38. Alison Hessberg, ‘93 and Natalie Greenhalgh, ‘93

Alison Hessberg, ‘93 and Natalie Greenhalgh, ‘93

A glove is a wonderful invention, a thing of beauty and totally useful. While I am sure there were mornings where I walked to school with one hand stuffed in my pocket because I could not find the other one, gloves clearly are best when they are a pair. Such was the case when I interviewed Alison Hessberg and Natalie Greenhalgh, who have truly been and are Best Friends Forever. Together they spun a tale, a partial tale but detailed and nuanced, about their experiences of Powhatan and what it has meant to them. Despite the lateness of the day and the fact that Alison had not slept since her late-night shift before, the interview was fast-paced, full of energy and laughter, and seemed to only scratch the surface of a Powhatan experience which has shaped both of them and continues to do so.

Both chimed right in when I asked what came to mind when I said, “Powhatan School.” Alison talked about the intertwined nature between her family and the faculty family because her mother taught here and she had spent so much time growing up with faculty. Natalie spoke of how the learning began as soon as she got in the car because Nancy Roche, Alison’s mom, was always teaching them music (“… the best music.”) on the way to school. Natalie characterized the big country house as “the place where we came of age” and learned so many of life’s lessons. The biggest impact for both seemed to be the gorgeous campus, the rural setting, and (PPA, are you listening?) the Big Toy. Alison and Natalie laughed, relating how they unbalanced the see-saw with kids and hid from Mrs. Chambers around the big house. Alison said she still emphasizes the country aspect of the setting when telling other parents why Powhatan means so much to her and her family – particularly in light of how much the rest of the area has grown over the past several decades. She added that she loved the fact kids were constantly outside: for science, for writing workshop, for unscheduled play. Natalie summed it up by saying, “There was so much freedom.” What greater sense of security may we give children than a sense of safety

and freedom? Both laughed as they described Powhatan as a “bubble,” a delightful bubble that marked them as unique and of infinite value.

Because they rode to school with Ms. Roche, long-time third grade teacher, they invariably arrived early, and because it was Nancy Roche, one of the planet’s great morning people – incredibly early. Mrs. Greenhalgh began by saying, “We were so privileged to be here,” meaning the before-school hours spent in the Lindsey Library. Certainly, Powhatan’s library with its incredible choice of books and magazines was designed for children who loved to read, research, and learn. And the Coles and the Swopes, the families Alison and Natalie were born into, were kids tailor-made to take full advantage of the riches arrayed before them.

We opened up the larger notion of family. Alison pointed out that there were now multiple generations of her family – as is true with many other Powhatan families including mine – which have attended Powhatan. She explains to her kids that people like Natalie are part of her ‘friend’ family. But members of the faculty like Mrs. Morgoglione and Mrs. Chapman are part of that family too. Natalie noted that there was such a care of the whole person at Powhatan that a genuine love developed between student and teacher, that as you moved on someone like Mrs. Chapman continued to be an important person to you, like a much-admired aunt. She further added that because Powhatan occupied that special niche of K-8, a time when we humans develop our sense of who we are, it was so important that Powhatan was a place of safety and acceptance. Even the journey to school was fraught with symbolism, leaving the bustle of Winchester and entering the pastoral and reflective beauty of Clarke County. Alison added the observation of how the big kids loved the little kids and how much the little kids looked up to the ‘bigs.’ She loved the Buddy Lunches and the Buddy System.

I related the story of a little girl I’ll call Doris. Doris was one of those kids (I had one) who didn’t seem to grow an inch from Kindergarten until Upper School. She was the littlest kid I can ever recall. The big girls loved Doris. They all the time picked her up and carried her with them everywhere. Doris clearly loved their attention. I used to watch the interaction and, like my faculty colleagues, love it that the elder kids were so kind and attentive to her. Of course, Doris did grow and become the confident and successful young lady we would

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expect, but Natalie pointed out her story illustrated important aspects of the Powhatan faculty and the way they interacted with the kids. Instead of hectoring the big girls and citing how ‘inappropriate’ it was for them to be carrying around a fourth grader, the faculty had the freedom and the good sense to exercise silence, smile, and praise the kids for their care for one another. This ability to adapt, this tendency to promote rather than detract, Natalie cited as a “beautiful quality,” one that underpinned the trust Powhatan bestowed on its faculty.

The synergy generated between the different ages of children illuminated the rites and traditions each Powhatan student could look forward to. Kids avidly anticipated the Book Fair, Virginia cookies, the state fair, the first interscholastic athletic contest, the overnights to Williamsburg and Washington, Field Day, spelling bees, Antietam, Chapel Talks, and the Shakespeare play, all of which marked the passage and deepening of the Powhatan experience. Powhatan was not burdened with rules and senseless procedures. It was a place with common sense and support, a place which encouraged kids and gave them ample bounds to learn lessons joyfully rather than suffering that tired old paradigm of “That’s life, and you’ll just have to accept it.” The world at Powhatan is nothing if not dynamic with each of its members playing an important and present role in how that world treats us and everything in it. I believe that Jefferson’s Creator would expect no less of any of us here.

One of the great synchronicities of my life is that my career intersected with a time when substantive, scientific research was being conducted in how human beings actually learn. Anecdote has it that a Harvard professor in the late ‘60’s was trying to find some research in how human beings learned to spell and could find none – not highstandard, scientific research. So, he conducted his own. What he found, in many ways, was astounding. Human beings move through five stages in becoming secure spellers. As I recall his findings, he found that 20% of all humans will grow to be superb spellers – no matter how, or if, they’re taught. They rely on sight learning and are hard-wired to recall spelling patterns. Twenty-percent of the population will never be good spellers – no matter how you remediate them. The rest of the population usually gets stuck in one (or more) of the five levels successful spellers move through. The key for instruction, therefore, is to identify where

the student is stuck and remediate him at that point. Hence, the process of word study was introduced. After remediation, the student rejoins the standard movement through acquiring the five stages of spelling acquisition. Ms. Zilch’s weekly 25-word spelling list is not how human beings really learn to spell. Similar veins of research developed in other universities investigating that and other disciplines. For example, the University of Virginia became well-known for researching the most effective ways to teach reading.

Move ahead to the late 1980’s. I was attending a wonderful seminar one summer at UVA on Depression-era history. The principal presenter was Dr. Ed Hall, who will later, I believe, move on to head the University of Richmond, and, at the time, was a well-respected historian with significant publications. After one of the sessions, Hall was joined informally by several of his colleagues and about 20 of the attenders, history teachers from all over the commonwealth. The theme of the chat was the then-current climate of educational standards, SOL’s, and the state’s legislative role in the process. I asked if any of them knew how the legislators were using UVA’s landmark research in determining standards of learning. Nobody there did. I then asked the history department professionals, four of whom were there, if any of them had ever been consulted by a legislator on the best way to teach history, or what they felt was important for a student to learn. None of them had.

Years later, a recent grad returned to tell me that one of the questions on the SOL test for history was “How many chests of tea were dumped into Boston Harbor during the Boston Tea Party?” The accepted answer is 342 – although the real answer is “nobody’s completely sure.” The best answer is “Why is that important?” The importance is that the Tea Party will drive Britain to pass the Intolerable Acts, whose enactment will drive the colonies to unite and revolt.

All of this has meant that while some of our public-school colleagues have been driven to ‘teach to the test,’ so that their students’ results will guarantee their survival, Powhatan teachers have been able to utilize the latest research and concentrate on the best ways to open their students to the use of ideas and encourage logical ways of thinking.

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It was at this point of our discussion that Alison commented that she was glad she had attended an independent school which could take advantage of this latest research. She added that even as a student she could tell that the curriculum was not rigid, that Powhatan teachers had the freedom to follow the thread of discovery as it emerged in the classroom. In fact, it was the expectation.

Another aspect Alison cited was that everyone was expected to do everything. At Powhatan, who’s on the sports team? Everyone. Who’s in the Shakespeare play? Everyone.

Natalie lasered in on the importance of passion in the teacher. She mentioned my passion in directing Shakespeare and in teaching Latin. She and Alison mentioned Harry Holloway’s animation and enthusiasm. Both noted Laura Robb’s passion for writing and literature. Natalie finished by saying, “None of the teachers ever seemed unhappy to be here.”

She expanded her comments on the topic of Shakespeare. She noted that she wasn’t a thespian, but the expectation from day one when you enter Powhatan is that you will be in the play. That means you will push yourself, that you will have to master being outside of your comfort zone, and because of that she loved the experience of portraying Oberon. A critical part of the process was the summer before when she broke her part down into English she could understand then spent much of her family’s time at Rehoboth Beach memorizing her lines. As class sizes grew over the years, I decided to break up the play into more manageable portions by role. It made no sense giving one actor Prospero from The Tempest, a part with over 600 lines, while someone else of excellent talent got a walk-on. Because of that, I began breaking the roles up and sharing them among actors, a decision that worked well with the students and the parents but gained some thoughtful critics who were deeply engaged with Powhatan’s traditions. We solved the recognition problem with shared costumes and – due to a brilliant suggestion from several of the students – a sash with the character’s name on it, a sash which the actors made in art class. Natalie mentioned that watching different students assume the same role as the play progressed – and paying attention to their identifying costumes and character sashes – added a layer of interpretation that was enjoyable for her in the audience.

Actors like Natalie and Alison, who embraced the process and learned their lines over the summer, provided the foundation and inspiration of a great experience for that year and for the entire cast. Because once their classmates saw a scene sparkle, suddenly all caught the bug and wanted to shine. Because we introduced Shakespeare through the eighth grade acting in a full-length play, (Don Niemann used to cut his scripts to around 2100 words. With growing classes, I went to full scripts – with the longest being Much Ado About Nothing – if memory serves, around 3600 lines.), Powhatan students would snap up Shakespeare courses in high school and invariably earn ‘A’s.’ I wish I could say it was intentional, but I certainly will applaud its happy effect. Alison portrayed Duke Theseus and Natalie Oberon, the fairy king. Fiery and talented Kate Funkhouser played Titania, and Susan Carter played Hippolyta, Theseus’ new bride. Reveley Lee played Peter Quince, leader of the Rude Mechanicals. Her entry into the palace throne room was outstandingly memorable acting. Paul Dart and Josh DeButts played Thisbe and Pyramus respectively. The audience laughed so hard that the actors burst out burbling in laughter during their ‘tragic’ death scene. It’s tough recounting this because Susan, Reveley, and Josh have all died, leaving us as guardians of their memories here at school – memories “such as dreams are made on.”

We then spoke about siblings, buddies, and stories. Alison told of her Eleanor wanting to be her brother Charlie’s buddy principally so that she could help him with ordering during the Book Fair. I recalled a recent Mahaney Cup winner who led his little brother hand-inhand to his first Field Day. There is often genuine and strong affection between siblings at Powhatan. Suddenly the subject veered to peanut allergies, and I related a story about two students in my advisement with severe allergies to peanuts. It was all we ever seemed to talk about. One day another student, equally aware of his buddies’ allergies, brought in some potato chips, unaware that his treat had been fried in peanut oil. Naturally all the guys were snarfing down the chips when the donor discovered the problem. He freaked. I freaked. The allergy sufferers continued snarfing. Unknown to any of us, apparently the high heat of commercial frying killed or altered the offending protein enough that it did not affect them. I hovered over the sufferers all day – to the point of them saying, “No, I am not swelling…” – the second they saw me. The point of this story is not to encourage you to buy chips fried

in peanut oil. It was then that Natalie noted that I had told a lively story – something she said was a trademark of Powhatan teachers. She added that stories are the ‘hook’ to engage learners in class. I could not have agreed with her more, adding that I believe we humans are wired to understand and appreciate stories. It’s one of the principal ways we learn. Natalie said that stories were one of the main threads that ran all through her Powhatan experience.

Alison noted that another powerful thread was Posts and Rails. She said that everyone loved the competition. Natalie added that her mother-in-law had attended Blue Ridge Country Day/Powhatan when students received numerical grades for daily behavior which was added on to the Post/Rail totals. I explained that when I first came to teach we had demerits and detentions, the demerit being the severer of the two. One stipulation was that the earner of a demerit cost his team five points. There were some little folks who only contributed to their team through losing points. Early in Mr. Peebles’ administration, the faculty decided to eliminate the demerit entirely – partially for that very reason.

Asking about detentions and whether they had ever gotten any, I heard Natalie snap back, “Not nearly enough.” She went on to account a ‘glitter fight’ she had been part of – a fight in which the consequence was writing letters home to parents, then doing whatever was necessary to repair the damage. Alison too recalled that as the primary method of consequences. Both agreed that was quite effective. I added that those consequences kept home and school informed and kept student/school dynamic central to the behavior and consequence.

Natalie and Alison came from a class that was proportionally female – 17 girls to five boys. I asked them candidly what their take was on why with girls there occasionally seemed so much drama, cliques, and tension. From a pedagogical standpoint, middle school girls are nearly ideal: they do their work, they bring their materials to class, they demonstrate respect toward their classmates. Alison thought it was hormonal. Natalie said it was a country school with small classes and everyone had been together for years, leading to some social stagnation. Both remarked that boys’ and girls’ attentions toward them played a role. Other times something done or said years before tended to smolder

and from time-to-time flare up. Alison then talked about the success of single gender schools, especially for girls, although she noted she had felt very confident in high school as far as speaking up and presenting her views. Natalie pointed out that society then presented a message to girls that what was important was how they looked and what they were wearing. Powhatan actively countered that message, she said. Here girls were expected to speak on a topic – even if they didn’t especially like it. Both added that public speaking was taught by a woman – none other than our first Mahaney Cup recipient, Franny Crawford. Talk about an exemplar. I added that our treatment of girls during that era and now was intentional: Powhatan had absolutely no interest in furthering any mistaken notions of girls and their potential – only in countering them. If you had a shelf of books about what Powhatan does well (a very long shelf), no better bookends than busts of Natalie Greenhalgh and Alison Hessberg would steady those tomes. They both (along with many, many of their schoolmates) were the kind of kids I had dreamed of teaching: smart, lively, focused, and excited for the future. They are the kind of adults we all wish wore shirts emblazoned with, “I went to Powhatan School.” They are the kind of adults that our sometimes tired and trite old world so desperately needs.