I shouldn’t have to feel lucky to work at a school that trusts students with real journalism — where they can ask hard questions, publish uncomfortable truths, and put their names on work they truly own. That should be standard practice, not a rare privilege.

My role is not to rewrite their work. It is to sit beside students staring at a blank Google Doc and ask, “What is the real story here? Where is your tension? What is your evidence?” I push them to think harder, dig deeper, and own every word under their byline.

Once a week, I walk in with a big box of Dunkin’ Donuts. Not as a reward, but as a ritual — a reminder that we are in this together. We argue about edits, celebrate small wins, laugh when a headline completely whiffs, and then get back to work.

That is what it looks like to advise The Gator — and here is what makes me angry: after twenty years teaching in independent schools, and as a product of them myself, I know how rare this opportunity still is, especially at some of the most “prestigious” schools in New England that love to talk about student voice but have no real student press to show for it.

If You Don’t Support a Real Newspaper, You Don’t Support Student Voice

Glossy viewbooks and slick mission statements promise student voice, leadership, and agency. Schools love to talk about critical thinking and civic engagement.

But many of those same institutions, including some of the most established, brand-name schools in New England, either do not have a student newspaper at all or keep the one they have on a very short leash. A “publication” that runs a few safe pieces a year and never makes anyone uncomfortable is not a student press.

I am still stopping short of naming schools; I am not interested in public shaming.

But here is a directory of New England independent high schools, and I have spent a lot of time digging through it.

A few schools have strong publications, including some excellent print papers, but far too many lack real digital, public-facing journalism that is updated regularly and willing to publish uncomfortable truths. If you care about this, check a school’s website, see if it has a student publication, and, if it does, read enough to judge how real and independent it feels; that alone will tell you a lot about what the school actually values — or doesn’t.

That is why this matters. You can hang banners about “student leadership” all over campus and flood social media with “empowering” stories. None of that means much if students are not trusted to publish thoughtful, timely coverage, including pieces that make some people uncomfortable, under their own bylines.

A school that seems never to have controversies, debates, policy changes, or student concerns is not a school without problems. It is a school that does not trust its students — or its own ability to guide them — to do the hard, ethical work of responsible journalism.

If I were a parent, I would run, not walk, away from any independent school, or any school for that matter, that does not have a real student newsroom or is not clearly building one. To me, that is a bright, flashing sign that students are not trusted or empowered by the people in charge.

What Real Independent-School Journalism Looks Like

I work at a smaller independent school in the Boston area, where I advise one of the most decorated student news sites in the country. I’m proud of the awards, but I’m even prouder of the work.

Most of our coverage is positive — and that matters. We are a strong, caring community, and that’s newsworthy. Our reporters highlight major campaigns, people who rarely get attention, and the big athletic moments that define a season. Joy and progress deserve serious journalism, too.

You will find editorials pushing classmates to think about AI and integrity, and coverage explaining why AI “humanizers” are so tempting and what they jeopardize. You will see pieces on political discourse and core values, challenging the community to debate with respect and live up to what it says it stands for.

On the news side, students treat campus life as real news. They report on safety concerns, policy changes, facilities issues, and schedule decisions that affect how students live their days. They talk to administrators, students, and faculty and explain what has happened, why decisions were made, and how people are responding.

What Advising Actually Involves

Advising in this kind of newsroom is not about serving as the final censor or the school’s PR safety valve. It is about building a culture of responsibility and trust.

On any given day, my work includes asking, “Who is missing from this story?” when a draft leans too heavily on one source; saying, “Show me your notes,” and making sure quotes match what people actually said; and walking students through how to phrase a tough interview question to a dean or Head of School in a way that is firm but fair.

Then I step back. My job is to coach, not control. Student editors make final decisions about coverage and content, whether they are publishing a breaking story, a sensitive editorial, or a deeply personal feature.

The donuts help, too. Newsrooms can be intense places. Community matters. We need humor and small celebrations alongside tough conversations and deadline stress.

Too many independent schools seem terrified of that energy. They want the awards and the PR value but do not want to relinquish any real control.

The Prestige Problem

I have spent years trying to be the upbeat colleague in the independent-school world. I have offered to share curriculum, visit classes, talk to heads and boards, and help schools launch or revive publications. I have tried to model what is possible when a school actually trusts its students and faculty adviser.

Some schools have responded. Many more have not. And, tellingly, some of the least interested are those most obsessed with name recognition and brand management.

How can a school brag about student agency, leadership, and voice while operating without a real student newspaper?

If a school can afford a new AP course or a shiny building, it can afford to invest in student journalism. If it can underwrite turf fields and cutting-edge STEM labs, it can underwrite student voice.

Graduates who become lawyers, doctors, business leaders, policymakers, journalists, or teachers will need more than polished résumés. They need to understand how institutions work, what accountability looks like, and how to ask hard questions respectfully but directly. A student newsroom is one of the few places in a school where they can actually practice that.

Prestige without student journalism is not impressive. It’s hollow.

What Prospective Families Should Be Asking

As tuition climb, families touring independent schools should ask very different questions.

Instead of stopping at “How many APs do you offer?” and “Where do your seniors go to college?,” ask whether the school has a student newspaper, whether it is updated regularly, who gets the final say on content, and whether there are examples of students covering controversial or uncomfortable issues on campus.

Ask if students are free to write editorials about school policies, national politics, and cultural conflict, or if that kind of writing is quietly off-limits.

If a school does not trust its own students to live the values it advertises, that is a red flag.

I’m Done Pretending This Is Optional

I am deeply proud of what my students have built at The Gator: that they report the good news with care, lean into hard stories without flinching, and are brave enough to put their names on personal pieces that expose real vulnerability.

If your mission statement trumpets student voice, leadership, and agency, you owe your students a real newsroom — not just carefully curated publications, Instagram feeds, or brochures run through the advancement office. Those all have their place, but they can’t exist in a silo. They need to stand alongside an independent student press that asks tough questions and tells the fuller story of school life.

A real student newspaper is student-run and transparent. It is one of the best indicators of how well a school prepares students to communicate effectively and ethically, with a strong sense of responsibility.

If you do not support a thriving student newspaper, you do not support student voice. No amount of prestige, new APs, or capital projects can cover that up — and no prospective family should trust an independent school, even an established one, that pushes aside student publications. It’s as simple as that.