The answer is simple, really: she knows her students because she listens
—Andy St. Louis ’05
on the playing fields on Wednesday afternoon, she is not in Manhattan at a critical Trustee Budget Committee. If she is in Seoul visiting with alumni and parents, she is not in L.A., Chicago, Boston, or Mumbai. At any given moment, somewhere, people feel slighted that she did not show up at their special event.
ministration and oversaw the addition of unprecedented numbers of faculty of color. She gave new muscle and heft to our long-standing commitment to diversity. Tang has commented, “Barbara created a comprehensive and coordinated support network to enhance the experience of students, and a culture of kindness and social equity by setting a tone that we all wanted to meet.”
Barbara Chase seemed at her best during our worst moment in recent history: the suicide of senior Zachary Tripp in February 2000. We had no way to understand such an act by this smart, athletic, handsome 18-year-old with a family anyone would envy, the respect of faculty, close friends, and a popular following. That winter threw into crisis every aspect of school: how had we failed him? Which aspect of what program had fallen short? Worst of all, would anyone else follow in Zack’s footsteps, risking what psychologists call a “point cluster”? Tearful faculty meetings became training for tearful student meetings. The Office of Community and Multicultural Development, Graham House, Isham, and several other locations became “official” counseling centers.
What She Has Meant to Us
Despite all that, Barbara’s most enduring legacy may be her personal warmth. This is why, when my girls returned to the dorm from Mrs. Chase’s retirement announcement, their eyes were still wet; my upper proctors announced proudly that at least they would always have Mrs. Chase as their head. Colleague after colleague, asked about Barbara’s “legacy,” mentioned her personal touch: how she always asked after the new baby (or college student, or ailing parent). The first female head of our math department—Sue Buckwalter— said Barbara’s invitation to meet with her as Sue’s appointment was announced made a world of difference: Barbara started by saying “…so, we are in this together.”
Once the press left, the following 10 days of that February and early March brought dank, cold rain. Barbara took each day as it came, working with the Tripps on the memorial service, managing painful school meetings, speaking individually with students and faculty and trustees, allowing the school to mourn, get back to work, be in whatever place we found ourselves—but never losing our sense of unity. To protect Zack’s privacy, Barbara herself reviewed every one of his outgoing, incoming, and deleted e-mail messages but found nothing to help explain his death. When it became clear that preparing students for winter finals appeared futile, Barbara made the decision—a warm, decisive hug for us all—to end the term without tests, even without term grades, and sent everyone home early for spring break.
Barbara has circumnavigated the globe at least 20 times by rough count. Despite the weeks spent in airports, Barbara clearly enjoys her long-standing visits with parents and alumni around the world. She harbors an astounding memory for details, and she is genuinely fascinated by the tales people tell of a house counselor in whom one confided or a treasured coach who helped PA lose gracefully, and how that has altered the way they conduct their lives years afterward. The head’s calendar is planned out at least 18 to 24 months in advance, and personal family obligations, illness—even a headache at the last minute—cannot be a reasonable excuse for missing an event that has been a year in the making. She and husband David both have cared for elderly parents for whom they were primarily responsible, let alone two daughters and sons-in-law, and now three grandchildren growing up fast. Her warmth and desire to be present on campus also made traveling difficult. As head, she once confided, no matter where she is in the world, she is not somewhere else. If she is Michael Malyszko
Eighteen months later, the very morning fall classes began, planes struck the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and— diverted from the White House—a field in Pennsylvania. Again, Barbara’s instincts carried the day. Paul Sonne ’03 recalls, “I remember gathering with the student body in front of SamPhil the morning of 9/11. There was Mrs. Chase, presented with a thousand children of the 1990s— who had never experienced a war, an attack, or even a recession. She had just seconds to collect her thoughts. What do you say? Mrs. Chase’s advice to the students was simple and sage. It was ‘to do two things: carry on for one another…and carry each other.’” Nonetheless, especially for successful heads of school, Andover can be an unforgiving place. At the beginning, the faculty welcomes leadership, imbuing all of our aspirations in this one figurehead. A few years in, as we begin to see that a head is merely human, we temper our enthusiasm
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Andover | Spring 2012
Chase with her last board of trustees, April 2012