Purpose with a Paycheck 

For generations of college students, having a campus job typically meant swiping meal cards, shelving library books, and staffing residence halls in shifts squeezed between classes and into the evenings.

Madison LoMedico’s campus job looked different. Three mornings a week, the SUNY Oneonta student went to an elementary school, where she worked with young students in one of the district’s highest-poverty schools. Some days she led reading groups or helped students catch up in math. Other days she floated around the classroom, helping children stay focused while teachers taught lessons. Sometimes she worked with the school counselor in small friendship groups for students struggling socially.

“It was one thing to learn all this stuff in school,” said LoMedico, who just graduated with a major in human development and family studies and a minor in educational psychology. “But it was an entirely other thing to actually be in the field.” 

Unlike many students pursuing education or social-service careers, LoMedico wasn’t volunteering or completing an unpaid internship. She was getting paid. LoMedico was part of the inaugural cohort of the Empire State Service Corps (E.S.S.C.), a growing SUNY initiative that pays students to perform community-based public service work connected to some of New York’s most pressing social needs: food insecurity, K-12 tutoring, peer mental health support, sustainability projects, and veterans outreach. In exchange for 300 hours of service during the academic year, students earn wages, professional experience, and, many say, gain a stronger sense of purpose in their larger civic environment. 

For LoMedico, the appeal was immediate. “I did want to get a job at school, but I was always stressed about how I was going to balance it all,” she said. “If I could really connect it to what I want to do one day, build my resume, build my skills — that’s something that I’d be really interested in, rather than just working in a store or something.” 

When the program launched in 2024, SUNY leaders hoped students would respond enthusiastically. Even they were surprised by how quickly demand exploded: More than 2,000 students applied for the first 500 positions. 

The model is deceptively simple but unusually ambitious: Instead of asking students to volunteer for free or cobble together unpaid internships, the program compensates them for meaningful service work tied to both workforce development and civic engagement. More than 40 percent of SUNY students are Pell-eligible, according to program leaders, meaning many come from lower-income households and need paid employment while attending school. 

“I did want to get a job at school, but I was always stressed about how I was going to balance it all.”

In practice, that means a student interested in counseling might work in peer mental health outreach. A future educator can tutor elementary school children. Students concerned about food insecurity can support campus food pantries or SNAP outreach efforts. Others help high school students complete their FAFSA applications or participate in environmental sustainability projects. 

“What we wanted to do was create these paid, meaningful opportunities that address community needs and also help support students in their career path,” said Jamie Frank, SUNY’s senior associate vice chancellor for policy implementation and access initiatives. 

Back in 2023, in SUNY Chancellor John King’s first State of the University Address, he introduced the goal that every SUNY undergraduate would have the opportunity for a high-quality internship or research experience before they graduate. Knowing there would be equity issues among students who cannot afford to work for free, he developed the concept behind the E.S.S.C. and received enthusiastic support from Governor Kathy Hochul. Just three years later, E.S.S.C. appears poised for a major expansion. Pending final state budget approval, SUNY officials expect the program to double in size for the 2026-2027 academic year, growing from approximately 500 students to more than 1,000 paid service positions statewide. 

The increase comes at a moment when educators, psychologists, and civic leaders are more vocally advocating for national or state-based service programs for young adults. Conversations about civic disengagement, loneliness, political polarization, and workforce preparedness have revived interest in structured public service opportunities as a way to strengthen both communities and democratic culture.

Across political and educational circles, there has been renewed conversation about whether structured public service should play a larger role in young adulthood. Advocates argue that civic participation can strengthen empathy, social trust, and democratic engagement while helping young people develop maturity and purpose with job experience.

E.S.S.C. offers a distinctly contemporary version of that idea: not compulsory national service, but a paid, practical, career-connected model that treats civic contribution as both economically necessary and personally transformative.

Chancellor King has repeatedly framed the program not simply as student employment but as a broader civic investment. “The Empire State Service Corps program empowers our students to take on civics and service opportunities that benefit all New Yorkers,” he said. “Communities throughout the state are enriched, and SUNY students receive real-world experience as they work to improve lives through this program.”

That dual emphasis — practical career preparation alongside civic purpose — may explain why E.S.S.C. has drawn attention from other states and higher education systems looking to replicate a version of the model. Program leaders say colleges around the country have already begun contacting SUNY for guidance about how to build similar initiatives. 

Part of the appeal is that the program addresses several problems at once. For students, it creates paid experiential learning. In this sense, it reflects a broader shift in how colleges are thinking about applied learning. Traditional internships often favor students who can afford to work for free. E.S.S.C. attempts to democratize access to career-connected experiences by embedding compensation directly into the structure.

For communities, it delivers labor and support to chronically under-resourced sectors like education, food assistance, and mental health. For universities, it strengthens retention and student engagement. And for the state, it builds a pipeline of graduates with direct experience in public-facing professions.

“What we wanted to do was create these paid, meaningful opportunities that address community needs and also help support students in their career path.”

At SUNY Canton, Associate Director of Career Services Katie Kennedy has watched the impact unfold at ground level since the program’s early rollout. Her campus started with just three students in the first year and expanded to nine in the second, with more expected next year. “We try to keep our students on campus to support places like our food pantry and our different programs that require student success mentoring and support,” Kennedy said. 

Students at SUNY Canton have served in food insecurity programs (SNAP/basic needs), peer mental health outreach, FAFSA completion assistance, sustainability initiatives, and student success coaching cohorts. One student helped coordinate wellness programming focused on nutrition, fitness, mindfulness, and journaling. Another worked with Renewal House, a community organization supporting survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault. Kennedy said the student ultimately received an Excellence in Service Above and Beyond award after exceeding her required hours because she became so invested in the work. 

“She really came to be connected with this site, and it really meant a lot to her,” Kennedy said. “As a major in forensic criminology, this is helping her achieve her career goals and develop the durable, transferable skills she needs to be successful when she graduates.” 

That idea of durable skills surfaces frequently in conversations about E.S.S.C. Students are not only gaining technical experience in fields they may eventually enter professionally; they are learning communication, teamwork, resilience, problem solving, and relationship building. 

That distinction matters deeply to students like Madison LoMedico. Before joining E.S.S.C., she assumed she wanted to become a classroom teacher. Through two years of direct school-based work, however, she discovered something more nuanced about herself. She loved working with children but preferred relationship-centered youth services over managing an academic classroom full-time. Now she hopes to pursue broader youth-service work through agencies and community organizations. This summer, she will continue through the Empire State Summer Service Corps at the Northern Westchester Y.M.C.A. 

The ability to experiment professionally while earning income is one reason students describe the experience less as volunteering and more as an integrated educational pathway.

“The program let me kind of put my feet in the water a bit, see what I wanted to do,” LoMedico said. “It was my favorite part of college, honestly. I’m so thankful for the program.” 

Across SUNY’s 64 campuses, students work in a strikingly wide range of service categories. SUNY officials said the categories themselves evolved directly from community demand. The first year focused heavily on K-12 tutoring, food insecurity, sustainability, and mental health support. But after requests from local organizations and school districts, the program expanded to include early childhood education and veterans outreach. 

Future plans include specialized literacy training grounded in the science of reading, as well as citizen preparedness and disaster response training that could help mobilize students during emergencies. 

LoMedico is aware of the dual purpose — paycheck and civic service — when speaking with her fellow students working in the program. “They feel like they’re making a difference,” she said. The structure also intentionally fosters a cross-campus civic identity — of belonging in something larger than themselves. Students participate in statewide summits, monthly meetings, and cohort gatherings where they exchange experiences across disciplines and regions. 

LoMedico remembers meeting peers from other SUNY schools and discovering how differently each service placement operated. “Even though it’s this one big umbrella term, we were all doing such different things,” she said. 

That collective identity matters to program leaders, who emphasize that E.S.S.C. is designed not as isolated volunteer projects but as a coordinated civic corps. E.S.S.C. operates in partnership with AmeriCorps, allowing eligible students to receive education awards they can apply toward tuition, supplies, or student loans after completing their service. But SUNY intentionally structured the program to remain more inclusive than federal AmeriCorps eligibility requirements alone, ensuring undocumented and international students attending SUNY can still participate. 

That emphasis on accessibility has become especially important amid broader national uncertainty around public service funding. Program leaders note that E.S.S.C.’s mixed funding model — combining state support with AmeriCorps partnerships — insulated it somewhat from federal disruptions that affected other service organizations. 

Senior Associate Vice Chancellor Frank, herself a former AmeriCorps participant, said those experiences can permanently shape students’ trajectories. “We always talk about students getting the service bug,” she said. “It never really goes away.” 

Meanwhile, public enthusiasm for the program appears to be growing. SUNY officials reported that legislators regularly attend service events, especially around food insecurity initiatives. One statewide “Day of Hunger Action” mobilized E.S.S.C. students to participate in campus food pantry work and SNAP outreach. During the program’s first year, students collectively logged more than 102,000 service hours and served over 74,000 New Yorkers. 

For students, though, the impact often feels more personal than statistics suggest. LoMedico, working in the Oneonta elementary school, worked to build comfort and acceptance with a shy second-grade girl who needed support services. At first, the child barely spoke to her. LoMedico tried gentle conversation while helping with classwork, reading groups, and one-on-one academic support. Slowly, over weeks and months, the girl began opening up. In LoMedico’s second year in the school, even though she was no longer assigned to the same classroom, the young girl still ran up to hug her in the hallway, eager to share stories about her day.

“That really stuck with me,” LoMedico said. “Seeing how students progress and how just being that one person in someone’s life can really help them — not even just academically but socially.” 

Multiply that impact by 500 employed students, she said, each of these past two years, and it’s encouraging to imagine the impact of E.S.S.C. across multiple categories of public engagement and personal fulfillment.  

In an era increasingly defined by anxiety about disconnection, programs like E.S.S.C. are betting that purpose and engagement can still be taught — not through lectures but through participation. And that when given the chance to contribute meaningfully — and be paid fairly for it — many students will prove to be more service-minded than adults might assume.

“RUOK?” by Dre Hilton

In this story, Olin student Dre Hilton wrestles with the meaning of good and bad. Dre lives in a world with a lot of good and bad around him, and he sees both good and bad within himself. What does it mean for Dre when he moves from his childhood home to college, where the range between good and bad shrinks? Dre encourages all of us to embrace the complexity of who we are, and the systems we chose to engage with.

To learn more about Storytelling, visit Olin College’s Story Lab website here.

Designing Your Life at Dartmouth

When many people imagine old-school college career services, they see a basement office, tucked away in some undesirable part of campus. The staff there are well-meaning but not particularly helpful. Mostly, they push resume guidebooks across their desks, offering shallow words of encouragement: “Good luck, and we hope you find your future.”

Joseph Catrino, who runs career services at Dartmouth College, knows this vision is becoming quickly outdated. As students and their families invest hundreds of thousands of dollars in tuition, they’re expecting more in dividends than best wishes for a good first job. They want, and need, to know they’re charting a path to a better life; and for that, cover letter advice and interview prep just won’t cut it, anymore.

Increasingly, career centers across the country are retooling their approach to support with the use of a more comprehensive framework, called Life Design. The (somewhat self-explanatory) idea is to help students think broadly about their interests, values, and motivations in order to plot the kind of future that feels meaningful to them. The strategy often involves trying on different types of work as one step in the larger journey towards fulfillment.

Few schools have committed as wholly to the Life Design model as Dartmouth. In less than two years, its career center has become almost unrecognizable — and not just because it opened a new location on the main quad. The operation changed names from the Center for Professional Development to the Center for Career Design (C.C.D.). In February 2025, Catrino, an experienced leader at the intersection of Life Design and career services, came on to spearhead the rehaul. He inherited start-up funding, along with a $15 million anonymous donation to finance unpaid or underpaid internships. Soon he’d helped raise enough funds to match that contribution, while doubling his staff.

The development of the C.C.D. isn’t just serving students in becoming the people they want to be; it’s serving Dartmouth in becoming the school it hopes to be viewed as. After President Sian Beilock took office in 2023, she laid out several priorities, among them increasing the lifelong value of a Dartmouth education and improving student mental health and wellbeing. As these are prime concerns for colleges nationwide, they might look to Dartmouth to see how Life Design manages to move the needle forward on both accounts.

Designing Your Life 

The story of Life Design goes back to 2007, when two Stanford professors with roots in Silicon Valley, Bill Burnett and Dave Evans, discovered they were interested in tackling the same problem with the same solution. They both wanted to teach their students, restless and confused about the prospect of post-grad life, to apply the tenets of design thinking to mapping their futures. The course that emerged, Designing Your Life, became one of the university’s most popular; then came a book by the same name and, eventually, a movement.

It was 2017 by the time Catrino caught the Life Design bug. He was working at Trinity College in Hartford, Conn., when the opportunity arose to attend a workshop led by Burnett and Evans, who were trying to disseminate their practices in new corners of higher ed. Appointed Trinity’s director of career development shortly afterward, Catrino was quick to infuse what he’d learned from the Stanford gurus into his new work. A few years later, he’d completely remodeled the career center into the Career and Life Design Center.

Catrino’s efforts at Trinity put him at the forefront of a new brand of college career services centered around Life Design. The first school to blaze this trail was John Hopkins, Catrino said, adding that he estimates around a dozen others have followed suit since then. Many more have incorporated some element of Life Design into the student experience, but not necessarily through the career center and rarely as its “main event.”

In February 2025, Dartmouth hired Catrino with the explicit request that he revamp career services the way he had at Trinity. Once again, he said, the systems he found when he arrived followed a largely “transactional” approach — give resume advice, help with internships (ideally), ask the proverbial question: “What do you want to do for a living?” At Dartmouth, the job was made more challenging by a dearth of resources: There were the same number of staff as at Trinity, despite serving twice the number of students. 

Catrino hit the ground running. He ensured all the Dartmouth staff received training in both Life Design and motivational coaching. That pesky, proverbial question was replaced with more constructive alternatives: “What are your interests? What motivates you? What gets you excited? What challenges you? What don’t you like to do?” Some of the most important discoveries, Catrino emphasized, come from knowing what students don’t want.

Catrino likes to describe his approach as “transformational,” guiding students to new or heightened self-understanding.

If these Life Design prompts seem better suited to therapy than career counseling, that’s precisely the point. Catrino likes to describe his approach as “transformational,” guiding students to new or heightened self-understanding. There’s not much of a difference, he added, between designing a career and designing a life. “I’d like to give you the skills for life — to navigate whatever it is, whether it’s your love life, whether it’s your job, whether it’s what hobbies you get involved with,” he said. “That’s really what we’re doing.” 

Permission to Explore

As important as the guidance of a career coach is, Life Design doesn’t start and end in conversation. The meat of the work is often experiential, as students go out and try on different jobs for size. Iterating, exploring, and maybe even failing are practically requirements.

At Dartmouth, though, exploration hasn’t historically been the dominant career culture. The culture has been definitively corporate, even to the extent that deviating can feel like forsaking a chance at true success. 

“What happens is there are students who don’t know who they are, but then they see this path of finance. It’s lucrative. ‘The companies are coming to campus to find me.’ And it seems to be easy, and they just fall into it,” Catrino said. Some end up enjoying the work. Others find themselves back in Catrino’s office a few years later, realizing they took a very wrong turn. For the latter, Catrino added, a little Life Design — some more informed decision-making — might have saved them a lot of disgruntlement.

In the spirit of Life Design, the C.C.D. is committed to shifting student perceptions of the jobs available to them and lifting up a wider variety of options. While tracks in consulting and finance may be both popular and particularly visible, Dartmouth students have been charting other paths for centuries. 

Several programs geared at promoting exploration and accessibility for other fields are now underway. Career Communities, like special interest groups, have been dedicated to different professional areas (e..g, Arts & Creative, Good & Green, Law & Policy). Each is led by a career coach and allows students to connect with like-minded peers and learn about relevant opportunities. A related initiative, called Career Treks, helps expose students to industries in the flesh. Recently, students with creative instincts traveled to New York during Fashion Week to learn about the business of fashion. Another more exploratory group toured Boston to meet with a range of local employers there.

Perhaps the C.C.D.’s most notable accomplishment to date has been the $30 million it raised to finance unpaid or underpaid internships for students hoping to try out less bankable fields. This year, the fund could allow up to 250 to 275 students to take on opportunities that might otherwise have been out of reach. As part of the deal, the recipients meet with career coaches after their experience, as well as write a final report on it, to encourage reflection in a Life Design context.

For Taha Tariq, a sophomore at Dartmouth, the internship fund led to an unlikely job in Egypt and spurred an ongoing relationship with Catrino and his staff. In the fall, Taha had personally managed to secure a unique opportunity to work for the Cairo branch of a nonprofit called Ashoka, which supports social entrepreneurship around the world. How he would afford flights, housing, and food while there presented another question entirely.

With support from the C.C.D., Taha’s plans fell into place. The three months he spent in Cairo ended up being some of the best of his life, he said. Even though the job itself wasn’t perfect, it taught him about himself. He tracked which elements he found most rewarding — working with beneficiaries in the field, interviewing social entrepreneurs — and the least — sitting at a desk, doing office grunt work. 

Interning for a non-profit showed Taha he could be happy and comfortable with a lower salary that afforded him work-life balance. He said he worries in a more corporate job he might “just forget to live.” At the same time, his apparent preference for a routine that involves varied projects, interviews, and site visits made him wonder if consulting work in the Arab world might suit him. Sometimes pragmatism should outweigh idealism, he added. 

In some ways, Taha now has more questions than answers. But the C.C.D. has equipped him with the structure to navigate that uncertainty. So really, not knowing doesn’t seem like such a bad thing, he said.

Engaging Alumni 

One tool in Catrino’s arsenal that became quickly apparent upon his arrival at Dartmouth is the elite school’s robust alumni network. This closer-than-most group of grads lead inspiring and varied careers. They also exhibit a distinct willingness — in fact, desire — to engage with current Dartmouth students and career services.

Alumni involvement is a critical piece of the larger project Catrino has set out to build. For one, he has set the precedent that the Life Design and other services he and his staff offer will be available to grads at any stage. Before his tenure, only alumni three to five years out could call back for help. But if the Life Design ethos stipulates the process never truly ends, it definitely doesn’t end a handful of years after graduation. Parents return to work after raising their kids. Layoffs throw a wrench in best-laid plans. A new dream spurs a return to academia after decades away.  

One particular career challenge as sure to pull in alumni as current students stems from the nature of today’s quickly changing workforce. “You have to learn how to be nimble. You have to be able to understand your skills. You have to understand who you are to be versatile across all this disruption that’s going to be happening,” Catrino said. Life Design, among other tools, may help workers expect the unexpected.

In addition to serving alumni, the C.C.D. envisions wielding their networks and connections for current students. So far, Catrino said, the grads have been more than obliging. “I have alums that are constantly calling and messaging, asking how they can help. Can they be a mentor? ‘Here’s a project-based internship that we’d like to offer.’” So far, 127 alumni and parents have contributed $61 million of the center’s $94 million fundraising goal. 

The ideal outcome is not necessarily — or only — that alumni boasting the most triumphant corporate careers lead the charge to give back. Enlisting the partnership of grads from a variety of different fields is a key piece of the C.C.D.’s mission to expose students to many paths. Especially for industries whose hiring pipelines are more obscure, personal knowledge and connections can make all the difference for those still looking to get a foot in the door. 

On a recent Thursday evening in Manhattan, hundreds of Dartmouth alumni of all ages came together to hear from their president, Sian Beilock. A few dozen from the younger subset, one to ten years out, arrived early. They weren’t just there to sip the peach bellinis passed by servers in white coats and catch up with old friends. They gathered in that mahogany-paneled, chandeliered library up the stairs from the main event space to hear a pitch from Catrino. He told them about the C.C.D.’s new inclusive approach to career services. He told them about his motto for working with grads like them: “Give support, get support.” 

In the audience was Caitlyn King, a member of the class of 2024. The former art history major now works in New York for an art advisor but has plans to start a master’s program at Oxford in the fall. She said her experience job hunting while at Dartmouth, prior to Catrino’s arrival, involved more guidance from professors in her department than the career center. But with continuing questions about what might come after her next academic endeavor, and again after that, she found Catrino’s offer tempting. In fact, she said, she might just talk to him about opportunities to engage that night.

You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at mames@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

Awakening the Lion Mind at Loyola Marymount University

Amanda Christy was searching for something and so, it seems, were her students. As a faculty member at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, she was frustrated by her students’ lack of engagement and their reliance on A.I. even for basic work like classroom discussion. She was tired of persuading them of the value of their liberal arts education when they bemoaned not being in business classes. There were days when she thought, “What are we even doing here?” 

The burnout Christy was experiencing was soon replaced with renewed energy after she participated in a faculty learning community sponsored by the L.M.U. Intellectual Character Initiative. The initiative seeks to embed six intellectual virtues (“The Virtues of the Lion Mind”) into L.M.U.’s pedagogy and culture — helping students cultivate cognitive habits that lead to critical thinking and active learning. 

Christy designed a whole course around two of the virtues: intellectual curiosity and intellectual courage, introducing her students to the concepts, providing self-assessments, and assigning them curiosity journals in which they wrote from the heart in free-form style. At the end of her experiment, Christy found that her classroom had transformed into an active community of reflective learners. 

“The goal shifted from just learning the content to learning how to be good thinkers,” she said. “It was kind of utopian.”

To Dan Speak and Jason Baehr, the co-directors of the initiative, experiences like Christy’s are the ultimate outcome of the Intellectual Character Initiative. They hope that by inspiring and empowering faculty and academic leaders to focus on intellectual character formation, they will influence how students learn and grow.

Though both Speak and Baehr are professors of philosophy, they are quick to emphasize that this is not principally a philosophical project. Professors across the university care about their students growing in curiosity, open-mindedness, intellectual perseverance, and the like. Still, it is no accident that both philosophers are particularly interested epistemology — that is, in the theory of knowledge. And, indeed, Baehr is an expert in “virtue epistemology,” which is an approach to the philosophical study of knowledge that focuses on intellectual virtues. 

Furthermore, Baehr is a highly regarded educational theorist who, in addition to publishing widely on the application of virtue epistemology to education, founded a public charter middle school in 2013 in Long Beach, Calif. The Intellectual Virtues Academy, as this school is known, was built from scratch to help students practice and develop virtues such as curiosity, open-mindedness, intellectual humility, and courage. The idea for the L.M.U. Initiative began to take shape when Speak, who serves on the board of directors for The Intellectual Virtues Academy, noted the irony of the deep impact of Baehr’s research and academic vision outside but not inside L.M.U. In 2024, they teamed up to create the blueprint for the L.M.U. project.

Their idea was brought to life thanks to a $943,668 grant from the Educating Character Initiative at Wake Forest University’s Center for Leadership and Character. The Center is funded by the Lilly Endowment to seed and steer innovative character education initiatives in schools throughout the country. Like most start-up ventures, the L.M.U. Intellectual Character Initiative is moving in many directions, and no one is exactly sure where it will land. Speak and Baehr are nonetheless pleased with the energy and activity it has already prompted on campus. 

“The goal shifted from just learning the content to learning how to be good thinkers. It was kind of utopian.”

In this first phase, it is both concept and practice, with university lectures on the virtues themselves and introductory modules for first-year students. A large part of its focus is on faculty training through summer workshops and learning communities. Speak said the initiative has three main delivery points: students, faculty and leadership. “We hope these concepts will take root so that they become part of the whole culture of the university,” he said. 

Speak and Baehr believe that the Virtues of the Lion Mind align nicely with the school’s Jesuit mission, which holds dear concepts such as truth, reflection, and discernment. However, they hope these beliefs will, over time, become as prevalent in the school’s pedagogy and culture as they are in its mission statement. Indeed, everything about the three-year initiative is designed to resonate with a campus grappling with a number of realities that exist across higher education, including a decline in the humanities, R.O.I. pressure, viewpoint polarization, and students who report to lack meaning and purpose. 

The leaders’ first cultural hurdle was to carefully choose the six intellectual virtues they found most relevant to an L.M.U. education. They arrived at: curiosity, open-mindedness, intellectual humility, intellectual autonomy, intellectual courage, and intellectual perseverance. “Curiosity gets the learning process started,” Baehr said. “We’ve also identified two pairs of virtues that complement and constrain each other. Intellectual humility helps us own our intellectual limitations, while intellectual autonomy compels us to own our intellectual abilities. Similarly, open-mindedness disposes us to give a fair hearing to alternative perspectives, while intellectual courage helps us have the courage of our convictions. Finally, intellectual perseverance keeps the process of inquiry going even when obstacles arise, as they always do.” 

Asked why the initiative feels particularly relevant at this moment in time, the scholars described the need to navigate what they call “a polluted information landscape.” “We need to be appropriately skeptical and cautious, but we also need to be trusting of the right sources, and in today’s digital world, that makes significant demands on who we are as thinkers,” Baehr said. “Intellectual virtues equip us to do this responsibly and competently.” 

Another issue the initiative addresses is polarization and the inability of all parties to give a fair hearing to another’s point of view. “We can’t have a democracy, if we can’t listen to and learn from one another,” Baehr said. “Here is where intellectual humility, curiosity, and open-mindedness come to the fore, but also a certain amount of intellectual firmness and courage to engage in public discourse with appropriate confidence and firmness.” 

Speak and Baehr said that the growth and ubiquity of artificial intelligence loomed large over their thinking about the project and prompted the late addition of “intellectual autonomy” to the Virtues of the Lion Mind.

“We knew the A.I. stuff would be an issue,” Speak said. “So, we identified intellectual autonomy as a way to frame how students and faculty ought to think about A.I. This intellectual virtue involves thinking for yourself. When you exercise it, you are making the ideas and knowledge your own. The knowledge didn’t just pass through you. You got to the point of understanding by your own agency.” 

Practical Virtue

One of the advantages of the initiative is that it provides a language and pathway for a variety of stakeholders on campus, from Amanda Christy’s need to reinvigorate her classroom, to the university librarians who, in service to enlightenment, have embedded descriptions of the virtues in their basic “how to use the library” modules.  

For Father Dorian Llywelyn, the virtues promise to awaken fundamental principles of scholarship and learning, and perhaps, a resurgence in Jesuit spirituality. A theologian and historian, Father Dorian leads the Center for Ignatian Spirituality at L.M.U. and sees his role there as connecting Jesuit values to the academic pursuits of the university. 

As part of his work, Father Dorian said he seeks to reach people who have diverse beliefs with some kind of common platform. 

“I want to give people something of use and value that somehow belongs to them, and they belong to it,” he said. “That is why I was particularly interested in the work of Dan and Jason. What they are doing is 100 percent in keeping with the tradition of Jesuit education, but it rearticulates it in a way that is relatable to many who may see religious terminology as a barrier. Even though they are not coming at this from a distinctly Christian or Jesuit viewpoint, there is great synergy there.” 

Father Dorian recently hosted a weekend retreat for people involved in the initiative. Each participant took personal time to ponder what the work might look like in their respective roles. He also sat in on the faculty learning community and came away feeling the virtues could help address some of the lingering ills within higher education, including siloing and what he called “misguided zeal” among faculty. 

“Intellectual humility works against indoctrination because you can’t be doctrinaire when you are intellectually humble,” he said. 

On the faculty learning communities, he said, “bringing people of all different disciplines together to share their diverse viewpoints is what we should be doing all of the time. Doing so is an intellectual delight that raise us up and brings out the very best of us.” 

In supporting this work, Father Dorian can’t help but wonder if the virtues initiative might ignite a resurgence in the interface between academia and spirituality, something that has fallen away over time in most Jesuit institutions. 

“What is it to be a thinking person of virtue but also a thinking person of faith?” he asked. “My area of interest is trying to articulate that relationship better.” 

With champions like Father Dorian, Speak and Baehr hope that the Intellectual Character Initiative may eventually become an integral part of both the academic and co-curricular life of the university. But there is a long way to go before it transforms from an overlay — a program — to part of the DNA. As cultural change theory dictates, it will be the accumulation of small developments that will eventually move the needle in that direction, which is why the experiences of individual students may be the most promising. 

In describing what she learned in Amanda Christy’s class, a young woman wrote in her curiosity journal, “Curiosity helps you question your own assumptions and it pushes you to see different perspectives which can make you more thoughtful when facing problems in the world. Curiosity isn’t about knowing every fact but putting yourself out there to learn and grow. In all, that kind of curiosity is something I’ll carry with me far beyond this class.” 

You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

A Soldier’s Journey

When Adam Delaney entered college in 2024, he’d already honed a remarkable set of skills. He wasn’t fresh off captaining a high school team or founding a club like many other first-years. Around the time most of his classmates were born, Delaney was 19, joining the Marines, and readying for combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. In his 20s, he was concerned about life or death, rather than As or Fs. 

That doesn’t mean navigating higher ed came easily when he decided to go back for his bachelor’s at 40. His time in the service made him supremely competent at tackling situations most civilians can’t imagine; it also made doing anything else afterwards challenging in a way most will never understand.

So what can colleges and universities do to give veterans like Delaney the greatest shot at success? At Arizona State University, the expansion of services for military-connected students has been critical amid the ballooning of that population — up nearly 15,000 in the last four years alone. The approach, though, has gone beyond streamlining systems for processing G.I. benefits, as important as those are. Leadership at A.S.U.’s Pat Tillman Veterans Center is investing in a tailored and deeply relational style of support, aiming to pull in those like Delaney and keep them — through to graduation. 

While Delaney knew little about the Pat Tillman Center before enrolling at A.S.U., he now attributes it with restoring a sense of family he didn’t realize he’d missed. “It makes it feel more like we [veterans] belong than anything else,” he said. “Students who are there just out of high school or something like that, they all share that; they have that community with each other. So it was cool to have our own community as well.”

The Uphill Battle

In 2011, the Pat Tillman Center launched to offer military-connected students, who include current and former service members and their dependents, a designated space for advising and connecting with each other. Spanning 3,340 square feet in the basement of the student union on the main Tempe campus, the facility replaced the old face of A.S.U. veteran support: a window in the registrar’s office where students could go, slip their paperwork under the glass, and be on their way. 

When the center opened, fewer than 2,000 military-connected students attended A.S.U. Now there are 25,000. A surge in remote learning has been key to the rapid expansion of both the university’s military population and its general one. Of the 194,000 students at America’s largest public university, more than a third are remote; at least 11,000 of them are military-connected.

The expansion of services for military-connected students has been critical amid the ballooning of that population — up nearly 15,000 in the last four years alone.

Shawn Banzhaf, the executive director of the Pat Tillman Center, believes the center has helped drive enrollment, whether online or off, by sending a message to service members that they matter here. “The more you can understand them, the more they feel like they belong, the more they’ll stay here, and the more they’ll tell their buddies about it,” he said. The strategy is a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts: The more vets who come in chasing the promise of community, the stronger it gets. Eventually it’s 25,000 and counting.

Of course, the numbers mean very little without the necessary support to back students up and bring them together. A point of pride for the Pat Tillman Center staff is that most served in the military, so they’re intimately familiar with the challenges their students can encounter. Banzhaf described a road through college riddled with fits and starts. In 1991, he enlisted in the Army National Reserve freshly out of high school, in large part to be able to pay for higher education. Once he found himself juggling a civilian career as a police officer, a family, and deployments, including 15 months in Iraq, he was forced to adapt. In the end, 20 years passed before he finished his degree.

From 2003 to 2010, Adam Delaney completed multiple combat deployments in the Middle East. Photo credit: Adam Delaney

Banzhaf said the challenges veterans encounter in college — and the Pat Tillman Center aims to address — are wide-ranging and sometimes surprising, especially to those on the outside. One of the most underestimated, he finds, is the financial strain. While the G.I. Bill may cover expenses like tuition and housing costs, it can leave others, from food to gas to medical bills, to pile up, while income has often stopped coming in. 

Adam Delaney had been out of the Marines for more than a decade when he decided to go back to school. Nervous about abandoning his six-figure salary as a sales manager at O’Reilly Auto Parts, he turned to the Pat Tillman Center early on, finding staff could walk him through options — scholarships, work-study, federal aid — to lighten the load. They armed him with a detailed checklist to guide him through finding and completing the necessary forms. “They took the stress away,” he said. “I could do this without having a job and, you know, survive.”

Other concerns for student veterans are more cultural. They don’t just tend to be older or in a different life stage than their peers; they’re adjusting to a vastly different way of life. Military tradition emphasizes structure, disciple, and respect for hierarchy, Banzhaf said. “Veterans are used to you saying, ‘Do this, then go here. Do this, then go here and do this.’ And if you don’t do all these things, somebody gets killed.” In college, there are far fewer rules and almost no play-by-play instructions. Veterans often chafe, Banzhaf said, at the sight of students glued to their phones in class, ignoring their professor. 

To help with this transition, A.S.U. offers specific orientations and a first-year College 101 course tailored to veterans’ needs and experiences. “Veterans don’t need to know how to live in dorms,” Banzhaf said. “They don’t need to know the best practices of staying away from the bars.” Instead, Student Success for Veterans covers issues like the “hidden curriculum” — rules and expectations often implicit in higher ed but unknown to those who have been out of school for a while. Students also learn how to help others navigate trauma, and Banzhaf said many come to realize the ones most in need of help are themselves. 

Trauma is a critical barrier the Pat Tillman Center recognizes can impede veterans’ success. Delaney said his alcoholism, which spawned from post-traumatic stress disorder after his tours in the Middle East, led to two uncompleted degrees at two different community colleges before he got to A.S.U. That’s why he’s now pursuing a degree in social work to support other veterans on similar recovery journeys. It’s also why Banzhaf and his team continue to build out a range of programming for holistic wellbeing, from equine and art therapy to guitar and cooking classes. “If you can think of a way,” Banzhaf said, “we’re doing it.”

Trekking Through

One of the Pat Tillman Center’s most unique offerings is a program called Treks for Vets, which involves leading a group of student veterans in a rigorous, multi-day hiking trip. Banzhaf was part of a team that started the program after participating in a similar one with a Colorado-based nonprofit, Huts for Vets. He spent four, ten-hour days in the Aspen Mountains, climbing between 9,000 and 12,000 feet in elevation, and found the experience as rewarding as it was exhausting. In the wild he learned he hadn’t resolved his trauma from the war as completely as he’d thought. 

Back at A.S.U., Banzhaf was committed to helping recreate the opportunity for his students. Now, twice a year, he takes a group of seven to 10 A.S.U. veterans to a base camp in northern Arizona for four days of trekking — and then some. The students do readings and discuss them together. They relish in nature, disconnected from technology. They participate in morning Qigong, a meditative movement practice. They eat nourishing meals.

The bonds that form during this time are not so dissimilar from ones formed in military service.

The bonds that form during this time are not so dissimilar from ones formed in military service, Banzhaf said. In both contexts, participants are pushed together in a uniquely close way and made vulnerable by grueling exercise. An important differentiator is that, on Treks for Vets, students have the opportunity to be open, whether on the trail or in organized conversations, about some of the most challenging and raw elements of their service. There’s no rank or title here, Banzhaf likes to remind them. 

“All of a sudden these hard chargers that are used to not showing any emotion at all, because it could cost you your job or it could show that you’re weak and it could hurt your pride, start opening up because it really, truly doesn’t matter,” said Delaney, who was a participant in Treks for Vets before becoming a trip leader. He’s seen conversation topics run the gamut among his expeditions, though the through-line is veterans being open and connected in a rare and freeing way. Sometimes they talk about combat and trauma. Other times it’s the transition to college. “And that’s fine too,” Delaney said, “because it’s something people have been holding in, and we all sit and talk about it.”

Not everyone signs up for Treks for Vets wanting or expecting more than a camping trip. But most, Banzhaf suspects, “come because they need something.” Maybe it’s a change of scenery; maybe it’s connection or direction or meaning. Students who were contemplating suicide have told Banzhaf the trip kept some them from attempting. “It brought them to a place of hope and encouragement and community and all the things that all of us need anyway, but they just hadn’t found it, yet.”

Banzhaf’s only regret where Trek for Vets is concerned is that it can’t reach more students. Ideally, he said, he’d be running trips four times a year, but without the funding to train new staff, expansion just isn’t in the cards right now. At $15,000 per trip, Treks for Vets ends up eating up about a third of the Pat Tillman Center’s $100,000 annual operating budget, which depends on a per-student stipend from the Veterans Affairs Department. The university covers salaries for staff, but there’s always room for more. Where the V.A. recommends universities hire one School Certifying Official per 125 student G.I. Bill users, Banzhaf has just eight, attending to thousands.

The limitations on staff make the strength of connections among students that much more important. Delaney believes he’s never felt like a “number” among vets at A.S.U. because of the emphasis on peer support. In his first fall, it was often students — some working for the Pat Tillman Center, others not — who were his confidants and helped him learn about new opportunities for military-connected students or talk through challenges. This semester, Delaney and a friend from Treks for Vets buddied up to take all the same classes after discovering they share the same field of study. “We know who the other veterans are when we see them walking down the hallway like, ‘Yep, that guy’s a vet, or that girl’s a vet.’ You can spot them,” he said. “That starts the conversation.”

You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at mames@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

How to Thrive at College with Mathilde Ross

On this episode of LearningWell Radio, psychiatrist Mathilde Ross of Boston University shares wisdom and advice for students heading off to college — and their parents — from her new book, “How to Thrive at College: A Guide to the Ups and Downs of Mental Health on Campus.” Ross’ candid and thoughtful account of her work with young people is at once surprising, instructive, and hopeful.

Listen now on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

Becoming a Better Version of Myself

I can still remember the suspense that I felt while sitting there at the desk in my dorm room during my first year in our nation’s capital. I looked out over the Potomac River, to the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument beyond, at a view that inspired me to do great things in the service of others. My long-held dream had supposedly come true: I was finally studying politics at Georgetown University. I thought that I had done everything “right” to lead me to that point. I had studied hard, volunteered on countless campaigns, been a good friend, and listened intently in class and at church. Yet I could not help but be overwhelmed by a sense that by crossing through the front gates of Georgetown’s campus, my life at home with my family and friends, shaped by a desire to make my community and the world a better place, had come to a close. A new life seemed to have begun. But making the most of a new life, in a new place, with new people, is a big task. I asked myself: Was I up for the challenge? What kind of person would I become?

Before I knew it, I met the best people to help me explore these big questions, and I learned that I was thinking about my calling at Georgetown all wrong. Spending time with my residential minister, Fr. Christopher Steck, working for the Jesuit community on campus, and heading on retreat taught me that my time at Georgetown wouldn’t be a time for reinventing myself but instead a time for refining who I was, whose I was, and what I was called to be. I will forever be grateful to Georgetown for “meeting me where I was” in this regard. I had resources in my dorm (a residential minister), on campus (a robust campus ministry and a meaningful employment opportunity), and beyond (a dedicated retreat center) to help me take stock of where I had been, where I was, and where I was called to go. 

My time at Georgetown wouldn’t be a time for reinventing myself but instead a time for refining who I was.

Through this discernment, I realized just how big of an adjustment coming to college really was, no matter if I had moved across the state or relocated across the world. It was time in which I would have to build a new network of supporters to celebrate with in times of triumph and to lean on in times of need. Yes, it would be important to make new friends and get involved in extracurricular activities, but it would also be important to find new mentors to guide me through this time in my life, whether they were in my shoes three years ago or 30 years ago. I found a role model in an upperclassmen leader of one of my favorite clubs, the admissions ambassador program. I found a space for solace with a professor who taught us her favorite stories from New York City in between recording book reviews for NPR. I found a springboard for ideas and decision-making in the priest of the neighboring parish who challenged me to consider the person I was and to develop different parts of my personality. 

One of the most crucial guides along my journey was our vice president for student affairs, Eleanor Daugherty. “Dr. Elly,” as I came to call her, taught me that making the most of my experience wouldn’t mean doing everything or doing the “right” things but making the experience better for myself and for others. By investing in this place like my mentors, professors, and peers were investing in me, I would make “the Hilltop” my home. This involved the tremendous opportunity to work alongside Dr. Elly and her team in Student Affairs on efforts to make communities across Georgetown feel a greater sense of inclusion. Whether entering into dialogue with students regarding what they needed to have more comfortable facilities on campus or expediting the implementation of gender-inclusive housing (not in spite but because of our Catholic and Jesuit mission), we have worked to make more people feel like they belong. That, in turn, is how I found my sense of belonging: by working to build and strengthen communities on our Hilltop and beyond.

By investing in this place like my mentors, professors, and peers were investing in me, I would make “the Hilltop” my home.

Now in my senior spring, as I prepare to graduate, I am happy to report that I did not become a new person during these four years. Instead, I became a smarter, kinder, more worldly, and harder working version of myself. Georgetown provided the people and the opportunities for me to discern just who I was and what I was called to be at my university. I pursued lifelong dreams, like working on Capitol Hill and studying abroad under the Tuscan sun, and picked up new practices, like caring for our bulldog mascot Jack and advising a university administrator. But I also left some things behind, all the while curating, not creating, my most joyful, authentic self. Through this process, my college experience was not transactional but, rather, transformational. This transformation was not unilateral, though. As I was becoming my more authentic self, I was helping my university to more authentically live its mission. 

Institutions of higher education can help students flourish by providing spaces for reflection and growth. These institutions can flourish, too, if they reflect upon their adherence to missions, open themselves to student and stakeholder feedback, and enable these groups to help in creating real change on campus. Even though I am filled with gratitude for my time as a student on the Hilltop, I hope that these are not the best four years of my life. In that same light, I hope that these are not the best four years for Georgetown. Instead, I hope I remember this as an informative time, full of high highs and low lows, when a new network of support formed around me in the shape of tremendous friends and mentors. A time when I learned not to be afraid to be myself and I found those who embraced me. A time when I learned to be present, to be patient, to trust, and to grow, and hopefully imparted these lessons onto Georgetown, too.

Michael C. Woch is a senior at Georgetown graduating this spring.

Learning Away  

It was senior night at one of the last home basketball games of the season at Simsbury High School. Just before tipoff, Emmanuel, one of the team’s captains, stepped onto center court amidst the roaring applause of his family, friends, teachers, and teammates.    

The team didn’t come away with a victory that night, but for Emmanuel, it was another step in a remarkable journey. At 13, he left his home in the Bronx to live at the Simsbury A Better Chance (ABC) House and attend Simsbury High School in Simsbury, Connecticut, a quintessential New England town that is predominantly white and affluent.

A Better Chance is a national program promising middle and high students, both boys and girls, from historically underserved communities the opportunity to attend high-performing independent day schools, boarding schools, or community school programs (C.S.P.) throughout the country. Its mission is to give deserving students access to high-quality transformative educational opportunities that support them in reaching their full potential and substantially increase the number of well-educated young people of color prepared to assume positions of responsibility and leadership in American society.

Founded in 1973, the Simsbury ABC program is a C.S.P. for boys and is known by the stately brick colonial located at the center of town, called the ABC House. The boys live there five to eight at a time with resident directors and a resident advisor. The resident advisor runs daily study hours to help the scholars complete their class homework/projects and prepare for tests. Additional academic advisors assigned to each scholar provide guidance on courses, extracurricular activities, or volunteer passion projects over their four years at Simsbury ABC. Each scholar is also matched with a Simsbury host family with a son in his same class and with whom he spends one weekend a month. 

At Simsbury ABC, the scholars experience far more than a chance to attend a better school with a stronger path to college. What they learn navigating high school away from home, and immersing themselves in a community vastly different from their own, prepares them for success in life as well as school. Indeed, the resilience and persistence these scholars exhibit make them excellent candidates for colleges and universities hoping their students will thrive.  

A House and a Home 

Sheri Eklund and her husband Jae have been the ABC House resident directors for the last four years. They live in an apartment connected to the main house, though they spend most of their time with the boys, getting them on the bus, driving them to sports, and eating dinner with them every night at 5:30 p.m. On a typical night, the boys line up at the buffet, pile their plates with the home-cooked meal the ABC House chef has prepared for them, and assemble around the oversized dining room table. 

As Eklund described: “It is that one time of day between after-school activities and before mandatory study hours when everyone is together.”

Eklund, who is a pediatric nurse practitioner by training, is both pragmatic and warm. Her affection for, and protection of, the boys in her care, is evident. In talking about them to others, she leads with their strengths and their hopes and says even she is not fully aware of the challenges they may have faced in their young lives. As resident director, she is both parental figure and advocate, whether getting resources together for a boy to pursue a particular sport or hobby or meeting with the high school principal about any issues of concern. 

Her approach to supporting the scholars is, not surprisingly, straightforward. “These guys should have every opportunity to do what they want to, just like every other student in this town,” she said. 

The resilience and persistence these scholars exhibit make them excellent candidates for colleges and universities hoping their students will thrive.  

On one particular Tuesday, over their “make-their-own” quesadillas, the boys talked about how it is they came to live at the ABC House. Of the current scholars, Emmanuel, Isaias, and Julian are from New York City; David is from Maryland, and Joakim is from nearby Hartford. They all said they are in Simsbury because adults in their lives envisioned a different educational path for them. It is hard to believe their belief in themselves didn’t also contribute, but for now, they are happy to talk about others who are responsible for their participation.    

Emmanuel’s mother insisted he not go to the high school all of his friends were planning to attend in the Bronx. David, a junior, had a similar story: His dad had found the program years earlier for his older sister and encouraged him to leave Baltimore for his high school years so he might get into a good college, as she had.  

Isaias, a freshman who has only been at the House a few months, left New York City for Simsbury after only two years in the country. Having come with his family from the Dominican Republic, he had been performing well in bilingual classes (Spanish and English) when his teacher encouraged him to take a monolingual track (English only) for eighth grade. When Isais continued to do well, she suggested he apply to the ABC program, a decision his family strongly supported.  

Later, Eklund explained that the boys come to the program for a variety of reasons, starting with the program’s premise — to get a higher quality education. But, having gotten to know their families, Eklund said it’s about more than just escaping something that doesn’t work.  

“Most of the families are first-generation immigrants, many directly from Africa, and they have a culture where there is an expectation that they will send their children somewhere where they will do their best. It’s very different from what we often think of here, which is, ‘Oh, I could never send my kid away.’”  

While the boys no doubt appreciate the good intention, they are honest about how difficult it was at first to leave their neighborhoods. Isaias is still adjusting to a new school and being away from his friends who played pick-up soccer and welcomed him into their community when he arrived in the country. Starting again is hard, but the other boys in the house are supportive, knowing full well how he feels. He recently joined a soccer club, which the Eklunds arranged for him with funds from the program. 

Sports is a common channel for belonging for any teenager, particularly for the ABC scholars. “Freshman year, I didn’t play a sport, so I didn’t really have anything to talk to anyone about but school,” said David, who now fences and rows crew. “But when I started playing sports, I started making more connections, and it all made more sense to me.” 

For Emmanuel, the combination of leaving his friends behind and worrying about making new ones was initially tough. “I was in the Bronx my whole life, and my friends and I, we were going to stick with each other, and then I was the one going away. When I got here and went to my first day of school, I saw only three or four people that looked like me.” 

Emmanuel said it’s now hard to imagine those days, as he prepares to graduate with what he called “some of the best friends of my life.”  

“I think if you put yourself out there, you’ll find you have more in common with people than you think,” he said. “I have great friends. I don’t have a really big circle like some people do, but I think having a small circle of really good friends is better.” 

David, too, has found his footing. He sees his time at Simsbury High School as a series of learning experiences, all leading to knowing who he is as a person. “All I knew was what life was like for the first 14 years of my life in Baltimore, and then when I saw how people acted here, my first instinct was to be more like everyone else. But when you do that, it becomes really apparent how different that is from who you really are.”   

The level of maturity the boys exhibit is the first clue to the impact their experience at the ABC House is having on them. With a fair amount of independence (like doing their own laundry and walking down the street for Chinees food), they are held accountable not just for their behavior and their grades but for how they contribute to a household of different people with a healthy number of rules.  

“Sometimes, I’ll think, ‘Oh no, I can’t get along with this guy,’” Emmanuel said. “And then it all works out.” 

“Yeah,” David added. “We all come from different backgrounds and have different personalities, but we definitely get along. We just have to solve stuff.” 

While it may be challenging at times, the boys in the ABC House regularly form a strong bond and a common commitment to who they are as ABC scholars. “If I had to come up with one way to describe them, I’d say they are like brothers,” said Kara Petras, a Spanish teacher at Simsbury High School and a board member at the ABC House. “They are a nuclear unit, but they are always folding in new kids and including the other boys in these new friendships.” 

Petras has had several ABC scholars in her class and, as a long-time volunteer at the program, gotten to know many of the boys over the years.  

“I’m like their mom at school,” she said. “We’ll start a group text at the end of the day for anyone needing a ride home.”  

Petras first learned about the ABC Program when she was in high school in Massachusetts and made friends with some of the girls who participated. Getting to know other people her age of a different culture had a major influence on her. She believes the same is true of how the ABC scholars contribute at Simsbury High School.  

“They carry with them the reputation of the ABC House in how they behave, and I think that rubs off on people,” she said. “They take their classes seriously. With their work ethic, their attention to detail, and their willingness to stay after school, you can tell they have a lot more skin in the game than a regular high school student. They are the kind of students you want your own kids to be.” 

It’s accolades like these that Eklund draws on to lift her spirits whenever she hears comments that reveal a lingering bias.

“When I tell people what I do, I get a lot of, ‘Oh, that must be really hard.’ People will ask me, ‘How do they do in school?’ or ‘Do you have to deal with a lot of behavior problems?’ I just tell them these kids are here for a reason. They’re great students; they do well in school.” 

The current residents of the ABC House said they find Simsbury to be a welcoming town, if different than what they are used to. And it is clear that those who run the program are all acutely aware of the need for the boys to feel they belong in order to do well. The host family model has resulted in life-long mentors and friendships. And in a classic it-takes-a-village approach, there is a strong circle of support that includes school counselors, coaches, teachers, and volunteers — all with eyes on the boys as they live, learn, and grow.

Hopes and Dreams 

On a Sunday afternoon in the ABC House living room, the boys talked excitedly about college and what they will do afterward. Isaias has his sights on N.Y.U., having heard they have an excellent transportation program, a combination of mechanics and engineering. David is also interested in mechanical engineering, in part because he has always been good at math. Emmanual dreams of being in sports marketing but will major in business generally as to not limit his choices. He is just now deciding which of the accepted colleges he will attend. No doubt his love of basketball will follow.   

True to its goal, the ABC House boasts alumni who are an impressive array of professionals and graduates, with more than 95 percent of participants going on to college. At the ABC House in Simsbury, alumni regularly return and are on a quarterly Zoom call where they mentor the boys on academics, college prep, or just life at Simsbury High. Seeing themselves in these professionals gives the current scholars the inspiration to pursue the road they are on and to appreciate what it might be teaching them, even if they don’t always realize it.  

“We hear all the time from the guys before us that even though we go to the same school as all the other kids, living in this house gives us a big leg up on college,” David said. 

With end of year approaching, the ABC scholars and alumni will be taking another step in their journey. The current residents will be heading home for work, summer courses, or preparing to leave for college. Some of the boys who came before them will be graduating from college; others are out of school and will keep in touch as mentors. Their individual success is the ultimate goal of the support team that has watched them grow in remarkable ways.  

Asked what she appreciates most about her experience at the ABC House, Eklund said, “The human spirit of all of it: meeting the families, making our mission work — not just with education but with everything — and seeing them grow and following them through and letting them know, ‘You guys are going to be successful. You are going to be great leaders in your communities.’”

You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.