…my time at Mullen was filled with relationships that changed me and made me a better person and a better administrator.
And I had some victory that was just failure in deceit
Now the joke’s comin’ up through the soles of my feet – Lucky Town, Bruce Springsteen
When I arrived at Mullen High School – a Christian Brothers school and traditional rival of Regis Jesuit High School -, I knew I was joining a Lasallian institution with deep traditions. As a person who had spent almost my entire career up to that point in Ignatian education, I was nervous about what crossing the Rubicon to the Lasallian world might mean for me. I know that people at the school were equally worried about what it might mean for Mullen.
I was principal of Mullen High School for five years, five very good but sometimes very difficult years. That half decade was marked by hard work, a pandemic, catastrophic budgetary concerns, a year serving as both principal and acting president (my first year at the school!), gratifying successes, significant personal illness (nobody wants Shingles), profound emotional challenge, and acceptance that I could not always be the change I wanted to be in the world. Stepping away from Mullen was heart wrenching. Watching it thrive in the ensuing years has been terrific.
Over my years in Catholic secondary education, I have found that leadership is equal parts vocation and privilege. I have been privileged, time-and-again, to have this work as my vocation. Rarely has that idea been more true for me than when I think back on those five years as Mullen High School in Denver. Reflecting now, I realize that while we tackled important institutional work together, the deepest gift of those years was, without question, the people with whom I served.
Naming names is often a risky enterprise as I tend to leave someone out when I begin listing people who have meant so much to me, but my time at Mullen was filled with relationships that changed me and made me a better person and a better administrator. Liz, a couple of Joes, Trish, Betsy, Lindsay, Christa, Katie, Duan, two Katies, Carrie, George, Rita, Doug, Frank, Leslie, and Raul: each of these people remain in my heart and my prayers.
Mullen also gifted me with a brother.
I have mentioned in previous posts and in my blog And There Came a Day, The Magister, Jim Broderick King, who is closer to me than blood could bind. He and I were classmates at Regis Jesuit and worked there together for almost 20 years. Godfather to my children and speaker of intimate truths, Jim is my life-long companion. At the JSN, I was blessed to reconnect with the genius Tim Sassen whose wit and love carry me to this day. And at Mullen I met Michael McGuire. Were you to ask either of us how we became friends and at what point a friendship became brotherhood, I do not think we could give you a clear answer. What I do know is that my friendship with Michael has been the defining friendship of the last decade of my life. I am fairly certain that few people are gifted with friendships like this one, especially later in life. What a blessing Michael McGuire is to me.
One of the most unique and humbling aspects of my time at Mullen was working alongside my son, Matthew. To share a campus with your child is a joy few educators get to experience. While we did not see each other constantly, we did check in almost every morning. Both he and I were very early arrivals at the school – I like to think that he may have learned that particular trait from me – and we would chat before dawn and the start of the school day. There was something grounding about knowing he was just down the hall. Watching him grow in his own right, finding his place and voice in the school, filled me with pride. I tried not to hover (he would say I mostly succeeded), but being present for that chapter in his life was an extraordinary blessing. He decided to depart the school months before I did but his decision to do so left a hole that I did not fully comprehend at the time.
Another gift was working daily with my sister, Janna. We had been close throughout our lives, but to be at the school together brought a new layer to our bond. She is the sweetest person on the planet. This was something I knew long before I worked with her. Seeing her share her unique gifts of love and joy with the Mullen community – a community that may not have always grasped what she was offering – was amazing, just like her. No one gives as much as she does. No one.
Then there was Caroline. My wife and partner, who joined the Mullen staff with her own deep commitment to education. This was not an easy choice for her, but one she made so we could be together. We worked together as we had at other points in our lives, and as always, she made every space she entered better. Her warmth, insight, and fierce dedication to students and mission elevated everything we did. Caroline passed away soon after our time at Mullen, and I carry the memory of all of those years with her at Regis Jesuit and at Mullen as among the most cherished in my life. She transformed those places, and me
It was these people who got me through the hard days. It was these people who, in the end, made my Mullen journey worthwhile. The school will always be a place that lives in my heart. Not because of the job I held, but because of the people I held dear.
Next week, Lucky Town – KIPP Northeast Denver Leadership Academy