I came to this school today as both a parent and an educator, and I left completely shaken…read more
My son is not a stranger to this community. He spent five years at this school. He graduated from this school. He completed his First Communion and Confirmation here. This church and school were once part of our family's faith journey. I myself attended Catholic school for my entire education, through graduate school, and I have dedicated years of my professional life to Catholic education under the Archdiocese of New York.
Today, however, I witnessed something that I never imagined I would see within a Catholic institution.
My son asked to come to the school to meet up with friends. Against my better judgment, I allowed it. Almost immediately, the principal brought my son back outside and stated that Aspira, the after-school program, is run by other teachers and that my son was not welcome in the school. When I asked for clarification, instead of addressing me as the parent, he turned directly to my 14-year-old child and said, "I do not want you in the school."
Those words were devastating.
To watch a long-time principal--someone who once wrote letters of recommendation for my son--look a child in the eye and tell him he was not wanted, while allowing his classmates to remain inside, was absolutely heartbreaking. My son, who was always an honor student here, who was consistently respectful, who carried himself with integrity, was emotionally destroyed. No child should ever have to experience that level of rejection from an adult in authority--especially within a Catholic school.
"As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me." (Matthew 25:40)
The behavior I witnessed today reflects an invisible hierarchy that is deeply troubling. Watching adults single out and emotionally wound a child is not only disturbing--it is the very opposite of what Catholic education claims to stand for. "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them." (Matthew 19:14) Where was that spirit today?
As an educator, I understand exactly why Catholic schools are closing. I once worked for the Archdiocese of New York. When the Catholic school I served was closing, I personally drove families in my own car to register them at St. Helena. I advocated for supplies from my closing school to be transferred here. I made multiple trips transporting air conditioners myself--without assistance--because I believed in supporting this community.
And yet, today, because of what feels like personal animosity and an unspoken hierarchy, my child was targeted--because you could not bully me.
If there was ever an issue with me, my tuition should not have been accepted. My financial obligations were always met, on time. But no adult has the right to punish a child for issues they may have with a parent. That is unbecoming of any adult, and especially disgraceful for an educator.
"What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8)
After this encounter, I had to sit with my son and remind him that he has value, dignity, and worth--that no one gets to define him or silence his voice. That conversation should never have been necessary.
This message has been a long time coming. As recently as September 2025, I was still referring families to this school. Until today, I did not have confirmation that the issue was with me--and that the consequences were being placed on my child. Anyone who knows my son knows his character, his heart, and the kind of young man he is becoming.
Moving forward, parents should be cautious. Listen to your children. Pay attention to how they are treated, not just what is preached.
Effective immediately, I will no longer attend or remain a registered parishioner of this church. It has been made painfully clear that my son is not wanted here. And I cannot help but ask: where in the Bible does Jesus turn away a good family and tell a child he is not welcome?
"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35)
Today, love was absent.
