As a Christian classical school, Imago will continue to glory in the study of the best, most beautiful, and truest works. Students will continue their studies in literature, composition, ancient languages, history, church history, physics, chemistry, biology, geology, geometry, algebra, trigonometry, calculus, philosophy—and, God willing, more!. We are particularly excited about situating the sciences in a philosophical and historical background, and for building our students' skills for a capstone thesis project.  

But lists of classes and books do not do justice to the aims of education. Understanding is not measured by a checklist. Rather, it grows with our love of beautiful things and gratitude for all the good God has made. It grows in good and faithful service and hospitality to those in and outside the school. It grows in excellent use of our bodies in craft and exercise. In order to teach rightly, the Imago High School must be a community where these conditions of good learning are tended. So, our day-to-day habits will be ordered by service, art, athletics, gratitude, and hospitality as well.

Creating and sustaining relationships between teachers and students is vital to education that aspires to form a worthy character. Not only what, but how a student learns will form his life.

High school presses questions on a young adult. What character does a student need to make her studies to God's glory? Does she know why or whether she ought to go to college, or the military, or into industry, or family work? Does anyone know her well enough to discuss her calling with her?

Such conversations require trust and knowledge of a student built over time. At an Imago High School, the standard for teachers would be to engage these questions early and often. Deep reflection relies upon deep relationships; these require a commitment from teachers, students, and their families. 

These beliefs allow us to sketch a picture of what students and teachers can aspire to at Imago. 

Young men and women ought to grow into new responsibilities and privileges where they see and work next to those who undertake them with joy and maturity. That is true in the home, but in the classroom as well. To model these ought to be the aspiration of the teachers at the Imago High School. 

On the one hand, they must love what they teach, and whole-heartedly praise their Creator for all He has made and all they impart. On the other, they must be committed, publicly, to regular and specific practices of prayer, mentoring, and the disciplines required to guard and maintain such a community of learning. That includes limiting their own use of technology; committing themselves to prayers for the students and one another; sharing in the joys and challenges of each other's subjects; and intentionally forming and stewarding that community of students, teachers, and staff.

Students at Imago will practice being hospitable to one another; to our community; to ideas ancient and new; to those who hold them. They will serve snacks, perform for the elderly, work with churches, beautify the grounds, invite others in.

Students at Imago must be willing to take on disciplines of prayer and conversation together. They will practice speaking to one another, to teachers, to their community. They will also listen—to books they read, to arguments patiently laid out, to praise and correction. They will practice responding in ways that sharpen arguments, build up their conversation partners, and make speech true and noble.  

Students at Imago should press hard for success—but understand that this means more than either good grades or a good job. Some are ready to run hard in a particular discipline and soar high. Others face struggles that will lay a worthy foundation to build on in later years. High grades should not mean there is nothing to work on, or low grades mean nothing to celebrate. The standards are high, but the aim is good living under God’s rule.

What could a community of learning look like? Consider an illustration.

Class has just finished, and conversation is spilling out onto the porch of Percival Place. Some students are bustling with trays, water, and cookies; others are chatting with teachers about the proof they just demonstrated; others are reflecting on a question put to them. It’s teatime, and the whole High School is present. 

This time is for rest, but it is also for teachers to spend time with the students and get to know them well—to know them outside the class, and to allow what is in the class to work its way outside. 

The event depends on students. They must serve one another—and plan, and create, and prepare to serve, taking turns in preparation and cleaning up.   

Students are encouraged to make things well: to welcome each other with good things to eat, clean cups and plates, good cheer to serve. 

Students and teachers alike are resting, and resting together. In the spirit of God’s Sabbath on the seventh day, and in acknowledgement that our intentions extend beyond academic success, all have stopped to share leisure through God’s grace.

Such practices shape community and bind those in it together. They make convictions into habits; they give soil for trust to grow, by which good teaching can be transformed into good learning.