This past summer, as I was preparing for the start of the school year, I found myself alone in the Refectory, eating lunch with my notes spread out before me. It was quiet, the kind of stillness that only exists when the school is empty and the students are all away. As I sat there, a man and his son walked in. We exchanged a polite hello before he made his way over to his class panel. I watched as he stood in front of it, tracing his finger across the names, eventually landing on his own. He turned to his son and pointed it out. Then, I overheard his son say, "Wow, you had a Rockefeller in your class?" 

 

For some reason, that moment stuck with me. It made me wonder about all the names that adorn the walls of our Refectory—not just names on a list, but a collection of lives, stories, and memories that are woven into the fabric of this school.

In preparation for this chapel talk, I met with Mr. Wilkerson, the school archivist, to learn more about the names in the Refectory. 

 

What started as a conversation quickly became a lesson—and the Refectory itself was our classroom. We sat at my lunch table at first, but soon we were on our feet, the floorboards creaking beneath us as we walked from panel to panel.  

Mr. Wilkerson taught me that the tradition of commemorating graduates at St. Albans runs deep. The school has always honored graduates. From its inception, St. Albans would make a plaque with all the names of the graduating class. You can see these plaques in the front hallway of the Lane Johnston Building.

 

However, the tradition of writing the names of the graduates on the wall in the Refectory didn’t start until the school’s 50th anniversary. The Class of 1961 was the first class to have their names etched on the wall and it took 25 years to record all the other classes. 

 

We traced the years together, name by name, class by class, decade by decade, seeing the history of our school unfold before us. Each name represented a boy who sat in these very seats, who walked these same hallways, who called this school home.

The process for writing the names is a laborious act. Each graduate’s name is carefully written using a stencil. A special adhesive is applied, and then, with meticulous precision, 22-karat gold leaf—hammered into sheets so thin they seem almost weightless—is delicately placed over the lettering. A protective layer of varnish is then added, and the names take nearly two weeks to fully dry. When applied correctly, gold leaf can last up to a hundred years. This is not a rushed process; rather, it is one of patience, craftsmanship, and reverence—much like the journey of a St. Albans student.

The names of our graduates are written in Glastonbury font. This font is named after Glastonbury Abbey, a place steeped in legend, myth, and history. According to tradition, Glastonbury Abbey was founded in the 1st century by Joseph of Arimathea, who is said to have brought Christianity to Britain. Over time, the abbey became a spiritual and cultural center and, in 1191, monks at the abbey claimed to have discovered King Arthur’s grave. By the 14th century, Glastonbury Abbey was among the wealthiest and most influential monasteries in England. In 1539, King Henry VIII closed the monastery in a period called the dissolution. The abbey eventually fell into ruins. 

In my research for this talk, I learned that we have other connections to Glastonbury Abbey on campus. The tree in the Senior Circle is from Glastonbury. 

 

The story goes that Joseph of Arimathea arrived in Britain with the Holy Grail and, upon reaching Glastonbury, stuck his staff into the ground. It miraculously took root and blossomed into the Glastonbury Thorn, a hawthorn tree that blooms twice a year, at Easter and Christmas. Additionally, the Bishop's chair at the Washington National Cathedral, which is also known as the Glastonbury Cathedra, is constructed of stones from Glastonbury Abbey. Using the Glastonbury font to inscribe the names of our graduates links their stories to something bigger—something sacred, enduring, and deeply rooted in history. 

When I first started teaching at St. Albans, I hardly noticed the names of the graduates on the walls. They were simply part of the backdrop—a sea of gilded letters blending together. I didn’t stop to think that each name represented an individual person, a life shaped by this place. At the time, life was moving too fast for curiosity. But the longer you’re here, the more things begin to slow down. You start to see beneath the surface and recognize the deeper meaning behind our traditions. The names are not just decoration; they are a running record of the lives that have passed through these halls, to the bonds formed, and to the lasting imprint St. Albans leaves on each student. They are an outward sign of an informal STA motto "Every boy known and loved." They echo God's promise in Isaiah, "I have called you by name. You are mine." With time, I have come to appreciate the weight of this tradition—not just as a symbol of remembrance, but as a reflection of the care and purpose that define our school.

As Mr. Wilkerson and I were walking from panel to panel he mentioned to me, “That’s the man responsible for me coming to St. Albans.” The name was Frank Lyman, Class of 1955—an accomplished educator. 

 

While Mr. Wilkerson was studying to become a teacher, it was Mr. Lyman who encouraged him to apply to St. Albans. Then, almost offhandedly, Mr. Wilkerson added that Mr. Lyman was also responsible for encouraging Mr. Herman to come to St. Albans. 

 

For those who don’t know, Mr. Herman is a legend in his own right. He taught here for over forty years and served as the Lower School Headmaster before Mr. Chandler. At that moment, it struck me—St. Albans' most important resource is not a building or a tradition, but its people. And through these people, this school continues to bring in other dedicated and talented individuals who continue to shape its character and legacy. They serve as links in a chain who keep the school, and the community, moving forward generation after generation. 

There is something to be said for the fact that not much has changed at this school. Students and faculty have always gathered here in this space to share meals. The Refectory itself hasn’t changed much since the school opened in 1909. 

 

The faculty, too, remains steady—many teachers dedicate decades of their lives to this place. As a student, you can return to St. Albans years later, step into this same charming, slightly stuffy and creaky Refectory, and not only see your own name on the wall but recognize the names of your teachers as well. 

 

Alumni often return to the Refectory, sometimes with their own families, standing in the same spot where their name was first placed. They find their own name, then zoom out to see the names of the classmates who shared that journey with them. They see the bonds that made their class special, bonds that remain forever forged together. These names are now part of the very place where students share meals, where a chair might scrape against the wall or where a younger student might throw a milk carton. 

Relationships are one of the most lasting elements of the St. Albans experience. A hallmark of St. Albans alumni is that they are a close knit community. Even amongst the Upper School students, you can see the strength of this bond. The seeds of that bond starts in the Lower School. As a teacher here for 13 years, the students have always impressed me. You are polished and wise beyond your years. You are hard working and care deeply about your academic performance. However, I have also seen, over the years, students can be very competitive with each other, pick at each other and highlight each other’s weaknesses. In their quest for academic achievement, working together doesn’t always come naturally for St. Albans students. I would love to see you all start a new tradition: to come together, care for each other, and be more empathetic at a younger age. It’s the relationships you form with the boys sitting in the pews with you, as well as with the boys in the rows in front of you and behind you that are the most lasting part of your experience. As William Yates said, “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet.”

St. Albans is a place that remembers. And there is power in remembering. The names on the wall connect the past with the present. The names preserve our relationships, community and connection. By writing each graduate’s name in gold leaf, the school shows that it cares about its students. This school gives so much to the students, and in return, the students leave something behind—their name, forever etched into the story of this place. And that is worth remembering.