I never imagined that crossing paths with homeless people would become a part of our children's grade school education. Who would put that on the curriculum? But it happened, unofficially anyway, as our city's transient people roamed freely on the other side of the fence near the school yard. With a degree of humor and fondness, the kids gave nicknames to the regulars. One was "The Sheriff" because he wore a toy badge as a daily accessory. Another was "Buddha" due to his physique and habit of sitting calmly on the church steps for hours.

The children also had a rule, when given the privilege of running errands on school and church property, that they had to travel in pairs because they never knew whom they might encounter. One morning, however, they learned that a man who routinely kept warm by sleeping in one of the church pews was found murdered not far from their school.

Such was their observation of life. "Diversity" was not a concept to be learned but a reality to be lived. In school they studied alongside both very wealthy children and some from the well-known poor side of town. They learned almost with a shrug to include children and adults from vastly different backgrounds with compassion and acceptance. Doing so at a Catholic school, they learned about the world through a lens filtered by charity, the greatest virtue of all. There is no trade-off for that. None.

After 16 years, my wife, Sally, and I are in our first year of not having our two children in Catholic schools. Our daughter and son now attend a public university. So as we reflect on our choices, we zero in on two principal reasons that we are pleased we chose Catholic schools.

First, we wanted our children exposed to the Catholic faith daily and to a value system that would forever be a part of their lives. They could and did get this exposure at home as well. But parents are not perfect. So the institution's reinforcement of our values and a community to support us were blessings, indeed.

The second reason was to have our children experience their inevitable exposure to a secular world through the filter of Catholic institutions that theoretically value the life of every person. In their grade school, our children endured an interesting playground rule. The older children did not play games but rather monitored the younger students. The older ones grumbled, but they learned every day that to a certain extent they are indeed their sisters' and brothers' keepers.

Then our children went to an Ursuline high school whose motto is Serviam, which translates, "I will serve." I like that motto in an era when self-fulfillment and being happy are the current cultural infatuations of American society. Many schools, including public schools, are now requiring community service of some kind. That's great, but even better, I think, is when "I will serve" is your motto, your mission. I was proud when my son said yes to spending several months as an RCIA sponsor, faithfully attending a weekly meeting at our parish in support of a boy from a public school. And my daughter assumed leadership positions, sometimes sacrificing some of her want-to-have-fun desires to attend meetings and help respond to crises. Service is central to our faith-and probably much healthier for one's personal health than all the modern rhetoric about self-fulfillment.

Much of the promotional material I've seen from Catholic school leaders emphasizes academic achievement, a quality education, discipline, values, and a Christian community-based experience. Catholic parents, like all other parents, want the best for their children. Maybe that's why the appeals focus so much on the kinds of secular successes that win the admiration of our society.

So one challenge facing Catholic schools is not to market their achievements and accomplishments so much that they end up sounding elitist, arrogant, and exclusive. To be a leader in athletics and academics generates great pride. But in some communities, it has become a divisive source of bitterness.

Once when I was a small-town editor, a local public high school lost the state championship football game to a Catholic school. Upon the team's return to a hometown celebration, the coach proclaimed, "Well, I guess we're the public school champions of the state of Illinois!" To which the jubilant community simultaneously cheered for their own children and jeered the absent Catholic victors. Alas, this envy may emanate in part from a lingering anti-Catholic bigotry in American culture. How politically incorrect to suggest that! So, learning to respond to unfair jealousy with charity, dignity, and silence is also a way of life for Catholic schools.

The research also shows that sending children to Catholic schools is no longer a choice for some parents as the cost becomes prohibitive and the decreasing number of Catholic schools makes them less accessible.

A couple of years after our oldest child graduated from grade school, I ran into the mother of one of my daughter's classmates and asked how her girl was doing. OK, she said, but the child had wanted to go to a Catholic high school and they just couldn't afford it. She seemed sad as she said it, and no doubt she was.

It is ironic that one of our relatives had to quit teaching at a Catholic grade school because she needed the public school teacher's salary to afford the Catholic high school tuition for her own children. Catholic teachers' salaries are unjust, period. So we should be even more grateful than we are for the sacrifices made by our children's teachers and administrators. But I imagine I'm the first among many who never wanted the tuition to increase very much. Such is the dilemma of Catholic schools for which the answer is frightfully elusive: paying higher salaries while controlling costs and keeping tuition as low as possible.

Money. I cannot write about Catholic schools without talking about money. I used to tease other parents that one unwritten rule is that they could never enter a Catholic school unless they wrote a check for something. Sally and I observed with curiosity but without resentment as others we knew sent their children to public schools and were able to afford more things like better houses in nicer neighborhoods. But we know all about choices and trade-offs, and we don't regret being pro-choice about Catholic schools.

As I make the case for Catholic schools, I also think of one of the most faith-inspired Catholics I know. She just retired after years of teaching in a public school. I know she modeled solid values for her students, and she undoubtedly provided a quality education. I am thrilled that Catholics take their values and skills into the secular world and model the faith so fruitfully in public school settings. So I am not disparaging public schools or their teachers. Neither am I implying that children cannot receive a quality education in a public school. They can, and many do.

We do not yet know what values our children ultimately will accept for themselves and whether they will practice their faith as they move into adulthood. But we believe that their experiences of Christian community and service in Catholic schools were worth the sacrifices and numerous extra checks. The schools successfully handed down the faith to the next generation, and our children had as many faith-based experiences as possible in an increasingly secular society.

Given a choice to give them the same opportunity again, we would.