In search of a complete education with the ideals of trust

The words of Mark Foley resound with the yearning of parents and communities alike: “In search of a complete education with the ideals of trust, faith, understanding, and compassion, many families are turning to the structure, discipline, and academic standards of Catholic schools.” In these words lies both a recognition of what is lacking in the world and a declaration of what the human spirit longs for. For education is not merely the filling of the mind with facts, but the shaping of the heart with virtue, the training of the will with discipline, and the formation of the soul with higher ideals.

The ancients knew that the purpose of education was not only knowledge but wisdom. Plato spoke of the cultivation of the soul, not simply the sharpening of intellect. Aristotle taught that virtue must be practiced, not merely contemplated. The great teachers of old knew that no man was truly educated if he was clever but not compassionate, intelligent but not trustworthy, disciplined in thought but chaotic in life. Foley’s words call back to this ancient tradition: that to educate is to shape the whole person—mind, body, and spirit.

To mention trust, faith, understanding, and compassion is to name the pillars that sustain a community. A child trained only for success but not for kindness may achieve wealth but destroy families. A child taught only science without faith may see the stars but miss the heavens. A child disciplined in academics but not in compassion may climb ladders only to stand alone at the top. Foley points to Catholic schools as a place where these virtues are taught alongside intellectual rigor, a balance of the sacred and the practical.

History gives us examples of this vision. Consider the medieval monasteries, where monks preserved knowledge through centuries of chaos. They copied manuscripts, studied the heavens, and tilled the soil, yet they also prayed, served the poor, and lived in communities bound by vows. Their discipline produced both learning and holiness. Or think of the Jesuit schools, which for centuries have educated leaders around the globe, blending intellectual excellence with a call to service. In these institutions, structure was not a cage but a ladder, lifting souls upward toward greatness.

The deeper meaning of Foley’s words is that families, weary of a fragmented culture, are seeking completeness. They do not desire education in fragments—one teacher for math, another for reading, none for the soul. They yearn for schools that see the child as whole, where understanding is as valued as logic, where compassion is as vital as competition. In turning to Catholic schools, they seek not merely order for its own sake, but order that points to meaning, discipline that shapes freedom, and standards that lift rather than oppress.

The lesson is clear: education must be more than training for work. It must prepare the soul for life. Knowledge without virtue is dangerous, but virtue without knowledge is weak. To raise a generation of true leaders, communities must nurture both. The ideals of trust, faith, understanding, and compassion are not ornaments—they are foundations. Where they are absent, education becomes hollow; where they are present, education becomes life-giving.

Practical actions follow: parents must seek schools that form both the mind and the heart. Teachers must remember that every lesson in mathematics or history is also a lesson in discipline, patience, and character. Communities must support institutions that hold high standards both academically and morally. And every individual, whether child or adult, must ask: am I learning only to know, or am I learning also to become? In this question lies the heart of true education.