I hope your summer has been everything you hoped and dreamed it would be, whether that has been trips to the beach, or to someplace cooler than Houston (which arguably should not have been hard to find), or just hanging around the Bayou City. I hope it has been relaxing and enjoyable, and I hope you are as ready as I am to see children returning to school. I mean this last bit in two ways: first, I am very much looking forward to seeing your children on their first day of school, and second, my wife and I are very much looking forward to seeing our children go back to school. 

As I sit at my desk on this quiet summer day, listening to Van Halen and thanking God for the gift of air conditioning, I find myself reflecting on what first days of school were like for me as a student. As many of you may know, the campus at the corner of Westview and Antoine is not my first Regis; I am a proud graduate of Regis High School [hereafter Regis HS to avoid any confusion], an all-scholarship Jesuit leadership school in New York City. It’s also named after St. John Francis Regis, and it too is an all-boys school. Located on East 84th Street between Park and Madison, just seven short blocks from the Convent of the Sacred Heart on 91st Street, Regis HS has been educating “Men for Others” since 1914. 

So, August 8 will be my second first day at Regis, and it’s every bit as exciting to be a part of another all-boys independent school. I remember that day in September of 1994 (up North, we went back to school later) like it was yesterday. There was so much about going to Regis HS that was new and exciting. I grew up in the suburbs of North Jersey, so going to high school in the city was a big deal. Prior to my time at Regis HS, my family might have gone into the city twice a year to see a show, but other than that, we were firmly anchored in suburbia. So when I got on the New Jersey Transit bus to head into the city for my first day of school, this was a real adventure. 

The commute was grueling. A public bus to the bus terminal at Times Square, a subway to Grand Central, and another subway uptown to 86th Street. Along the way, there was a guy who sang gospel songs in the underground tunnel between the bus terminal and the train. Once I got on the 7 train, there was a guy who walked from car to car selling knives for five dollars. At Grand Central, there were rats the size of small dogs, and all along the route there were subterranean odors that have most likely made me immune to a great many things. It’s amazing to me even today that my mother was comfortable with her 95-pound, 4-foot-11 suburban child doing all of this on his own.

I remember the apprehension walking into the building for the first time. I was the only kid from my hometown that was attending Regis HS. Who would my friends be? Who was my advisor going to be? What would my teachers be like? Was lunch going to be any good? What if I did something embarrassing?

I quickly recognized a kid I had met at orientation, and as we were sorted in the courtyard into our advisories, I was relieved to know that we were in the same group. My new friend, Jordan, and I followed our advisor, Mr. Cullen, up the stairs to the fourth floor, room 401, which was where our advisory would meet for the year. Mr. Cullen (who is one of four or so teachers still at Regis HS from my time) made quite the impression. He was a P.E. teacher who looked a lot like Scott Baio when Scott Baio looked like Scott Baio. That first day of school was the only time I remember seeing him wear a suit, and he had a big rip in one pant leg. He also had a stitched-up gash on his face that he informed us he got while trying to break up a fight at “a neighborhood establishment,” which we all assumed was a bar. 

What was this place? Was I going to like it here? Why was my advisor involved in bar fights? Is that also where he ripped his pants? Time for my first class: Latin. I was about to meet my second Regis HS teacher. Was I going to wish I had continued studying French? Would he also have some significant facial wound? 

Dr. Louis A. Macchiarulo (requiescat in pace, magister) walked into the room. A heavyset bearded Italian man with a collared shirt unbuttoned to the third button with a crucifix embedded in thick chest hair, Dr. Mac, as we called him, always spoke in a scream or a bellow. After he spoke loudly about how Latin was not at all a dead language and how ancient Rome was the pinnacle of human achievement, I remember another student who was also in my advisory, Billy, decided to challenge Dr. Mac—a play I thought was aggressive for the first day of school. “But wait, Dr. Mac, if Latin isn’t a dead language, why doesn’t anyone speak it? And if Rome was the greatest city and civilization of all time, why did the empire fall?”

We were all waiting to see what Dr. Mac’s reaction would be. He stood up, looked at Billy, and belted out, “You Hibernian wretch! You cretinous boor! Before you think to open your mouth again, you should remember that Spanish meets down the hall.” Wow. This guy was intense. I had never heard anyone called a cretinous boor before, but I thought it was pretty cool. 

The rest of the day was similarly interesting. We dressed out for P.E. and headed to Central Park to run around the reservoir, had an acceptable lunch in the basement cafeteria, had a few afternoon classes and headed home for the day. We were elated to learn that there was a decent pizza place right above the entrance to the 86th Street subway station that had a “Regis Special” that included a slice and a soda for two dollars, and then myself and my new-found group of friends headed our separate ways—Jordan to Queens, Ryan to Brooklyn, Justin to the Bronx, and myself back to Jersey. I was equally excited and exhausted on the bus back to new Jersey, but certainly ready to take on day two. 

Now back to the present. I like to believe that my first first day at Regis has prepared me for my second first day at Regis. The first time around, I was nervous and excited, and as my first year at Regis wore on, I realized that I had little to be nervous about. Years later, Jordan was the best man at my wedding, and Mr. Cullen attended my Eagle Scout ceremony. Dr. Mac was my favorite high school teacher and the reason I became a Latin teacher; I eventually knew him as a colleague and was invited to dinner with his family at his home in Queens. 

Today, as I look forward to my first day at another Regis, I realize a lot of the questions I have are really the same as in 1994, and they are probably the same as the questions my own kids have as new Regis students. What are the kids going to be like? What are the teachers going to be like? Who will my friends be? Where is the bathroom? Will lunch be good? (Spoiler: lunch should be considerably better this year.) 

It's an interesting statement on the human condition. This will be my thirty-seventh first day of school, and my tenth first day at a new school, but every year, I approach it with the same nervous energy and excitement that I did when I was a kid. I know the teachers do as well. I think that first-day-of-school feeling that returns us to our days as students is what keeps us coming back and invigorates us as educators, and I know it’s something that we share as a common bond with our students. Here’s to a great first day for all of us at The Regis School of the Sacred Heart.