Omar Crowder was in line at the American Airlines terminal in Philadelphia when he got the call: There was a mass shooting in Northeast Philadelphia.
Nevermind that he was about to chaperone a group of students on a long-planned 10-day educational trip to Italy — he immediately got out of line, into an Uber, and headed straight back to Northeast High School where, for the last seven years, he has served as principal.
“Within minutes, I got a call from the Philadelphia Police Department,” he says. The initial reports were grim: The claims were that there were mass casualties. “I knew that either our kids were directly afflicted by it, or they’d witnessed it,” he says. “And it happened to be both.”
As it turns out — as is often the case in the era of social media — the reports were wrong. No one had died, but eight of Crowder’s students were in the hospital, two of them in critical condition. Crowder knew that he had to get ahead of further rumors.
“You have these kinds of moments where your mettle is tested,” he says. “There’s no blueprint for these types of situations. There’s no guidebook. So when it comes to responding, I needed more than anything for my school community to know I’m here. I’m here.”
Fortunately, Crowder had spent years building trust with his staff, his students, his community. He met with his staff via Zoom around 9pm that night to give them all of the information he had, and try to figure out how to navigate the situation. He brought in counselors and leaned on the Mayor’s office for resources. He communicated all the information he had (and was legally able to share in light of the police investigation) as soon as he had it.
“My families know that I have their back. I’m driven by transparency, by honesty, by consistency, and I know the power of showing up and being here,” Crowder says. “I’m the captain of this ship, and I take that responsibility very, very seriously.”
Operating within the behemoth School District of Philadelphia, Crowder recognizes that his job is complex. He also recognizes that he’s been uniquely challenged in the last few years alone. While most educators face maybe one catastrophic incident over the course of their career, Crowder has had to navigate a back-to-back sea of immense challenges and loss in the Northeast.
“I know that there’s a darkness that wants us to give up hope, that wants us to believe that goodness doesn’t exist. But what I know to be true about our country, about our society, about our city, about our Commonwealth, is that there are far more good-natured, good-willed people who are sensible, who care about one another, who want to see us collectively be ok and collectively be well.” — Omar Crowder
He’s done so with a commitment not only to getting through but to thriving: Despite the horrors of the past few years, NEHS continues to be a pillar of academic success. It features high-performing magnet and international baccalaureate (IB) programs and was named to US News and World Report’s list of “Best High Schools” in PA for achievement in Advanced Placement coursework. There are award-winning Career and Technical Education programs, the first NASA-recognized space program, extensive art and music resources, special education support … the list goes on.
For his galvanizing leadership and commitment to the wellbeing of our city’s youth and educators, Crowder is one of this year’s 2025 Integrity Icons. He will be honored alongside this year’s four other winners at a celebration on May 22 at Fitler Club. (All are welcome, but you must RSVP in advance here).
Integrity Icon is a program The Citizen has run in partnership with the nonprofit Accountability Lab since 2020. The goal of the program is to shine a spotlight on city workers who uphold the highest standards of integrity — helping to inspire others to do the same.
Leading through trauma
As the leader of Northeast (NEHS), the largest neighborhood high school in the city of Philadelphia, Crowder is responsible for thousands of lives every day. There are his 3,450 students, a body that’s more diverse than any other student populace in the District — students speak more than 50 languages and dialects. Then there are the 300 faculty and staff, who Crowder has proudly retained at a 94.4 percent rate — a rarity in the District, which averages 85 percent retention, and a point of pride for Crowder.
The entire District felt the pain of Covid-19 — full stop. But Northeast High School has been challenged in countless ways since then: Last March, when there was the mass shooting; this March, when a plane crash-landed just blocks from the school; as the events of October 7, a lightning rod worldwide, revealed tensions at the most diverse school in the District. On top of the headline-making incidents, there were those that didn’t receive coverage: the loss of a teacher, the death of a student, a car crash involving students. This, besides the “ordinary” challenges all high schools face.
But if anyone was prepared, personally and professionally, to guide his community through one upheaval after another, it is Crowder.
Crowder grew up in rural Washington state, a descendant of migrant farm workers. He and his two brothers were raised by their single mom until her untimely death when Crowder was just seven. Eventually, he and his brothers were raised by his beloved aunt, alongside her own son; to this day, he affectionately calls her Mom. He grew up in poverty and all the trappings that come with it — but through it all, school was his one constant. Throughout his life, he had teachers who went to extreme lengths to make sure he thrived.
There was Nancy Brullote, who personally typed his college applications and drove them to campus, to avoid any hiccups with the mail. Scott Dorr, the English teacher whose style he strove to emulate when he became a teacher. Maria Hernandez, his third grade teacher; now an elementary school principal in WA, who was one of the first people Crowder called when he was named principal. Cindy Sholtys-Cromwell, who told him in high school that he should become an educator. (He blew her off. “I was like I don’t want to be poor, I grew up poor! I want to be a lawyer, I want to make lots of money, I want to have a big house, I want all these things!”) And Don Lee, his high school biology teacher and the first principal Crowder reported to when he became a teacher; Crowder calls him a lifelong mentor and father figure.
Scholarships — that his teachers made sure he secured — got Crowder through college, and he was accepted to Gonzaga University for law school. But by the time he graduated college — at age 20 –—he was tired.
For a “break” before law school, he spent a year as a social worker for troubled teens; part of his job involved observing these students in school. And that was it for him: He fell in love with working in schools. “I had an epiphany one day, almost divine intervention: law school was not the path — it was not my purpose,” he says. “Education was.”
Instead of law school, Crowder got his master’s in education, then spent 12 years as a social studies teacher in Washington state before he heard about the prestigious principal residency program in Philadelphia. He applied, never having been to the city and not thinking he’d be accepted. When he was, he became immediately smitten.
The heartbeat of the city
“I’m an adopted son of Philadelphia — I fell in love instantly,” he says. “There’s no other place like Philadelphia. I absolutely love it. ” He was placed at Northeast first as a resident principal, then as an assistant principal, and for the last seven years, has been top dog. And he’s very quick to shout out his staff for the role they play in making Northeast a standout.
“As a leader, I never want to forget how difficult it is to be a teacher. They have the hardest job,” he says. “I think my job is probably more complex than a lot of people’s jobs in the city of Philadelphia. But it’s not the hardest — the hardest job is a classroom teacher. And to be able to create space and opportunity and provide resources and support for 300 caring adults to go in every single day to make that change keeps me going.”
“In every step he takes, Crowder’s leadership remains rooted in the understanding that his students are more than just numbers or statistics. They are individuals navigating a world that has been marked by pain, division, and trauma.” — Omar Crowder
With each tragedy his school has faced, he’s been quick to bring in extra support for students and staff. In the aftermath of the shooting, Northeast had extra School District counselors on hand for kids, and also worked with PATH, which is its neighborhood mental health care provider, to offer ongoing support. They brought in Lyra Health, another provider that the District contracts with for year-round support for all staff. They also worked with the Mayor’s office to connect the school community to mental health resources. Kids and teachers worked with Mural Arts Philadelphia on an anti-gun violence campaign; their inspirational artwork is prominently displayed throughout Cottman Avenue.
“This was an opportunity for our kids to turn their pain into a call to action for our community and to elected officials,” Crowder says.
Crowder was still at school the Friday night that the plane crashed in the Northeast last fall. “It felt apocalyptic,” he says. Of the impact of October 7 in an environment that’s so exceedingly diverse, he says, it’s been hard to handle. But he’s trying; coming up, a visit from representatives involved in the Commonwealth’s bipartisan Black-Jewish caucus.
“Through every trial, Principal Crowder has been there, providing support, stability, and a sense of direction,” says Richard Gordon, a 2020 Integrity Icon winner who served as principal of Robeson High School before becoming an assistant superintendent for SDP. “His leadership during these times has been marked by compassion and an unparalleled ability to keep the focus on the students, ensuring that even in the darkest times, they never lose sight of their potential.”
Holding on to hope
It makes sense to wonder how Crowder keeps himself from burning out. In the era of influencers and tech and remote consulting, rockstar educators could parlay their expertise into more lucrative work in, say, consulting or Ed Tech. But it’s his family who keep him going — during the most trying year of his professional life, he found glory in the birth of three babies in his family who made him a great uncle — and it’s the sense of hope he continually finds in the students who enter his school.
In a few weeks, nearly 700 seniors will cross the stage at graduation, and Crowder will leave them with the same words he tells all his graduates. “You are inheriting problems and issues that you did not create,” he will say. “But I am confident, with every inch of my being, that you’re going to be part of the solution.”
It’s that belief, he says, that keeps him committed to this work. “This job will take everything out of you, every single day,” he says. “But working with students, knowing that they’re going to do great things and they’re going to positively contribute keeps me going every single day. They give me infinite hope.”
Gordon says this is not lip service. “In every step he takes, Crowder’s leadership remains rooted in the understanding that his students are more than just numbers or statistics. They are individuals navigating a world that has been marked by pain, division, and trauma,” he says.“Through it all, he continues to lead with an unwavering focus on their futures, always making sure that even in the midst of tragedy, their potential remains his foremost priority.”
Gordon goes on to say that Crowder’s leadership is a testament to “the power of integrity, as he continuously strives to create not only better students, but a better Philadelphia where compassion, resilience, and a commitment to justice guide the path forward for future generations.”
Crowder refuses to believe anything less.
“I know that there’s a darkness that wants us to give up hope, that wants us to believe that goodness doesn’t exist. But what I know to be true about our country, about our society, about our city, about our Commonwealth, is that there are far more good-natured, good-willed people who are sensible, who care about one another, who want to see us collectively be ok and collectively be well,” he says.“If I didn’t have that sense, there is nothing that would keep me here in this profession. I’m an optimist, and I’m also a realist. And I try every day to match my optimism with realism and to do the best that I can by kids.”
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