The St. Luke's Way
Home is a feeling that glows in your heart, that you feel deep down in your bones. I felt it powerfully the first morning I woke to the cacophony of New York. And I sensed it completely the first time we took our children by the hand and led them down the narrow path between the trees to the double doors of St. Luke's School.
Why so? We are neither big nor showy, shiny-new nor venerable grey stone. But from the moment you leave the chaos of the street for the peace of the enclosure where children ebb and flow like wavelets, this is a place that embraces. In the country's largest city we have created a small town in which we all – parents, teachers, staff, especially kids – know and cherish one another. Even the squirrels have names.
"I never even knew this was here," some people marvel when they come through the gates for the first time. But we are not a mirage. St. Luke's School is a little miracle, cobbled together year after year with great care, a collection of strangers turned over time into a cohesive and caring community, devoted to excellence, ethics, education, and love.
Columnist, novelist, and alumni parent