Around this time of year I start to hear this phrase, “Well, we didn’t do a FAFSA. We won’t qualify for any assistance anyway.”

My response: “How do you know?”

The FAFSA, the free application for federal student aid, entitles qualifying students for many different kinds of funding, which, of course, include need-based Loyola grants, government grants like Pell and TOPS, but also a host of federal loan options, too. By not completing a FAFSA, families severely limit their options even to learn about what might be out there, and, of course, they lose their access to it.

The Department of Education has simplified the FAFSA application process. Sending us your completed FAFSA – which you can do online – lets us review with you all of your financing options. We have great information on our website at http://www.loyno.edu/financialaid/completing-fafsa to assist you if you have questions as you complete the form. The 7 easy steps piece is super helpful, too.

So, here’s the link for FAFSA: www.fafsa.ed.gov If you have not yet done so, complete one today if you intend to enroll as a new student in fall 2010.

If you are a returning student with financial assistance, you have to complete a new FAFSA every year. So, be sure to complete yours soon. Our priority deadline is May 1.

Learn more – so much more – on our financial aid and scholarships webpage.

Colleges and universities operate in cycles and seasons. We do things year after year according to a calendar that has been in place for many decades. Of course, we have our dynamic moments, producing new knowledge, new methods of instruction, installing new academic programs, and ruminating over and executing a host of new plans, but the rhythms remain essentially the same: start of semester, end of semester, start of semester, end of semester…

Personally, I find the cycle soothing in our world of enrollment management. In admissions and financial aid and scholarships, we receive applications, accept students, send out financial aid packages, receive their commitments, and welcome them to campus. Concurrent to all that, we attempt to retain and engender success in all of our current students while we market Loyola to future classes.

One thing I sometimes forget is that last year’s message (or blog post) is as new to this year’s crop of prospective students as it was to last year’s. Years ago, at one place I worked – in New England – we had a lovely publication with pictures of leaves all over it. Well, over time, the staff grew tired of the leaves. Ugh, leaves, we thought. I remember showing the publication to a brand new guest on the campus and asking what she thought. “It’s a lovely piece,” she said. And, you know, it was a lovely piece. We forget – in the midst of our cycles – that what is old to us is often new to someone else.

In that spirit, here are a few of my posts from the last year and a half that now seem awfully relevant to our new crop of applicants. One hopes you think they are “lovely,” or – at the very least – informative.

Elena Doskey’s speech – she’s one of our seniors – at our fall jazz brunch open house was AMAZING. http://blogs.loyno.edu/sal/2009/11/16/student-voices-elena-doskey/

One of the things I have sought to do in this space is make the case for education as investment. My education, which includes earning an undergraduate and a graduate degree at a Jesuit university, is EASILY the most important aspect of my personal formation. It is the best investment my parents (and I) ever made on my behalf. http://blogs.loyno.edu/sal/2009/10/09/investing-for-a-lifetime/

Here is a fairly recent post on the nature of the transition facing new students. It’s good for your preparation for enrolling at Loyola, or anywhere else. http://blogs.loyno.edu/sal/2009/12/18/but-this-is-a-transition/

We just love New Orleans, and, well, anytime I can sneak in a picture of my 2 year old daughter, Lilly, I am going to. I apologize for lacking abstinence in this case. http://blogs.loyno.edu/sal/2009/08/12/rites-of-powder-sugared-passage/

Lastly, for now, here are some of my thoughts on the decision-making process. If you are in that number of Loyola applicants for fall 2010, I wish you all the best as you move through the cycle! http://blogs.loyno.edu/sal/2009/04/16/decisions-decisions/

Sun Life Stadium is beautiful. Beautiful! Since it is set apart from the rest of the Miami and surrounded by a pleasant, if modest, suburban neighborhood, there is nothing obstructing your view from it or to it. Sun Life is spacious and up-to-date with many new stadium amenities. It well deserves hosting a Super Bowl.

I quickly sought out my seat. I liked my view and I REALLY liked that gold SAINTS endzone. I know it must seem silly to some how worked up one can get over paint on grass, but that endzone was gorgeous.

I called my brother-in-law, Ben, and I told him that it would be a significant upset if the Colts beat the Saints. You see, I’m kind of “mathy,” and the numbers told me that the Saints would win. They told me we had the better team. Of course, anything can happen, but the pundits had it all wrong, I thought. In fact, the team the Saints beat two weeks before, Minnesota, was better than Indianapolis, I reasoned. So, I spread the word – Saints by 3 and possibly more. Cissy Petty, our VP for student affairs, was kind enough to document some of my recent predictions in her great piece on belief and belonging.

The four and one-half hours flew by. I struck up conversations with the fans slowly assembling around us. I walked around the stadium to seek out some other friends, but without much luck. I knew their sections and rows but they were not yet in their seats, probably they were busy “Letting it fly.”

It was getting later at Sun Life, and colder. And this is when it struck me that watching football outside was unnatural. That’s a silly thought, of course, but when you essentially grow up in the Superdome, you have many silly thoughts, like, “I could really use some barbequed shrimp about now (that’s what I often have when I go to games with my dad)” and “Man, I hope they play that ‘Get Crunk’ song.”

Everyone says that the Super Bowl is a corporate event and of course it is, but those in attendance at this game where fans of the Saints, fans of the Colts, or fans of the NFL. The atmosphere did not feel like a bunch of rich people and corporate hangers-on sitting around admiring the athleticism in the ultimate game in America’s favorite sport. Rather – and I talked to a LOT of people in and out of the stadium – it felt like their being at this Super Bowl was a priority; it was something to be budgeted for. It was a vacation, a retreat. It did not feel – and, granted, my survey is not what you’d call scientific – like simply a perk. MOST were die-hards, reveling in their team’s journey and they were there to bear witness to history, ugly or euphoric. For almost all in attendance, it would seem that the game MEANT something.

In all areas of endeavor, we get caught up in what things mean. This is a symbol for this. That for that. Oh, you disagree? Well, you’re wrong, we say. But, meaning is not objective. Things matter because we think, we say, we feel that they do. Meaning lies not in our symbols but in each of our interpretations of them. Meaning lies in each person, then, we are taught in Communications 101. And meaning changes based on a host of variables.

When the Colts raced to a 10-0 lead, I found myself forced to reflect on the meaning of this game if we had lost. Well, I was happy to be here. Even if we lose, this is an historic event. Oh, shucks, my prediction is going to be off; I hope nobody went to Vegas with that advice…Fortunately, thanks to the iron will of our protagonists, Garrett Hartley’s kicking, Drew Brees’ throwing, Pierre Thomas’ running, Tracey Porter’s defending, and the prowess of 45 other football players, my ruminations about meaning were sent into orbit. No problem now, I can reflect on what WINNING means! Thousands of my new best friends and I danced to New Orleans tunes as the Saints captured their first Lombardi. Many hundreds of us stayed until the end, staring at the confetti-strewn field, drinking up the last bits of atmosphere until the inevitable occurred: a very nice young lady in an orange jumpsuit asked us to leave the stadium because it was time to “close the Super Bowl.”

So I left and descended that escalator out of the stadium, and walked down a long stretch of road to my car. Alone with my thoughts, I was so happy we had secured the win. I called my wife, who was with Lilly, our daughter, visiting family in Boston. I called my dad, who was basking in the warmth of the win after 43 years of faithful patronage. I called my brother, and I drove back to my hotel. I couldn’t sleep, of course.

I turned on the TV and watched the highlight shows for a time. At last, weary from the drama of the day and with the improbably deep voice of Alan Roach, who announced the game, still ringing in my head, I drifted off to sleep.

The next day I drove 12 hours straight back to New Orleans. I passed and was passed by dozens of faithful Saints fans who had made the same trip, their SUVs and sedans proudly waving the flags of a champion.

All the while, I reflected on the composition of the team, the high draft picks, the middle-rounders, and the players no one else wanted. I thought about the “experts” picking against the team when I thought that clearly the stats pointed the other way.

I could not help but ponder how our students come to us at Loyola and how they were like the Saints – all their diverse backgrounds, from many different kinds of schools, from different places all over the state, the country, and the world. And like the Saints, HOW they got here is far less important than the fact that everyone has an equal chance to make a contribution once they arrive; everyone can convert their opportunities into excellence. Through transformative education, each has the chance to earn their own kind of championship.

All of us fall behind from time to time, in failing at first to meet our challenges. But if we find our feet, grit it out, we begin to see the obstacles as opportunities. If the Saints taught us anything at all this year it is that anytime is a good time to do your best work, as 43 years of futility were simply erased during that cool evening in Miami. This year the Saints had won games in which they trailed by scores of 14-0, 17-3, and 24-3, and they had trailed 10-0 at the start of the Super Bowl, but blew past the Colts in the final stanza.

And so – as I pulled into my driveway teeming with excitement to be reunited with my wife and daughter after only a few short days and knowing that two year old Lilly would be ecstatic at the mere sight of me – in the end, it does not matter what the “experts” predict for you and it’s never how you start the endeavor that matters most.

It’s how you finish.

Like many in and around New Orleans and the far reaches of the Gulf South, I had to go to Miami to see the Saints in the Super Bowl.

I had to.

I probably could not come up with all the reasons for taking this trip and I don’t think I should try. So visceral, primal was this drive toward South Florida that little reason was required to affirm the decision. I’m going, I said. And so I made the arrangements, fully knowing that I had to be there to see my hometown team in their first Super Bowl.

It had been years since I took a long solitary trip, so I decided to drive. These four days – two to get there, one for the game, one day back – were to be my retreat, where self-reflection surely would overwhelm any other activity.

As I traversed I-10 out of New Orleans, first past the Superdome and then over the Highrise toward the eastern reaches of the city, I thought of many things. Mostly, I thought of my mother. She died in October, having lived with cancer for seven years. I thought of how much she would enjoy this season and how she’d be excited for me that I was going to Miami and how she would have loved to have gone, too. She and my father had a cruise booked for late October and she was talking about definitely going only two weeks before her passing. She could not walk or even sit up for more than a few minutes at a time, but there she was fully expecting to sit on the deck of that cruise ship and breathe salty sea air and, for the last time, watch the sunset over the ocean, its sprawling streaks of orange, red, pink, and violet lingering tenaciously until inevitable night subsumed their luminescence.

As I cruised into Mississippi, I thought about all the family trips we had taken along that same route, sometimes cutting northeast toward Tennessee or Virginia; but, mostly, driving to our summer home in Pass Christian, MS. The enduring image for me is that van. Brown on the outside, but thick double stripes down the side. Shag carpet. The seats were made of the very thickest material available. It was as if the dealership offered a thickness upgrade and we HAD TO HAVE IT. The van was constructed before there was a such thing as rear air conditioning vents or the expectations that back seat passengers would wear seat belts. So, on very hot days we’d hover above the seats as we waited for the air conditioning to circulate throughout the cabin. Upon acceleration, our then slight bodies would go hurtling about the back depths of our over-customized ride.

My current car is far more comfortable – if less memorable – for long drives and upon nearing Mobile I was in the zone…

Much has been written over the last week about what the Saints mean to the city and to the Gulf South. There is no denying how they have lifted the spirits of this community in the last four years. But, it’s the lessons they have given us in their own story that strike me as the most meaningful, and enduring. And, they apply if you don’t give a wit about football, as I am sure some of you do not. Teamwork, resolve in the face of adversity, belonging to something bigger than yourself and fighting for it – that’s what the Saints have taught us this season. They have also shared that greatness is a choice – it has to be earned, sought for. Hard work is the foundation for anything worth doing, and an accomplishment doesn’t mean very much if we are not challenged on the road to securing it.

…Florida is lovely. Smooth roads and nicely manicured landscapes. Smiley people at rest stops and restaurants. South Florida is charming in its diversity, as it food, music, and rich influences remind one of the kind of cultural confluences New Orleans enjoys. Sure, you can try to put a label on this or that aspect, but why do that? Just take it all in and be happy for the experience, which, no doubt, could not be duplicated even if you tried. Like New Orleans, when you are in Miami, you know where you are.

I arrived at the stadium as early as possible – about 5 1/2 hours before kickoff. I spent a little while walking around the fan plaza outside Sun Life Stadium, where a kind of “NFL experience” had been configured. Grown men (I was one of them) and women, and some kids, were seen chucking footballs in the “Let it fly” competition and kicking field goals off field turf. There was a concert and massive food offerings, but it’s not why I came. I had enjoyed the spectacle of the side show, but the main event – even at this early hour -beckoned me toward my seat.

At 2 p.m. eastern, I entered Sun Life Stadium and rode the long escalator to the 400 level.

Happy New Year!

A few quick hits as we settle into a new decade:

• The Mardi Gras season officially begins on January 6, commonly known as Twelfth Night, The Epiphany, Kings’s Day, or any number of monikers that signal the end of the Christmas season. In New Orleans, it’s just another excuse to get excited about the next big thing. For me, the next big thing is king cake, which is traditionally heavy on the cinnamon, oval-shaped and covered in purple, green, and gold sugars; it generally appears from now to the start of Lent. This is serious Mardi Gras season stuff; purists always scoff at the appearance of king cakes “out of season,” but I’m a little more liberal on my tolerance of confections and will nibble from one at the odd autumn baptism party or some such occasion. We had one in the office today, and so I had my first slice of the season. Incidentally, the cake came from one of my favorite bakeries and the one most frequented by my family when I was growing up. Biting into it was like biting into my childhood. Upon that first velvety taste, I half-expected to smell green onions wafting up from the other side of my office and see my mother presiding over some Creole creation and saying in that inimitable brassy voice, “Dinner’s almost ready-ya gonna spoil ya appetite, Salvadore.” I miss my mom.
• One thing that does not remind me of my childhood is this: the Saints are in the playoffs. The New Orleans Saints of my childhood were pretty bad. We did make it to the playoffs in my teens and 20′s, but I was a long-suffering Who Dat (one day I’ll blog about this “Who Dat?” phrase that we use around here) long before that and we’ve only had 4 winning seasons in the last 18 years. People around here will go nuts if the Saints advance past their first playoff game (next Saturday). Right now we are cautious, but optimistic. It’s a great time to be in New Orleans and I suspect that will continue next year and the year after that. We have a great coach and quarterback. I was living in Boston when they won their first World Series in almost 90 years. It was an awesome time. Like the Red Sox, the Saints get in your blood; there are people – students, faculty, staff – from all other parts of the country who cheer for this team like they were born a stone’s throw from the Superdome.
• Lastly, I was very excited to read this article about a couple of our recent graduates and their very interesting ventures in music. Congratulations to the Craft brothers and their band. They are further proof that when it comes to music, New Orleans does it all!

At the end of every semester, many of us who work at a university reflect on our last few months-what worked, what didn’t. I am sure that faculty members ponder the content of their courses and lectures and judge how well they engaged their students and sent them, at the close of finals, in new directions of discovery. Students, I am sure, replay in their minds their preparations for exams, their participation in courses, and the quality of their papers.

I KNOW that many first year students and their parents find themselves marveling at the transition they just underwent as those days in August swiftly became those last days in December and – BAM! – one semester is in the books. Whether it was a smooth ride or a bumpy one, this IS a transition. It’s a new world for both students and families. Heck, even students who commute from home quickly find that life is very different.

Fr. Jim Caime, SJ witnessed first hand this year’s transition for first year students, as this was his first year in his role as our Student Success and Retention Coordinator. Fr. Jim works directly with first-year students and their parents and assists them as they get a handle on college life and navigate these new academic and social worlds.

I’ve asked him to share some ideas on how students and families can prepare for the first year in college at Loyola. Here you go:

“Ask any first year college student what his or her greatest challenge is and almost without exception the response is time management.

Time management is essential for all of us, of course, and college students find quickly that they need to cultivate this skill to be successful. So often prior to college, students have their schedules planned for them, so each late August we welcome a new slate of students who are about to embark on a major change – whether they know it or not!

What surprises some is the pace of academic life at a university. Courses take a semester; not a year. So learning is condensed into a smaller space, as are papers, readings, and labs. A student shared with me that he had taken a year-long psychology course in high school, but found that he learned twice as much in his psychology course here-in half the time. Yes, we ease students into their courses in the first few weeks, but midterms approach quickly and so the skills of anticipating, preparing, planning become essential. One learns that college is one’s full time job; and best practice dictates that students should spend two to three hours studying, reading, writing for every one hour in class. So, this can add up to 45-60 hours of academic work per week.”

We encourage all families to think about exactly how the experience of having a student attend Loyola – or any other college, for that matter – alters family dynamics. We invite high school students to ponder the changes they face in becoming new college students. And we make these comments not to scare you, but to allow you time to reflect on and then account for the swift shifts that transpire at the onset on this transition. Our hope is that you come not to fear the new existence, but to enjoy it!

It’s ok to think about all of the normal stuff that may or may not happen – homesickness (again, even for those from close by), making plans to pay tuition and room and board costs and learning a whole new vocabulary in the process, feeling anxiety over making new friends, feeling overwhelmed by so much “free” time and choice. Some of it can be anticipated; some of it can’t. Regardless, you’ll be on a campus that cares about you as a whole person and you’ll be at a place with the resources and the staffing to make sure that a bad day does not turn into a bad week.

Transitions are tricky and our job is to help you get through them, so that you – like hundreds of our current first year students – will be enthralled to return to campus in January.

Every day I am proud to be a part of Loyola. This is true because of what I know about our university – its warmth and depth; its innumerable opportunities for growth; its commitment to justice and change and the exploration of human potential. And it’s also true for the things I do not know but discover serendipitously in the simple routine of attending a quarterly meeting.

One delightful surprise came in the form of a presentation I attended by Dr. Bob Thomas and two of his students from a journalism class that took a trip to Belize. These two extremely adventurous students, Lauren Nevarro and Allison Baznick, perfectly personify The World is our Blackboard. They, and those like them, are the reason we began using the phrase in the first place to summarize what we do here. The World is our Blackboard was not an abstraction that we hoped would morph into a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Rather, we observed who we are and crafted a phrase that we thought captured it.

With the likes of Allison and Lauren and others telling their story in this beautiful piece in New Orleans’ hometown newspaper, The Times Picayune, it’s clear – again – that we are who we thought we were. Although the article was published 16 months ago, it is clear that the experience is still very powerful for them. I know you’ll enjoy reading about their expedition.

More good news: this experience of travelling to Belize, inundating oneself with the local culture, and finding oneself transformed happens to dozens of students several times a year at Loyola. One tremendous example of this is the Belize Summer Camp offered by our Office of Mission and Ministry.

I’m grateful that I’ve learned about Lauren and Allison’s adventure and cannot wait for the next Loyola surprise to remind me of our dynamism, our infectious search for uncommon academic opportunities, and persistence in reminding our members to embrace the transformative wonder of personal growth.

These days in New Orleans it’s easy to get caught up in Saints euphoria. An 11-0 start, a team of very likeable guys with some spice in their speech and swagger in their step. Who doesn’t love a winner?

For me, one downside of yesterday’s 38-17 dismantling of the Patriots is that I lived in Boston for almost 20 years and I have many friends and some family who were not at all pleased with last night’s outcome. Among those not over the moon with Drew Brees’ 5 touchdown passes and perfect quarterback rating was my wife, Amy, a Boston native and long time Patriots fan. She endured the good natured (it seemed good natured) ribbing of our neighbors in section 616 of the Superdome and only once in a while reminded the provocateurs that it was the Patriots who owned 3 Super Bowl rings, not the Saints.

The truth is that sometimes in life worlds do collide. If we allow ourselves to venture from what is immediately comfortable to us, we’re going to meet people in different places. We are going to try new foods; hear new music; appreciate different climates; dance to unfamiliar rhythms. Life does not follow a straight line, and I’m pretty sure that’s the point.

Maybe, we’ll marry people from far away and take them to a stadium that’s familiar to us but relatively new to them. And, maybe, just maybe, their favorite team will play our favorite team. And, we’ll have no choice but to laugh about it when the game is over as we traverse the crowded down ramps in the crisp November air. And all around us exuberant fans are strutting saltily with spirits soaring, emblematic of their recovering city, buoyed by their Saints’ glorious and improbable ride.

Yes, worlds do collide. Like the time I took my friend Vinny, a Connecticut native prone to don a Yankees cap, to the Saints-Giants game.

Now, who’s the provocateur?

We had a great Jazz Brunch Open House this past Saturday, and we were very excited to host over 200 prospective students and their families.

In my opinion, the best thing any university can do at such an event is showcase the experience of one of its students. We did that in the form of Elena Doskey, one of our seniors, who gave one of our two student speeches. She delivered a passionate and incredibly articulate message. I’ve included it here for your enjoyment:

Good morning! My name is Elena Marie Doskey, a Psychology and Spanish senior from Dallas, TX, and on behalf of the student body, it is my pleasure to welcome you here to Loyola and here to the wonderful city of New Orleans. Before I begin, I want to let you know that I will be available after this talk to answer any of your questions y si quieren hablar conmigo en espanol, esta bien.

It seems like only yesterday I was in your shoes, navigating through the influx of information about colleges and deciding to which schools I ultimately wanted to apply. I was on top of the world in high school (or so I thought). I had been class president for the final three years, my SAT and ACT scores were above average, I maintained a high GPA, I served as a school ambassador, had a consistent community service commitment, and was actively involved in music and theater. And so I began my college search with the primary goal of either taking the more traditional academic approach or pursuing my love for music.

But that’s not to say that there were not other factors that guided my decision. I refused to apply anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line, not because of being a proud southerner, but more so for my intolerance of cold weather. The West Coast was quickly eliminated, as was any school in a state west of Texas, because let’s face it, I couldn’t bear to be that far away from home and my family. Oklahoma was eliminated not because of the people or the state itself or the quality of higher learning institutions but simply because the burnt orange blood that courses through my veins couldn’t survive in a world of crimson and cream.

With all of that in mind, I narrowed my choices, seeking out schools where I could have seen myself for the next four years, where the level of education reached beyond the walls of classroom, where I would grow not only as a student, but also as an individual. I eventually applied and was accepted to the University of Texas in Austin as part of their Plan II Honors program; Texas Tech in Lubbock, TX; the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, VA where I was nominated for the prestigious Jefferson Scholarship (although I did not win; in fact, one of my best friends from home who attended a neighboring all-boys school was selected as Jeff scholar instead), St. Louis University in St. Louis, MO (we can discuss later if St. Louis is technically above or below the Mason-Dixon line), Tulane University right next door, a school from which my mother, father, four of my aunts, one uncle, one set of grandparents, and a first cousin graduated; and finally, Loyola University of New Orleans, where I was accepted into the College of Music, making my dream of pursuing music one step closer to very seriously being my reality.

April quickly came in the spring semester of my senior year, and I had narrowed my choices to the University of Texas in Austin and obviously, Loyola. Traditional academics in a honors program equal to that of an Ivy League education at UT or music in a renown program at Loyola in a city of which I have always been fond? My love for New Orleans, the intimate size of the campus and its student body, and the opportunity to perfect my craft in music, made the Loyola the choice for me. May 1 came and went and by then, my enrollment deposit sat in a bank somewhere in the Big Easy.

Needless to say, as you may have gathered from my introduction, being a music major ended up not working out for me. I changed my major within the first semester, turning my back on a path of which I was once so sure. I searched for my place the rest of that year, even entertaining the idea of transferring to the University of Texas in Austin. But all along, my home was at Loyola, surrounded by a campus community with students, faculty, and staff who strive for the magis, who strive for more, and all along, my home was in New Orleans, surrounded by a people whose spirit fills the streets and eventually, soaks deep into every fiber of your being.

So now that I’ve found my home, where does that eager, curious, but unsure high-school senior stand after almost 3 and a half years of life at Loyola? I’ve seen the Superdome reopen and been here to witness the Saints make it to the NFC championship, carrying the healing heart of a city on its shoulders. I’ve found a voice teacher in the college of music who week in and out reminds me that music is my love, even if it’s not going to be my career. I’ve sung in a contemporary ensemble, performing the tunes of Stevie Wonder and Neil Young to a crowd of supportive students. I’ve grown more than I could have ever imagined in my Catholic faith, becoming more aware of God’s role in my life. I’ve joined a sorority, learning that life is about respect and compromise and that your best friend may be hiding behind the appearance of someone you never expected. I’ve worked as a resident assistant, guiding freshmen who like me as a freshman, are just trying to find their way. I’ve fallen in love with Spanish, from navigating the words of Quevedo, Marti, Garcia Lorca, and Borges to living in Madrid for the happiest 6 months of my life where I perfected my language skills and fell in love with my heritage to in a little over a week from now, being able to present a 16-piece voice recital of Spanish songs as the capstone project to complete my Spanish major. I’ve delved into the world of psychological research, completing an internship at Children’s Medical Center in Dallas in Outpatient Pediatric Psychiatry; working with a psychologist in her private practice in Slidell, LA where I explored the realm of applied psychology, ranging from traditional behavioral therapy to equine therapy; and completing an internship at the world-renown St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital where I investigated the complexities of pediatric HIV/AIDS and learned about the vast world of pediatric cancers.

But most importantly, I’ve learned what it means to serve, not only through projects I have completed involving rebuilding homes, servicing schools, donating much-needed supplies to a battered women’s shelter, volunteering at a crisis pregnancy center, or translating at a non-profit medical clinic, but more so, through the individuals who have humbled me with their gracious service. I graduated from a high school whose motto was Serviam, “I will serve.” But more than I have served this community, they have served me, they, in their academic advising, their passion for their students, their dedication to justice, their warm smiles, their helping hands, and their words of wisdom, they have given to me.

Why Loyola New Orleans? Why here and not the school next door or the one in your hometown or the one with the all-star, division I athletic program? Because here at Loyola New Orleans, there is a call to action. This community is only as strong as its students, as the ones who come here looking not only to learn in and out of the classroom, but who also come here to teach us with their actions. Albert Einstein said, “The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” Let me assure you that here at Loyola New Orleans, something amazing is happening. Students and teachers alike are acting, spurning the apathy of which Einstein warned in favor of the call to action, of the call to seek the magis, of the call to achieve more. Wherever your college search terminates, be it here at Loyola or somewhere else, I hope that you answer the call to action. After all, without cost we have received and without cost we are to give.

Thank you so much for allowing me to spend this time with you this morning, and good luck in your application and eventual decision process!

I’m excited.

On Saturday, November 14, we are hosting our annual Jazz Brunch Open House for prospective students and their families. I suppose we could just have an open house, but this is New Orleans and Loyola we are talking about – our guests deserve the best we can offer! So, ours includes a jazz brunch, outstanding music from our students and faculty, and a litany of opportunities to learn more about our creative and dynamic professors, our brilliant and convivial students, and the many others who comprise the Loyola community, a team passionate about each student’s success.

You can learn more about our Jazz Brunch Open House and RSVP to it here.

I hope to see you in beautiful uptown New Orleans on November 14!