“I’m not supposed to be here.” Someone spoke this phrase at the start of school retreat last school year. They stated all of the reasons why their life and career trajectory should’ve taken them to a different place, why Carondelet is an improbable destination. And yet, they’re here, and it’s where they’re supposed to be. 

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason. My skeptical, materialistic brain says that all of us are here because of past decisions, pragmatic or otherwise, with a sprinkling of chance thrown in. Yet, this statement resonated with me, because I had that exact thought when it really hit me that I was a teacher. Was it a confluence of random chance and some pragmatic decisions, or was there some underlying design behind it that my rational brain refuses to acknowledge. My rational brain says that I’m subconsciously recognizing things that I’m interested in and creating patterns out of nothing. And yet, when I notice synchronicity I pay attention to it. Carondelet kept popping onto my radar, from a variety of disparate sources, and for different reasons. I’d spent 15 years working in research labs, but I’d always joked about a second career as a crazy science teacher. So I took a look and liked what I saw. The school had an opening; I knew I could do a passable job. They needed a warm body; I wanted an in. It’s worked out better than I had hoped, and I hope to be here for a good, long while. I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but sometimes I conduct my life as though things happen for a reason. 

One of the things I’ve done to intentionally participate in the Carondelet community is chaperone retreats. I’ve found them to be wonderful experiences where I can make meaningful connections, often with students I’ve never met. We greet each other in the halls now. 

The students love the retreats, too and they make connections, both with their classmates and with themselves, that are possible because they’re forced to relinquish their phones and still their minds enough to think, rather than just react. They have the time and space to see those in front of them.

It may seem to the students that the groups, small and large, are arbitrary. We who’ve seen behind the curtain know that a lot of thought goes into the formation of these groups. Many pragmatic decisions (can’t go during the sports season, want to go with friends) on the students’ parts, some random chance, and some deliberate design (absolutely do not put A and B together! C might pull D out of her shell), resulting in unexpected connections and moments of grace that cannot be foreseen. Hopefully, they see the value of connecting with those who cross their paths. 

This is what I try to do in the classroom. I can’t connect with everyone in the world; I can’t connect with everyone in the school, even. But I can connect with those who cross my path. It works to varying degrees with my students; I have a very good rapport with some, less so with others. But I think it matters, and I think it’s beneficial for both them and for me. I get good work and good effort from them, and their trust makes me want to try even harder to support them. Interacting with the students who end up assigned to my classroom involves interacting with those there as a result of a series of pragmatic (or otherwise) decisions, some random chance, and possibly some deliberate design. 

I’ve struggled with the idea of God for decades. I finally arrived at a concept of God as the set of all relationships, or maybe the basis of all relationships, of anything to anything else in the universe. Nothing exists except in relation to other things, thus consciously participating in building these relationships is work mirroring that of all that sustains the Universe. Some people are good at doing this in the abstract, satisfied by building conditions that help build relationships. That isn’t me. I need the satisfaction of seeing the relationships.

I’m not supposed to be here either. I’m supposed to be in a research lab, doing molecular bio work in support of ecological research related to carbon sequestration, or maybe at a computer terminal writing R scripts to analyze data. And yet, here I am. I interact with those who cross my path any given day, who are there because of pragmatic decisions, random chance, and maybe some deliberate design. Regardless, I will continue to hold those who appear before me.