Chelsea News

As we come to the close of these commencement exercises, before I say anything else, I want to begin with gratitude. First and foremost, to God, whose providence and grace sustain this school and every single one of us within it. To my dear wife, Chelsie, my rock, my greatest support, my best friend and the person who has walked beside me through every joy, challenge, late night, and whirlwind moment of this first year as Headmaster, thank you! None of this would have been possible without you. To our extraordinary faculty and staff: thank you for pouring yourselves into these students’ day after day in ways most people will never fully see. Teaching is not simply a profession. It is a vocation. You carry students not only academically, but emotionally, spiritually, and personally. You celebrate their victories, quietly carry their struggles, pray for them, encourage them, challenge them, and love them deeply. And to our parents, thank you. Truly. The trust you place in us is immense. The sacrifices you make to provide your children with an authentically Catholic education in today’s world are heroic in ways society often fails to recognize. Chelsea Academy exists because families like yours still believe that truth and faith matters.

You know, a dear friend once told me years ago, ‘One of the hardest parts of being an educator is that every year you have to say goodbye.’ At the time, I understood that intellectually but now I understand it emotionally. Because if I am being completely honest, there is part of me that would very much like to wrap all of you in bubble wrap and simply refuse to let you leave. Earlier this week, long after the halls of Chelsea Academy had gone quiet, I sat alone in my office reflecting on this year, reflecting on this class, the notes I’d taken all year and honestly wrestling with what I wanted to say today. And I found myself returning to two things that profoundly moved me:
The first was the commencement address delivered earlier this week by our Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, to the cadets at West Point. The second was reflecting on Pope Leo’s recent encyclical concerning the spiritual crisis of the modern world and the growing loss of meaning, truth, and authentic human identity.

And unexpectedly, both hit me emotionally. Because though they spoke in very different contexts, both were ultimately wrestling with the same question: Who will still have the courage to live differently? Because we are living through a genuine crisis of meaning. For the first time in modern history, anxiety, loneliness, depression, and despair among young people have exploded despite unprecedented wealth, entertainment, technology, and connectivity. We are more digitally connected than any civilization in human history, and yet millions of people have never felt more isolated.

Why? Because the human person was never made merely for comfort, distraction, self-obsession, or endless consumption. The human person was made for truth. For beauty. For friendship. For sacrifice. For mission.
For God. And as I sat there reflecting on all of this, the faces from this class kept flooding my mind. I thought about Senior Civics this year which still feels surreal to me. An immigrant somehow ending up teaching American government and constitutional principles while leading students around the nation’s capital may forever remain one of the stranger developments of my life. I will never forget wandering through Washington, D.C. together, touring the Capitol, discussing history, politics, philosophy, and the future of this country while simultaneously trying to ensure nobody got flattened crossing Constitution Avenue because of my truly catastrophic sense of direction.

Or driving together to Richmond for the March for Life. At one point, many of the girls sitting behind me became completely silent which, as any educator knows, is rarely reassuring. Because silence among teenagers usually means one of two things: Either profound holiness or imminent disaster. Thankfully, it was wholesome holiness. They were playing some alphabet road-trip game trying to find every letter A through Z on highway signs, restaurants, and buildings while singing wholesome music, laughing and having genuine conversations. And I remember gripping the steering wheel and suddenly thinking: This is what youth is supposed to look like. Like when we were young. Joyful, Hopeful, Alive, and Human. Not cynical. Not performative. Not hollowed out by endless distraction.

I thought about the Senior Work Day watching all of you covered in dirt and mulch, joyfully serving this school without complaint  and Simone Lash suddenly asking me out of nowhere as we worked on the vegetable patch : “Dr. Wheeler… do you think God loves everybody equally? Like… where am I? What is this?” And honestly, I nearly drove myself into a spiritual crisis holding a rake. Because that question, strange and funny and deeply profound all at once, perfectly captures what makes this class so special. You are searching. You are tuned in to the deeper things. You still possess wonder. And parents, I need you to hear this: That is simply and unfortunately not normal anymore. Because the world your children are entering is profoundly confused about what it means to be human and you have done something extraordinarily difficult in the modern world. You have raised children who can still hold conversations. Who can still laugh together without phones. Who still possess innocence. Who still seek beauty. Who still ask questions about truth, meaning, sacrifice, and God.

I saw it again at Senior Formal. Of course there was dancing and laughter and teenage excitement. But there was also goodness and wholesomeness. Respect. Joy. Actual friendship. And as a father myself, I remember standing there looking around the room thinking: This is the kind of community every parent dreams of finding. What every father wants for his daughters and sons. And so parents, today you are not simply watching your children graduate. You are watching them become who they were always meant to be. And what a privilege it has been for us to walk beside you in that journey. Even their planners moved me this year. Most schools hand students notebooks that are destroyed by October. Yours became works of art covered in sketches, prayers, flowers, quotes, memories, symbols of beauty, imagination, friendship, and wonder. And that matters. Because beauty matters. Wonder matters. The soul matters.

The modern world keeps telling young people: Seek comfort. Protect yourself. Avoid sacrifice. Stay detached. Keep everything temporary. Never commit too deeply to anything. But that path does not lead to happiness. It leads to emptiness. In the Gospel of John, the very first words spoken by Christ are these: “What are you looking for?” Not: “What will make you rich?” “What will make you famous?” “What will make you comfortable?” “What are you looking for?” Class of 2026, that is the question before you now. What kind of life are you going to live? Will you drift through life distracted and passive? Or will you live boldly? Because the world does not need more spectators. It does not need more outrage. More noise. More shallow success. More people endlessly scrolling through life half-awake. It needs saints. The world will tell you to stay comfortable. Do not listen to it. The world will tell you to avoid sacrifice. Do not listen to it. The world will tell you faith is weakness. Do not listen to it. Because history has never been changed by comfortable people. It has been changed by saints. By missionaries. By mothers and fathers. By teachers. By builders. By courageous men and women willing to give their lives away for something greater than themselves. As St. Augustine wrote: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

Class of 2026: your life is not an accident. You were made for greatness. Not the shallow greatness of applause or status but the greatness of sanctity. Chelsea Academy did not form you to blend quietly into the culture. It formed you to help transform it. So be courageous. Be joyful. Be faithful. Be dangerous to mediocrity. Build beautiful families. Defend truth. Protect the vulnerable. Pursue greatness. And wherever God calls you, live boldly for Christ and carry the Chelsea flame with you everywhere you go. Now graduates, before I emotionally reconsider allowing this ceremony to continue, please rise. By the authority vested in me as Headmaster of Chelsea Academy, and having completed all requirements for graduation, you may now move your tassels from the right side to the left. Graduates, you are now alumni of Chelsea Academy. We love you. We are proud of you. And we will be praying for you always. Forming Saints. Scholars. Servant Leaders. This is Chelsea Academy!