parting words by SUZANNE STEENBURG HILL ’66
Who Were Those Northfield Girls? I am a Northfield girl. That is a profound sentence! I am one of a select group of women fortunate to have had the opportunity to attend Northfield School for Girls. The youngest Northfield girls graduated in 1970; in 40 years, there will be few of them left on the planet. How can we preserve their legacy for future generations of NMH students? Who were those Northfield girls? We were smart, grounded, unpretentious, curious, and unafraid to put our hands into a sinkful of dirty tins. We studied, played, sang, ate Bishop’s Bread, and dated boys from Mount Hermon. We joyously walked in our sturdies for miles over the hills of our campus, often linking arms with one another. That was the Northfield School of our time. But then it became the coeducational Northfield Mount Hermon in 1971; it transformed into the smaller, unified Northfield Mount Hermon six years ago; and finally, our beloved campus was sold. Some of us have accepted this transition more readily than others. Change is difficult. Evolution is inevitable. Our Northfield had to move forward in order to become the excellent NMH that is our school today. During convocation in 2005, the first year of the merged campus, the school offered poignant activities to mark the closing of the Northfield campus. After ceremonies on Round Top, a group of 10 alumni volunteers ran a lighted torch for five miles from the edge of the Northfield campus, over the Connecticut River, and onto the newly combined NMH campus. Since I was the oldest volunteer, I was to run the torch from the gates of the old Mount Hermon, around campus, and up the hill to Memorial Chapel. We were
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literally bringing the light of Northfield into its next iteration. Ironically, there wasn’t enough fuel in the torch and the flame died out halfway across the bridge. With the unlighted torch, I puffed my way up to the chapel, where it was re-ignited to complete the ceremony. Skeptics might say that the light of Northfield died that day. I prefer to think that the light was temporarily quieted to mark a significant moment. Midway between the past and the future there was a respectful pause to acknowledge all those Northfield girls who contributed so mightily to the history of our school. Then it was time to light a new flame to bring the spirit and legacy of the Northfield girl into a new millennium. Last October, I visited campus and was invited to have lunch with a few teachers and students. A Mount Hermon alumnus from the class of 1950 asked a female student, “How did you choose NMH?” She described visiting three schools. Two of them made her feel that she would have to conform to their expectations. At NMH, the message she consistently heard was: We have tremendous resources to offer you. How can we help to foster your talents, creativity, interests, and individuality to make ours a richer community? No question as to her decision. Her story touched me and I said to myself, “She’s a Northfield girl.” During that same visit, I attended two classes. The first was AP Environmental Science. The class took a mini–field trip down to the river to visit the school’s water
treatment facility. The seniors knew the correct terms, asked pertinent questions, and took notes, but the visit also tapped into the larger question of what it takes to live in a community. If you watch the clean treated water slowly reentering the Connecticut River, it is unlikely you will ever take a toolong shower again! The second class was American Literature, for juniors, and again, there was thoughtful questioning and tolerant discussion. I was reluctant to leave. In both classes, I loved mingling with these great kids! But even more meaningful was the respectful, fun, open engagement between the students and their gifted teachers. It was apparent that NMH is a community of people sharing their lives. At the end of that long day, as I was walking near Memorial Chapel, I heard chattering, happy voices and I saw, silhouetted in the late afternoon light, three boys walking toward the dining hall. Their features and voices were indistinct, but I had an instant, visceral memory of walking with my friends on the Northfield campus as a teenager. How glorious it was to go to school and live among close friends, surrounded by natural beauty and people who nurtured and challenged me. Tears came to my eyes as I watched these boys walking the same symbolic path that I had so long ago. Northfield affected my life forever. Its legacy—the legacy of the Northfield girl— still echoes at NMH today. The students’ learning still extends far beyond the classroom, and the high expectations, the love of learning, all the intangibles that are hard to quantify—they are still there, and better than ever today. The heart of my Northfield is beating loudly.