An Army Undivided

Yes…I still have mine :)

Over the years, I’ve tried explaining my high school to my husband. To begin with, explaining high school is a struggle—especially as he tries to explain the British equivalent to me—but the “All Girls, Catholic Prep School” adds its own complications. Like most, he thinks of pop culture references—like the 90’s classic Cruel Intentions or Gossip Girl, with its privileged upper class tropes, wearing their polished school uniforms and throwing mommy and daddy’s money around like its candy. He assumed my school was a Stepford-esque sorority on steroids, filled with little rich girls being groomed for marriage and eventual motherhood. Basically a 1950’s version of a “finishing” school. He literally laughed out loud when I told him how many people I graduated with—89—and that I knew all of my classmates by name.

“That can’t be a real place,” he said. Funny thing is he actually knew my school before he met me—he worked with a girl who graduated two years ahead of me. But still he didn’t believe it.

Saint Basil Academy is a very real place. But his assumptions are the furthest thing from the truth.

Established in 1931, Saint Basil Academy is a private, Ukrainian Catholic, all-girls high school in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania. With an emphasis on higher learning, Saint Basil boasts of 3000+ alumnae. The tuition is steep—a little over $15,000 a year for one student, which is a small fortune for the predominantly middle-class, blue-collar Philadelphian families who send their daughters. But they guarantee one thing: 100% college acceptance for all graduates. That is worth its weight in gold. And they don’t mess around with that promise; the first half of senior year is solely dedicated to college applications. We were taught to be fiercely independent women, focused on careers and impacting the world. Modern-day feminists, with a Catholic twist. The school is not perfect—not by a long shot, and most of that is due to its “little bubble” nature of tradition and semi-archaic values. Complaints of the lack of diversity, and inclusion of people of color have popped up the last few years—especially this past year—but it really seemed the administration and faculty were finally listening and evolving.

But Saint Basil is so much more than its steep tuition and college acceptance percentage. Especially to the girls who crossed its doorway, every day for four years.

It’s one of those, “You just had to be there” kind of experiences, where people kind of think you’re joking. We had some wonderfully weird traditions—like Friendship Day, where your entire class lined the aisle of the chapel and you had to hug every single one of your classmates, or music class where you had to sing in the closet with Sister Germaine. There aren’t many schools who announce birthdays over the loudspeaker as part of morning announcements, or have a seventeen minute break between 2nd and 3rd period, just so you can chat with your friends—or beeline it down to the cafeteria to snag a soft pretzel. Make-up and doing your hair was a complete waste of time in the morning, but you knew when the all-guy school was paying a visit—and were prepared. Speaking of all-guy schools, did you literally throw elbows to get tickets to their dances? No? We did. Did you perfect rolling your skirt, and get stopped in the hallway by every teacher to do the “finger-tip” check? Speaking of teachers—did every single faculty member know that you were a “legacy” just by reading your last name, and then ask how your older sister was doing? Was Religion the hardest class you took senior year, because you had to literally memorize the bible? Can you sing Silent Night in Ukrainian? And can you still speak a few phrases in said language (Slava Isusu Christu)? Or know that “anyone who possesses a voice with which to speak can learn to sing"? Did you debate the need for knee-socks over tights with the faculty EVERY YEAR, and lose EVERY YEAR (they now allow it, btw)? Was the Naz/Baz game the biggest game and day of the school year? Did your principal give you a day off if your basketball team won the championship? Did you join the hand-bell choir just to go on the fieldtrip to Harrisburg and the KOP mall? Were you responsible for finding guys for the Spring Musical—or had to beg and plead your boyfriend to join the production? Did you realize after four long years that you didn’t need to agonize over finding a date to the Autumn Classic, that you’d have more fun with your girlfriends? Was your prom dress required to have straps—and did you have to walk your date down a receiving line and introduce him to every single faculty member in attendance? Were cliché high school cliques non-existent—did the theater nerd (me) hang out with the all-star athlete? Was “walking the track” considered your PE class for the year? Did you only recently remove your class ring—the ring you painstakingly chose your Junior year, and were presented with at a special ceremony? Did your school have the sole remaining Coke machine from 1965, still operational with crushed ice (that tasted a bit like dirty water)? Were you convinced that the religious retreat you were required to attend your senior year was secret a ploy to turn you all into nuns—when the reality was you had the best 4 days, late-night bonding with your classmates? And after four years, did you finally master the art of organizing the contents of your sweater’s pockets—even if yours had big gaping holes (like mine)?

MY GOD it was weird! But it was the best!

At the end of four years, I—like the rest of my class—couldn’t wait to get out. Spread our wings, take everything they taught us and burst the Basil bubble! Now, nearly twenty (woof!) years later, I have nothing but fond memories of my time spent at 711 Fox Chase Road. Memories that I laugh and think about often.

Which is why yesterday was hard.

Yesterday, my alma mater—Saint Basil Academy—made an announcement; the 2020-2021 school year will be its last.

Plagued with years of financial struggles and dropping enrollment, the sisters of Saint Basil the Great tried everything to stay afloat. A sustainability campaign was launched, endowments and an annual giving fund from alumnae helped generate additional funds; all this helped SBA dodge the mass closure of parochial schools that was pummeling the city of Philadelphia. But Covid was the final nail in the coffin. They just couldn’t sustain it any longer.

I read the official announcement in the alumnae newsletter and my heart sank. Almost immediately, my cellphone started pinging with texts from my sisters and friends—they had seen the same announcement. It doesn’t feel real. Nearly twenty-four hours later, it still doesn’t. It feels like a death in the family. Or stepping into your childhood bedroom for the last time because your parents are selling the house. Because in all reality, Saint Basil was my second home. For four years, I spent more time in those hallways than I did in my actual home. And now it will be gone, and probably sold to some developer and turned into something really depressing—like a strip mall or a housing development of McMansions. Thinking about it makes me want to cry.

But I'm lucky.

I got to have a full high school experience in those halls. I actually got to graduate. My heart breaks for the current students—the freshmen and sophomores who are just starting to build friendships. For the juniors who won’t graduate with their class next year, and will need to start over at another school for one year. And for the eighth graders who were anxiously awaiting the day they could lace up their saddle shoes. Its awful—but also a sign of the times. Schools like Saint Basil are a dying breed. A snapshot of the past that just can’t exist in the modern world.

I know I’m not the only girl in Philadelphia hoping for a miracle. That someone will swoop in and save the school. That maybe someone will see the worth of this school—this community of women, young and old—and choose to keep it alive. Even if that happens, I think it’s too little too late—which is a stark reminder of why its so important to support your alma mater whenever you can. If this is truly the final curtain call for my beloved high school, I’d like to extend my heartfelt appreciation and thanks to the Saint Basil Academy community. I will be forever grateful to my best friend’s grandmother, who in 8th grade insisted that we go and just “take a look at Basils.” Going there changed my life; enriched my life. Saint Basil Academy made me the woman, friend and mother that I am today. And above all else, thank you for giving me 89 sisters, who I still know by name.

“…Remembering ever the white and gold of Saint Basil Academy.”