What is our duty?
The priest’s favorite word was duty. That one word summed up his approach to daily life and how he impacted the boys of Central Arkansas. The word summarized his insistence on discipline and demand for honesty. Without understanding duty, a man will never find the map that will guide his life’s endeavors.
Fr. George Tribou died 17 years ago this week after serving Catholic High School as teacher and principal for 40 years. I was on the road when Brother Richard Sanker, the school’s guidance counselor, called to tell me the news. He said it simply, “I’m going to tell you something and then hang up. Father’s dead.” The phone line clicked and there was silence.
Fr. Tribou’s love for duty no doubt sprung from his Depression-era childhood and World War II teen years. He knew life could be rough and the only way to live fully was finding a North Star and staying true to it. Sure, that star may move around in the sky a bit, and an approach may have to be adjusted, but it never really disappears.
The key to duty is discipline, and the stories of Fr. Tribou correcting boys at Catholic High School are legendary. While his tactics changed through the decades he taught, his insistence on high standards did not waver. Fr. Tribou believed the punishment should fit the crime. He didn’t go overboard for small infractions, nor did he wink at larger ones.
While discipline was a key focus of Fr. Tribou’s teachings and just about every Catholic High graduate can retell a story about how he meted out punishments, it was obvious that Fr. Tribou was at his best in one important aspect of the discipline he demanded: redemption. Discipline for discipline’s sake is worthless and mean, he would say. Discipline in order to help a boy sand the rough edges and to embrace the greater aspects of life is priceless. Redemption is the salve that makes mistakes tolerable and helps us find purpose in our missteps.
Boys do well when they understand boundaries. When the boundaries are easily moved or become sponge-like or are different based on socioeconomic status or other exterior characteristics, boys suffer. My counterparts in other high schools and I discuss how all parents want schools to have discipline, but many take that to mean that someone else’s child gets in trouble, never their own. This moving boundary causes turmoil.
My first day as a freshman at Catholic High was highlighted by a boy walking through the doors that hot August day with long hair, an unshaven face, and his shirttail hanging out. Despite 700 boys walking in that day, Fr. Tribou spotted him. He strode up to him and said sternly with a finger pointing at the youngster’s chest, “You cut that hair, you shave that face, you tuck in that shirt right now. If you don’t like it, find another school.”
The boy looked at him and said four words. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry.”
Fast-forward 20 years and it’s my first day as principal of the school. The exact same thing happened: A young man walked into the school on the first day and he had long hair, an unshaven face, and shirttail hanging out. Man, I knew what to do.
I walked up to him and said, “Young man, you cut that hair, shave that face, tuck in that shirt. If you don’t like it, find another school!”
The young man looked at me and said four words. “I’m the FedEx guy.”
There’s a right-place, right-time feel about discipline, because if discipline is meant to be more about improvement than punishment, then parents and teachers have to possess a divining rod of sorts. But it’s about more than feelings.
If life is dumbed down to just feelings, we have removed the essential ingredient of purpose. That’s like having a compass with points on it but no needle. It’s a sky filled with every constellation but no North Star. This fact is universal. Even in this highly politicized atmosphere in which we live, both liberals and conservatives know that if they proceed without finding purpose and without having the discipline to go after it, they have relinquished their duty. Likewise, a young man or young woman about to launch into life must have engaging experiences in order to develop his or her duty.
Fr. Tribou’s office at Catholic High is still filled with the cigar-hinted aroma of that larger-than-life man. So many of his lessons remain in the building like fingerprints on a window. We don’t always see them, but we know they’re there. A powerful and lasting lesson is knowing that authentic discipline involves setting a high standard for one’s approach to life. While we must always be open to creativity and we must have an eye to evolving beliefs, discipline allows us the ability to think things through. Discipline gives us the chance to do the work necessary to fully understand our own beliefs, our own motives, and our own duty.
Steve Straessle, whose column appears every other Saturday, is the principal of Little Rock Catholic High School for Boys. You can reach him at sstraessle@lrchs.org.