Closing Thoughts Children of Westminster
By Susan Werner Berenson ’82, Trustee
I had the wonderful good fortune of being born and raised as a Westminster faculty child and have lived from one end of campus to the other. My father, Don Werner, was an English teacher, coach and, finally, headmaster working at the school for more than 33 years. My mom, Mimi, had her own responsibilities as headmaster’s wife, in addition to her work as a community volunteer and mother. During that time, my parents, my older siblings, Peter and Betsy, and I lived at the far end of campus in West Cottage, then moved briefly to the bottom of the hill near the entrance to the school, and finally moved to Pratt House at the far eastern end of campus. Quite literally, the whole campus, from one end of it to the other, and top to bottom, has served as my backyard. As you might imagine, growing up on such a beautiful, expansive campus is a magical experience for a child. Within the safe boundaries of the campus, we faculty children had enormous physical freedom. We set our own agendas: we explored basketball courts, a swimming pool, the athletic fields, the empty chapel, and the tennis and squash courts. We spent hours writing and performing plays in the old theater, and we invented games everywhere. My memories are filled with images of afternoon-long games of capture-the-flag or kick-the-can, exploring the woods, and raiding the school kitchen for ice cream or cake, begging for treats from the patient and indulgent kitchen staff. In hindsight, I understand there were many adult eyes watching over us; one benefit of being a faculty child is the number of surrogate parents looking out for you. As a child, however, I knew only that the world of Westminster was ours: interesting, varied and ready for any game of our invention. The fact that Westminster was actually a school, and not simply my playground, was of interest to me only because of the students. My friends and I loved going to the Westminster games and rooting for our favorite players. It was like having a host of professional teams playing a range of sports each week right in my back yard. I learned the players’ names and numbers, and, if my father coached the team, I would follow the players’ statistics from game to game. The students were unfailingly kind to us and as I walk around the campus today, I have to smile whenever I see current faculty children interacting with students. Not surprisingly, I see the same type of indulgent warmth displayed by today’s students toward the children of today’s faculty as was displayed by the students I looked up to so many years ago. Once I became a student at Westminster, I discovered another benefit of being a faculty child: All the adults who were formerly my neighbors, family friends and parents of my childhood playmates were now my teachers. To be honest, as a ninth grader, I was a bit more interested in playing sports than doing my class work. But, having such
strong connections with my teachers made me want to work hard and do well. I felt that these teachers, many of whom I had known my whole life, were particularly invested in me as a student and sincerely cared how I did. Teachers, some of whom are still here, like Peter Briggs, Dick Adams and Joan Howard, all encouraged my development as a student. I have to note here that there is one glaring exception to this compassion. In tenth grade, Scott Berry gave me my one and only “D” of my academic career, in his biology class. It was not a year-end grade, but only an interim grade. I knew he was a tough grader, but I felt this “D” was undeserved. Years later, I asked him if he felt badly or just a little uneasy about giving his boss’s daughter such a poor grade. He smiled and without hesitation said, “No, Susie, you truly earned it.” By virtue of having been a faculty child, I always considered my Westminster experience unique. Who else could have grown up in this environment with the freedom to explore so independently, yet still be so profoundly connected to the community? My school was my home, my teachers were my neighbors and friends, and my fellow students felt like they were part of an extended family. I was truly a child of Westminster. It wasn’t until I graduated that I realized that my classmates, both day and boarding alike, felt just the same way. My friends all describe how for them, Westminster was home, and the faculty, staff and students were like their family. They cared so much about the school because it was clear how much the school cared about them. They, too, felt the same wonderful freedom to grow as students on the hill — intellectually, spiritually and creatively — while at the same time being nurtured, guided and supported by a faculty who knew and cared about them deeply. At reunions, we often hear graduates say they feel like they are returning home. Friends talk about the connections with the faculty that just can’t be replicated, and the bonds students make with their peers here last a lifetime. Of course I have a special connection to Westminster. I was born here and lived here until I went to college. I also was married on this campus 20 years ago. And now, I am honored to be back home serving as a trustee. But the formative influence the school had on me as a person, and my deep love, loyalty and devotion to it as an institution are widely shared. Just go to any athletic event, sit in on a class, or listen to graduates talk about their experiences at any reunion weekend, and you will see the breadth and depth of those feelings among students, faculty and Westminster families. It turns out that my Westminster experience wasn’t unique after all. In the ways I now recognize are most meaningful and important, all of us are children of Westminster. Adapted from remarks she gave at the Williams Hill Society Dinner, Sept. 19, 2008