Sands Through Time

Sands Through Time

Sands Through Time A collection of essays written by President Dr. Priscilla Sands

The College Rite of Passage (4.9.07)

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y any standard, this year’s college acceptance list for our seniors is excellent and, if used as a marker for academic credibility, would indicate that Springside is doing very well. I happen to believe, however, that a better marker is the worthy process of empowering each student to find the institution that is the best fit. Thinking about college as an endgame harms and undermines our mission to help each of our young graduates to think of herself as a hardworking global citizen rather than a high-achieving automaton who winds up and performs well.

As it so happens, the lead story for last Sunday’s New York Times is entitled, “For Girls, It’s Be Yourself, and Be Perfect, Too.” No new territory is covered in the article, but it is a reminder of the complicated messages that are sent and received by girls across the country. There is undoubtedly pressure on them to be, as stated in the article, “high achieving, ambitious, and confident.” But, as the article goes on to say, “... being an amazing girl often doesn’t feel like enough these days when you’re competing with all the other amazing girls around the country who are applying to the same elite colleges that you have been encouraged to aspire to practically all your life.” It’s hard to imagine that we’re talking about “all your life” being 18 years. Preparing for college is not about résumé building but about a deeper and more complex appreciation for all of the growth and opportunities that abound. And working hard is a fact of life—ask any successful student or adult. This is not a bad thing and most students are savvy enough to learn this lesson early. The real issue is how we help them work hard and understand that their achievements are not measured by fat or thin college letters.

When my children were applying to college, I had the advantage of working in a school, so I was aware of how many Sands Through Time | 1

subtle, if well-intentioned, messages they were receiving from a variety of sources. At home, I attempted to make the experience one in which my hopes and dreams were sublimated to theirs. I certainly understand that rejection can feel personal and cruel, but any overreaction can inadvertently send the wrong message. While we may believe that we are expressing love and empathy, it can be perceived by our children, who are watching us carefully, that they have let us down. College acceptances are not gifts our children proffer; nor is rejection a sign of failure. It is critical that we teach our children from a very young age that life will have its share of disappointments and challenges and that a positive, adaptive attitude may open more doors than an Ivy League acceptance letter. Flexibility and optimism are enormously important for all of us, and these traits should be encouraged at home and at school. It’s important to celebrate hard work and achievement appropriately when the news is good, but it is equally important to redirect our children’s sails when their ships are blown off course. Keeping life in perspective is such an important and valuable goal.

By the time you receive this letter, the college rite of passage will be almost finished and, by and large, all of our seniors will know where they will be going next year.

Our students give high marks to a sane process led by our Director of College Counseling, Dr. Christine Heine, who is smart, funny, and compassionate and keeps all of our girls grounded and rational. They are always at the heart of her practice. She doesn’t shield them from the reality of a hugely competitive process that sometimes rewards what feels serendipitous. Rather than feed this multi-headed hydra, she empowers each girl to think of a college acceptance as a possibility rather than the penultimate reward. Her office is not command central for chaos and tears but rather a space where students are found laughing, lounging, and being wonderfully engaging young women.

Recently, a senior who had been denied admission to her first choice told me how she came to realize that going to another school, where she had been accepted, was in many Sands Through Time | 2

ways a better choice for her talents and interests. Here was someone who was setting herself up for success. If getting into the “right” college for the wrong reasons is a goal, then we have set up a child for the potential for huge disappointment. As any parent can attest, learning to support while not micromanaging is one of the hardest tasks we perform, but it ultimately pays huge dividends as we send wonderful and balanced young women into the world. It takes practice and begins with a child’s first steps away from us. Perfection is never the goal.

Part of Finding One’s Voice is Finding One’s Persona (3.12.07)

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have become an avid reader of pop trash these days, which has coincided with a few plane trips I have taken over the past two months. This has provided me a perfect opportunity to read these rags without running into Springside parents, although I did have my Kant Reader at the ready, just in case. Once seated, I noticed that many of my fellow travelers were simultaneously anesthetizing themselves in a similar fashion. During my latest trip, as we sat on the runway for several hours for the dreaded second de-icing, I read about the aberrant lives of Hollywood girls gone wild. While I’m not particularly interested in their collective DUI’s, multiple partners, or lack of underwear, I am concerned about the impact and influence these wild children have on our girls.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that Newsweek contacted the National Coalition of Girls’ Schools to see how our students were reacting to the plethora of stories about the bad girls of Hollywood—their drinking, drug use, casual sex, and eating disorders. As I wrote then, I asked our students how Sands Through Time | 3

these “celebutantes,” as they are known by the media, were impacting their lives. Armed with more facts from my reading, I have continued to speak with girls informally about Britney, Lindsay, Paris, et al., and I continue to hear the same message: that these young women are a source of pity not emulation. Our students tell me they are too busy with their studies, college choices, extracurricular activities, and so forth, to even think about the antics of a few high profile celebrities. Interestingly, we heard the same message from our middle schoolers, but it is a conversation that is happening in more depth through the curriculum and with the adults who are ever-present in the lives of their students. It makes sense that children who are busy and purposeful are less likely to have the need to find escape through harmful and self-destructive behavior. There is also a difference between being engaged in interesting and meaningful activities and not just those that either take up time, pad résumés, or both. And it is not that our students, even the busy ones, are perfect and have never had a drink or tried drugs. Our students are, however, able to differentiate between the hyped-up media frenzy of these starlets who are landing in rehab faster than their meteoric stars can flicker out, and their own real lives that are meaningful and directed. They know the difference between fantasy and reality. And here at Springside we are constantly working to reinforce this message.

It is important that we don’t paint a broad brush and make assumptions about girls based on very superficial methodology. While this may be controversial, I believe that girls should have an increasing amount of say over what they choose to wear. Of course, with choice comes the responsibility of knowing how someone can be perceived and even judged. Wearing a short skirt does not make a girl sexually promiscuous. Dying her hair from the many hues of the rainbow does not make a girl a drug user. At school, as at work, dress codes are either stated or understood and rules can be implicit or explicit. We try to impress upon our girls to think about school as their workplace and to dress accordingly, particularly for senior dress code, but it is imporSands Through Time | 4

tant to remember that part of finding one’s voice is finding one’s persona and identity. It’s easy to complain about the way students look, but it is more important to celebrate the many wonderful causes they undertake and who they are as people. Their compassion for those in Darfur, their commitment to women’s health, and their political awakenings are markers for maturity and growth.

Sometimes when girls choose jeans and T-shirts, it is more palatable for us as adults than the tight shirts or the short skirts that abound in stores and fashion magazines. But we need to remember that fashion is ever-changing and we were all subjected to the look of the day. I remember vacillating between my black-rimmed kohl eyes à la Mary Quant to my “Give Peace a Chance” attire. Part of my clothing choice was oppositional, directed toward either society or my parents or both, but I can’t for the life of me remember which. The more my mother told me how much better I would look if I kept my hair out of my eyes, the more I combed my long flowing mane into a deep sultry curtain that obscured part of my face. I pierced my ears, bleached my hair, read Beat poetry, and got under my parents’ skin. It is about growing up.

I grew out of my need to let my “freak flag fly,” but I found part of myself through my anthropological self-dig. I became passionate about the best of the feminist movement and have been committed and concerned about the lives of girls and women ever since. I am also protective of them and advocate for all of the necessary passages that they need to go through. Adolescence is the time to try on different looks and beliefs. Our girls are not, as far as I can tell, emulating the sad girls of Hollywood, even when they roll up or shorten their skort or “sneak” a non-uniform sweater past us. It’s important to celebrate all that makes our girls special and to keep them from believing that the path that the “Brit Pack” has taken is one that will lead to personal fulfillment.

Chances are that without intervention and redirection it will more likely end in sadness. Our girls have exciting opportunities ahead of them and doors that will be opened Sands Through Time | 5

or options that will be available through their continuing education and self-awareness. We need to continue to make them aware of the many insidious ways they are manipulated through fashion, not so much for the clothes that are marketed, as they will find their own styles and statements, but for the lifestyles that are emblazoned in tabloid headlines. Health and good body image are the goal.

Grace (1.29.07)

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ormally, at Oscar time, I am woefully unprepared to add much to any one conversation about best picture, stars, directors, etc.

If I have seen one movie, I try to milk it forever. It’s not that I don’t love movies; I do, but every time John and I have a free night, we start with good intentions by reading all of the listings and then end up staying home.

This fall, however, my children were home and we decided to go into the city and see a movie. The choice fell along gender lines, as I am way too squeamish to see anything violent, no matter how well reviewed. My daughter and I happily went to see The Queen, while the men headed to the next screen for something with a bit more action. Even before the movie, while discussing our options, John and the guys started twitching just thinking about scene after scene of Balmoral. Once ensconced, my daughter and I couldn’t get enough of the pastoral scenes and the Queen’s many tweeds and sweater sets. In the end, of course, we were in awe of Helen Mirren’s performance as Queen Elizabeth II. I am also thrilled that “women of a certain age” have been lauded and recognized for outstanding performances (hooray for Mirren and Dench), but I also loved the story of a woman buffeted about somewhat by circumstance who, in the middle of the storm, kept her bearing, admitted her mistakes, acted out of duty and love, and did so with grace.

While we cannot imagine how the Queen herself acted Sands Through Time | 6

under these circumstances, I might guess that she did so in a similar manner.

The other day I was having lunch with a wonderful group of seniors. They were talking to one another and to me and telling me about why they are friends and what they are planning to do after school. As they chatted along, I was struck by the diversity of the group. They had found one another not necessarily through obvious traits, as they were superficially as different as can be, but clearly through a shared sense of values, interests, and care for one another.

As they spoke of others, I did not hear a mean word pass their lips. They were funny, irreverent, and wise. And while they were clearly not from the House of Windsor, they did share a trait with the portrayal of the Queen: grace. It may be an old-fashioned word and an attribute that is often associated with women, but I would like to think it is gender neutral. It is the confirmation of dignity and honor, and it is a powerful and evocative word. To be able to live life with grace is not for the movies. It should be visible in our lives, particularly as we model ourselves for our children. Clearly, many of our students are seeing it modeled at home and at school. They watch us carefully—the way we act with colleagues, spouses, family members. It is not a soft word; rather it should be connected with competition, with artistic performances, academic success, abiding friendships. I am so proud of the many ways our students shine and do so with courage and strength and grace. Now, if we could just interject a little bit into American Idol.

MLK (1.15.07)

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ast summer, I attended the annual conference of the Country Day School Headmasters Association, of which I am a minority member as most heads of school are men. I am honored to have been elected to this organization and always look forward to our June meeting, which is held at a college or university around the country.

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Last year, we met at Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee and had the opportunity to visit many national landmarks as well as have a private tour of the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. Since I was a young girl, the memory of Dr. King’s colleagues pointing into the air and Dr. King’s body lying on the floor of the motel balcony has been seared in my mind. I had the opportunity to relive that fateful day through the colorful and moving narrative of Rev. Billy Knowles, the last living member of the entourage who was standing on the balcony with Dr. King.

As chilling as it was to stand in the motel room, preserved as it was that day, the most moving part of Rev. Knowles’ story was his recounting of the night before.

According to Rev. Knowles, a group of civil rights activists was attending a church service prior to their demonstration in support of the Memphis sanitation workers. Dr. King had stayed behind to work on some of his upcoming speeches. It was an extraordinarily stormy night, and when the Reverend Ralph Abernathy got up to speak, he noticed that the church was packed, which, given the weather, was totally unexpected. It was also clear that the congregation was expecting Dr. King. Someone immediately called him to ask if he would come right over to preach to the restless congregation.

Dr. King walked into the church as the lightning illuminated the trees in an eerie manner. The thunder crashed, sounding like gunshot, and for a man who had received death threats, he flinched visibly as the thunder grew in intensity. But then a calm that was very deep inside Dr. King came over him and for several hours he held sway over the congregation.

What transpired is now part of our civil rights history. According to Rev. Knowles, Dr. King became transcendently calm and his unscripted sermon became part premonition, part inspiration. It remains enormously powerful. This is the final paragraph: “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. BeSands Through Time | 8

cause I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land.

And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

On Monday, January 15, we will celebrate a Day of Service as a way to reach out to others and to honor the life of a man who has inspired us to take care of those who are underfed, under-loved, under-served, and overwhelmed. It is a day for all of us who have been blessed to see beyond ourselves and to share in the sisterhood and brotherhood of our global family. May the day be one of contemplation and care for you all. Thank you for the sacrifices you make so that your daughters are able to participate in the Springside Day of Service.

A New Year (1.8.07)

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ew Year’s resolutions and why I love them is the theme of my first 2007 VMB! A family story probably best explains this peculiar passion. When I was very young, I was a blissful upsidedown two-finger sucker. My habit, while personally satisfying, was of significant concern to my orthodontist. She felt that I was pushing my jaw out of line, which would make it difficult in years to come to straighten my permanent teeth. My mother painted my fingers with a bitter concoction that I managed to suck right off. Finally, the dentist gave my mother iron mittens that I was to wear every night. Apparently, I wheedled one more chance to resist temptation, but it was made clear that if I gave in, the mittens were going on. When my mother came to check on me that night, I was sound asleep with my hands clasped Sands Through Time | 9

tightly together underneath me. I never wore the mittens and never sucked my fingers again. At the age of five, I put the resolve in resolution. No wonder I love the challenge and the opportunity to test myself every New Year. For over half a century, I have joined gyms, stopped biting my nails, and imposed countless other stringent restrictions.

This year, however, I took a different tack and decided that resolutions were not about rules but rather habits of the heart, mind, and body—perhaps less quantifiable but definitely more appropriate and worthwhile. My resolution for the heart is to listen deeply to everyone with whom I am speaking (including my husband) and never, under any circumstances, bring out my BlackBerry like the uninvited and intrusive gatecrasher at the party. John and I now park our electronics as soon as we walk in the door and do not even glance at the blinking and beaconing lights until after dinner. I found that the two of us can replicate the value of family time as well. There is something about our multitasking society that is creating a culture of divided attention inhabitants. Perhaps misunderstanding and hurt feelings are the natural by-products. Noticing cues and watching for physical responses take a nuanced approach to communication. I also believe that it has become too easy to become attached to email rather than finding the time to have faceto-face conversations. And for the nourishment of my inner self, I am reading more poetry, so the stack of books on my bedside table now includes my favorite poets whose words are the last I hear before sleep, rather than the mental tape player of the day’s activities on rewind.

For my mind, I am working through a list of topics that are interesting but ones for which I had only superficial knowledge. Over the break, I read The Looming Tower in order to gain a better understanding of the Middle East and its relationship with neighboring countries and with the rest of the world. I gained insight into some of the key radical voices as well as the complications and miscommunications of our own FBI and CIA. For all of us to become global citizens, it is important to hear a variety of opinions and thoughts that Sands Through Time | 10

will inform our thinking. Fortunately, our students have the resources to access information and discern rhetoric and polemics from thoughtful research. With our state-of-the-art library and knowledgeable staff as a resource, Springside students have inroads and pathways to the portals of knowledge and information from around the world.

For my body, I am committing to strength and agility training so that I remain spry and fit, ready physically for all of the adventures that lie ahead. I also hope that by continuing to work out in the Vare Field House in the evenings, I am setting an example that women of any age can and should take care of their bones, their hearts, their minds, and their whole selves. Too often we have been the caregivers of others without thinking of our own needs.

My plan today, January 1, 2007, is to keep these resolutions as they make a good deal more sense than my normal “iron mitten rule” of abstinence and deprivation. I look forward to this upcoming year with all of the excitement and challenges of a new year and I am blessed beyond words to be in such an amazing school with 659 incredible young women.

A good debate doesn’t polarize (12.4.06)

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hanksgiving is now over, and thankfully so are the elections, but as I was making my grandmother’s stuffing, I happened to think about my grandparents and how many wonderful and family-filled holidays I had spent with my cousins sitting around the dining room table listening to the conversations of the adults. My grandparents were interesting and provocative people whose personalities loomed large for us all. My grandmother, for whom I was named, was a character. Highly academic, she was not the cookiebaking type, but she played chess with us, attended conferences around the country, rode horseback until she was in Sands Through Time | 11

her mid-seventies, and was proud to have graduated from college. She prized education and encouraged us all to become lifelong learners. My grandfather grew up in Chester.

He was gruff, brilliant, and highly opinionated! A chemist by profession, he went into business and was retired to his extensive vegetable garden by the time I really knew him.

He worked as hard on his tomatoes as he had in business.

Having a plethora of vegetables, however, was not high on my personal list of accolades. Both of my grandparents were also very political—he a rock-bed Republican and she a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat. Conversations over meals were high-pitched and passionate and for all the years I knew them, neither gave one inch. While most likely apocryphal, one family story had it that they nearly divorced over FDR. When my grandmother died, a part of me thought that Pop might be relieved, but, to my surprise, he was bereft and missed his wife until the end of his life. They may have remained unswayed politically, but both were enriched by their love of one another as well as a passion for great debate.

I read an article last week that said that politics today is so polarized that we do not talk to friends and family about our political beliefs and most of us maintain a very uneasy but silent truce. There is now little room for one another if ideological boundaries must be crossed. I think this is a sad commentary on contemporary life. I learned to hold my own around spirited debate and I would go toe-to-toe with my own father over almost everything, particularly politics.

I was doing what young people should do—challenge, defend, find passion, and commit to ideals. I love when our students take on causes. They may not be mine, but they are theirs and as long as they are not relying on empty rhetoric or are unable to articulate a defense, I am happy just to see them defend a position, even an unpopular one. Schools must be places where students can support positions that sometimes are out of sync with those of their teachers and teachers must honor their right and indeed encourage them to study, learn, defend, and become engaged. Home, as well as school, is a safe and appropriate venue for children to practice holding positions in a respectful manner.

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I hope that we as a nation can return to spirited debate that is healthy and not polarizing, and that this next generation will take the compassion I see in abundance around the school into a public arena; that service to one’s community, to one’s country, to one’s profession will be passionately defended as well as the ideas of others. I think we can also model this behavior in our discourse with one another. If we can remain civil, even without always agreeing, and begin and end with the knowledge that it is our children who are at the heart of all conversations, these girls will remember their childhoods filled with the excitement of ideas, surrounded by adults who respect and nurture strong opinions and who appreciate a good debate.

Confessions of a Slacker Mom (10.30.06)

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he other day, I was in a store with my daughter and we watched a child pick up a toy that she wanted. Her mother tried to discuss with her why she didn’t need/shouldn’t have this particular little sparkling gem of neon plastic.

The softer and more rational the mother’s voice grew, the more insistent her daughter became. Parental rational thinking quickly morphed into wheedling and bargaining. At one point my daughter said to me sotto voce, “That mother needs to use the claw.” And that, dear parents, is a reference to my approach to the world of discipline. When my children were young, as soon as an argument would escalate over food or trinkets in a store, I would firmly hold (she would say grab) Adele’s (or Rob’s or Geoff’s) hand and say, “Put it down because I say so. I am not discussing this further.” I am ferociously anti-corporal punishment, so the grab was truly only a firm hold, but I do believe in appropriate consequences and the inviolability of a few rules.

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At a parent social recently, a mother came up to tell me about a book she loved and was kind enough to drop it by my desk. It is called Confessions of a Slacker Mom, and it is a delight. After reading her chapter on consequences, I thought how similar my slacker parenting had been with the author’s. I have always felt that consequences are wonderful lessons that often happen out of an experience. I was not a big grounder (who wanted a grumpy teen around?), but I did try to match the punishment to the crime. If my kids broke curfews, they didn’t go out the next night. Not making beds or picking up rooms meant that they lived in the chaos; I simply shut the door and my staying power was such that they invariably cracked first, particularly when they couldn’t find something. A poor and homemade dye job with hair meant living with the look and no quick trip to my salon.

Also, as a reminder to parents of young children, for some mysterious reason or just because they can, children cut their hair, even with plastic scissors. I remember my sister and me laughing (not to their faces) about the haircuts Lisa and Adele gave to one another. Their hair ultimately grew and life went on.

But sometimes no really means no. There was no toy when I said that I was not buying it. There was no dress for every dance. There was plenty of eye rolling and other teen things (there were a few tantrums along the way), but more importantly there was no cruelty or mean talk about others in my presence and there were never ever jokes that were based on race, ethnicity, or gender. I watch our students every day and listen to them speak. Sometimes they roll their eyes, are messy in the halls, leave their lockers open or their coats on the floor. We nag, scold, reward, relying on the paucity of weapons in a paltry arsenal. But we do not tolerate jokes that are racial or homophobic and we do not tolerate such language as well, and for the most part neither do they. I once overheard a student say to another, “We don’t use that language at Springside.”

If severe and draconian punishment worked for all infractions, there would be no recidivism within our penal system.

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We try at school to match the punishment with the crime and to listen to the girls, and in the end our goal is always for them to take away a valuable and lifelong lesson. At home and at school it is important for all of us to remember that sometimes kids respond to humor, sometimes to reason, and sometimes to “the claw.” It is important to grapple with when to use which.

Harriets in Training (10.2.06)

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ast week, I left you with a teaser as I’m trying out a new skill as newscaster provocateur. I have been intrigued by the teasers around the network news anchors and have deciphered that the key is the look and the spin. While I have no digitized photos and the same gray hair, the message remains one that I hope informs and ultimately supports our girls. So I think Katie Couric, et al., are safe.

As I was recently filing some clipped articles about the development of girls, I ran across an article that was both sobering and intriguing. Several professors had collaborated on research posing the question of whether girls’ meanness to one another was happening at an earlier age. Their conclusion indicated that this was perhaps true, at least for their sample population, but it was the reason that was most alarming. They hypothesized that girls tend to be more attuned to family conversations and were either mimicking parents who were discussing employees with one another, or they were listening to their parents speak with employees on the phone. The young girls were picking up the cues that this was an appropriate way to deal with conflict.

While I cannot account for the veracity of the full research, I do remember my daughter who was a bit of “Harriet the Spy” in training. There was no conversation that her father and I had that was not worth noting and filing at random in the recesses of her memory. Some of these conversations Sands Through Time | 15

found their way into her stories written for school. When she was in 3rd grade she entered a contest for nutrition and won with the slogan, “Spring into a Healthy Diet,” which was wonderful, except that she added that her parents did not have the money to buy breakfast food and her mother (ta-da) had only served water and bagels that morning for breakfast. True, I had stopped at the market late and had discovered that I had no money in my wallet for orange juice and, in an age before ATM’s, had to wait until the next day to cash a check. As the perfect storm developed, my other funding source, Adele’s father, was on a business trip. Somehow I survived the PTA pity and the baskets that were to be assembled, but you can imagine how a bright and curious daughter can absorb language and tone. I know, too, that I was a child who loved high drama and took snippets of stories to weave the tapestry of an imagined and occasionally tragic life.

When the stories are somewhat benign, it is amusing to think of the distortions, but it is also sobering to think that we are being watched so closely and are always role models for our girls. I want students to know how much I love my job and how satisfying it is, and I want my daughter to remember that her parents treated their colleagues with dignity and respect, even at night in the privacy of our home.

John and I made a pact years ago that we would speak positively about work so that our children would remember that this was an important part of our lives, and I do not ever speak poorly of a colleague at home. Life at home is always rich and joyous, and our children’s lives and activities, joys and sorrows fill our conversation and enrich our own partnership, as do the books we read, movies and plays we see, and the lovely walks we take together around this beautiful area that has been home for over a decade.

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Overscheduled, Overcommitted, Overprivileged? (10.16.06)

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ately, we have again been inundated with books and articles touting all that is wrong with our children. I sometimes think that we are overly connected to advice gurus because they either assuage our guilt or give us something to really worry about. We have all heard about overscheduled kids as well as the overprivileged, overindulged child, but when someone actually conducts research, the results are often quite different. What we really have found is that some children are overscheduled but that it is not an epidemic.

Coming from the Academy of Pediatrics is the advice to listen to your child and if she/he is complaining about being tired or hating the activity or indicating a feeling of being overcommitted, parents should back off. And while there are children whose parents are affluent and are spoiled and entitled, there are also children whose parents do not have a great deal of money and who are spoiled and entitled. Philadelphia magazine had an article recently about suburban kids who do nothing on the weekends and never are given chores. Well, now there’s a conundrum. On one hand, pediatricians are suggesting more downtime, but for suburban kids it is seen as laziness. From my perspective, I think parents need to do what works for their own children.

I was not someone who assigned my children many chores, but I did expect a certain level of autonomy as in, “If you want a shirt ironed for the dance, plug in the iron, or if you’re hungry, let me point you to the kitchen.” Sometimes I loved doing special things for them (never did iron, though) and I also spent hours in my car. It was important to me that my children were able to attend all of those special and even not special events and gatherings that were an integral part of school and social life, and car time was often quality talking time.

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My adult children have all managed to adapt to the demands of the work world. And at home, one son can cook but is messy. Another is neat as a pin but can’t change a light bulb, and my daughter is a combination of huge resourcefulness and staggering ineptitude. Fortunately, they have found partners or friends who fulfill their glaring deficiencies. I had many chores growing up. It was quite simply a part of my life that worked for our family and probably was motivated by keeping seven children busy. As my work ethic has come from a place of passion, not from jobs around the house, so does it for my own children, all of whom work extremely hard and love what they do. If your daughter loves to paint, allow it to be hers. Support her current passion knowing that it may change over the years. She will indicate whether she would love lessons or whether she needs time and a place to paint. She also doesn’t need to be overpraised for her sunflower. She needs to be praised for perseverance and for hard work. This is where she will make those connections between passion and work. And, yes, it is also really important to find time for children to play with no structured activities—perhaps with friends or even alone.

Some of my best childhood hours were spent making up the games my cousins and I would play on Sunday or gathering for a pickup kick-the-can game. Play dates can be just that.

And parents of teens can grow to enjoy the laughter and delight girls take in just being in the company of one another.

We all need to unwind and sometimes even decompress from scheduled recreation.

I wish someone had reminded me to trust my best instincts and to stay away from the books that predict that yet another generation is heading for perdition. And if you still want to read a book about parenting, I believe that Wendy Mogel has written the best “how-to” book on the market, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, as she takes a stand and bases her advice on principles and a moral and ethical code of behavior. It’s good, common-sense advice and should affirm the wonderful job that you are doing. Parents today have more resources and probably are not making the same mistakes I made. My only advice came from Dr. Spock, but Sands Through Time | 18

on some level, it was pretty down to earth and made sense for a young mother. And the best news? Our children rarely remember our worst mistakes. If we are consistently pretty good parents, they roll with the faux pas—if only my kids would forgive me for packing fruit leather in their lunch boxes!

Overheard at Boathouse Row (5.12.08)

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ast Sunday, my husband and I went down to the river to watch Springside and CHA’s crew teams. Between races, we took a leisurely walk down to Lloyd Hall at the end of Boathouse Row to buy lunch and to get some much-needed exercise. On our return trip we happened to walk in front of a group of girls from an unknown school. They were speaking with great animation, oblivious to our proximity.

John commented that it reminded him of the many times we drove our daughter from one event to the next while she and her friends would speak with such exuberance and animation—words and phrases tumbling over one another like a litter of puppies. They would speak freely and openly, seemingly unaware of our presence in the front seat.

It warmed us as we casually listened to snippets of what they were saying, but rather than the usual fare, it was the stuff of a Dale Carnegie lecture on motivation. One of the girls said to her friends, “I mean Coach says we have a slim to nil chance of making Nationals (an invitational tournament), but I think that what she really means is that if we work really hard, we can make it.” Another chimed in, “Right, I mean slim means that we can do it if we work hard.” All were in agreement, and they spent the next 15 minutes strategizing on how they would get the coach to notice and how they would practice harder and make a more compelling case for their boat. All of their ideas were excellent, one building on another, and the two people Sands Through Time | 19

walking ahead could only smile at their touching translation of “slim to nil.” I wonder if their coach meant it as such and I could only imagine how proud all of the adults connected to these children would be to hear that kind of determination, grit, and optimism.

Sometimes girl voices, as they become more animated and higher pitched, are easy to dismiss. But as a parent and lifelong educator, I am trained to hear the messages, the strength, and the “can do” that often happens casually while girls are walking, talking, and being together. Those girls could have been our girls and I hope that we all make room for determination and grit and respond accordingly. These particular girls may not get to row in Nationals but they are going to give it their all and will be well-served for the trying.

That vignette is a lovely segue into the language our seniors have used in their exit interviews this year. While a little more mature and a little wiser than our Sunday travelers, they are nonetheless optimistic about their future, grateful for their secondary education, and, above all, committed to the challenges that lie ahead. College is scary for some, less so for others, but to a woman they are prepared. When I think of them, I wonder how many thought in their hearts that slim to nil meant to work harder and to believe in possibility.

In spite of the pace John and I thought we were keeping, our gang from behind soon passed us as though we were standing still. And indeed, much to our chagrin, looked as though they were simply strolling. So, too, our students all too soon pass us by. We can only watch, wish them well, and feel proud of the many times they grasped for whatever their brass ring happened to be. And as a footnote, our boats did well and more importantly, every member of crew gave and continues to give 100%. All of our girls won’t go to Nationals, but all will send a portion of their lion hearts to Tennessee.

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Jamie Lynn Spears (1.7.08)

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t’s amazing how many people have asked for my opinion of Jamie Lynn Spears’ situation. I suppose there are those who believe that as head of a girls’ school I should know more, be more outraged, and have more deeply held feelings, but truthfully, until a week ago, I didn’t even know who she was. My first reaction was incomprehension, which came from a profound place of no information. Then, upon learning that the purported “good” sister to the infamous Britney is 16 years old and pregnant, I quickly deduced that this was the “news” that should elicit a specific response from me.

Truthfully, I am as sad for her as I would be for any teenage girl who finds herself in that predicament. But, as we all know, it is not a new one. What is more alarming to me are the ubiquitous photos of her face on glossy magazines, and the fact that this young face looks so old and that her story is being exploited just to sell magazines. For this I am more saddened than anything else.

As an educator, I am concerned about the impact these sensational stories have on the lives of girls in general.

Watching Miley Cyrus of Hannah Montana fame perform on Christmas Day at Disneyland was startling. She was indeed bouncy and perky, but somehow she seemed more machine than teen. I couldn’t help but notice how sexualized she has become, with her very polished and alarmingly adult look that was over-the-top for an adolescent. This is not a girl trying on clothes, preening, wanting to emulate older girls. This is someone with a huge business behind her—a business that is tarting her up and pandering to something that does not feel healthy.

I think there is truly something darker going on. This is not a cautionary tale about sex education; rather it is about Sands Through Time | 21

who is controlling the image and the message that is out there for our girls. I have heard that the teen stars of the 80’s—the Debbie Gibson era—failed because these young women were encouraged to be visually wholesome, only to find their market evaporate as they got older and less relevant—their fan base moving on toward the brighter and more glittery light in the new “tween” galaxy. By the time Britney came along as a Mouseketeer—the farm league for stardom—she and her peers were pushed into more highly sexualized versions of their younger selves to appeal to a larger audience for a longer and more profitable period of time. We have all seen ad nauseam what has happened to so many of these young women. It is a Faustian deal that I’m not sure a 14-year-old understands.

Fortunately, our students feel more pity than envy for these starlets. Older students believe that it is important for them to remind the younger girls of the profound differences between the fantasy and the sad reality. I want our students to question the ethics of this exploitative business and to think about what is happening to these very public children—and they are children—who, with few resources and little education, find themselves making damaging and life-altering decisions. It is important that our girls understand not only an industry that is manipulative but also how to keep their own voices strong and empowered, their minds open, and their hearts caring. There is great benefit to being at a girls’ school, where we can have these conversations. Listening to our young alumnae, during winter break, tell us how prepared and confident they are makes me more convinced than ever of the power of a community that believes in and is committed to the lives of girls.

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I Immediately Pegged Her for an Insufferable Showoff (10.1.07)

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ver the summer I took a yoga class hoping to discover peace and serenity—I did so but not immediately. Through my first several classes, I had a difficult time with the pace, wanting to zip things along, perhaps gently nudging the instructor and helpfully reminding her that we did not all live in Zen-like ecstasy. To add to my bad karma attitude, I also felt hugely competitive, particularly with myself, and was forever wondering when I would be presented with my “best in class” sticker for a perfect potted palm. It was all I could do not to tap my watch in frustration. Also, did I mention that there was a ringer in my beginner class? She was lithe, strong, many years younger than I, and she could whip through poses during the warmup, for goodness sake. I immediately pegged her for an insufferable showoff.

One afternoon, after several weeks of what I can only describe as dutiful yoga, I had a mini-epiphany. Competing with myself or anyone else was defeating the purpose of what I had hoped to find—restorative and contemplative time. This rare commodity eludes us all as we hustle and bustle through our frantic and highly plugged-in world. I am actually not advocating going backwards, assuming that the BlackBerry is the road to perdition. Quite the contrary, being accessible has an enormous upside. I can attend meetings off-campus, travel for the school, and participate in projects such as our research partnership with Penn (more about that in a later VMB), and know that I can always be reached.

But I also need to know when to put it down and attend to the other parts of my life. This summer, I left Springside in the afternoon and had dinner with John every night. It was lovely, and while I know it was a summer luxury, it’s important to find ways to create that feeling during the academic year and to remember that taking care of myself allows me to take better care of others.

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That leads me to another moment of self-reflection, one that focuses on the value of forgiveness. At the suggestion of a wonderful friend, I reread Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies. In it she writes amusingly of finding forgiveness for the perfect mother in her son’s class who makes her feel inadequate on a good day and like a terrible mother on others. I laughed as I always do when I read that chapter, because it was so evocative of a mother in my son’s class who sewed up Geoff’s jacket on a field trip for an alumni gathering in NY. She told me that she knew that I probably didn’t have time to sew it. The truth was I couldn’t have sewn it if I had wanted to, not to mention that not only did I not know about the trip but I was also blissfully unaware that Geoff’s new school jacket had been lost and he, problem solver that he is, had found an old castaway of his brother’s. Nevertheless, a probably well-intentioned woman made me feel like a bad mother, and I was alternately mad at my poor son for losing his jacket while saving my inner anger for perfect mothers and their natty sons. With benefit of hindsight, those mothers probably did not think they were perfect and the one who wielded the silver needle may have actually been trying to help.

Now back to the ringer. During the next class I approached “Gumby Woman” as she stretched and contorted. I complimented her on her yoga and she beamed at me. She told me that she was really old (13 years younger than I) and had only been doing yoga for five years. Ever since paying her the compliment, she always smiles at me and indicates that I can put my mat next to hers. Maybe she’s comparing herself and feeling pretty darn good, but I like to think that she is just being friendly.

In some ways we never leave behind those awkward adolescent moments when we feel we are being judged.

Sometimes shyness turns to vituperative scorn and whole dialogues take place with no words spoken. It’s a reminder as we start a new school year to be open and communicative and to assume the best of one another. One of the aspects of yoga I love is the mantra of standing firm with strength Sands Through Time | 24

and conviction and bending into hardship and difficulty. It seems to be a good model for leadership, for partnership, and for friendship.

As we enter into the whirl of the fall season, I hope we all can continue to find those precious summer moments, unplug, and enjoy family. I hope we can believe in our mission, reach out to those we don’t know, and trust and care for one another as we grow into the great community we can be, modeling our best selves for 667 spectacular girls and young women.

Not Such A Troglodyte (4.17.09)

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will openly admit that I don’t much like shows like American Idol. I know it has millions of fans, but I am not one of them.

While I am not above watching lowbrow television, I find it painfully sad to see anyone made to feel foolish, no matter what the circumstance, and I’m not comfortable participating in their humiliation, even passively, by watching it on TV. So it may come as a surprise that I am writing about the latest YouTube sensation, a contestant on the U.K. equivalent of American Idol—Britain’s Got Talent (yes, it should be has talent)—named Susan Boyle.

I stumbled across the clip of Ms. Boyle the other night while looking for links on YouTube for the class that Frank Steel and I are teaching. I am not such a troglodyte that I don’t know about Simon Cowell, so when I read that he had been bowled over by this unlikely contestant and that the site had over 5,000,000 hits, I clicked on it.

I have seen hundreds of girls come through Springside, and as I sat there watching Ms. Boyle sing, I thought about those who had some kinship with her. They were shy, awkward, or not considered traditionally beautiful; but most had some Sands Through Time | 25

gift, some joy, some hidden talent that was nurtured by parents and teachers. To see their classmates at Springside also recognize this—and stand in spontaneous ovation, as did the audience watching Ms. Boyle—is one of many wonderful, unseen moments of kindness, support, and generosity of spirit that I have witnessed here.

During my exit interviews with seniors, I have spoken to an array of students—those who would have loved school anywhere, and those for whom the social aspect would have been challenging. Each student told me the story of her journey, some more painful than others, but all remarked on the close relationship with faculty and a sense of support and caring from classmates. By senior year, they felt as though they had not only worked through the issues of Middle School (and the descriptions of this time was similar for the girls who were here and those who came new in Upper School), but they had come to the end of the journey surrounded by wonderful classmates who offered support and kindness, even in dark moments.

During lunch this week with another group of seniors, we talked about Susan Boyle, as they had all seen the clip, and they agreed that Springside is a safe place to be different.

While some girls had many friends and others had smaller circles, they all shared the bond of sisterhood and felt that “sisters” are those women who know you to your core and celebrate you. They understand that the Susan Boyles who come along bring a different joy to our lives and help us all to dream a dream that is a little bigger, a little more charitable, and ultimately less judgmental.

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The Passing of a Cultural Icon (10.3.08)

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hile eighty-two is considered a long life, I was still saddened to learn of Paul Newman’s death last week. I remember him as such a staple of my young movie-going life—Hud, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and of course Butch Cassidy, to name but a few of his great performances. What I admired most, however, was his commitment to his talent, as well as his acceptance of his age with wry good humor. He was a philanthropist, an environmentalist, and a truly fine actor who never seemed to take himself too seriously. Of course, I have no idea what he was like as a husband, father, neighbor, or friend, but he certainly held up well as a public person for all these years.

Few of our students likely have any idea of him beyond the salad dressing, popcorn, or candy bar bearing his name, but such is life in their ever-changing, fast-paced world. I remember my mother talking about seeing Frank Sinatra in concert and how she and her friends were over-the-moon about him, which seemed just pathetic to me. How could you possibly listen to “New York, New York” when you could see Paul, John, or Mick on television? Last weekend, my husband John and I watched the Martin Scorsese movie, Shine a Light, a recent documentary on The Rolling Stones, which highlights these septuagenarians still playing, singing, and dancing.

On one hand I admired their showmanship, but on the other I wondered what our kids think of this oddly blurred line between their music, their parents’ music, and even mine. Do they own their culture or are we old boomers always trying to claim it for ourselves, trying to buy our immortality by refusing to believe that Mick is a grandfather. It is hard giving up youth, but there should be dignity and humor in this odd joke that nature plays. I cannot nor do I want to know the ins and outs of the culture of our students. While I like some of their music, I don’t care for a lot of it, and I think that on some level it should be comforting to them that I’m not downloading their favorites onto my iPod. I can support their educaSands Through Time | 27

tional needs, stay current and relevant, without spending hours on YouTube. Conversation is relevant; care is critical; and culture should be owned by the generation that will be shaped and defined by the issues and concerns of the day, to say nothing of their own touchstones.

Having dinner with our Middle School campers last night as their advisors cooked hamburgers, I was struck by the care of our girls by the adults who are ever-present. Marilyn and her team were tired this morning, but as ever in good cheer!

Our girls put their iPods down, talking and giggling into the night and having a great time together. As they explore the Wissahickon today and tackle the high and low ropes, their education continues to be an amalgam of state-of-the-art technology and interpersonal relationship building. This is the way our students will grapple with the real-world problems they will face.

So, as I mourn Paul Newman’s passing as a cultural icon, I celebrate the talent of this generation and applaud their engagement, interests, and commitment to others. And yes, they already are planting the seeds for the next generation’s disdain. I am struck by how many times our students mention their involvement in school life and service as cornerstones of her education. They are connected to one another as they share their own unique culture. The world continues to go round and round.

Mystic Chords of Memory (2.6.09)

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his past week I attended the annual Headmasters’ Association conference. While held in Pennsylvania, the conference draws 100 heads of school from all across the country. For years, it was a “men only” organization, and during the Sands Through Time | 28

Memorial recitations this week, one headmaster was remembered for a lifetime of accomplishments—and, with some humor, as a fiery opponent of the decision to include women.

He believed that it would be the ruination of the organization if women came. But come we did, and while there are far fewer of us, we are a mighty force. It is an honor to be a part of this august group and I enjoy the program enormously. At my dinner table were some of the legendary heads of boarding schools—Andover, Exeter, and Groton—and I loved their stories and tales out of school.

This year, the topic was remembering Abraham Lincoln on the anniversary of his 200th birthday. The outstanding speaker of the conference was Michael Beschloss, the noted presidential historian. He spoke compellingly and I could have listened to him for hours, but one story he told stood out as particularly appropriate for February and Black History Month.

In the summer of 1864 when Lincoln was running for his second term, he retreated to the small farmhouse he owned far away from Washington. He had been told by his advisors that he would very likely lose his bid for re-election and he wanted to get away and strategize about this possible and personally very sad outcome. The only hope his advisors held out was for him to withdraw or at least adapt the language in the Emancipation Proclamation. Now Lincoln, being an attorney by profession, was an eloquent wordsmith and thought that by tweaking and tamping down the language a bit he might save his presidency. In the end, it seemed a price worth paying in order to gain re-election and avoid the possibility of backtracking on the progress of his first term.

Before unveiling the edited document, he wanted to show it to Frederick Douglass. As the story goes, when he saw Douglass’ angry face, he knew he could not choose expediency over doing the right thing and so he delivered the Proclamation as written. As historians know, it is a dry, legalistic document, unlike the beautiful oratory for which Lincoln is known, but its power and strength put us on the path of Sands Through Time | 29

moral decency. Of course, Lincoln was ultimately re-elected, but probably he paid for the passage of this document in the end with his life. And the great unanswered questions remain: did his death secure his place as probably our greatest president or would he have been able to accomplish even greater paths for unity, restoration, and reclamation?

In the ensuing years, we have surely come a long way, but in the words of Dr. King, we are not there yet. While most Americans believe we have made significant progress over the chasm of race, we can never become complacent or blinded by the accomplishments of a few. Most of this country’s young people, and certainly our students, see race through a different and multi-hued lens that is heartening and reassuring. But the struggle remains and I am reminded of one of my favorite lines from Lincoln’s first inaugural address, “… the mystic chords of memory which stretch from every battlefield, and every patriot’s grave,” which are words to remind us that his life and the lives of Dr. King and so many others should stand for the ultimate sacrifice they have made. For President Lincoln, our country’s nascent and still somewhat fragile birth was the chord of memory that guided his presidency. For us, as we face another enormous challenge, we have an opportunity to fight injustice and to continue to take moral stands that may not be popular or expedient.

Opening Assembly (9.3.08)

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n interesting coincidence happened to me this summer. I was watching the U.S. women’s soccer team’s historic gold medal run in Beijing, while simultaneously reading Michael Sokolove’s book, Warrior Girls, about the physical challenges facing young female athletes, specifically women’s soccer players. While learning about a disproportionate number of torn ACL’s for women athletes, I was Sands Through Time | 30

watching our gutsy and passionate win over the Brazilian squad. It was exciting on so many levels and I marveled at the team’s tenacity and grit and their sense of team spirit.

And then it got me thinking—what does it mean to be a Warrior Girl in the 21st century, specifically, a Springside Warrior Girl? Is toughness defined by playing your heart out, especially against your most challenging and formidable opponents, never giving up until the final whistle? Is it standing up to a bully and defending a classmate or schoolmate, or perhaps reaching out to someone you don’t know? Or is it also as complex as confronting social injustice, even when it’s dangerous and unpopular to do so? Maybe it’s similar to some SAT questions which ask is it some, part, all, or none of the above? I think the correct answer is “C” —all of the above.

On a personal note, I also looked for guidance from a number of sources, strong women to whom I am related, not the least of which happens to be one of the toughest people I know: my eight-month-old granddaughter, Priscilla, who beat impossible odds after being born three months prematurely. For 120 days, she lived in Intensive Care, clinging to life with the help of ventilators, drugs, and around-the-clock surveillance. Monitors beeped, bright lights shone 24/7, and medical caregivers bustled around and talked loudly. The sense of emergency made it a strange and very sad nursery, certainly a hard and painful way to begin life. But it became a familiar place for my family and when finally Priscilla left to live in her own very pink nursery that had been so lovingly created for her, we were overjoyed by the new relative calmness to our lives and most especially to hers.

I must confess that last Thanksgiving and Christmas were hard as we lived in a dingy hotel room across from the hospital, but we gave enormous thanks for her life. Her victory didn’t win a gold medal, but it was equally challenging, and it took a team effort from doctors, nurses, social workers, and family to commit fully to winning this battle. But what Sands Through Time | 31

was her role? What made this one-and-a-half pound baby pull through invasive heart and eye surgery “with reserves,” to quote her neo-natal surgeon? What kind of reserves does an infant born three months prematurely draw upon? I had to find out Priscilla’s secret, and here is the conclusion I have come to ...

My granddaughter’s greatest asset in her heroic struggle was also her biggest liability: she’s a baby for goodness sakes!

She couldn’t tell me anything beyond a big, toothless grin.

She couldn’t even conceive of the insurmountable odds stacked against her. Unlike her grandmother, she did not stay up all night, obsessing on the hypothetical or wasting crucial energy, worrying about the myriad problems that could potentially await her for years to come. She survived by her three simple rules: Stay present. Stay focused. Keep breathing.

So simple, and yet difficult to apply to our daily lives. How often do we find ourselves dwelling on past slights or situations that hinder our success? If only I’d been born two inches taller, if only we had a little more money, if only my parents were still together—how much easier life would be. And think of all the unnecessary energies we place on the hypothetical. If I just win this one election, if only I can make the varsity, if only this girl is my friend or this boy likes me—if this happens, all of the rest of my problems will fall into place for good. Well, I’ve got news for you: there’s always another “if only” or “what if” waiting around the corner. Trust me.

When I was your age, I too had a list and it seems so inconsequential all these years later. Your present lives will be so much more meaningful if you focus on who you are, what you have, and how you can make your community and the world around you a better place. “Stuff” will never actually make you as happy as you think, but making good and tough decisions will sow the seeds for great personal growth and well-earned and well-deserved self-esteem. It’s Sands Through Time | 32

not your parents’ job or your teachers’ responsibility to fill you with self-esteem. It is yours to earn and yours to own.

You do it by making the commitments to your teachers, to your friends, and to your teams, whether on the courts, on the fields, in the classroom, or at The Rec. Be honorable students, decent and compassionate women and you won’t have time to ponder the “what ifs.”

Stay present. Stay focused. And find and channel your own inner Warrior Girl. This is how I have come to define toughness, and that is my advice to you all this year. I wish you a wonderful start to the year. Please remember that while this is an opportunity for many of you to reacquaint yourselves with old friends, some of whom you may not have seen all summer, there are many new students to Springside who are feeling the same way every one of us has felt from time to time. Remember that new teachers are finding their way as well and will appreciate your help and your respect. And to every new student, welcome! We are so glad you are here and we will be a better school having you at Springside.

Class of 2009, we are excited to have you set the tone and lead the school. You are a very special class. Now, a big exhale as we start the year ... and now, breathe.

Creating a Family Story (10.23.09)

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robably a chore we all dread is the sorting, keeping, and discarding of a parent’s belongings. My siblings and I came together this past week to clean my mother’s apartment and distribute amongst us the furniture, pictures, and memories that moved from our house where we seven grew up to a condo and finally to a small apartment at a retirement residence. It amazed us how much she had fit into that little space, and in such an orderly fashion!

We held all the “treasures” made by students—gifts made from glitter, glue, and love—and told stories of her years as Sands Through Time | 33

a teacher and then head of school. Painful as it was, in the end, we discarded these frail and dusty mementos. And then we discovered some of our own handicrafts, which were a little harder to discard. Now my mother was not overly sentimental, so we were surprised by what she had saved, but in the end my practicality ruled the day. We agreed that the burden placed on our children by our indecision whether to discard or keep was too great. We pitched with a vengeance, trying hard not to linger. No one, however, could throw away Barbie’s white mink stole that my then three-year-old brother had lovingly purchased for his mother and which she wore, pinned to her sweater for at least the Christmas of the gift. While size and perspective eluded him, the desire to give something of great beauty transcended the impracticality of the gift.

In a flurry born from these past days, John and I set out to rid ourselves of the burden of accumulated junk. The old tennis rackets and jigsaw puzzles were easy. Unfortunately, I bumped headlong into memory while sifting through the clothes in the hallway coat closet. There I discovered Geoff’s college varsity jacket. It wasn’t the jacket that pulled so tightly on my heartstrings but the evocation of weekends spent driving north to watch him play—our baby, our young man. It reminded me of taking his friends out for dinner and listening to their wonderful banter. Now, many years later, most of them are married and starting families of their own.

When I texted him for a direction, he said, “Throw it out, Mom.” But I wondered if his son or daughter would want to see it and hear about their dad? Maybe it’s enough that I remember and grow into the role of family storyteller. Do I need props?

It is hard to be mindful that in the midst of parenting, we are also in the business of creating our family story, one that will be handed down for generations to come. I tell the stories of my feisty grandmother and my children will tell their children about their grandmother, and so it continues, as it should.

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Often parents will email me or stop me to mention something funny or wonderful that their daughters have said or done. I am the perfect person to tell as I, too, am helping to create the verbal history of Springside—stories that we hand down, tell, and retell. We are a school that celebrates our girls’ achievements, but we also help them to meet life’s challenges head on with strength, courage, and dignity. I will often help girls to understand their present by stories from the past. Please keep telling me about your children, and I will continue to weave their lives into the tapestry that is Springside.

Opening Assembly (9.3.09)

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ood morning and welcome back! A special welcome for all of our new students who join us this year. As I say every year, we will never be the same school again. Rather, we will be enriched by the gifts that you will bring to Springside.

This past week, I read a young adult novel with the intriguing title, Bullyville. It is a book about just what the title implies: a school that specializes in nasty, brutish behavior.

After one incident, the headmaster gives an admonishing talk to the student body. He says to them: “Our mission here is to turn out not just students with a grasp of the academic disciplines, not just leaders who will take the reins of tomorrow’s society in hand, not just those who can raise families and sustain friendships and do good in the world, not just people like that but also compassionate, caring human beings.”

That is the sort of talk we heads of school are all tempted to give and possibly squeeze into any situation, but knowing you and how well you can detect that which isn’t authentic, I went back to the drawing board for a message. I reread last year’s talk when I told you about my granddaughter who, Sands Through Time | 35

having been born weighing a little less than two pounds, knew a thing or two about toughness and resiliency. Later I learned about a few of you who had faced similar challenges. I mentioned that if she had been able to talk, she would have recommended to take it one day at a time, stay focused, and keep breathing. This summer, a year older, wiser, and nearly two, she actually has had a few things to say.

Her repertoire now includes: water, hi, Neenie (that’s me), Mama, Dada, Gampa, various body parts, an approximation for her two uncles, Geoff and Rob, as well as cookie. And her latest, the all-important, infinitely versatile: no, no, no.

So translating goes something like this: surround yourself with people you love and who love you back—learning their names is important. Good food is important to good health, but sometimes we all may need a cookie. Stand your ground and don’t let bullies get the best of you, particularly if he is a strapping 4-year-old who has taken your bag of Pirate’s Booty. No, no, no has an appealing directness and can be used as is or modified to speak out against social cruelty, meanness, or bullying.

If you think back to uncomplicated times—for some of you it’s summer—there is a freedom and joy in those things we do when we’re not in school. Some of you reinvent yourselves at camp with new friends; some of you are travelers who engage in a summer’s worth of global literacy; others spend peaceful and uncomplicated time with family or friends; but we can all take the best of the months we are away and allow one another the opportunity for reinvention and growth. We are a stronger school when every girl has the strength of her voice and her convictions and we, as a school, are supportive of one another in times of change and times of constancy.

I referenced my granddaughter because life is simple for her and her needs can be fulfilled with food, sleep, hugs, and kisses, but she too is learning about injustice and the importance of not accepting bullying. School should be a safe haven; the same way it feels safe to be a toddler should extend throughout everyone’s time here at Springside. Your Sands Through Time | 36

teachers are here as guides and mentors, and they offer you unconditional care and a tremendous amount of support.

And as we commit to being our best selves, let’s figure out how we can commit to international Women’s Rights, which the New York Times recently referred to as the Cause of Our Time. But we must be secure in our own community so that we will be truly ready to extend ourselves to our global sisters around the world—to link our education to theirs; to offer our resources to girls who have so little yet crave the opportunity to have an education. Think of the Afghan girls who endured acid thrown in their faces and yet did not back down in their search for education.

I hope you will be empowered to make a difference at home and to make connections around the world. I hope your Springside education will help to support the strength and courage of each of you as we reach out to support others. I am looking to a truly wonderful senior class to lead the student body well through example and tone. This should be an exciting year for each of you. I am so happy to see each and every one of you and look forward to being together.

Here’s to a great year!

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