What does a military ethos offer today’s boys and young men at the middle and high school level? Even if they’re very different, other boys’ schools would do well to consider taking a few cues from places like Riverside Prep.

I’ve visited a number of schools for boys and young men in recent years, speaking about themes central to A Path to Manhood. I’ve had two engagements each with Christ School in North Carolina, Culver Military Academy in Indiana, McQuaid Jesuit in Rochester, and Georgetown Prep in Maryland. I was a recent guest on the Woodberry Forest School’s headmaster’s podcast, and held a virtual class with seniors at Fordham Prep. I’m headed to New York’s Trinity-Pawling School in a couple months.

One recent visit that made quite an impression upon me was Riverside Preparatory Academy, a college prep boarding school about an hour outside Atlanta, Georgia. Riverside uses an evolved military model aimed at bringing out the best in young men. I spoke to faculty and staff, students, student leaders, and parents across two days. The connection came thanks to Steve Hadaway, the school’s Academic Dean. Steve came to Riverside following more than two decades in the US Navy, retiring as a Master Chief Petty Officer with experience as a diver and reactor operator on nuclear powered submarines.

Steve and I have stayed in touch since, trading thoughts about our shared vocation in boys’ education across two fairly different types of schools—mine at Jesuit institutions; his at a military-modeled academy. Our schools are different in many ways, but they also have much in common. One thing that my visit to Riverside Prep made clear is that other boys’ schools would do well to at least consider embracing some elements of a military ethos. I thought it would be interesting for Steve and I to trade thoughts about teaching and mentoring today’s boys and young men. What follows is our exchange: my questions to Steve, his responses; his questions back to me, and my responses to him. First, here are my questions to Steve and his responses.

Steve, one of the things I noticed during my time at Riverside was that it had a lot in common with other boys’ schools—but there are obvious distinctions associated with the military ethos. In your opinion, what is the value proposition of a learning environment with that ethos for boys in this day and age?

That’s a great observation Paul, and I think you’re right—Riverside has a lot in common with other boys’ schools, but the military ethos does add something unique. For me, the biggest value it brings is clarity and structure. Boys today are surrounded by a lot of noise and mixed messages, and the military framework gives them a routine, clear expectations, and accountability. Rules and consequences provide an extrinsic motivation that supports the cadets, and that framework channels their energy in a really productive way.

It also creates real opportunities for leadership. Our cadets don’t just talk about responsibility—they actually live it when they’re put in charge of their peers. They quickly learn that leadership isn’t about rank or power, but about service and trust. And those being led witness the success of their leaders. They look up to them and think, “I want to be like him.” Then you get the shift from extrinsic to intrinsic motivation, which can be life changing.

Another big piece is resilience. The challenges that come with this environment push boys outside their comfort zones, and in the process, they gain confidence and adaptability. And then there’s the brotherhood—you can’t underestimate the sense of community and loyalty that comes from going through those experiences together.

So, in short, I think the military ethos gives boys a framework for becoming stronger, more grounded young men. It doesn’t box them in—it actually equips them to handle life with character and purpose.

What’s the most exciting change you’ve witnessed as you’ve been an active part in the evolution of boys’ education over the past couple of decades?

For me, the most exciting change has been seeing how many more people are now involved in the science of how boys learn. For a long time, schools like ours were doing good work—helping boys grow into strong young men—without really knowing why our methods worked. Now, with research to back it up, we can refine and improve what we do to make it even more effective.

When I first started teaching at Riverside, I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to connect with these young men, especially as a math teacher. Then I came across Michael Gurian’s book Boys and Girls Learn Differently, and it quickly became one of my most valuable resources. Today, there are so many more researchers and authors contributing to this field—including you—which has only strengthened the movement.

With more people recognizing the “Boy Crisis” in America, the work you and others have done has become critical in helping boys grow into good men. And I believe schools like Riverside have a vital role to play in that effort.

You’ve been very kind in spreading the word about my book, A Path to Manhood. What parts of the book resonated the most with you in terms of your experience as an educator of young men?

First, let me say—this is an amazing book. It’s honestly hard to single out just a few parts, because I kept finding myself thinking, “I wish I’d had this insight when I was growing up.” That said, a couple of sections really stood out to me.

Your writing on “Getting to Virtue” reinforced so much of what we try to do here at Riverside. The idea that habit builds character is powerful, and too often overlooked. That section renewed my conviction that what schools like Riverside do each day is absolutely critical to helping boys grow into strong young men.

The chapter called “Telos: Developing a Life Vision” also struck me as especially valuable. Many of our students struggle to see either a short-term or long-term vision for themselves. Your explanation of the difference between a vision and a plan was clear and practical—and something boys need to hear.

Of course, those are just two examples. The truth is, I’m not a young man myself, and I still learned something new in every single chapter.

What do you think a non-military boys’ school could learn from Riverside, even if it weren’t to adopt the military traditions?

One of the most valuable parts of the military model at Riverside is that it gives cadets access to real rites of passage—experiences that are often missing from a traditional education. Our boys get the chance to take on leadership roles, serve as class leaders, earn rank within their companies, and live by an Honor Code that guides their daily decisions.

I think non-military boys’ schools could find meaningful ways to build similar rites of passage into their programs. As you wrote in the Telos section of your book, boys need a clear path forward. At Riverside, we give them a ladder to climb step by step, rather than expecting them to make one giant leap all at once.

What excites you most as you look ahead to the future at Riverside?

More and more people are starting to recognize the value of the kind of education we provide. There’s a growing awareness of both the “Boy Crisis” and the “Man Crisis” in America, and people are looking for real solutions.

There are so many strong voices calling attention to the need for good men in our society—Michael Gurian, Sean Kullman, Dr. Leonard Sax, Jennifer Fink, and you just to name a few—and those voices are finally being heard.

Riverside has been doing this work since 1907, helping boys grow into fine young men. To me, the need for what we do here has never been clearer, and that makes the future incredibly exciting.

Now here are Steve’s questions for me, and my responses:

You have been an educator in two Jesuit schools for boys. How do you see the religious structure as compared to a military model of education?

To some extent, we’re talking apples and oranges. That said, there are parallels between a religious mission and a military ethos. Jesuit education—the model at Canisius High School, where I teach—puts a premium on the care of the whole person (“cura personalis”). While not all of our students are Catholic or even Christian, the Gospel message and the teachings of Jesus Christ form the core of our institutional mission.

We integrate faith formation with academic, social, and physical development—and in so doing, invite each of our students to become the best version of himself. It’s built upon a foundation of simultaneous affirmation and challenge. We call these young men to “discipleship,” which is of course interwoven with “discipline.” Our students don’t wear uniforms, but we do have a semi-formal dress code. We don’t have ranks, rifle drills, or military parades, but we do have a House structure, leadership roles, regular assemblies, and a consistent daily schedule. One thing I noticed that our schools have in common is a very tangible athletic culture—no surprise at a school for guys—but noticeably rounded out by a strong emphasis on the arts and other non-athletic pursuits.

What drew you to the focus you have on building boys of character? Your passion for this shows in your fiction as well as your Substack writing and A Path to Manhood.

It starts with being one of five brothers, with no sisters—so I grew up around a lot of guys. My parents emphasized character-building by virtue of the way they raised us. All five of us attended Canisius High School, and our Jesuit education there shaped each of us in important ways.

Then, throughout college, I coached the high school’s rowing team. That was very formative for me, in part because I was navigating some difficult personal terrain as I came to terms with my decision to withdraw from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. An experience of deep depression followed that consequential choice.

I felt pretty lost, but little by little, that experience of mentoring younger guys showed me that I had a particular knack for relating, guiding, mentoring, and teaching them. Coaching gave me a compelling look at the emotional terrain of male adolescence. I saw its complexity, which runs counter to the cultural narrative that males are just simplistic creatures.

Mentors were essential to me as a young man—I focus on this in the book—and I think today’s young guys need mentoring as much as they ever have. Maybe more. I’m increasingly concerned about the developmental, psychological, and spiritual crises presenting disproportionately among teenage boys and young men. Those of us who work with that demographic have nothing less than a sacred responsibility before us.

You co-founded “The Camino Institute” in the Dominican Republic. What led you to create this organization?

I had a transformative pilgrimage experience in the summer before my senior year of college, traveling to the Nepal Himalaya as part of a medical research expedition. The journey helped me climb out of that depression I mentioned. It helped me realize the beauty of this imperfect world. It made me more fully human. Largely because of that experience, I spent much of my first twenty years as a teacher guiding students on immersive, service-oriented travels—mostly in the rural Dominican Republic, and mostly alongside my good friend and colleague Adam.

Eventually, Adam and I figured out that we could build an organization with a campus dedicated to those types of powerful travel experiences. We raised some funding, took a risk, and went for it—immediately before Covid hit. Things were scary for a while, but we held on, and we’ve built a beautiful two-acre campus over the past seven years. We work mostly with schools, but we also host other kinds of groups: families, friends, or just cohorts that form around a desire for transformative journeys. We do an annual young men’s seminar for guys college age through their thirties, and that’s been really successful. We’ve found that young men in particular are gravitating toward this type of experience that combines service, reflection, honest vulnerable conversation, and spiritual development.

You are an author, speaker, institute leader, educator, husband, and father. Did I miss anything? How do you accomplish all of this and what is your most important “job?”

Well, you forgot my primary day job, which is honestly pretty boring: I’m a technical writer/editor for business clients. That’s mostly industry white papers for management consulting firms. It’s what pays the bills. I left full-time teaching to build that business, and it’s what I spend most of the time at my desk doing amidst the more exciting, Instagram-worthy stuff like writing novels, teaching literature, and running an international travel company.

Why so many irons in the fire? Part of it is that I’m just a little bit nuts. But seriously, life is a beautiful gift. It’s an adventure. I think the only way to live out the gratitude commensurate with that gift is to give, explore, and create in the ways God enables each of us to do, for as long as we’re given to do so. Combine that with a frenetic level of energy (which can be a genuine liability), and that’s why I like having a lot of irons in the fire.

I like living energetically because…well, I don’t think we have time for anything else. I spent a couple years depressed, without much joy. Enough of that. Getting it all done? It’s no big secret. I just get up earlier than most people. If your cadets can do it, so can I. But it’s also simply because I find so much joy in creative pursuits, even ones that others might consider boring. Balancing a spreadsheet. Writing a business plan. Tracking down clients. That stuff energizes me just as much as writing stories or building a bridge in the Dominican Republic.

But the heart of everything is marriage and family. Fifteen years of marriage tells me that my most important job is husband; being a father is an incredibly close second. Some people might scoff at that distinction, but the role of husband to my wife is inextricably interwoven with that of being father to our children. I’d like to think our unity and teamwork is what makes each of us a better parent—and the ‘whole’ of who we are as parents is stronger than the sum of its two parts.