Our donors, and the beneficiaries of their generosity, have stories to share.

Read their inspiring stories below:

Jordon Nardino ’96

I'm from Los Angeles and always had a tough time at schools there.  One day, my school counselor, who had taught at a boarding school back east, suggested I look into them. It sounded mean, but she was actually being nice.

Rory Connor ’89

When I visited the School, I felt comfortable. Brinley Hall, the Admission director at the time, and the guys I stayed with overnight, all made me feel comfortable. It was a gut feeling that I didn’t have at any other school.

Osborn Curry ’87

Osborn Curry ’87 may have travelled far and wide after leaving St. Mark's but he never felt the School, with its memories and lessons, was very far behind.

Olivia Hilton ’79

Living a life of consequence wasn’t an obligation for Olivia Hilton ’79, but rather a calling. In fact, most of Olivia’s life since graduating from St. Mark's, and then Wellesley College in 1983, has focused on serving others.

Orme Wilson ’71

I had often heard about St. Mark's from my father who was in the Class of 1938. He went on to a career as a U.S. Foreign Service Officer and was frequently posted overseas. He and my mother had always assumed they would send me to a boarding school in the U.S. for high school.

David Sculley ’64

I first visited St. Mark's when we dropped off my brother John ’57 in the early ’50s to enter as a First Former. I was only five, but it made a big impression on me.

Stephen DiCicco ’64

My brother had gone to St. Mark's. He was in the Class of ’59. When someone asked my dad where I was going to boarding school, he said, “St. Mark's.” 

David Scudder ’53

When reflecting on his St. Mark’s experience, it was initially, and has been ever since, all about the relationships for David Scudder ’53.

Michael Wilkinson

I was your classic at-risk kid. I grew up in the government housing projects in Washington DC, later moving to the Maryland suburbs and going from “lower” lower class to “middle” lower class. One of the prized jobs for a teenager back then was to be a paperboy and with hard work and patience, my brother and I eventually hit it big time delivering for the Washington Post – the most expensive of the papers and the most lucrative for paperboys.