UPPER SCHOOL LESSONS Tom Stambaugh ’90
to cling to – something that might provide structure
“A Sturdy Spar to Cling to …”
All is not golden in the misty hues of my memory.
and meaning to one losing his way. Members of the Haverford faculty provided that stability.
Many of the darker corners of an all-male commuThe first sentence in my yearbook
nity existed then – verbal harassment, bullying, ho-
paragraph reads, “I cried when my mommy dropped
mophobia, misogyny, and intolerance in its many
me off in front of Van Pelt Hall.” On the opening
forms. But the brighter spots of my memory are
day of the 1980-81 school year, this eight-year-old
filled with teachers who made an effort to introduce
watched his mother drive away and abandon him
me to the world of ideas.
to what seemed a cruel fate. As I started to climb the stone steps moments later, I was greeted with
Steve Dall widened for me the world of classical
an exceptionably warm smile by Mrs. Liddell, my
mythology that had been opened by Tom Worth
new third-grade teacher. She welcomed me heartily,
years before, Jeff Erskine exposed me to the won-
helped me brush back the tears, and led me to my new home. With the exception of seven years of study and teaching elsewhere, I haven’t left that home. Teaching at Haverford is, of course, much more than a job to me. My work here is deeply personal. I am compelled to work with young men joined by the spirit of camaraderie and in pursuit of intellectual, artistic, athletic, and moral growth. Recollections of my experience as an Upper School student largely center around confusion. Not yet focused on academic success and lost in the sea of adolescent uncertainty about self, friends, love, family, and the future, I was searching for a sturdy spar
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