Substitute parents

Most weekday evenings, Karlyn McNall puts her two young sons -- Gavin, 3, and Tim, 16 months -- to bed by 7:30. Once they are settled down, she can devote the next four hours to her older children. All two dozen of them.

McNall is a dormitory director at Middlesex School in Concord. She, her husband, and their sons occupy a two-story apartment in LeBaron Briggs House, a dormitory housing 25 girls ranging in age from 14 to 18.

''I've lived in dorms continuously ever since I went to college," said McNall, who is 38 years old and was recently appointed dean of academic affairs in addition to her teaching position in the history department. ''My first residential position was at the New Hampton School in New Hampshire. In 1994, I came to Middlesex to do the classic faculty 'triple-threat': teaching, coaching, and dorm-parenting. I've been here ever since."

The ''triple-threat" to which McNall refers is a typical requirement at many boarding schools. Young faculty members are hired under the condition that they will put in their time in the classroom, on the playing field, and in the residence halls. But there are also many faculty members who live on campus by choice, often because it is a good way for young teachers at the lower end of the pay scale to save on living expenses.

Boarding schools have been in the spotlight a lot recently, in part due to the popularity of the novel ''Prep," which spent months on bestseller lists when it was published last year and currently occupies the number two spot on The Boston Globe's list of paperback bestsellers. In Curtis Sittenfeld's depiction of life at a fictional New England prep school, Midwesterner Lee Fiora is a fish out of water as she tries to adapt to the milieu of entitlement and privilege that most of her classmates have known since birth. Not surprisingly for anyone who knows teenagers, Lee's perspective seems to include only adolescents. Faculty members appear only peripherally in the novel.

To McNall, the reality is quite different. She sees herself as a constant presence in her students' lives. ''Technically, I am responsible for the safety and whereabouts of the girls who live in my dorm at all times. That's the official description," she said. ''In fact, dorm parenting is far more complex and important than that. Part of the mission of a residential school is to teach people to live together respectfully and comfortably. My role is to facilitate that process."

It's a challenge that Fred Beams, the dean of students at Groton School, has been meeting for over 30 years. Though much has changed since he first became a teacher and dorm parent in 1969, he finds it more noteworthy how much has remained the same.

''Kids need an adult present," he said. ''In the dorm, we are like an extension of their family. In the 1970s and 1980s, there were more issues around drinking. These days, my biggest concern with the students is the stress they are under. How do you make sure they get enough sleep when they are so worried about getting their work done? It's a balancing act."

When McNall first became a dorm parent, she was in her 20s -- ''single with one dog" -- and sensed that her students saw her as a role model. She suspects that has since changed.

''Now that I'm in my mid-30s, and married with two children, I don't think I'm someone they can imagine being," she said. ''It's too far away!"

Nonetheless, the constantly changing cast of characters who have been McNall's students and dorm residents over the past 15 years have supported her throughout a variety of life changes.

''It was a big deal when I got married, but it was a much bigger deal when I was pregnant with my first child," she said. ''The girls in my dorm arranged a surprise baby shower. The excitement from the students and faculty when I was having my children was wonderful."

McNall's husband, Terrence Cassidy, runs the athletic equipment room at Middlesex School.

Of course, the intimacy of on-campus life doesn't appeal to everyone. A faculty member at a different school in the region said that she served as a dorm parent for several years but was never happy with the situation. She found that the encroachment on her time and private space detracted from her teaching abilities. But that was several years ago. Now, as a nonresidential faculty member at the same school, the woman, who requested anonymity to keep from causing bad feelings among her colleagues, sees that conditions have changed somewhat. There is more structure in place for dorm staff now and also more support. Many schools have staff housing not connected to specific dorms; faculty members who live in those buildings provide ample backup coverage.

John Quirk, a residence director and dean of students at the Brooks School in North Andover, oversees a group of 40 boys in his dorm. He described his role as ''residential mentor, guide, guardian.

''We want students to think of their dorms as a home away from home," he said. ''Being a dorm parent provides me with a never-ending supply of teachable moments. Teachers are always interested in promoting intangible life skills like leadership, accountability, cooperation, and tolerance. But not all of these things come up regularly in the classroom."

Like McNall, Quirk started out as a young single teacher and is now a married parent of two children.

But the experience is not only for young faculty. Barbara Piantedosi and her husband moved into a dormitory at Concord Academy last year as a way to mark the beginning of their empty-nest phase.

''As baby boomers programmed to try new things, we decided to sell our home in Harvard and downsize to a faculty apartment complete with 30 teenage girls instead of opting for a condo in the city!" she said. ''I like to think we represent the fact that not all 50-somethings are choosing a cushy lifestyle."

Karlyn McNall described her living situation at Middlesex as a near-utopia for her young children.

''My boys have outdoor space that's unmatched," she said. ''They play on the playing fields. They spend their afternoons watching hockey games and lacrosse practices. Once a week or so, we have dinner with the students in the dining hall. In the summer, we swim in the school's outdoor pool, and when it's raining, I take them to the school gym to run around. Actually, I'm not sure what parents of young kids who don't live on a school campus do on rainy days."

Equally beneficial to her sons is the sense of being part of a closeknit, familiar community full of friends.

''Everyone on campus greets my children by name," she said. ''Parents may perceive their teenagers as being rude, but they are certainly not rude to 2-year-olds! The girls who live in our dormitory are constantly coming into our home. If they find us in the playroom, they'll sit down to play with my boys. One girl in the dorm is the daughter of a firefighter, and she brought Gavin all kinds of firefighter souvenirs."

McNall never has to look far for a baby sitter, either. Numerous students, male and female alike, have made their availability known to her. And on the rare occasions when she has to run across campus to her office on a night when her husband is working, no problem.

''I hand the baby monitor to one of the girls on the floor," she said. ''If either of the boys wakes up, I know they're in good hands."

Though she is not sure how Gavin and Tim will weather the long-term effects of growing up in the midst of 300 teenagers, McNall is sometimes surprised by the roles her sons take on -- especially when they step into her shoes as authoritarian.

One evening in the school's dining hall, which has a no-hats policy, 3-year-old Gavin approached a senior boy who was wearing a baseball cap and said bluntly, ''You'll have to take that hat off right now."