I went to an all boys school. A private school. The William Penn Charter School in Philadelphia. My mom and dad weren’t wealthy. So there were some sacrifices made to send me there. My father was insistent that I attend his alma mater. I would later learn there were many other fathers, alumni … who sent their sons to Penn Charter too. They were as enthusiastic about the place as my dad was.At the time I wondered, was curious why. Where did this uncommon strain of thought, excitement come from? Turns out it’s an “intangible.” A wisp of spirit that I would later in life come to appreciate if not fully understand. I’ll comment more fully about this here.

Now, I studied hard. Got a great education. Played sports. “Hacked” around with classmates. You know. All the stuff kids do while growing up. As much as kids’ growing up really happens.

My classmates and I were a little different … because we went to Penn Charter. Now … I’ve learned, always contended that no one is ever better than another … only different. But in truth? Penn Charter guys? Were different and better too! Oh, they came from diverse ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds. Only one African American in my class. Some came from wealthy families. Some were on scholarship. We never knew  … never needed to know who they were. Only seventy in our class. Allowed me to know most of my classmates. At least I knew them all by their first names.Here’s where this piece gets dicey … I honestly think PC guys were, and I’ll try to be humble but will fail when I say … elite. And now I’m contradicting my claim above. PC guys were in truth somehow apart from the crowd?Penn Charter is a beautiful place. Founded in 1689 (not a misprint) by William Penn (yeah that guy).

The indelible image that always comes to my mind fifty seven years after graduating? The stunning bell tower so prominent as you enter the gates. It adorns the property. That huge clock on the face of the tower that I had glanced at hundreds of times. From the football and baseball fields … when arriving all those early mornings. A red front door that adds an additional unique touch to the main building. All the history, the grandeur, really, of this place. So distinctive.Yeah, Penn Charter, this boy’s private school in Philadelphia was better. It’s graduates were simply better. And I think elite too.

We went on to the “best” colleges. Ten maybe fifteen went to Ivy League schools. My classmates were smart. Intelligent … a few annoying “know it alls.” Most SAT scores were off the chart. You get it. This depth of intellect was part of the “better” I’m talking about.Athletes? Some good, some great. Handsome guys the girls from nearby schools chased after.But there was this. The reason I write about this. My main point. It was all about that “intangible.” Sure the property, the quality of the faculty, the Headmaster said so much. But that wisp of spirit. Intangibly … almost undetectably, dominates my remembrance of PC this morning.

Let me try to explain a bit further …I recently had a conversation with one of my dearest friends. He didn’t go to PC. But he did go to a private school in New England. He had recently enrolled his grandson in a private school up there.We began discussing this “intangible” thing. And I offer this comment daringly … even a little touch of “eliteness.” Kids graduating from private school were just s touch more refined. Polished a little more. Benefited from that added touch of confidence, expectation the school imbued in them. Something others not attending private school might not get the opportunity to enjoy. They were prepped to be, expected to achieve more than the average. Graduated with a little more gas in the tank. Because they went to private school.Privileged? Maybe. But it was worth it. Every penny. To send your kid to a private school.In point of fact what I’m saying cannot be described. Words are not available to explain this fully. It’s an “intangible.” It’s just there. It’s just true.So when people question me, “Why would you spend all that money to send your kid to private school?”

Honestly, l have no clear answer. Words escape me. But if this person were to spend a few minutes talking? He might detect that “intangible” in me. And I would hope he might say to himself, “Oh, now I get it.” Or he might not.The reason I went to and sent my kids to a private school?Well, just look at the kids. Try to feel that “intangible” And I guess the result, the quality of the kids here … is really the defining, final judge.