I didn’t think I’d be back here so soon.

My high school still smells the same, a not-quite-neutral but nonetheless unoffensive scent that I have yet to encounter anywhere else. It’s one of the subtler trademarks that goes unnoticed unless you’ve worked or graduated from here, and it’s the first thing I notice as I walk into the building for the first time in almost a year.

I’m a teaching intern for the summer, and my first day of work begins in a wash of deja vu. My parents, concerned that I would be late, have overcompensated in their commuting and traffic estimations. I’m forty-five minutes early and the dining hall isn’t serving food yet. There are a hundred or so freshmen and a handful of upperclassmen milling about. Most are talking eagerly. A few avoid conversation, staring at the screens of their handheld devices. This last observation is relatively new—they didn’t allow cell phone or iPad use in the dining hall until my senior year. Almost all of them are clad in khakis and pastels. The preppy sartorial choices are a longstanding unspoken tradition.

In conjunction with my first day of high school, I’m not speaking to many people. This time, however, it’s not because of a crippling social anxiety or a lack of self-confidence. Quite simply, I’m not their peer anymore. Five years their senior, I’m supposed to be an authority figure, though I wonder if they view me as such. The heels were a good choice to hint at my distinction. Student sightings in heels are rare unless it is a dance, and even then they are inevitably abandoned by the bleachers. Still, learning to navigate and find my place here is nothing new. Who will I be this time?

To students, Ms. Ferrer. To faculty and fellow interns, Jessica. To my sister, who is taking one of the junior high classes and has only ever called me Ate, the Filipino word for older sister, I won’t be called anything. It’s weird for her. If I’m being honest, though, I’m just hoping to be cool.

That makes me sound like I haven’t progressed beyond the stereotypical social mentality in high school, but it’s true. My favorite teachers were cool for a variety of reasons. Interesting assignments, fair class policies, passion for the subject matter, a sense of humor, an awareness of teenager-y problems (both petty and serious), and a desire to challenge their students.

A very brief and ultimately relevant overview of the Jesuits.

The Society of Jesus, also known as the Jesuits and founded in 1540 by Ignatius of Loyola, is known for its missionary work and emphasis on education and scholarship. Some of its important members include the liberation theology proponent Oscar Romero and the current head of the Catholic Church, Pope Francis. The list of notable people who have attended Jesuit institutions is quite varied. Bill Clinton, Alfred Hitchcock, Fidel Castro, and Bill Murray all received a Jesuit education. (This is not to say that the Jesuits played a huge role in any of their lives. I don’t know if it had any role at all, but sometimes it’s fun to imagine that it did.) With the exception of Bill Murray, each of them attended a Jesuit university. I have little to say about the Jesuits’ influence at the college level, mainly because I didn’t choose to attend one and lack that experience.

Bill Murray, however, attended a Jesuit high school in the Chicago area. Disclaimer: He is not one of my high school’s distinguished alumni. In fact, he went to one of our rival schools. Nobody’s perfect. Regardless, Bill Murray and I have a Chicago Jesuit high school education in common, which is more than I ever thought I’d be able to say.

Both schools place an emphasis on a set of values that students should cultivate over the course of their four years. As students, you commit them to memory. I’ll spare you a breakdown of each one in favor of highlighting a few aspects of my favorites:

Religious. Your faith, or lack of it, is a well-informed choice. The curriculum, though informative of Catholic doctrines and principles, also exposes students to other religions and philosophies. Prior to registration freshman year, my family and I sat down with a teacher who interviewed me. I suspect they were gauging students in some way, but I don’t really know what happened with my responses. I do remember, however, Mr. B asking me how I felt about my faith and values being challenged. I think I said I was okay with it, but it wasn’t until much later that I became truly comfortable with asking tough questions about what I believe and why. This familiarity with the uncertain and the uncomfortable has become one of the most important take-aways from my Jesuit education.

Committed to Doing Justice. You develop an awareness of your responsibility to the communities in which you belong. This can be summarized in a few clever mottos: Men and women for others. Starts with ‘I’, ends with ‘US.’ For me, this was sealed in particular by my Peace and Justice class senior year, which came complete with a classroom plastered with posters of people like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, and Gandhi; newspaper clippings of shootings of children around the city; and illuminating documentaries about Nike factories, protesting the School of the Americas, and Sophie Scholl. I learned to be angry and passionate for the right reasons.

Intellectually Competent. My friends and I once discussed the lackluster connotation of the word competent and how it might lead to a misconstrued interpretation, but in general it refers to subject mastery, to living up to the distinction of a college prep education. I’d contend, however, that being intellectually competent actually realizes a common thread found in all of the other values: Ask questions. Ask questions, from the mundane to the profound, with the intention of pursuing truth and justice, of conveying love and concern.