Finding God in the School Year Rush: A Back-to-School Family Examen

This past summer, my family found ourselves in that familiar late-May whirlwind. My husband and I are both educators, and that whirlwind included final grades, forgotten lunchboxes, back-to-back recitals, parish festivals, Scout meetings, and overlapping calendar invites. And while the liturgical calendar forms our spiritual lives, I admit it’s the school calendar that sets the tempo of our days. My entire family feels scattered — emotionally, spiritually, even physically. Some weeks, it seems like the four of us barely see each other in the same room.
We desperately needed something to pull us back together.
One Sunday evening, we started small. We sat on the couch, lit a candle, and opened some little journals I’d picked up. My husband and I offered a few simple prompts, and we each wrote our answers: What were your roses this week? What were your thorns? Where did you see God? How do you wish you had acted better? What would you like to change in the week ahead?
Then we ended with a prayer. Sometimes an Our Father, a Hail Mary, or a Glory Be. Sometimes one of our kids recites a Bible verse they’ve been memorizing. We offer up our hopes and ask: How might we change, appreciate more, and do better next week? We called this practice our “End-of-School Examen.” It wasn’t planned as a long-term ritual — just a much-needed pause amid the end-of-year storm. But it gave us space to reflect, reconnect, and remember what matters. And it helped us start noticing where God had been all along. He had always been there with us in the whispers before school music recitals, in those rare teamwork moments of cleaning up spilled juice at breakfast together, and, most importantly, in the here and now tired joy of our family finally all in the same room at the same time, taking the time to be together and be with God, too.
As summer settled in, the Examen naturally slipped away. Our evenings slowed. We had more time to connect in other ways — swimming in the neighborhood pool, playing Crazy Eights at the kitchen table, simply being together. But as the new school year crept closer, that old familiar tension returned: How would we carry the peace of summer into the storm of the school year?
There was so much to do: back-to-school bashes. Music lessons. Meet-the-teacher nights. Religious education signups. Everything was revving back up again. And I found myself wondering: Would the rhythms of the academic calendar drown out the rhythms of the Spirit? So, in these past few weeks, we brought back our Examen — with a new purpose. What began as the End-of-School Examen has become our Back-to-School Examen.
Our version is adapted from the Ignatian Examen, a centuries-old spiritual practice developed by St. Ignatius of Loyola. Traditionally prayed once or twice a day, the Examen invites practitioners to reflect on their day, recognize where God was present, notice where they fell short, and ask for grace to grow. It’s a habit of holy attention — a way of finding God in the ordinary, pausing even when it feels impossible to do so, and moving forward in love.
Some of the questions we use — like roses and thorns — may sound familiar to fellow teachers. They’re often used in classrooms as icebreakers. But when paired with spiritual reflection (i.e. Where did you see God? What are you hoping for?) they take on deeper meaning. We’re not just naming the highs and lows of the week. We’re asking what those moments are forming in us. As St. Ignatius writes in the Spiritual Exercises, “Our one desire and choice should be what is more conducive to the end for which we are created.” The Examen, in its simplest form, helps us begin with ourselves, not in a self-centered way, but in a spirit of gratitude and growth.
In our family, we share our roses and thorns aloud, but we don’t have to share everything we write. One of our “rules” is that you have to share at least one thing, but you don’t have to share everything. Some weeks, my kids skip naming their thorns and sit in quiet reflection when these are brought up. (I don’t ask what they write, but as their mom, I usually have a good guess. And I’m always a little heartened by the look on their faces — the one that says they’re thinking about what they need to be thinking about where perhaps they could have made a better choice or two during the day.) Other times, as any parent might expect, they gleefully call out each other’s thorns — like who turned up the radio and blasted Lady Gaga during someone else’s headache — because, like all of us, they’re works in progress.
St. Ignatius teaches us to find God in all things, and this ritual helps us do just that. It’s wonderful and even a little awe-filled when our roses line up — walking the dog, baking cookies, laughing at dinner. Other weeks, I discover something new: my daughter finds joy in playing dolls alone during quiet time, a pocket of peace in her day I hadn’t noticed before.
And sometimes, it’s the thorns that bring us closest. One Sunday, I admitted I felt guilty for checking my phone too often when I could’ve been more present. “We didn’t even notice!” the kids said. But it led to a meaningful conversation about attention, presence, and the kind of love I hope to model for them.
Lately, as the back-to-school season looms, we’ve realized that this simple practice is doing more than helping us reconnect: it’s helping us prepare for the coming school year. Our daughter is starting fourth grade, and our son — deep breath! —is about to enter middle school. Sixth grade feels like a huge leap, and I’ll admit: I’m probably more nervous than he is. There’s so much I want to shield both of my children from — and so much I know I can’t. But the Examen gives us space to talk about those worries and to shift the question from: What if something goes wrong? to How is God already here?
Take flag football, for instance. My son started practicing for the middle school team a few weeks ago, and it stirred all my classic mom worries: Will he be left out? Will he get hurt? But through the Examen, even this started to look different. The dew on the grass in the early morning. The community of other families. The look of pride on his face when he tries something new. The Examen has helped prepare us both for this next school-year step.
So, if you’re like my family and preparing for a new school year, this simple Examen might be worth trying. Whether you’re a teacher, a student, or a parent, it offers a moment of stillness in the bustle of activity — a way to name what matters and invite God into all of it. Of course, this little Examen won’t solve everything, but it might help you see more clearly, love more freely, and trust more deeply — right in the middle of whatever joyful chaos the coming school year inevitably brings with it.
How to begin a back-to-school examen
You don’t need anything fancy to start — just some quiet, a few honest questions, and an openness to God’s presence. Here’s a simple way to try it at home:
- Set the space. Light a candle, sit at the table, or curl up on the couch. Give this time a sense of calm and intention.
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Choose your questions. You might try:
- What was a rose this week? (A moment of joy or goodness)
- What was a thorn? (A struggle or disappointment)
- Where did I see God?
- Where did I fall short?
- What do I hope for in the week ahead?
- Write or share. Everyone can jot down thoughts in a journal or simply speak them aloud, whatever feels natural. Our family has the rule that everyone should always share something, but no one has to share everything.
- Pray together. End with a short prayer. It could be an “Our Father,” a “Hail Mary,” or a verse like Psalm 5:3: “In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice.”
Repeat when you can. Once a week works well for many families. But it’s okay to skip a week, or add more, depending on what you need — and like!