“I think one reason I have stayed at Gaynor for so long is because of how aligned Scott and I are in our views on service and the need to put children first when there is a crisis.”
Donna Logue, Stephen Gaynor School’s Lower Division Director, doesn’t hesitate when asked why, after nearly three decades at Stephen Gaynor School, she has never felt the desire to leave. She doesn’t begin by talking about curriculum, professional growth or even the remarkable colleagues she’s worked alongside for so many years.
She talks about service.
More specifically, she talks about a shared belief that has shaped Gaynor for decades: when children are facing uncertainty, the adults around them have a responsibility not only to keep them safe, but to help them find purpose. That philosophy has guided the school through countless moments over the years, from citywide blackouts to a global pandemic. But perhaps no moment revealed it more clearly than the days following September 11, 2001.
Looking back twenty-five years later, Gaynor’s response to September 11 reveals something much larger than a single act of kindness. It reveals a philosophy that has shaped Stephen Gaynor School for generations: service is not simply something we encourage, but something we live.
September 11 was only the fourth day of school. Ms. Logue had just begun the year with a new class when a physical education teacher quietly moved from room to room informing faculty that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. Soon after came word of the second plane. Outside, New York City was changing by the minute. Inside Gaynor, another challenge was unfolding.
Teachers didn’t know which students had parents working downtown. Cell phone service had collapsed. Families were arriving unexpectedly to pick up their children. Some students lived only blocks from the World Trade Center. Others would soon learn they couldn’t return home for weeks because their neighborhoods had become part of the disaster zone.
Meanwhile, Ms. Logue had two children of her own across the city. “I had to stay here,” she recalled simply. “I’m a teacher.” Looking back, she remembers Dr. Scott Gaynor as remarkably calm. “He was really rock steady,” she said. “Very focused on making decisions and doing what’s best for children.”
That focus would define everything that followed. Rather than allowing fear to define the experience for students, the school searched for a way to transform helplessness into hope. Families brought bread, peanut butter, medical supplies, blankets and batteries. Students assembled sandwiches. Just as importantly, they wrote handwritten notes thanking firefighters, police officers and rescue workers who had rushed toward danger while everyone else was running away.
The effort was captured by the television network Oxygen, which visited Gaynor as students packed sandwiches destined for Ground Zero. Watching the footage today is striking not simply because it preserves a moment in history, but because it reveals a philosophy that continues to define the school today.
“It was all part of the healing process,” Dr. Gaynor explained. The project wasn’t simply about delivering sandwiches to first responders. It was about giving children a sense of purpose at a moment when the world around them felt uncertain. By helping others, they discovered that they, too, could make a difference.
For Ms. Logue, that sentence explains far more than a sandwich-making project. It explains a philosophy of education. “In difficult times, it’s very grounding for children to be helpful,” she said. “Instead of sitting home and worrying or feeling like things are helpless, there are things you can do. You can help the helpers.”
That idea, that service is something children need as much as the people they are serving, has become one of the defining threads of Gaynor’s culture. It can be seen in the notes students include with meals for God’s Love We Deliver, in community service projects, in everyday acts of kindness between classmates, and in the many opportunities students have to contribute to something larger than themselves. More than an activity, service has shaped the way the school responds when its community faces adversity.
Ms. Logue sees that same philosophy reflected throughout Gaynor’s history. During the 2003 blackout that left much of New York City without power, Gaynor opened its doors so students and families would have a safe place to gather, even if regular classes could not proceed as usual. Nearly two decades later, during the pandemic, the school worked just as intentionally to preserve community alongside instruction. The circumstances were different, but the guiding belief remained the same. In moments of uncertainty, children need connection, purpose and a place where they feel safe.
That response has remained remarkably consistent over the years. Keep children connected. Keep them grounded. Help them discover that they can make a difference. Perhaps that is what makes the Oxygen footage feel so relevant, even twenty-five years later. The hairstyles and classrooms belong to another era, and today’s students would almost certainly be making something other than peanut butter sandwiches. Yet the values are instantly recognizable. It is the same spirit of service that continues to shape the Gaynor community today.
Service is not simply an activity at Gaynor. It is how the community responds when others are hurting and how children discover that, even in moments of uncertainty, they are never powerless.
That is one of the reasons Ms. Logue has devoted so much of her career to the school. As she reflected nearly twenty-five years after September 11, she found a place where service was never treated as an occasional act of generosity.
It was, and continues to be, part of Gaynor’s DNA.
