绿帽社

Each year, a few of our 绿帽社 faculty and staff members are presented with the Educator Prize Award to acknowledge their outstanding teaching and impact on our community. In addition to the honor given for their exemplary service, each award carries a stipend to further the educator鈥檚 formal education, research, writing, travel, or scholarly activities. The stipends are awarded by the Head of School based on the written recommendations of faculty peers and colleagues and selected based on their experience at 绿帽社, passion for learning, and influence on students and colleagues. Congratulations to Sari Rauscher (Director of College Counseling), Matt Robertson (LS Music Teacher), and Erika Munson (MS/US Librarian, English Teacher, and Class XII Dean).聽

Below are transcriptions of the remarks made by the 2024 Educator Prize Winners:

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Erika Munson聽

MS/US Librarian, English Teacher, and Class XII Dean

I have never been The Cool Teacher. I have no fascinating past from which to pull spellbinding stories.聽My responsibilities don鈥檛 include coaching or Outdoor leadership.聽I am a stranger in the strange land of Tick-Tock influencers, Youtube channels, gaming, and AI companions.聽 The classroom as a stage doesn鈥檛 really suit me,聽 I鈥檓 an introvert who recharges in solitude.聽The final blow to any hope of coolness are my roles as dean and librarian.聽 I lurk in the hallway ready to pounce on an unsuspecting student to talk about 鈥渆xpectations.鈥� I shush you in the library when you are putting off homework and giggling hysterically with your friends.聽

Where鈥檚 the cool in that?

I comfort myself with knowledge that the cool is in the classroom conversation. Writers speak to readers and readers talk back.

Tuesday morning. Room 716,聽 Contemporary Poetry.聽 Although there are a few diehard poetry fans in this class, (the names have been changed to protect our 绿帽社 alumni) most are here because it fits their schedule.聽 They鈥檝e all encountered聽 poetry from many eras over their 绿帽社 career, but there鈥檚 still skepticism.聽 Is poetry a mystery that only the elect can interpret?聽 Random words on a page? Where鈥檚 the story in a poem?聽

Having just returned from winter break, we are reading 鈥淣ew Year鈥檚 Poem鈥� by Margaret Avison.聽It is a meditation on the memory of a Christmas party and the present New Year鈥檚 moment. Avison takes us on a journey鈥攆rom her home鈥檚 interior out to the surrounding landscape, up to the heavens, and inside ourselves. We get to a particularly thorny line:聽

I remember聽聽聽
Anne鈥檚 rose-sweet gravity, and the stiff grave
Where cold so little can contain;

A fond memory of a friend (Anne) moves quickly to an invocation of death. I ask the class what they think of that transition鈥攚hat do we do with 鈥渢he stiff grave/where cold so little can contain?鈥� Emmy starts, 鈥淲ell, it鈥檚 kind of like, um, it鈥檚 hard to explain.鈥� I love it when聽 students bravely raise their hands before they are sure that they can articulate what they are feeling. You can see the wheels turning.聽

Simon, who has a flair for the dark and dramatic, says a stiff grave must be an old grave. Bones, bodies.

Emmy looks into the far distance, still working. I want to give it to her but I resist. The seconds tick by.聽 Her classmates are quiet鈥攇iving her the space she needs. One of my students calls this being 鈥渟ilent together鈥� different from the palpable bafflement, the dead air that every teacher dreads (and we have all experienced): This alternative鈥攖his cooperative quiet鈥攃an occur in the middle of a聽 discussion, during a writing exercise (the only sound the scratching of pens on paper)聽 or during a class walk around the quad where we observe the natural world as a poet would.聽聽

Emmy鈥檚 back: 鈥淓scape…that鈥檚 the word I wanted. It鈥檚 about what leaves the grave, what can鈥檛 stay in there.鈥澛� Yes. I think,聽 The persistence of memory.聽 Now my wheels are turning.聽 That word, 鈥減ersistence鈥� where did it come from? Oh yes,聽The Salvador Dali painting! La Persist猫ncia de la Mem貌ria. Time becomes fluid.聽

The next two lines of the poem give us a more concrete image to hold on to:

I mark the queer delightful skull and crossbones
Starlings and sparrows left,聽

Milo is a three-season athlete who loves biology and spends lots of time outside. First he helps us establish that the setting of this poem must be urban: sparrows and starlings are city birds (I silently thank Mark Bromley). Then he goes back to that troublesome grave. 鈥淚t reminds me of the way memories get lost when someone dies. You can鈥檛 keep them. Over time they escape, they鈥檙e gone.鈥澛燦ow we鈥檝e got a conversation going: poet to student to student. Avison has set the stage for Emmy to conclude that memory is stronger than death, for Milo to contemplate memory鈥檚 eventual dissolution,聽 and for Simon to get creeped out.

There is a genre of聽Italian renaissance painting referred to as the聽 Sacra Conversazione. These paintings depict saints and divine figures in conversation. It is a departure from medieval groupings that were stiff and hierarchical. In The Sacred Conversation, figures have a relationship to each other in three dimensional space聽 They are aware of one another: explicating texts, listening, pointing, even those whose gaze looks out into the middle distance seem to be part of the group.聽 It鈥檚 that 鈥渟ilent together鈥� thing.聽You see the wheels turning.聽

If it鈥檚 not too absurd to compare modern day adolescents: skeptical, stressed, and searching, with perfectly composed divine figures of classical beauty, it is that conversation I鈥檓 after in English class It is the reason I welcome students to the library.聽 It鈥檚 what I hope they鈥檒l take with them when they graduate. A conversation unbound by time.

I聽 love the story鈥攑robably a myth鈥攖hat Alexander the Great had his teacher Aristotle鈥檚 annotated copy of the Iliad under his pillow every night. It speaks to what was popularized聽 by Robert Maynard Hutchins at the University of Chicago as The Great Conversation through the ages. Not only does it reflect a student鈥檚 devotion to a wise teacher, but that teacher鈥檚 debt to those who went before him: in this case the Homeric bards who had been singing the Iliad from memory for centuries before Aristotle arrived on the scene.聽Backwards, forwards, and sideways this exchange continues. My goal is to give my students the tools to take their rightful place in this tradition and to enlarge it with new books, new voices: new mirrors, windows and doors.聽

It鈥檚 spring now, and this term I have four brave seniors taking my seminar with the daunting title 鈥淪acred Texts and Literary Responses.鈥� 聽 It鈥檚 a new class for me鈥攊nspired by a聽 summer professional development course and refined with the help of my colleagues in our Critical Friends Group. Our syllabus is a preposterous whirlwind trip through great religious texts. They鈥檝e been eager and curious鈥攅ven in the context of Senior Spring!

We鈥檝e also read contemporary short stories that are informed in one way or another by these traditions.

The final assignment asks students to write their own creative piece of fiction that wrestles with the ideas we鈥檝e encountered:聽 What is a moral life? What is eternal? What is our duty? Halley submits a haunting piece about grief and separation.聽A story within a story, the narrator tells of a grieving mother he loved who conceived of death鈥檚 separation as:

… nothing more between us than a thin wall of ice….I might say instead that we鈥檙e under the ice. Our loved ones are just waiting for us to break through to them.

Interesting.聽Hopeful in terms of the proximity of the dead to the living but that image of someone trapped under the ice is unsettling. It will stay with me for a long time.聽

Three weeks later we鈥檝e graduated another 绿帽社 class and I鈥檓 relishing the pause that late June affords a teacher.聽I luxuriate in a documentary on Andrew Wyeth, an American artist who among many other things, used landscape to explore the human experience of constancy and change. An art historian is talking about Wyeth鈥檚 painting, Thin Ice. A dark pond full of dead leaves is covered in a thin layer of ice. But highlighted in a discreet, diagonal ray of sunshine, is one leaf poking up through the ice. It鈥檚 caught there, glistening, half in and half out鈥攂ringing the worlds of the dead and the living together.

I am immediately back in Halley鈥檚 story. The ice, the hope, what is free and what is trapped.聽 It鈥檚 one of those gifts my students give me. Connection. I can even move back to Milo and Emmy鈥檚 competing interpretations of that stiff grave in the New Years鈥� poem: what is lost and what remains. A conversation that began in English class is now reaching across disciplines, giving me more points of reference, more insight into how I鈥檒l teach it the next time.

My daughter Nicola, 绿帽社 class of 2017, is an assistant teacher at St.Mark’s Episcolpal, a K-6 school in Altadena California. On January 8 the school burned to the ground. No one in the community was injured but many of their families lost everything. Two weeks after the fire, St. Mark鈥檚 resumed classes in a local church. Now they鈥檙e in modular classrooms for two years while they rebuild. Next year鈥檚 enrollment is down by a third, forcing painful staffing decisions. 

What would remain if our beautiful campus, recently taken to new heights, were to disappear overnight? The question moves beyond even man-made climate disasters to the current man-made threats to the liberal arts. Can The Conversation survive difficult times like these?聽

Well, remember you鈥檙e listening to someone who just compared her students to renaissance saints, who thinks she can teach religious literacy in 11 weeks, who considers it worth her while to challenge political polarization one conversation at a time.

Several years ago I came upon an essay by the Reverend Victoria Safford that has given me comfort amid the chaos.聽 She talks about the difference between simple optimism and 鈥渟tanding at the gates of hope.鈥澛� She characterizes these gates as:

鈥�…the piece of ground from which you see the world  both as it is and as it could be, as it will be; the place from which you glimpse not only struggle, but joy in the struggle. And we stand there, beckoning and calling, telling people what we are seeing, asking people what they see.鈥�

All of us who touch the lives of our students every day, do our work at the gates of hope.聽So no,聽I鈥檒l never be the Cool Teacher, and my classroom may not be The School of Athens,

Or an Enlightenment Salon,

Or the hub of the Harlem Renaissance,

Or (and maybe this is a good thing) The Algonquin Round Table:

But on any given day I have the opportunity鈥搘hich is not to say I pull it off every time鈥� but I believe I have the chance to connect these good people:

to those who have gone before. When I鈥檓 on my game,聽 I鈥檓 honored to be a guide, a witness, a challenger; welcoming all聽 into The Conversation, confident that there is always room in this space for the curiosity, connection and courage our spirits and our democracy depend upon.聽聽

Cool, cool, cool.

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Sari Rauscher

Director of College Counseling

Good afternoon. My name is Sari Rauscher and I am the Director of College Counseling. I鈥檓 thrilled and honored to be given this award. The Value of Education would be the title of this talk. I wanted to share a couple of anecdotes for a glimpse into parts of 绿帽社 as I see it. I also have a few photos I鈥檒l show which are kind of incidental, but it seems like a tradition at these talks鈥�

I am motivated in my work and life by the idea that education and learning has great value; I see the education at 绿帽社, and I get to research value in higher education in my daily work. I will examine why I am here and how I see the value in education, sharing a few stories from the past, present, and future.

Before I get into the past, I am at 绿帽社 and on stage today because I have a great college counseling team with Nick and Alicia–our strengths complement each other; we are passionate about helping students find their purpose. We get to assist students through healthy, meaningful college search and application process, through sharing information, talking with students about their essays, and helping them reach their goals. Additionally, the mission, spirit, and ethos of 绿帽社 have kept me here. And working with you, my colleagues, is exciting for me.

The Past:聽

I began at 绿帽社 ski coaching with the late, great, Dean Guinn, who started the 绿帽社 ski team; he also started and coached most sports at the new Sandy campus long before I got here 鈥攕occer, baseball, basketball, men鈥檚 and women鈥檚, and middle school sports included, and he was a German teacher and dean. He was instrumental in bringing school spirit, sports, travel and activities to a strong academic program

After college, I arrived in Utah, having grown up in Maine; I was doing post-baccalaureate pre-med courses at the University of Utah, and working at the U hospital when I started ski race coaching with Dean at 绿帽社. I would show up to campus at 2:20pm for last period Tuesdays and Thursdays for ski team practice. We would bring students up to Park City to train under the lights on their steep, icy race hill. We鈥檇 come back at 8:30 in the evening many nights; weekends we鈥檇 take the team racing at Jackson Hole, WY or in Idaho, or somewhere along the Wasatch.

That first year, 1998, Dean had said you need to meet Nancy Heuston 鈥擨 did, I then found myself teaching term English courses: a writing intensive course with Class X, Senior English electives, as well as ski dryland training, and 6th grade PE. In 2 years, I added a Class VIII Greek and Roman history term long course where I quickly learned that I needed a more robust daily class outline. 30 minutes of 鈥渙pen discussion time鈥� with 8th graders didn鈥檛 work as well as it did with 10th graders. At any rate, I decided this was the kind of school and work I wanted, and not four and more years of Medical school.

In my early teaching days at 绿帽社, I loved the excitement, passion, and freedom to teach how I wanted within a thoughtful curriculum, while supported as much as I needed from experienced colleagues. I see much of the same celebration of learning, of intellectual growth and fire that existed then as now. 

As I was looking in the archives for old ski team photos, I noticed that 绿帽社 hasn鈥檛 changed in essence鈥擨 saw amazing photos of 绿帽社 students in theater masks, in Shakespeare plays, in ceramics class, deep in class discussion, playing lacrosse, and soccer; Lower School students engaged in reading, in presenting. (Ok, there were some baseball photos also鈥攖hat has changed!) Also the trees have grown.

I have one ski team story that shows some of the similarities and differences of 绿帽社 past and present: we had 绿帽社 students who were passionate about ski racing and were doing well; we had spent two weeks training at Mt. Hood, OR in June with the ski team, as we did every year; but serious skiers got on snow late fall as well. I had a connection to Breckenridge, CO through my coach and recent years of training there鈥攁 ski venue at high altitude鈥�11,000ft.  So Dean and I decided to take about 13 绿帽社 students out of school for 11 days in early November to travel to Breckenridge, Colorado鈥攚hy not!?

The students studied on the drive over, read and did homework every night, like they do now on sports trips; we rented a condo, and in addition to coaching all day, Dean and I would go shopping and prepare meals every day for 15 of us! We did this at Mt. Hood camps also. Dean was undaunted by being the parent and adult to 13-20 kids鈥攁nd some were middle schoolers! Dean was also a great musician鈥攚ould play his banjo or guitar each night. We taught kids how to chop onions and how to wash dishes, in addition to honing ski technique training next to the best in the world鈥攖he student-athletes were ready for a great season. We headed back to school in time for聽 finals -no problem! I鈥檓 sure teachers helped their students upon return catch up and be successful in their exams, as they do now. I鈥檓 pretty sure Dean informed the school dean, probably Bob Capener or James Harris at the time, though I鈥檓 not sure Nancy Heuston was ever aware of our little trip.

So, 绿帽社 is more professional now, more organized, more planful鈥攁nd this is a good thing!

Most importantly, I still see this excitement, energy and willingness to try new things, to go outside the box, to be flexible: there are still buses going off campus almost every day鈥攖he science teachers on forays up the canyon for birding, geology, botany, or physics at Lagoon鈥攂less your heart, Stuart! [Owens, who led the physics trip last week]!聽I know Lower School is full of exciting events and trips off campus and on. And the Outdoor Program heads out climbing, skiing, and hiking, many times a week, still around 2:20pm.聽I thought there would be questions about why we no longer have an alpine ski race team (though we still have ski and ride, and ski touring is a big part of the Outdoor Program).

Dean passed away of a heart attack in 2002, as we finished hosting the 绿帽社 USSA weekend of races in Park City. It was just before the 2002 Winter Olympic games, which he was so excited to see , taking place at the mountains and some of the same slopes where our students competed. We kept the ski team going for a couple of years, but it wasn鈥檛 the same, and couldn鈥檛 be replicated without Dean; a number of our committed students and families had graduated out, and a couple even went on to compete with the US ski team. 

绿帽社 Present:聽

The value of the 绿帽社 education is very present to me every year, as I work with Class XI and XII and graduates, and see what they are capable of, what they are achieving, and how they are doing it, becoming curious, thoughtful leaders in many different fields. My 绿帽社 present is also connected to the past鈥攖hrough my two daughters who attended from preK 3 until Class XII graduation in 2022 for Neve, and 2024鈥攍ast year鈥攆or Anja; they have just finished their 3rd and 1st years in college. I could list extraordinary learning experiences in every subject and every grade at 绿帽社, but I will name two that stand out.

In Class V, they both wrote seven-page papers on their famous people; this wasn鈥檛 their first extended writing that year, but they worked to research, analyze and synthesize. I was dumbfounded when I saw this paper at the end of the year, with clever graphs and photos perfectly placed to tell their unique take on this person, set into the context of their time in history. This level of writing, teaching, and expectation continued through middle school and high school. 

Another example: Neve danced with Miss Annie from Lower school through graduation; I knew they practiced and danced many hours a week, but to see them on stage in a performance鈥擨 was again dumbfounded: how  is it possible you all are doing that 鈥攖ogether and in time to the music? When and how did you learn to dance ballet like that? The culmination that year being the clever, perfect, playful Grinch ballet choreography, and seeing the lifts and pas de deux in the Coppelia ballet that I had no idea she was doing until the performances.

Now I see this caring guidance and expectation that has led to their confidence and their ability to thrive in college courses like Biochemistry, Literature of Civil Rights, and in Calculus 3. Students at 绿帽社 get to practice sharing their ideas daily in class, and honing their thinking through writing, presenting and working in teams. What a gift! To learn how to do hard things through daily practice, and to be guided by caring teachers.

Last Thursday I got to Watch Neve present (on livestream) on her term research in the Blue Ridge mountains of NC, on Wilson River flooding and landslides after hurricane Helene. I thought briefly: How did you learn to do that? But by know I know the answer.

For the Future, I鈥檓 thinking of the value of education, and of higher education, I鈥檓 going to go back to my parents鈥� educations for a moment.

Also I鈥檓 thinking of what Nancy Nebeker called the importance of a trusted adult in young people learning, developing, and discovering themselves. And Finding purpose. Her presence is deeply felt here, and has impacted my approach and my thinking, and I鈥檓 so grateful to have worked with her. She talked about kindness and connection, excellence and high expectations;聽 confidence through doing hard things; this is how adults and teachers can influence young people. And this was true in my parents鈥� development.

My parents were both first generation to go to college; they came from working class families in post War War II Maine, which was largely rural, with farming, logging, and work in small factories by the many rivers comprising many of the jobs; my father grew up outside of Brunswick, Maine on a fishing peninsula on the coast; his father worked at Bath Iron Works, in the Naval Shipyard; his mother worked raising five children. His high school teachers and neighbors who introduced him to skiing also introduced a larger world of opportunity, and encouraged him to go to college.

His neighbors the Smiths had watched as the neighborhood kids built a ski jump trestle, in the woods near their house, and worked at their ski jumping鈥攁 legitimate sport, and a collegiate sport at the time. The Smiths started to bring him to a nearby ski hill where they went on weekend, and helped him buy his first pair of skis鈥擬aine made, all wood, no metal edges. There were many ski clubs in Maine at the time on hills and mountains. His high school math and English teachers started bringing a group up to Sugarloaf, the big mountain, farther away; they opened up a world of recreation for him. My grandfather and father built a camp (Maine-speak for cabin)–a small A-frame on forest service leased land, not far from Sugarloaf ski mountain, and a group of teachers and kids from high school, and later university, would go up regularly. 

His well-funded public high school had excellent teachers. His history, English, and math teachers encouraged him to go to university, and he did. He became a sociology major, track athlete鈥攑ole vault 鈥攈e loved jumping鈥攁t the University of Maine, He engaged in scientific studies and research in his sociology major, and subsequent masters work in organizational development. A kid in small town Maine went on to have his world opened up by influential professors of literature, social science, science, and arts. He developed communication and analytical skills to work, and confidence to embark on and develop his own career, living a good life, in different parts of the country, and traveling. He went on to develop consulting expertise in change management, and worked for top companies, from his beloved home in Maine. He still skis and he started a non-profit 2 years ago at age 79 to historically renovate and save the lighthouse, light keeper鈥檚 house and barn on the island in the harbor of my hometown. When I talked to him about this talk, he remembered and named four college professors, and the influence they had on him in opening his mind to human history, human behavior, and even art history and world cultures. His was a life changed.

 My mother grew up in a small central Maine town鈥攆or those of you who know Maine, much of any wealth is on the coast and in the southern part of the state鈥攂ut she was lucky to grow up in the countryside outside of Pittsfield, Maine, which was in the feeder region to the private boarding and day school Maine Central Institute鈥擬CI鈥攚hich contracted with the surrounding towns to provide high school education to the local students. MCI was and is much like 绿帽社, with aspirational students coming from all over the northeast, with great teachers, and high expectations. 

Her parents ran a gas station on a rural highway. Her father was a New Jersey Irishman who had been stationed in northern Maine during the war; her mother鈥檚 鈥攎y grandmother鈥檚鈥� parents had immigrated from Lebanon, joining a Lebanese community in northern Maine. She raised six children while helping at the gas station and shop; my mom would get dropped off at MCI with her sister each day, where she had a rich liberal arts education, played field hockey, basketball, did debate and student government. She was primed to be a top student and contributor at the University of Maine, where she majored in English and Classics–Latin and Greek. Fun fact: an English major, she was in classes with Stephen King! She is a retired public school 5th grade teacher 鈥攕hout out to Michelle, Mike, Samantha, and Paula!

On college breaks, I would come visit her 5th grade classroom for a morning, and be completely exhausted after a half day. She was also a field hockey and lacrosse referee, and softball coach. In her class she would bring in Maine artists to visit–she made sure her students knew some art history, knew a few Maine and national artists and authors, read a lot, and created their own art. 

A good education transforms lives. A liberal education frees you to understand your strengths and how you might contribute to society, to your family, and how you might choose to live. This is what is important for our future, and why I was moved to stand up and to talk about the value of a rich, quality education.

Trusted adults getting involved, great teachers鈥攁nd a full curriculum鈥攃hange lives;聽Nancy Nebeker knew this: be the influence, be involved; be always kind.

I see this in my parents also, the responsibility to take our good education, our good fortune and understanding of the world and make sure it is extended to the next generation; my family and I value America鈥檚 free education that aspires to give all students a strong education; we value the pathways that have allowed immigrants鈥� grandchildren to be a professional teacher with a masters degree;  we value art and culture and freedom of thought.

Thank you for letting me work in this remarkable environment. To those who have taught my children, thank you 鈥擨t鈥檚 probably not possible to convey enough my deep gratitude for what you have taught them and shown them. And thank you to all of you who teach, coach, and guide 绿帽社 students in various roles; I see the effect of your work everyday, working with Upper School students and graduating Seniors and alumni. I hear from them directly about your impact on our students.

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Matt Robertson

LS Music Teacher

This is a huge honor, mostly because I have so much respect for the people who work here. I have loved 绿帽社 these past 6 years and I look forward to many more. For a good part of this year I鈥檝e been struggling with and focused on finding ways to move forward with purpose and optimism and connection in a society that sometimes feels hostile to families like mine; and I keep coming back to something I heard from Stephen Colbert. Speaking of comedians, he said, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if you know this about us, but we don鈥檛 do this because things have gone so well. We are built for rough roads.鈥�

I have a sister who is fond of saying, 鈥淒id you have a happy childhood, or are you funny?鈥� I am not a comedian, but I can confidently say I am the person and the teacher I am in part because of some things that did not go so well. I relate to, and I hang on to the phrase, 鈥淲e are built for rough roads.鈥� 

I grew up in East Millcreek in the 70s and 80s, in a neighborhood where it felt to me like everyone was the same, but my family felt different. I was the second of five siblings, eventually six. My parents were and are wonderful people, and in so many ways they made space for this kid with big emotions and a big imagination. But looking back I recognize they were deeply, deeply unhappy – individually and together, and this was true before and after their marriage ended. From the outside, my family showed clear signs of struggle, and on the inside there was violence and there was chaos. 

But I was fortunate to also have things that moved me toward stability. And these are also, in part, how I became the person and the teacher I am.

From a very young age I was a quirky kid with a big smile and a big desire to connect with people. 

A neighbor told my mother, 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry, he鈥檒l grow into that mouth.鈥� I鈥檓 still waiting.聽Here I鈥檓 clearly on the path to my eventual sense of style.聽

This is about age 3 when I made my musical theater debut as an altar boy in The Sound of Music. I understand they had to re-stage the wedding scene mainly because I refused to follow directions. We were going to slowly process from the back of the theater, through the audience, to the stage; except this one 3 year-old altar boy kept setting his own pace and saying, 鈥淚t is so much faster to just walk the normal way.鈥� Apparently at one point I told the director, 鈥淵ou may be the boss of this play, but you鈥檙e not the boss of the whole world.鈥澛�

Here my fashion sense reaches full maturity, and no, this is not a special occasion. The line between dress-up and just wearing an amazing outfit has always been fuzzy for me.聽

This is probably my favorite photo of me as a child. You鈥檒l notice carried over from the last photo, the same striped pants and plaid shirt; and of course the goggles. And just to be clear, this was a different day. I鈥檓 also holding Oliver, who was my constant companion for several years.聽

That kid was primed for an interest in people, partly because I dealt with continuous unpredictability by studying people, trying to suss out what was going to happen and why people did what they did.  

And I credit a television program with providing positive direction and focus to that interest. Perhaps not surprisingly, I鈥檓 talking about Mister Rogers Neighborhood. It鈥檚 a bit 鈥渙n the nose,鈥� isn鈥檛 it? I literally own cardigans; and I am a bit like Fred Rogers if he were super sarcastic and swore a lot (not in front of students of course).  

What mattered to me most about Mister Rogers was simply that he took children seriously. He just saw them as people, like full humans. He talked like their thoughts and feelings and opinions mattered. He talked about hard and sometimes complicated things, but at an appropriate level for how children are able to process information. And he modeled a version of manhood I could buy into. 

Many years later I earned a Bachelors Degree in Human Development, and a Masters in Infant and Toddler development. And all of this to then discover that money exists, and that the field of child development paid even less than my other big interest and area of study, which was Music. 

My family of origin includes generations of professional musicians, and I was raised with the idea that to be a Robertson is to have a special, almost magical level of musical giftedness. 

So I had this sense of 鈥渕usic is for you鈥� and I had some affinity for it; but it was empty and hollow – all potential and no reality – until at age 14 I began serious piano study for the first time when a skilled teacher offered to take me on as a student. Around the same time I began studying double bass with another wonderful teacher. I poured myself into music study. 

And I came to understand three foundational things that still inform my work:

First, Musical excellence is a skill, not a gift. It can be taught and learned. 

Second, There is no magical secret to excellence in music. It鈥檚 willing student, skilled teacher, consistent work, time. That鈥檚 it. I鈥檓 not saying talent doesn鈥檛 exist, but I think it鈥檚 more complicated than 鈥済iftedness,鈥� and I鈥檓 more and more convinced that the whole concept of talent keeps more people out of the arts than it brings in.

And that鈥檚 tragic, because (Third), music is among the most powerful social connectors – even among people who are different. And experiencing excellence in an environment filled with caring, responsibility, integrity, and curiosity is life-changing; and I think children should have a whole big bunch of that.   

I came to teaching late, and I almost didn鈥檛 get here at all. Having basically failed after many years of trying to fit into a corporate world where I did not fit, I returned to grad school in my mid-40s for a Masters in Choral Conducting. 

During these same years that I was finding my feet in a new world, we, in our little family, suddenly awakened to new information about the people in our family. It could have torn us apart because things were suddenly so different than what we had known and expected; but instead, [Family Slide] on a perilously steep learning curve we began to gain some critical skills. I can sum these up as: focusing on curiosity more than control, and finding and focusing on shared values not shared beliefs. In some ways we had to grieve the loss of the family we expected, but this approach continues to result in a profound knowing of one another that is different than we had ever even considered. 

A 17th century British poet, Richard Crenshaw, once wrote of 鈥渆ternity shut in a span,鈥� and that is how I experience each moment I have with these remarkable people. 

As we have learned to thrive in the midst of difference, I have become passionately devoted to the merits of pluralism and to striving to suspend my very human need for certainty. 

And this leads me to one of the main reasons I choose 绿帽社. There has never been a world where all people derive their identity and purpose from the same set of beliefs. As I recently heard someone say, 鈥淭here are no perfect solutions, only different trade-offs.鈥� And this school is an institution, I fear one of a diminishing number (and I would love to be wrong about that), that is taking an actual run at holding space for pluralism through the use of shared values. And liberal arts education is an ideal vehicle for this approach. Pluralism is about a curiosity-filled co-existence, not agreement or disagreement. And here at 绿帽社 we employ values that do not require adherence to specific political or religious beliefs, or to any specific ideology. There is room to build understanding of different perspectives with curiosity as we learn to make peace with the constant tensions and contradictions inherent in a world full of different people. 

We don鈥檛 do this perfectly. We don’t always do it well; but damned if we鈥檙e not trying. And we鈥檙e doing it in the midst of a society caught in the very human tendency to dehumanize others when difference feels threatening. I don鈥檛 intend to imply that there are no real threats or that no fear is valid or that anyone needs to be accepting of harm; but today there are entire industries and empires built on – no matter what – keeping us in a state of constantly feeling threatened, outraged, out of curiosity, and out of meaningful connection. And the trade-offs of this kind of approach are just too harmful for all of us.

If we have the potential to help these young students grow into people who can be different from one another and still so proud of who they are, and who can still approach differences with curiosity, then it鈥檚 worth keeping at this. There are days when it feels impossibly hard. But we are built for rough roads. Thank you.