22 minute read
Dispatches
The Spirit of the Greek Games sculpture by artist Chester Beach — fondly known as “the torch bearer” — dusted with snow.
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6 Headlines 10 First Person 13 Wit & Whimsy
Headlines
A Week of Big Sub(stitutes)
Students competed for the best sandwich recipes and spoke with chef Alex Guarnaschelli ’91
by N. Jamiyla Chisholm
For more than a decade every year, Barnard has hosted its annual Big Sub event, which brings the entire campus community together to break bread. (Last year’s handmade submarine stretched 750 feet.) The College’s culinary tradition continued this year in the form of Big Sub Week, November 9-13, inviting students to share their best “sandwich” recipes — in the categories of sweet/dessert, international, childhood favorite, and breakfast — for a chance to take home a reward.
The winning recipes, which were featured on social media, ranged from an inspired classic (Grace Tulinsky ’24’s “Bear-Shaped Ham and Cheese Sandwich”) to a creative twist on a breakfast favorite (Carla Melaco ’21’s “Saturday Morning Sunshine Sandwich”).
Do sandwiches need to meet a specific criteria? That’s up for interpretation. “To me, a sandwich is easy to assemble, easy to share, and easy to take on the go,” explains Sara Kirkham ’24, whose creation “Millie’s Beary Best Cream Puffs” was named the dessert winner.
For Amber Chong ’21, who came up with the winning “Chong Bánh mì” (in the international category), “the sandwich is in the eye of the beholder,” she says.
World-renowned chef and Food Network star Alex Guarnaschelli ’91 closed out the event on November 13 with a virtual Q&A and interview about her career and her own sandwich preferences.
“Sandwiches are very emotional,” Guarnaschelli says. “I probably have 10 or 12 pieces of clothing in my closet that comprise three-quarters of my wardrobe, and I’d say I have 10 or 12 sandwiches that comprise everything I’ve ever loved.” If she had to pick, though, it’s a croque monsieur served with watercress and a tangy salad dressing. “There’s little that’s better to me than that experience.”
To read more about the four winning sandwiches and enlighten yourself about the ongoing sandwich debate (Are burritos, falafels, and hot dogs sandwiches?), visit barnard.edu/news.
Barnard’s Essential Workers on the Return to Campus
A Barnard Bard
My experience working on campus during the quarantine period was definitely different. I went from seeing students in the hallway and in their classroom to an empty hallway where I can hear a pin drop on the floor. I’m looking forward to our country being coronavirus-free and the chatter and the laughter of the students once again in the hallway. —Michelle Denny, custodian
I am looking forward to some sense of normalcy of campus life post-COVID-19: the short conversations as I pass students, faculty, and staff, and the excitement of seasonal events and summer campus life. —Ingrid Wiltshire, custodian
A Treatise on Stars, the latest book of poems by Meimei Berssenbrugge ’69, was recently nominated as a finalist for the 2020 National Book Award for Poetry. Heralded by the judges as “a breathtaking record of biological, chemical, and spiritual entanglement,” Berssenbrugge’s collection continued the Beijing-born poet’s practice of drawing from the natural world for inspiration. Read more in an interview with the poet in the “5 Questions With” series at barnard.edu. —Isabella Pechaty ’23
The Class of 2024 Tackles 2020’s ‘Big Problems’
by Solby Lim ’22
ROXANE GAY
Author, professor, and cultural critic
Pretty much every problem that Black people deal with today, and people of color more broadly in the United States, can be traced to slavery. And until we have a real reckoning with that, and until material recompense is made, until reparations are not only cutting people a check — which is a start — but until we address how Black people have been discriminated against in terms of housing, healthcare, education, and safety, we’re In a year rife with historic challenges, Barnard’s never going to have a real reckoning. So we have to faculty is engaging first-year students in a dialogue start with that. about today’s most pressing issues. A new course, Big Problems: Making Sense of 2020, provides an interdisciplinary learning experience that delves into the social, economic, and political upheaval that has unfolded during the past year as a result of the COVID-19 crisis. LINDA VILLAROSA
“This course was born from a genuine desire Journalist and New York Times to better analyze the profoundly destabilizing contributing writer time we are in — a time that is often described as I think the discussion about bias in ‘unprecedented’ or having ‘no rule book,’” explains healthcare ... has gotten so much Cecelia Lie-Spahn ’11, associate director of the First- more robust. … You have to question Year Writing Program, director of First-Year Writing everything. I question every single Workshop, and lecturer in English. thing. I am always asking, How do
The three-part course — including a public lecture I know? How do you know? That’s series, discussion meetings, and a zine project — what I do with my students. You do invites students to critically examine the world in have to question, and I’m happy that which they are living while envisioning a better, doctors and other medical providers more just future. have started to question themselves.
“We wanted to give students access to exciting So that’s a good sign.thinkers whose work focuses on how our current moment connects to the history of systemic racism, social justice, healthcare, and equity,” says Wendy ROBERTA SCHWARTZ ’91 Schor-Haim, director Chief innovation officer and executive of the First-Year Writing vice president of Houston Methodist Program and senior lecturer in the English Department. I look at [the Barnard women around me] and know that
The virtual lecture series there is a cadre of women that were produced by an organization that said, ‘Women can be everything and featured diverse perspectives anything.’ That inspires me every day and allows me to into the current global crises and mentor women that come [after] me, and know that all of is available to the entire Barnard you, who are at the beginning of that education, know that community on barnard.edu. Here you can dream big and be big. We stand on the shoulders are a few highlights from the Big of the giants before us who made our vote happen, who Problems speakers. made us the women that we are, including people like my mother who didn’t have the opportunities that I have, and have shown us that really anything is possible.
Headlines
Located on the first floor of Barnard Hall, the new center will provide a 360-degree perspective on personal well-being
by Veronica Suchodolski ’19
On October 22, 2020, President Sian Leah Beilock announced the creation of the Francine A. LeFrak Foundation Center for Well-Being at Barnard College, which expands the Feel Well, Do Well @ Barnard campaign established last year.
The new center, made possible by a generous gift from the Francine A. LeFrak Foundation, will ensure that all Barnard students have access to comprehensive physical and mental health, holistic wellness, and financial literacy support services and are equipped with the knowledge and tools needed to thrive at Barnard and beyond.
“I am thrilled to formally announce this new Francine LeFrak Center, which will truly symbolize the idea that well-being — especially for women and girls — is not just about physical health but about mental health, financial health, and the ability to dictate one’s path and purpose,” said President Beilock.
As a centralized hub for the College’s many wellness initiatives — including the Feel Well, Do Well @ Barnard campaign — the Francine A. LeFrak Foundation Center for Well-Being will provide a state-of-the-art facility for financial fluency and holistic wellness programs, a fitness center, and dance spaces.
To create the center, the College will renovate the first floor of the former gymnasium in Barnard Hall. There, students will be able to learn about and access the full range of initiatives intended to support all aspects of well-being.
“This is a dream come true and a culmination of my work supporting women that I have done for so many years,” said Francine A. LeFrak. “I am delighted to be on the forefront of this innovative and more complete definition of wellness. I have seen firsthand how wellness is an intersection of financial, physical, and mental
Francine A. LeFrak well-being. This center will be a point of hope for women.” Design and planning of the Francine LeFrak Center is already underway. Construction in Barnard Hall is slated to begin in January 2022, and the new space is expected to be fully operational by September 2023. The plans for the new center come on the heels of the 2016 renovation of the former LeFrak Gymnasium, named for the late Ethel Stone LeFrak ’41 and her late husband, Samuel J. LeFrak. Ethel served as a Barnard Trustee from 1981 to 1985. That project turned the gymnasium into a split-level space, with the second floor holding more than 50 offices and conference rooms and the first floor serving as a temporary flex space to house the library during the construction of the Milstein Center for Teaching and Learning. The Francine A. LeFrak Foundation Center for Well-Being serves as a testament to Francine A. LeFrak’s strong personal and philanthropic commitment to women’s empowerment and the generous continuation of her family’s legacy at Barnard. “Like my mother, Ethel, Class of ’41, the Francine A. LeFrak Foundation Center for Well-Being is a trailblazer in the wellness and empowerment of women. I am so proud and excited to be working closely with Sian on this project,” says LeFrak. “With the center on its campus, I believe that Barnard is destined to be a leader in health and wellness and a model for others to follow. As a woman and a philanthropist, I can’t think of anything that could be closer to my heart.”
As part of the new Francine LeFrak Center, Barnard will also create an advisory board comprising leading professionals with expertise in financial, physical, and mental well-being. The board, once created, will convene twice a year to discuss topics and issues around girls’ and women’s well-being and serve as advisors to the center as it develops new programming and initiatives.
“Barnard has a rich legacy of our community giving back to our current students,” said Cheryl Glicker Milstein ’82, P’14, chair of the Board of Trustees. “Barnard is very fortunate to have the continued support of the LeFrak family, and I look forward to working with Francine on developing the Francine LeFrak Center for our community.” B
First Person
Impressions, digressions, and your point of view
Book Return
by Danielle Blake ’14
Yes, I majored in English, got a master’s degree in English education, and am now an English teacher — but no, I do not want to join your book club, I would not like any book recommendations, and I probably have not read whatever book it is you’re asking about. The truth is, I went seven years without ever reading a book for pleasure, and now I am taking every chance to make up for it.
I can’t tell you how many white lies I told over the years. A friend would ask about a New York Times bestseller, and I’d say, “Oh, it’s on my bedside table; I’m hoping to get to it next!” Another would recommend a memoir they just loved, and I’d spurt, “That sounds fabulous; I’ll add it to my list!”
And what a list I have! For those seven years, I kept a note on my phone with the names of books I’d like to read, always adding to it conservatively to avoid overwhelming my future self. Even now, two years after I’ve started reading for pleasure again, I have 50 titles waiting to be read.
Perhaps things would have been different if I were a fast reader, but I read slowly and meticulously. As an undergrad, I was shocked by the pace at which we read for English seminars: one book per week, sometimes even two. I took to reading in the library but also in every crevice of the day — while riding the subway, at night before bed, listening to audiobooks while I cleaned my room or cooked. There wasn’t time for anything else.
When I decided to pursue teaching, these habits followed me to graduate school. Again, I found myself picking up only texts assigned on syllabi, trying to remember the joy of reading while working my way through books that other people had picked. Eventually, just when I thought I was done, I learned the hard truth of teaching English: I have to read what I teach. On my own time, I worked my way through classics in the curriculum that I’d somehow skipped, like The Great Gatsby, Night, and Macbeth. Since they were too far in the past for me to remember, I found myself rereading Speak, Hamlet, and The Kite Runner.
After four years at Barnard, and 18 months of graduate school overlapping with my first three years in the classroom, I finally, at long last, relished the chance to read again, on my own terms.
Over the past two years, I’ve wished that Middlesex, Homegoing, and Pachinko would never end and learned that there is a name for my favorite genre: epic historical fiction. I traveled back to an earlier era of New York in
Rules of Civility; I imagined a grim future in Parable of the Sower. I also connected with others, as I finally understood the hype behind Educated and read the words of another Barnard alumna, Sigrid Nunez ’72, in her book The Friend.
So please forgive me if I am not ready to join your book club for a few more years. Maybe seven more. But after so many years of reading other people’s book lists, I can finally delight in reading my own.
Danielle Blake teaches ELA at the High School of Fashion Industries, where she particularly enjoys working with students on personal narrative writing. If she’s not on her couch reading, she is likely running in Prospect Park or trying out a new recipe.
Barnard at the Polls
by Rachael Stein ’13
When I applied to be a poll worker for this year’s general election, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But I needed to do something. Like many young, healthy Americans, I recognized I was at less risk to work in a potentially crowded indoor space during the pandemic, and like so many people anxious about the election, I wanted to protect democracy in some way. I had so many questions leading up to the day: Would I be working on Election Day only or also on early voting days? Was training really four hours long and in person? When would I find out where I would be staffed? Answers were not always easy to find, but as Election Day approached, I kept my poll worker manual handy and prepared myself as best as I could.
On November 3, I reported to my poll site in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, at 5 a.m. to get ready for the doors to open at 6 a.m. With the long early voting lines I’d been seeing throughout the city, I had anticipated high turnout on Election Day, but I was surprised to find this wasn’t the case. Voters trickled in throughout the day — maybe 100 or so in total. This could have been for a few reasons: There was only one election district at this poll site (versus the two or three it had historically), and there were far higher rates of absentee and early voting this year.
Between checking in voters and handing out ballots, I got to know some of my fellow poll workers. Quite a few lived close by, such as a mother and daughter who had signed up to work together. And then there were those who had traveled from elsewhere in Brooklyn and even other boroughs, including a table inspector who had come in from Queens. She had grown up in the neighborhood, and though she hadn’t lived there for a long time, she always requested to work at this poll site where she could see old friends.
In the quiet hours of the morning, I overheard someone say “Barnard.” There were no voters to check in just then, so I got up and walked over to her. “Did you say you went to Barnard?” I asked. “I did too!”
And that was how I met Jeany Heller ’87. It was, of course, an instant bond. We reminisced about our College experience: our favorite residence halls and what it was like living right on Broadway, how the campus has changed over the years, and how different it used to be for queer people in the Barnard community. Jeany, who had been a poll worker several times before, offered helpful advice on how to stay organized throughout the day to avoid any issues at the end of the night.
Finally, the clock struck 9 (when the polls officially closed). Jeany and the other scanner inspectors printed receipts, tallying up how many ballots each scanner machine had accepted. I joined my fellow table inspectors to count the ballots that were unused or voided, then factored in how many had been scanned and ... “Everything adds up!” I shouted. A cheer erupted at the poll site.
As Jeany and I left, she told me she’d never seen such teamwork and camaraderie in closing a poll site. Thanks to Jeany and our fellow poll workers, Election Day was truly a memorable experience. We had all done our part to serve the voters of Brooklyn, and now we could head home to await the results.
Rachael Stein is a community coordinator at FABSCRAP, a textile recycling nonprofit. A New Yorker by choice, she gets around the city by bike and lives with her rescue dog and many plants in Downtown Brooklyn.
First Person
The Prof. & the Olivetti
by Barbara Florio Graham ’56
The year I took advanced composition — known as the journal course — was one of upheaval in Barnard’s English Department. In late September 1956, our professor and chairman of the department, John Kouwenhoven, left abruptly due to a personal matter, and our class was suddenly without an instructor.
The scholar Cabell Greet, who had retired as head of the department the year before, took over the class and informed us that he would “babysit” us until he was able to find a suitable replacement. We waited. And within a few weeks he introduced us to a very tall, very young man who looked dazed at the sight of a dozen intensely focused young women. He had just become editor of The Paris Review, but he had never taught before. He was clearly terrified. At first, nobody had caught his name, and so we referred to him out of class as “Mr. Applebottom.”
The dazed man was the writer George Plimpton. His teaching style was uninspired, to say the least. Whenever one of us read a journal entry, he would say, “That’s pretty good.” The words “good” or “nice” would predictably be found in the margins of the pages he returned to us. Members of the group were afraid to tell Professor Greet how disengaged Plimpton was, and we pretty much carried on the weekly seminar on our own, taking turns reading excerpts from our journal entries and trying to provide helpful comments to each other.
Cabell Greet must have caught on. He informed our class that after Christmas break, he would be bringing us none other than John Cheever, the current darling of the literary world, whose short stories in The New Yorker we all devoured.
Cheever had never taught before either, but he was just what we wanted and needed. On the first day of class, he arrived with his Olivetti typewriter in one hand and the most recent New Yorker in the other.
The course was challenging from the start. It required us to write 500 words every day, seven days a week, including Christmas. Cheever listened with careful attention and respect to our journal entries, giving each of us tiny pointers on how we might improve and always encouraging our efforts. He also wrote thoughtful comments in the margins of the pages we turned in. I learned the true art of writing in that class, how to reach for the perfect word that gives the reader a visual image or a gut reaction. I learned how to let your first draft spill onto the page unrestrained until you had all the raw material there to work with.
Cheever only taught 12 would-be writers for one semester at Barnard, before moving to Vassar and eventually making it clear that he much preferred writing to teaching. Years later, when I was in Caracas on a press tour, Cheever happened to be on the lecture circuit. When I raised my hand to ask a question, he remembered me and moved forward to give me a hug. I asked him about the Olivetti and why he brought it to our class. He admitted that he had been so nervous that when he left his apartment, he took it along as a sort of security blanket. In 1981, at our 25th Reunion, several of us who were members of that class were sitting together and reminiscing about Cheever. I told them about meeting him in Caracas the previous year. Someone took a Polaroid photo of our little group, and I sent it to his publisher with a warm letter, mentioning how many of us had become professional writers.
I didn’t get a response. A year later, I learned that he had died after a battle with cancer, and I understood why he hadn’t replied. But I hope he knew how much we treasured him.
Barbara Florio Graham has won awards for fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. She has written three books and contributed to more than 40 anthologies as well as hundreds of publications. Her website is SimonTeakettle.com. B
Wit & Whimsy
You’ve Got a Friend?
by Anna Goldfarb ’00
I recently had a crummy day. Work was overwhelming, another lockdown was looming, and I was in a funk. Looking for some support, I texted a friend: “This week has been brutal. Are you around to chat?”
She took five days to write me back. In those five days, I panicked. Was she blowing me off? Our friendship, which I thought was solid, felt flimsier than the trendy underwear I impulsively ordered off Instagram.
Her silence wounded me. But to be honest, I haven’t been the most responsive friend to others lately either. Sure, I aspire to be the kind of friend who sends thoughtful text messages followed by a trio of heart emojis but, well, I’m just not. If I had to grade my friendship skills as a woman in my 40s, I’d give myself a C+. In coffee creamer terms, I’m soy milk: not as fulfilling as other options available but better than nothing.
One reason I haven’t been up to snuff in the friend department is that the older I get, the more things I’ve become to more people. I’m a wife, sister, daughter, aunt, and cat mom. “Friend” doesn’t even crack the top 5 of words I’d use to describe myself.
I’m also prioritizing myself more. That means I have to tell people no. It can be scary to say no at first, but like skydiving or cutting your own bangs, it gets less nerve-wracking the more you do it. (Unless you’re doing them simultaneously.)
When I attended Barnard, being a loyal friend was a top priority for me. I would’ve done anything for my friends in my 20s. Anything. Provide a ride to the airport, help a friend move to another state, show up at a heartbroken pal’s apartment at 2 a.m. with a voodoo doll of her ex I made using my own hair. These days, of course, I’m still happy to listen to a heartbroken friend, but hopefully there’s wine or at least brownies involved.
I used to think the mark of a good friend was someone who’d tell you the unvarnished truth. Someone who’d give it to you straight.
Yes, the dress you’re wearing is unflattering.
No, I don’t think your boyfriend truly loves you.
Yes, you’re too old to pull off pigtails. However, I’ve learned that most friends don’t want to be confronted with the blunt truth; they just want to feel heard and understood. They want to feel like you have their back.
And what I’ve come to realize is that friendships don’t magically maintain themselves. Whether you live across the city or across the country, keeping in touch takes effort. Even if it’s just a silly text or a wacky GIF, you’ve got to put yourself out there to let the other person know you’re thinking about them.
Friendships are 100% voluntary. You can’t force a friendship to stick any more than you can force a fish to breakdance. Both people have to be invested in the relationship. And that is what makes friendships precious –– they can be so fleeting.
So the next time I jump to a conclusion and assume the worst from a friend’s delayed response, I’ll remember to cut my friend some slack. And I need to extend the same grace to myself. Even though I’m a C+ friend today, I’m hoping to be at least a B in the future — a splash of half-and-half for the right cup of coffee. B
Anna Goldfarb is author of the humor memoir Clearly, I Didn’t Think This Through. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, Vice, The Cut, and more. She lives in Philadelphia.
I joined the Athena Society when I was in my 40s by putting the College in my will at a level that suited my financial situation at the time. I reframed my long-term personal and financial goals to include giving to Barnard in the future. As new, difficult, global challenges emerged in 2020, I was glad that I had a plan in place that covered my family and the causes I hold close to my heart. —Nancy O. Rieger ’83
To learn more about how you can join Nancy in support of Barnard and its world-changing young women, please visit plannedgiving.barnard.edu or contact JiHae Munro, Director of Planned Giving 212.870.2532 | jmunro@barnard.edu
