only academically, but spiritually and personally.
Our teachers are deeply committed to this ministry. We see each child as a unique reflection of God’s love, and we strive to bring out the best version of them, in mind, heart, and soul.
In that spirit, I wanted to share a personal reflection from a recent blog entry. It’s a story about how I was formed, not just as an educator, but as a person, and how the places I’ve served have shaped my vocation.
From Poets and Presidents to Saints and Angels
As a child of the late ’60s and early ’70s, I grew up watching shows like Room 222 and Welcome Back, Kotter. Those shows unfolded in schools named after poets and presidents — Walt Whitman High and James Buchanan High — and though they were fictional, they left a real mark on me. They taught me that education wasn’t just about curriculum; it was about compassion, courage, and connection.
Whitman, the poet of democracy and the everyday, taught me that every human being holds beauty and potential. Buchanan, though an unlikely hero, reminded me that even unremarkable places and people can become sites of transformation. Those television schools modeled empathy and understanding in the most ordinary settings, and somehow, they stirred something sacred in me before I even had language for it.
Years later, my ministry led me to serve in schools with names of a very different sort — St. Joseph, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Stephen Protomartyr, and St. Michael the Archangel. The names alone tell a story:

• Joseph, the steady worker and protector.
• Francis, the joyful reformer who built peace through humility.
• Stephen, the witness who spoke truth with courage.
• Michael, the defender who leads with strength and faith.

Looking back, I see the quiet poetry of that transition, from the secular classrooms of my imagination to the sacred halls of my vocation, from poets and presidents to saints and angels.
The shows of my youth taught me empathy, inclusion, and humor, the very qualities I would later find at the heart of Catholic education. They showed me that leadership isn’t about status or control; it’s about service and presence. In the classrooms of Whitman and Buchanan, I learned how to see the best in others. In the classrooms of Joseph, Francis, Stephen, and Michael, I’ve learned how to call that goodness forth in faith and in love.
Perhaps that’s the quiet miracle of formation: we never really know when or where it begins. Sometimes grace first finds us through the glow of a television set, whispering that compassion, justice, and joy can change the world.
And if we listen closely enough, we eventually discover what God was showing us all along, that every classroom, whether named for a poet, a president, or a saint, is holy ground when it’s filled with love.
Thank you for entrusting us with your children. We are honored to walk this journey with you and look forward to meeting soon to celebrate their growth and discuss their continued formation.
With gratitude and faith,
D. Gregorio Medellin-Sturgill
El Director
Friday Notes