Groton School Quarterly, Fall 2014 by Groton School

Annie Card

Message from the Headmaster

ast year, I introduced the idea of inclusion as a central theme for the community. Groton, like other schools, had long focused on diversity. But few had taken diversity that meaningful step further toward inclusion. Groton is at its best when the campus is both diverse and inclusive—when those who have gained access also feel that they belong, and when their access truly translates into success. Inclusion actually has been a long-standing ethos of Groton School, rooted in the traditions that began with the Rector in 1884. I simply chose to emphasize it in my first few years on the job. For decades, Groton has prided itself on having a Circle that is open. For example, this year marks 40 years of coeducation at Groton, a milestone in the School’s wide-funnel approach to attracting talented youth from all corners. Taking all students beyond access to success is the responsibility of all who identify with the Circle. I am currently working with the math and science departments to create a summer program that would accelerate students who lack the preparation necessary to take upper level math and science courses, should they so choose. That is inclusion, as I envision it. Vuyelwa is working on an initiative that will enable members of the community to regularly exchange stories in small groups—to promote empathy and better understanding and appreciation of

Editor Gail Friedman Design Irene Chu

Contributing Editors Kimberly A. Gerighty Elizabeth Z. Ginsberg P’16 Elizabeth Wray Lawrence ‘82 Allison S. MacBride John D. MacEachern P’10, ‘14, ’16 Melissa J. Ribaudo Amy Sim Photography/Editorial Assistant Christopher Temerson

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one another. And teachers and peer tutors work tirelessly, outside regular classroom hours, with students who need extra help. The unprecedented success of the 2014-15 admission season showed us that a Groton education is highly sought after, not only nationally, but also globally. In keeping with inclusion and the concept of an “open Circle,” we should redouble our efforts to make the Groton funnel even wider, to make this unparalleled education accessible to all students of promise and talent. My very presence at Groton is evidence of that ever-widening funnel. If we wish to maintain Groton’s position at the top of a relevant and impactful American education, we must also be intentional in recruiting, supporting, and retaining an equally talented teaching corps. Toward the end of this past academic year, I met with a dozen students for a deep discussion about inclusion. Afterward, one of them wrote: “Headmaster, may you never tire of trumpeting inclusion. I will always be behind you as you invite us all to remember that we count because we are all relevant.” In an age of often conflicting and confusing messages, students crave to be relevant and included. Where inclusion thrives, bullying and disrespect have no room. With alumni, parents, and friends supporting our educational endeavors, we on the Circle are well positioned to build upon and enhance what Vuyelwa and I have enjoyed after only one year: the Groton embrace—a tradition that spans 130 years of inclusion.

Temba Maqubela Headmaster

Editorial Offices The Schoolhouse Groton School Groton, MA 01450 978 - 448 -7506 quarterly@groton.org Other School Offices Alumni Office: 978 - 448 -7520 Admission Office: 978 - 448 -7510

Groton School publishes the Groton School Quarterly three times a year, in late summer, winter, and spring, and the Annual Report once a year, in the fall.

He answered questions for the Quarterly: With your many leadership positions in the nonprofit world, why choose to lead Groton? Groton School has been an important part of the lives of all the members of our family. I am grateful for the impact the School has had on generations of Grotonians and, in particular, on my sons. The education that

Board of Trustees President Jonathan Klein P’08, ’11, ’18

Board Elects New President

he Board of Trustees formally changed leadership on July 1, when Jonathan Klein P’08, ’11, ’18 took the reins from James “Jamie” Higgins III P’02, ’06, who served as board president for nine years. The board unanimously elected Jonathan as president during its April 2014 meeting. Jonathan and his wife, Debbie, are parents of three sons — all Grotonians — Alex ’08, Adam ’11, and Max ’18. Jonathan is cofounder and CEO of the digital media company Getty Images; known as an innovator, he helped build Getty Images into a multi-billion-dollar global media and technology business. Jamie will serve on the board for another year to ensure a smooth transition. “Jamie has ably shepherded the School through an innovative strategic plan, a massive economic downturn, the hiring and on-boarding of a new headmaster, and a variety of

other challenges,” Jonathan said. “I hope to follow his model of collaboration and continue his open-mindedness to new ideas and healthy debate.” Jonathan has served on Groton’s board since 2006, most recently as vice president, and also serves on the boards of the Committee to Protect Journalists, Grassroot Soccer, Etsy, Squarespace, and Getty Investments; he chairs Friends of the Global Fight Against AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria. Among numerous business accolades, Jonathan has been included in Fast Company’s “Fast 50” and ranked number one in American Photo’s “100 Most Important People in Photography.” Born in Johannesburg, Jonathan spent many years in England and now lives in New York City. He received a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in law from the University of Cambridge.

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tunities in the years ahead, yet also needs to evolve to meet the changing environment for education, private education, and boarding schools. We need to impart different skills than we did in the past, yet with a clear and unyielding commitment to the core values of our great institution. We need to be sure that Groton School in the 21st century remains relevant, that it focuses on excellence, provides an “open Circle,”

Without innovation, we do not stand still, we actually move backwards as others will be innovating around us. they have received will serve them well, and the values that the School has helped instill in them will have a lifelong influence. Personally, my eight years on the board have been inspiring, educational, and extremely fulfilling. When I was asked to lead the smartest, most committed, and most ethical group of people that I have come across, it was both an obligation and an opportunity that I could not refuse. The icing on the cake is the opportunity to work with our new headmaster, Temba Maqubela, as I have every confidence that he will lead the School into the next era with tremendous wisdom, character, and intellect. Considering Groton’s very strong position (12 percent admittance rate, accomplished students, engaged alumni, dedicated faculty, healthy endowment, etc.), what areas do you think need the most attention or improvement in the years ahead? Groton faces many oppor-

where all are welcome regardless of origin, and that it truly combines the best traditions of the School with the demands of a modern and connected world. We face all these opportunities in a position that could not be stronger, with record levels of applicants, the best faculty in the land, impressive physical facilities, and our students moving on to college and the active work of life very well prepared. We have the perfect foundation on which to build, yet need to be open to change. What most excites you about Groton today? We must never lose sight of the fact that our mission is simple, direct, and unchanged — it is about preparing our students. As Temba constantly reminds everyone, “It is about the kids!” Everything we do is in service to the students who are entrusted to our care and education during those tricky yet exciting adolescent years. In order to fulfill this overriding objective, we have a stellar faculty and, like the students,

GWN Upcoming Events H Boston November 20 Museum of Fine Arts tour January 2015 (TBD) Networking event April 2015 (TBD) Cooking class

H New York City October 14 Networking Kickoff event November 11 Law & Finance networking February 3 Digital, Media & Entertainment networking March 3 Non-profit/Education/Service networking April 21 Year-end networking event

H Los Angeles December 2015 (TBD) Coed social event

H San Francisco December 13 Glide Memorial service event April 21 Networking event

H Washington, DC October 8 Networking event

“It’s like realizing you have this enormous, talented family you never knew you had.”

backgrounds — Holly is a groundbreaking filmmaking and social-movement pioneer. She started Girl Rising, a campaign for girls education that has gone global,” Christy says. “Her area of expertise is activating networks, while I have the corporate perspective. Holly’s perspective will be valuable in extending and activating the network that we have seeded in the past year. That’s why I think this is going to get much bigger.” Holly agrees about GWN’s power. Through it, she connected with a current student’s mother about working together in Africa. “This would never have happened without the GWN,” she says. “It’s like realizing you have this enormous, talented family you never knew you had.” Bess Chapman ’07 decided to attend a New York reception when she was considering a job move. “GWN got me my new job!” she now says. It was a domino effect, with Groton tumbling the first domino: Christy helped connect Bess with a recruiter, which led to an interview at a company that wasn’t hiring. But that interviewer connected Bess with someone who was hiring at JetBlue, and she landed a job with the airline. Millicent Scott, who now works at CBS Interactive, says frustration with a job hunt sparked her interest in the GWN. “I had been to multiple networking panels hosted by Groton in the past, but the intimacy of the GWN networking forums was unexpected. I immediately started meaningful conversations that led to referrals,” she says. “It was completely unexpected — and greatly appreciated — that becoming an active member of the GWN would so literally translate into a new role at a company that was at the top of my search list.” The GWN started in 2000 as the Groton Coeducation Steering Committee, and was focused on celebrating 25 years of coeducation at Groton. (This year marks the 40th anniversary.) The group became the GWN in 2003; today there are GWN committees in New York, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Washington, DC. The first career networking panel in New York featured Karen A. McLoughlin ‘82, the CFO of Cognizant Technology Solutions, and Whitney A. (Kaiser) Chatterjee ‘93, a partner at the law firm of Sullivan and Cromwell. The success of that event inspired similar events in other cities. Robin Jenkins ’86 can attest to changes in the GWN; she came back a year ago, after first attending an event in the ’90s. “I discovered since joining again that I enjoyed the makeup of the group,” she says. “It was much more diverse, not just by race and by

income, but by the types of work people had done.” Robin finds GWN events an easy place to both network and socialize. “I went for career reasons, but really enjoyed connecting with this group,” says Robin, who has participated in a GWN panel on the transition from nonprofit to for-profit work. Through planning New York events, Christy came to understand which events attracted attention — and attendance. “Through trial and error, I discovered that the events that resonated the most were the events that highlighted the accomplishments of alumni,” Christy says. “When we highlighted the work of alumni, our turnout was higher and more enthusiastic, so I started thinking about how we could highlight the amazing accomplishments of Groton women even better.” While most of the events are geared toward women, some — like the tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s antiquities collection with classics teacher Hugh Sackett and Sean Hemingway ’85, curator of the Met’s Department of Greek and Roman Art — are coed. And events are not only for alumni: parents and former parents are welcome too. Renee E. Ring, mother of Rebecca Zofnass ’05, hosted a New York event—the panel discussion on nonprofits — at her home. She had attended events at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Morgan Library and was hooked. “The first activities were so much fun — how could you not want to join this group?” she asks. Renee has made connections that helped her own career, and also has counseled a young alumna who had concerns about balancing her career with motherhood. “She didn’t have other role models to speak to about it, in terms of saying, of course you can do this and your child will be normal,” Renee says. The GWN plans many events with a social or service focus; you don’t have to be building a career to find it meaningful, or enjoyable. But the focus on career-building is a primary draw, and, with Christy’s leadership, will continue to be. Young alumni like Bree Taylor ’05, a producer at Bloomberg TV, are appreciative. “It’s great to sound ideas off of someone with common interests and the shared experience that is Groton,” she says. “I feel like women who go to GWN events really want to help each other.”

Check www.groton.org/alumni/womens_network for updates and more information.

www.groton.org

Paintings by Beth Van Gelder, inspired by the Balinese

Photos by Beth Van Gelder

before Beth visited Bali, starting a round-the-world « It took four years journey there. But she was not simply traveling; she was searching. dance, gamelan music, shadow puppet plays, mask carving, and cooking. Whenever Beth is in Bali, “the creative juices just start flowing.” On a typical visit, she stays in a thatched roof bungalow, walks in rice fields before breakfast, and paints until early afternoon. Though paintings—many inspired by her travels—cover her walls, Beth didn’t always consider herself a painter. Early in her career, she was dedicated to ceramics. “I switched to painting because I always loved to travel, and it’s really hard to do ceramics when you’re traveling,” she says. For Beth, traveling without creating art was not an option. At Groton, Beth teaches painting, visual studies, pop art (Art of Contemporary Culture), and ceramics. This year, she will resurrect Art

without Boundaries, a course that studies the interdisciplinary nature of the creative process. “This is a good course for art students who want to go beyond skill-based art and also for students who think they’re not artists,” she says. “It gives people the ability to see art in everything, to see beauty in everything, to translate their ideas into something visual.” She remembers one student, years ago, who was convinced he was not creative but sewed a jacket of leaves so beautiful that Beth held onto it for years, finally relenting to the requests of a friend who collects tribal jackets. Students who walk into Visual Studies and announce they’re not creative frustrate Beth, as do students who are bottled up by perfectionism. Beth stays in touch with many of her students, especially a group of

1997 graduates who called themselves the Vanny G Art Society— Guillermo Barnetche, Peter Niles, Abbie Stubbs Burke, Nicholas “Nico” Landrigan, and Pia Bayot. What makes her day is reading student evaluations from students who discovered their inner artist, who were surprised to learn they could paint, draw, sculpt, express. “They say they discovered something in themselves they didn’t know existed,” she says. Beth, who has taught at Groton for 36 years, believes every single person is an artist—whether they know it or not. “There isn’t a child who doesn’t draw instinctively. Cave art was about drawing and making marks,” she says. “To me it’s a human instinct.” — Gail Friedman

www.groton.org

Below, Rick Balzer disassembles the clock movement; at right, a drawing of the “roundtop” model purchased by Groton, from E. Howard’s catalog, circa 1920.

THE NEED for a major overhaul became appar-

ent during a routine paint job a few years ago. “During exterior paintings on the Schoolhouse clock tower in the 1990s and 2000s, many areas of rotted wood were discovered and repaired,” says Director of Buildings and Grounds Tim Dumont. But during the recent painting, workers noted damage too extreme for a Band-Aid, and planning began for the current renovation. “It will ensure that this icon will continue to be seen atop the Schoolhouse,” Dumont says.

I. THE CLOCK The clock’s movement, weights, and pulleys will be installed on the second floor of the Schoolhouse, where they will be on display so students can understand how the clock operates.

The clock’s face—currently just an empty black circle—seems stark and a bit puzzled without its gold-leaf numbers. At the turn of the 20th century, the two leading U.S. companies that made these hardy mechanical timepieces were Seth Thomas and E. Howard. The latter built Groton’s clock. Balzer Family Clock Works in Freeport, Maine, is restoring the Groton clock and all its weights, pulleys, and other components, as well as the numerals and markings on the clock’s face. The company restored a similar clock for City Hall in Portland, Maine, says Linda Balzer, the company president. Many of these clocks have been scrapped over the years, but not because they failed. “They’re built to last, and when you need to have some work done on them, there’s something to work with,” Balzer says. “They’re always restorable. There is at least one that was built in the 1300s that is still running.” Balzer Family Clock Works will clean and remove rust from plates, shafts, and gears inside the clock, and will clean, prime, paint, and gild the numerals and hands of the face. After the restoration, the clock will have automatic winding mechanisms or the option to wind manually; up until now, it was only manually wound (often by shop teacher Doug Brown or Spanish teacher Andy Anderson). “It’s a lot of cranking,” Balzer says. “It takes some strength and it takes a lot of time to wind it up.” In addition to being ready for another century, the historic clock will become an educational tool. The clock’s movement, weights, and pulleys will be installed on the second floor of the Schoolhouse, where they will be on display so students can understand how the clock operates.

III. THE TOWER

With wear-and-tear and weather-worn woodwork, the clock tower was due for a facelift.

Finally, right on campus, workers have been repairing and restoring the tower itself, removing the gilded copper and all of the millwork. Much of the original pine is being replaced with mahogany, says Robert Fulmer of Fulmer Associates, which is managing the complete tower renovation. Fulmer explains that in the late 1800s, the pine used was first-growth pine, which is much denser and durable than most pine available today. While historic preservation is paramount, there are some nods to technological advances. For example, paint will receive a HydroChrome coating, which makes it last longer, and the column capitals, molding around the clock’s face, and possibly some leaf details will be made from composites. “These details were originally cast in architectural plaster, which was the composite material of the era,” Fulmer says, explaining that composite lasts longer than carved wood on ornate details. “Carving exposes large areas of end-grain in the wood, which is highly absorptive.” The second reason is cost: the egg-and-dart molding costs $5,000 in composite versus $20,000 in mahogany. But only these few—very few—of the tower’s ornate details will be made from composite. Everywhere else the new tower will be like the original—crafted of durable wood. “One of the reasons we’re not using many of the new products is that wood has lasted so well,” Dumont says. Indeed, despite these extensive repairs on woodwork, clock, and bell, Groton’s clock tower has remained in remarkable shape, standing strong since 1899. “Most of the damage is superficial,” says Fulmer. “There are not many things in the construction world that have 100- or 110-year service lives.”

Cui Servire Est Regnare Award

Holly Green Gordon ’89 The Cui Servire Est Regnare Award recipient, Holly Green Gordon ’89, founded the social action campaign Girl Rising, which is dedicated to confronting the barriers to education faced by girls around the world. She is executive producer of Girl Rising, a critically acclaimed film that tells the stories of nine girls in nine developing countries who got an education against all odds. The New York Times called it “one of the hottest cause

documentaries in years.” Girl Rising offers any community — large or small, urban or rural, rich or poor — a film screening, in effect democratizing film distribution to create a movement. A portion of the proceeds from ticket sales, donations, and corporate grants goes through the Girl Rising Fund to nonprofits that are chosen because they can make an immediate, on-theground impact. Prior to launching Girl Rising,

Holly Green Gordon ’89 with Headmaster Temba Maqubela

Holly was director of content for the Tribeca Film Festival and a producer for ABC News. She now focuses on the effect educated girls can have on societies. Her movement’s tagline sums it up: “Educate Girls, Change the World.” Holly’s efforts are making a

difference, and they have been noticed: Fast Company named Holly among its League of Extraordinary Women in 2012 and Newsweek/Daily Beast included her as one of 125 Women of Impact in 2012.

Holly Green Gordon ’89 accepted the award with these remarks:

et me start by saying that, as you

just heard, Girl Rising has brought me a handful of accolades, but none so special as this one. I’m thrilled and honored to be with you today. In walking around the Circle today and watching Groton students come and go, making their way from the Dining Hall after a delicious breakfast, scurrying to their classrooms for their Saturday classes, there is no way to avoid thinking about privilege. It is all around us. From the gold-topped dome on the Schoolhouse, to the beautifully manicured lawns, to the—how many? —and I only mention this because I’m envious, seven indoor tennis courts? So it might surprise outsiders to understand that, at least for me, Groton was always a place where I spent less time thinking about the creature comforts of privilege, but rather, a place where I was always deeply aware and constantly reminded of the privilege of education. We were reminded again and again—in Chapel, in the classroom, at the 54

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Headmaster’s House—that our education was an investment in us. That we were special. That our education was as much a privilege as an obligation—to use the skills we were learning at Groton to leave the world a better place than we found it. That to be a Grotonian meant that you were being equipped—mindfully—to lead and to serve. I came to Girl Rising as a journalist—astounded by the data that showed, unequivocally, that when you educate girls in a community, everything gets better for everyone. I became obsessed with creating a campaign that would bring this story—these hard facts—to communities all around the world, because I was convinced, if more people knew how important girls’ education was to fixing the biggest challenges of our time, more people would do it. It was an ambitious vision. It was my Groton education that gave me the confidence to believe that I was up to the task of leading a movement. It was the hours of studying for

Fall 2014

“Palmer” tests; the nights writing—and re-writing—English papers for Jack Smith and French essays for Mme. Myers; the weekends in the library muddling through logic the year Mr. Gula was sick. The knowledge that there were always people in my class who were smarter than me—so I had better work harder if I wanted to compete. In fact, my Groton education was the framework for everything that has come after. Groton was where I learned to write, to question, to persuade, to listen, to strive for the impossible (which for me was passing physics), and to work and work and work some more. Groton is where I learned the true value—and precious worth—of an education. I am so grateful to the School for preparing me so well for challenges I could never have expected. And I am so honored to accept this award for work that springs from a fundamental truth— with the privilege of education comes a responsibility to fight for the privilege of education for all.

Distinguished Grotonian

David Campion Acheson ’39 Since 1977, Groton School has presented the Distinguished Grotonian Award to a graduate whose life of highly distinguished service reflects the essential values of the School.

The 2014 Distinguished Grotonian, David Campion Acheson ’39, embodies the Groton School motto, Cui Servire Est Regnare, for he spent the majority of the past 75 years, since his graduation from Groton, in service to our country and to the world. After Groton, David entered Yale. Believing a war was imminent, he joined the Naval ROTC and became president of the Yale Political Union. He also spent a summer working for the National Defense Mediation Board, created by President Roosevelt (1900) to mediate strikes in defense-related industries. In December 1942, David was commissioned to serve four years

in the U.S. Navy; for his bravery in World War II, he received the Campaign Ribbon for Pacific and Philippine Theaters and four battle stars. Upon leaving the Navy, David attended Harvard Law School, then worked at the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission, attracted by its mission to “harness wartime technology to produce electric power and radioactive isotopes for medical research.”1 After the Soviet Union exploded an experimental nuclear device, signaling the beginning of the arms race, the commission began building bombs for the Pentagon, and David soon left for Covington & Burling, a prominent Washington

law firm. David also was elected to the Democratic Central Committee of the District of Columbia, and in 1961 took a leave from the law firm to campaign for John F. Kennedy. President Kennedy appointed David U. S. Attorney for the District of Columbia. David later joined the newly created Communications Satellite Corporation, established to pursue commercial exploitation of space technology. In 1986, President Reagan appointed him to the Presidential Commission on the Space Shuttle Challenger Accident. He co-authored “A More Effective Civil Space Policy” for the Center for Strategic & International Studies and later worked for the Institute for Technology & Strategic Research at George Washington University. David served on several boards, including those of the

Committee on the Present Danger (an American anti-terrorism, foreign policy interest group), the Washington Cathedral, the International Economic Studies Institute, and the Smithsonian Institution, and he was board president for the Atlantic Council, a nonpartisan think tank on international affairs. The 2014 Distinguished Grotonian has written several books, including Effective Washington Representation, Affection & Trust: The Personal Correspondence of Harry S. Truman and Dean Acheson, and a memoir, Acheson Country. 1

From the interview with David Acheson conducted by Charles Stuart Kennedy in May 2008 for the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training Foreign Affairs Oral History Project

David C. Acheson could not attend the ceremony but sent the following acceptance, which Ann Bakewell Woodward ’86 read:

ou can well imagine my humil-

ity in accepting the Distinguished Grotonian Award, as my memory casts back to Franklin Roosevelt, Sumner Welles, Dean Acheson, and Averell Harriman, whose public service achievements comprise a standard that I can admire, but hardly satisfy. But I am struck by the fact that our nation, when Groton was founded, had major similarities to today’s, particularly in that 1884 was a time of headlong and pretty rough capital formation, characterized by a few immense fortunes, guided by a very weak social ethos. We are seeing that again today, and seeing with it ethical commitments by the

owners of great fortunes that are, with a few notable exceptions, way below the scale of their accumulation of wealth. The Rector, usually once or twice a year, gave a Chapel sermon about the abuses of that earlier age of capital formation. Some of us were amused by the notion that we were being asked, when we controlled a great bank or railroad, to act with a more sensitive social conscience. But after World War II, many of us chose to work in government for a time, to act on the admonitions that we had heard from the Rector some years earlier. Somehow, our teenage brains had not filtered all these admonitions out.

In just a few years past, the power and willfulness of the financial community have reminded us of the rough early years of capital formation and the cynical attitudes of business leaders at the dawn of Groton’s history. The Rector’s life span and my own connect the two periods, and the mission of Groton, to turn out men and women who wish to improve their political and social environment, has deep historical roots going back to the time of Endicott Peabody and George Rublee. I see, in this award, a laudable effort to keep this tradition alive.

www.groton.org

Form of 2004

Form of 2009

Front row: Lizzie Walsh, John Grenier, Jack Lysohir, Crosby Cook, Max Carter, Naa-Sakle Akuete, Dinah Walker, Louise Denny, Christina Razook, Millicent Scott, Clelia Zacharias, Binny and Benjamin Rubeor, TJ and Colleen Rodigas

Front row: Seppi Colloredo-Mansfeld, Alistair Cummings, Lizz Kachavos, Inan Barrett, Alex Morss, Casey Conway, Ali Maykranz, Liliana Urrutia, Katie Nichols, Peter Taylor, Christie Colley, Evans Grenier, Nick Seidler, David Wilmerding, Thomas Raymen

Second row: Theo May, Ryan O’Hara, Martin McWilliams, Abbott Widdicombe, Marvin Klein, Chester Hall, Dan Van Der Muelen, Adrian Smith, Dan Perkins, Jeff Postera, Will Allen, Mike Snyder, Henna Garrison, Juliet Lu, Devin McGuire, Vicky Hayne

Second row: Ud Okorafor, Kyle Goodwin, Henry Hoffstot, Aaron Primero, Billy Larkin Back row: Nick Hennrikus, Ames Lyman, Lorcan McGonigle, Adam Reeve, Lily Hoch, Kerri McKie, Nancy Chou, Madeleine Kemble, Joelle Julien, Sarah Norodom, Cynthia Liu, Haley Willis, Danielle Rainer

Back row: Adaner Usmani, Julia Sinnott, Tess Russell, Laurence Nepveu-Goulet, Sam Anderson, Charlie Hunter, John Murphy

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A C H A P E L TA L K

by Natalia R. Horvath ’14 May 9, 2014

Willfully Content It was love at first sight. One dark and stormy Wednesday afternoon, we went out for our last biking adventure of the fall, despite severe weather alerts, and I ended up soaked, covered in mud, and with one scraped and bloody leg. Apparently Jake was into this look because at the end of day he asked for my number. After writing it down on a gum wrapper he had found in his babysitter’s car, I went home and started picking out a very fashion-forward outfit for the date I knew would be happening soon. He never called. After a week of yelling at my family to get off the phone because he might call any minute, I realized it was hopeless and cried for an hour, convinced my life was over and wondering what I’d done to deserve

Groton in Kenya; Talia is third from the right

www.groton.org

voces

eventh grade was the year I fell in love. It was also probably my most awkward year to this day, but that didn’t stop me from following the obvious trend of boys and clothes and how idiotic boys were and gossip and “oh my god, that boy is so cute.” Seventh grade was also when I became obsessed with mountain biking, convinced myself I was bound for the X Games life, and convinced my parents to sign me up for a biking group that met every Wednesday at 4 p.m. The group consisted of eight middle-school boys and myself. As cool as I was in seventh grade and despite the obvious charm of these preteen boys, only one of them bothered to talk to me. His name was Jake; he had spiky hair and an earring in his left ear.

voces

this horrible fate. I was 12, heartbroken, and I didn’t even question the idea that my happiness was controlled by the number of misfortunes that occurred in my life. This is a very normal approach to have when you’re in seventh grade, especially when there are so many things that can go wrong. Times were rough; I never got the boy, I was the weird kid who’d been home-schooled her whole life up until then, my two older siblings had left me for boarding school, my mom wouldn’t let me wear makeup, I had a terrible haircut, the list goes on. Now, I’m sure many middle-schoolers experience this, and it’s completely normal, but I was much more selfish than your average 12-year-old. I spent way too much time worrying about everything and being sad when things didn’t go my way. I told myself that I was a good person and therefore my life would be good—and at the time that made perfect sense. I was obsessed with this idea of fairness, this notion that being “good” meant I would be happy. I took this selfishness and self-obsession with me when I came to Groton in Second Form. Maybe I just didn’t know who I was, maybe I was caught up in the craziness around me and didn’t take the time to figure out my own problems, but maybe it was something larger. All I know is that I became so wrapped up in my own life that I stopped hearing the stories of the people around me. I convinced myself that this life of mine was the most important and therefore it must be perfect. I told myself that I was better than my classmates and that I deserved to be happy, to have the most of everything. I’d like to say that I had a moment of revelation and that I’m no longer selfish or whiny or ungrateful. But in all truth, there was no single moment, and I am not a vastly better person than I used to be. But at least now I know there was something wrong with the person I used to be, whoever that was. I know you’ve all heard the classic talk about finding yourself, or even better, finding yourself on a global education trip. And I don’t want to bore you with repetition, but honestly the only moments that come close to ones of revelation did happen on a trip to Kenya the summer after Third Form. I’m not really sure exactly what I was expecting, but I 62

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Mike Sperling

“ I was obsessed with this idea of fairness, this notion that being ‘good’ meant I would be happy.”

Top, Talia in Hairspray, second from left; bottom, exiting the Chapel on Prize Day with Chris Higginson

was definitely not prepared for the simplicity of the tiny Masaai village we stayed in or the lack of cold beverages. And I don’t remember everything about the trip; much of it is a hazy mixture of red dust, a dry landscape, and a whole lot of goats; but I do remember two moments very clearly. The first was when our group joined the village in its tiny one-room church on a hot Sunday morning. We sat down for the service, very much out of our element, while the children around us stared—the shy ones from a distance and the braver ones coming up close to touch our hands and speak a steady stream of things I did not understand in the slightest. I don’t remember how the service went either, but what moved me most was the music. I have no idea what words they sang because the language was completely alien to me, but I remember the feeling of the music. I remember sitting in my plastic lawn chair, feet on the bare ground, sweating under the thatched roof with tears streaming down my face because of the sheer beauty of it all—the swaying bodies and voices blending together like nothing I’d ever heard before. Their singing wasn’t the best I’ve ever heard, but it was the most alive. These

people who lived their days with so much less than any of us, were happy, far happier than anyone else I’ve ever met. And they weren’t afraid to show it. In that moment I cried because I saw the raw vitality in their faith or spirituality or whatever you want to call it, and they seemed far better off than you or me, simply because they chose to be grateful, to be happy. The second moment occurred not long after. It was either that same night or a few nights later that we sat out in a circle in the middle of our quiet compound, surrounded by tents and a lion-proof wire fence. We were playing some questionably appropriate versions of wouldyou-rather and never-have-I-ever and the only question I really remember is, “Would you rather eat a piece of wood or a magnet?,” which seemed to be the favorite of the night. For the record, I’d rather eat wood. But I also remember looking up at the stars. Years later I still write in my journal about this moment. I’m going to read a quote, and it’s kind of long so just bear with me: “When you’re in the mountains in Kenya, you gaze up at the night sky and everything you once knew or thought you knew disappears, drowned out by the feeling of the galaxy around you. You aren’t looking at a vast expanse of space and time; you’re in that vast expanse of space and time. You get lost in the sky because it is so big and so full, but it’s not a sky anymore because a sky has limits. This thing you’re in has no limits. It is boundless. The stars, monumental burning beings, are eternities away but seem close enough to reach out and touch. You don’t feel happy. You don’t feel free. You don’t feel anything at all because the terribleness and greatness of the moment wipe away each and every sense. In theory you should not exist because, when placed side-by-side with the rest of the universe, you are quite simply reduced to nothing. Instead, you are part of everything all at once, part of the stars and the orbits and the infinite amount of emptiness. Looking up at that sky was like being told I did not exist and that everything I had done in my life thus far was irrelevant. It wasn’t until I tipped my head back that night that I realized what infinity meant. The universe expands forever. It never ends. There is never a point where we reach the edge and say, “time to head back now.” Can you even wrap your mind around this? I couldn’t. I still can’t really. On that summer night in Kenya, gazing upwards, everything I had ever done and every thought I’d ever had was stolen away by the immensity of billions and billions of stars, the endlessness of space. And once I returned from that moment something had awoken, or died, inside of me. Some awareness of reality or a lack of reality.” To me it wasn’t so much about a realization of the insignificance of life as it was about what’s supposed to happen after this realization. This trip taught me far more than I care to admit, and most of it after the fact. It took me a solid two years to really grasp what I saw during those three weeks. It was

the people that did it. They taught me that it’s not about what you have in your life; it’s about what you make of it. I know this is a cliché, and I’m sure you’ve all heard it before. But I’m standing up here, expected to tell a story, and this is my story. For a girl who was selfish and thought the world revolved around her, that trip to Kenya was pretty much a life-changer. I learned how to sand a bench, how to pretend to be teaching nine-year-old children when really they’re teaching you because they’re actually way smarter than you are, how to pee in a bush on the African savannah, and how to sleep in an open cabin above a river, listening to the jaguars and monkeys wage war on the banks below. But most importantly, I learned that your life isn’t good because you have things, your life is good because you understand how much it means to be able to be happy simply because you will it to be that way, even if everything around you says differently. Kenya was a long time ago. Now all I really have left are a few memories and a journal full of the words “ice cream,” “a real shower,” and “Tyson Ritter,” because those were the three things I missed the most during the trip. For those of you who don’t know, Tyson Ritter is the lead singer of the All-American Rejects and back in Third Form I honestly thought we were soulmates. But I’m a different person than I was back then. When I think back to myself before eighth or ninth grade, I feel like I’m looking at the story of someone else; it isn’t me anymore. And this change I found along the way? I still feel it every day. I felt it between two nameless mountains in Kenya, among people I would never see again. And I feel it now—when I think of you all sitting in front of me, when I think of my family and friends outside these walls, and especially when I think of my mother, who was diagnosed with breast cancer last year for the third time in her life and yet still manages to be the most humble person I’ve ever known. She has taught me things I can’t even put into words, and I owe her more than I can say. And finally, I’m terrified to leave this place. The people in this world have taught me that we decide our own happiness, our own peace of mind, but Groton is safe because it’s so easy to let the minute and insignificant things around us control our emotions. We don’t have to pave our own way. Beyond this campus, there are infinitely more things that can go wrong, to me and to the people I love. But I stopped believing in fate a long time ago because it made me doubt myself, doubt the existence of God, and doubt the ability of the world to do what I asked of it. For to believe in fate is to say you are no longer in command of your own story. Yes, I’m scared, and yes, I’ll probably be scared forever. But that’s life, isn’t it? Doing things even if you’re scared. Above all I’ve learned that the world and the people in it are supposed to change you, but they’re not supposed to decide your fate, your happiness. Ultimately, that choice is up to you.

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A C h a p e l Ta l k

by Stephen M. Strachan ’72 April 25, 2014

An Explorationist’s

Perspective

voces

ood morning, everyone. I would like to say thank you for coming and giving me a few moments to speak with you, but I realize, too, that most of you did not have a choice in the matter, and that this is just a brief interlude before the trials and tribulations of the day kick in for you. I remember that all too well. You see, I was a member of the last First Form, and in those six years, I sat through more than 1,680 Chapel services. So I appreciate your circumstances and your indulgence. Well, maybe not the full 1,680 services. I actually had an excuse not to go to the last two months of Chapel my Sixth Form year: when it was discovered that several of us adventurous seniors were enjoying a Jerry Garcia and the New Riders of the Purple Sage concert in Boston, we were unceremoniously asked to leave. So, in honor of the 42nd anniversary of this sojourn, today I have worn my favorite Jerry Garcia tie. I must say, it is quite the pleasure to be staying at the Headmaster’s House rather than being heaved out the front door, slightly airborne, by Paul Wright at three in the morning. I think my ejection from the Headmaster’s House was perhaps a little more forceful than others, as I have had a longer history with Groton than most. One might assume that under the most awesome tutelage and mentorship of my babysitter, Mr. Doug Brown, in 1960, I would have had the forever valid “get out of jail card.” But it goes back even earlier than that. My grandfather, Richard E. Danielson, taught English here from 1904-1910; my father, the Reverend Malcolm Strachan, was a master and chaplain here from 1932 until his death at the beginning of the School year in 1960 at the young age of 56. Paul Wright and my father were best friends, and I feel sure there were some mixed emotions on his part as he tested the ability of man to fly on me that morning. 64

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Towards the end of the School year in 1972, it was decided that our intrepid team of music lovers had paid a fair price for our mischief, and we were allowed to graduate. Needless to say, our disagreement over being “off campus without permission” did not last long. While it had no impact on my permanent record here (that gentleman’s C was never altered), I did end up volunteering with the Alumni Association for 25 years, first as form governor, then as a member of the GSAA Standing Committee, followed by serving as vice president then president of the GSAA and ex-officio member of the Board of Trustees. It was during this term on the board, in 1999, that Bill Polk suggested that the new Performing Arts Center, not even on the drawing board, be named after my mother, Marion Danielson Campbell. I agreed, and at the end of my term on the board in 2005, we enjoyed a wonderful

celebration of her life and the dedication of the CPAC. I am very proud of and pleased with the facility and the opportunities it affords all of you to participate in the arts here at Groton. This weekend, I am here for two celebrations as well: the beam signing for the renovation of the Schoolhouse and Temba’s receipt of the 2014 Desmond Tutu Social Justice Award. I am thrilled for Temba and his family and could not be more pleased with this fitting recognition and honor. I am also pleased that the Charles Deering McCormick Library, named for my cousin of the Form of 1934, will be moved to the Schoolhouse, so that the facility will be centrally located and more accessible to everyone. But I am even more pleased that Groton has taken on the concept of STEM and has the dedication to pursue STEM education in the curriculum. Why? Because I am a geologist, so I am slightly biased. My father taught English and Sacred Studies here for 28 years; my mother was president of The Atlantic Monthly for 27 years. My family has specialized in the products of liberal arts: religion, writing, English, foreign languages, history, political science, service to country, philanthropy, and business. I took a slightly different path. I went into science and the business of science. I can probably credit Joe “Boa” Broyles for that introduction through his Third Form biology class, and with it the opportunity to feed his pet boa constrictor hamsters in the lab. What that has to do with rocks (other than the ones in my head) I don’t know, but it did open me up to the natural world and all its wonders. I have worked as a professional geologist for 37 years, specializing in oil and gas exploration and production throughout the United States. It has been a very rewarding career to be an explorationist: looking for the next discovery; working with landowners to protect their land and their rights; working to protect the environment where I operate, and setting the best example for best practices. It has been a great career, some days good and some days bad, but I would not trade it for anything. But the hard work following a dream, a career, or a goal is only half of a story. There is also the story of service to others, and what you do to make the most of your abilities, skill, luck, or success. I believe in supporting education. Even though my gentleman’s C was indicative of only what I could memorize and repeat, it had no bearing on my creativity and originality (which was never graded, except as an “F” in the case of the New Riders concert) and, as a result, I like supporting creativity and originality in others. For me, that is what the Campbell Performing Arts Center does for everyone here at Groton; it provides a space for originality, creativity, and a place to learn lifelong skills of confidence and teamwork, as well as an appreciation for the arts and humanities.

That is what the new STEM addition will do as well: allow those who participate to see and work the Big Picture, to take a wholistic approach to learning (that’s with a W), and combine all facets of education together to achieve experiential learning and insight. It is so important to be able to see the whole when working on a challenge. One does not play a good game of cards when working with only half a deck. It is mind-boggling to me that we, as the human race, feel we can succeed in surviving and maintaining this planet without understanding science and the impact we have on this world every day. To attempt to solve serious environmental issues through politics, editorials, hysteria, or some narrow point of view is dealing with only half a deck, if that. It is imperative that we all commit ourselves to the lifelong passion of learning, keeping an open mind and being willing to evolve. One of the most fun and enlightening experiences for me over the last five years has been working with the Scripps Institution of Oceanography at the University of California, San Diego. I am currently the chair of the Director’s Cabinet, a select group of advisors, well educated and successful, and all passionate about the environment, who work toward expanding the awareness of and support for Scripps’ research, education, and outreach programs. SIO is an 111-year-old research institution with 259 graduate Ph.D. candidates, 101 post-docs, 163 professors, 315 academics and one of the largest research fleets in the world. Research investigations span the realms of sea, air, land, and life in efforts to determine how Earth systems work and interact—all on the cutting edge of research on climate change, ocean acidification, bacterial and viral research, marine biodiversity, and more. A recent example of research and action is the discovery of the first new antibiotic in more than 20 years. Called anthracimycin, it is effective in controlling anthrax and staphylococcus aureus, otherwise known as MRSA, and it was derived from bacteria living in the coastal mud offshore from Santa Barbara. New medicines, cancer drugs, and even several cancer cures have been derived from their oceanographic research. Scripps scientists are conducting incredible ground- and ocean-breaking research every day. Or you may have studied the Keeling Curve: Charles David Keeling began monitoring atmospheric CO2 concentrations in 1958 in Hawaii, creating what is now the longest continual record of atmospheric measurements today, 56 years later. This month will be the first full month that CO2 concentrations have stayed over 400 parts per million, having first broken the 400-ppm mark on May 9, 2013. I could go on for hours about the current research at SIO, but I will restrain myself given my limited time with you today. It is data collection and good scientific research that

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A C h a p e l Ta l k

by Jessie B. Ewald ’14 May 2, 2014

My Life

in Post-It Notes

ack in those days when bedtime was at 8:15, when reading a book would take me 10 times longer than it does now, and when I shared a room with my twin sister, Addie, with whom I wore matching pajamas every single day, my dad read us a bedtime story every night before bed. We got through some fantastic bedtime classics, including Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, and A Series of Unfortunate Events. We would get lost in these stories, letting our imaginations run wild, which was especially easy because my dad used a distinct accent for each character. Until the chapter ended, followed by those dreaded words, repeated every night in the exact same way, in the same tone, with the same inflections, which would ring in my ears, slowly fading until I finally fell asleep: “and that . . . is a good place to stop.” Addie and I would pester our dad to read on: “Daddd, that’s a TERRIBLE place to stop! We’re on a cliffhanger! That’s not even the end of a sentence!” Sometimes I went to bed in a bad mood, wondering desperately what would happen next in the story. Of course, I could have just picked up the book and read the entire thing myself, which I’m pretty sure my sister Ross did all the time—and still does whenever she reads any book—but I couldn’t. I loved the time the three of us shared listening to stories and talking about the most fundamental literary devices and elements of grammar. I loved the accents and Addie’s sassy side commentary and the points in the chapter where my dad would stray from the text and just start making stuff up, with a completely serious face, just so he could make us laugh when we finally figured it out. There was also some sort of satisfaction in letting someone you love do something for you that makes it mean more than what it really is. And in my semi-mindless commitment to the spoken story, I felt comfortable. But this really highlights my dependency as a child.

Looking back, I have led a remarkably reliant life. Of course, I could have done everything on my own, but I had everything going for me: two parents whom I trust completely, three sisters whom I idolize, and the support of every institution I have attended. So how could I take matters into my own hands? How could I trust myself to do anything? I did exactly what I had to do, and no more. I did what was expected of me. I’m definitely talking about my parents here, but I think the most revealing example of this is something I do to my twin sister all the time. Some of you may have experienced this, especially if you were here on the first day of Third Form. Whenever we meet someone new and they ask a question meant for both of us, I let the question sit, for much longer than a normal person would in conversation, then look over kind of expectantly at Addie, like, “Do you want to take this one?” It’s extremely annoying. Sorry about that. I think my sisters had a somewhat similar mindset; along with that came an inability to refute someone with higher authority, or really to proclaim that anyone else was wrong. My favorite story about this is from when my family was living in London, and Addie had a teacher of whom she was terrified—so scared, in fact, that she once ironed her homework because it had gotten wrinkled. But that’s a separate story. At this time, Addie was in geography class, and the teacher asked, “Where’s a place that’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter?” Having just come back from our annual family road trip to Cody, Wyoming, Addie raised her hand and responded, “Wyoming!” The teacher gave her a quizzical look, asked her to point it out on a map, and when seven-year-old Addie couldn’t say anything about it other than that it is in America and it has horses, the teacher said, “Wyoming isn’t a place.” Ah. The ignorance of the British. Despite, or quite possibly because of, my inability to

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voces

take control over my own life, I filled my schedule with everything I could possibly do: plays, singing groups, sports, things like that. Addie did them as well, and they never set me apart from her in any way, seeing as we were not (and still aren’t) competitive. Right, Addie? There was so little going on under the surface of my existence that it was only logical to cover the surface with as many activities as possible, participating in the outside world rather than in my own head and depth. There was nothing to distract me, so I committed myself fully to everything I did. Not because I wanted to, but because it was what was expected of me. But middle school for me wasn’t really about standing on my own two feet. Looking back, I don’t really think that it was about anything at all. It was an impressionable time in my life, when I picked up on both everything and nothing. I felt like I was waiting: to grow up, maybe, or possibly to have that revelation which I felt I had been promised. The one where I would just figure it all out. In the spring of my Third Form year, April 15, 2011, to be exact, a Sixth Former gave a Chapel Talk. I really didn’t know this person at all, but I remember her Chapel Talk more vividly than any other. She had a memorable start, which probably makes the top 10 most remembered first sentences of my four years of Groton Chapel Talks: the sentence, “I. love. dinner!” She continued with a somewhat more forgettable trivial content that, by chance, changed my life and the way I think about myself. She

stood where I stand now and read letters that she had written to herself: one when she was in kindergarten, one a few years after that, and one in Third Form. There was very little meaning in them; they were just the simple thoughts and hopes of a young girl giving advice to her older self. But I found something beautiful and compelling in the thought of writing, as the person you are now, to the person you will be in a few months or years. It made me think; it made me wonder. So that Sunday I wrote to myself. It was a six-page letter, filled with the most superficial things I could have thought of. I would read you the whole thing but I would be wasting your time. So, instead, I will give you a few snippets of my Third Form wisdom:

1) Spring makes everyone preppier.

2) Every Sunday I eat fro-yo for breakfast.

3) I think I will room with Cayley and Chelsea next year. It will probably be a nightmare.

Needless to say, that room did not happen because it would have been a disaster. I think we can all agree that we don’t want to hear the rest of this. It was six pages of rambling with no clear structure. I never finished the letter, which turned out to be one of the best things I’ve done; on that Sunday morning, I ran out of time and had to go to Chapel. So I put it in an unsealed envelope as I left. I tried to finish it

Mike Sperling

Jessie Ewald and Hayes Cooper, on Prize Day

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Fall 2014

“ There’s nothing you can gain from rereading the thoughts of your past. You only emphasize your own past trivial sufferings.”

throughout the year, but found that I couldn’t. I wanted to say everything to myself. So I did— everything that I wanted to say was written on Post-It notes and scraps of lined paper and stuffed in that small yellow envelope. That was all before I knew what I was doing. That was before any of this meant anything to me. But in the spring of Fourth Form, I experienced some sort of strange revelation. It was a violent and unforgiving disillusionment: I realized that I didn’t know myself. I didn’t understand who I was. Even to myself, I was just that kid, the girl who had never gotten a demerit, did everything she was expected to, turned off the dripping shower at the end of the day. I was meaningless in the world—just an inconsequential existence, a person with nothing to add. I turned to myself. But not my present self—my future self. The envelope of scraps filled quickly and eventually I just started filling empty books. I was obsessed with what I would learn from my past self when I reread my journals and letters to myself. I wrote in a stream of consciousness: jumbled, erratic, and illogical. My first entry starts with the date, August 15th, 2012, and nothing after it truly makes sense. I wrote pages upon pages of pure thoughts: sentence fragments, phrases, names of people and places. Don’t let this freak you out, but I think maybe 70 percent of the people here today are mentioned in some way. I wrote every memory and emotion that had been weighing on me for the past few months. It was cleansing and relieving; I knew that I would do it again. And I did almost every day since. The journal became an outlet for my pain, and physically putting pen to paper and writing real words on a page allowed me to let go of the thoughts that had plagued me throughout the process of adolescence. I have never been able to communicate my feelings very well to people, but with this journal I no longer needed to. I just wrote exactly what I was thinking in unedited, unstructured form. I didn’t truly articulate anything; I just expressed pure emotion, letting its weight fall from my shoulders. I wanted to read it before the start of my Sixth Form year—I believed in my past self and what her writing would mean to me. I thought I would learn something necessary for my last year here. So I labeled an old shoebox with “For 6.2.13”—Prize Day of that year—and hid it under my bed, filled with everything I had written.

I woke up early that day. It was light before I was out of bed, around six or seven, and warm enough to go barefoot. It felt ceremonious walking to the Schoolhouse, carrying the heavy white box and watching the sunrise, pink over Farmers Row. I walked through a labyrinth of Schoolhouse passageways and ended up on the deck outside of the Hall windows. It was a place where I was truly alone—one of the few places on campus where I probably wouldn’t be seen by anyone even if they looked for me. I spent the morning reading everything I had written to myself in the past three years. Reading through my words, scrawled in various degrees of illegibility, I felt a profound sense of disillusionment. These words I had written now meant close to nothing to me. They were just years of musings, theories, comments, lists, and inconsequential life details. I was caught up in wondering about the past and comparing myself to what I had once been. I realized that I had attached extensive amounts of meaning to the words. I had fallen in love with an idea—the beautiful thought of finding and understanding myself merely through knowing my theories and emotions and observations throughout my Groton experience. I wanted to become self-reliant, independent through self-knowledge. It was the idea that I loved. It was so beautiful, so unfeasible, so idealistic. Learning about myself—figuring out what I wanted. But it was empty. There’s nothing you can gain from rereading the thoughts of your past. You only emphasize your own past trivial sufferings. You can only depend on yourself—yourself right now. This present being, the one sitting in Chapel, maybe falling slightly asleep, maybe worrying about whatever APs you might have to take in the coming weeks. That’s who you are now, and that person will change. But for now, as Ms. Rennard, my Fourth Form English teacher, once told me, “You know what you want. Go and get it.” You don’t need to remind yourself who you have been in order to understand who you are in this moment. I’m trying to rely on myself. I’m trying to be proud of who I am. I’m trying to see myself as significant. Because you only are truly important to yourself and the people around you. And that’s not a depressing thought to me anymore. It’s a hopeful one. So I still write. But it’s not in expecting that I’ll learn from it. It’s from knowing I can look back to see how far I have come, and not even imagine how far I might go. And part of me is still holding out hope that I’ll experience that promised revelation. Every once in a while, though, I’ll sit back and listen, comfortable in my dependency, preferably curled up in my twin bed at home, with Addie beside me, listening to my dad’s many accents as he reads to us . . . and that is a good place to stop.

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Girls Lacrosse

7- 9

With a Sixth Form class of eight players, and a solid core of returning starters, Groton had high hopes for this spring season. A March trip to Florida gave us the chance to scrimmage one of the elite programs in the country, and gave us a good foundation of training. The team played well, with Addie Ewald ’14, Annie McElgunn ’15, and Rachel Hardej ’15 leading the scoring (and Lucy Brainard ’14 running the settled attack). At the other end of the field goalkeeper Tess Despres ’14 pushed the defense, which was anchored by veterans Jessie Ewald ’14 and Breezy Thomas ’14. While we had some joyous victories over the likes of Andover, Rivers, and NMH, we could not overcome perennial ISL powerhouse teams like Nobles and St. Paul’s. The girls developed nicely this spring, playing some feisty defense, and moved the ball well in transition. While we graduate eight, there will be seasoned players returning for the 2015 campaign. We will miss the Sixth Form, and we wish the best to our girls who are off to play in college: Addie Ewald: Princeton Breezy Thomas: Duke Tess Despres: Harvey Mudd Ellie Dolan: Scripps — Coach Martha Gracey

Boys Lacrosse

7- 9

grotoniana

Our Sixth Formers — Captains Axel Brown and James Forse as well as Henry Bator, Matt Borghi, Griffin Dickson, PJ Johnson, Will MacEachern, Matt Pompa, Austin Stern, Jamie Thorndike, Jack Tyler, and Yowana Wamala — battled admirably against the iron of the ISL. Nearly 30 Zebras headed South for our annual trip to Florida, where we enjoyed playing against quality programs that helped prepare us for our league schedule. In ISL competition, we suffered tough losses to Brooks and BBN — games in which we underachieved — but we also competed toe-to-toe with some of best teams in the Northeast — St. Sebastian’s, Rivers, Roxbury Latin, and Middlesex. Thrilling victories over St. Paul’s (13-12), Milton (15-11), St. George’s (7-5), and St. Mark’s (8-7) were highlights. We also earned wins over non-league foes Pingree and Berwick, 14-9 and 13-6 respectively. James Forse earned ISL honorable mention and the MVP Award for his indefatigable daily consistency, work ethic, and passion over

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the course of his five-year career. Axel Brown earned All-League accolades, directing the offense and often occupying the opponents’ top defenseman, earning the respect of coaches and players throughout the league. Much gratitude goes to the Sixth Formers for their enthusiasm and spirit; many were new to the team, coming up from the JV. Many thanks also to Coaches Greg Hefler, Greg Twogood, Peter Fry, and Jamie Funnell, and to our alumni, parents, and supporters for their enthusiastic and positive spirit. — Coach Bob Low

Boys Crew 9-1-1 The boys team set two goals for the season: to make all four of the varsity boats demonstrably faster each week and to thereby position itself to win the New England Interscholastic Rowing Association Championships. Under the able leadership of Co-captains Wyatt Prill ’14 and Shangyan Li ’14, every varsity member responded well, pushing himself on the water, achieving a personal best on the rowing ergometer, doing countless squat jumps to strengthen his legs, and committing to making each boat faster than the competition’s. That commitment was evident in the season’s successful results. We swept our dual competitions with Middlesex and Nobles, retained the Cooke Trophy, and medaled in the first (bronze), second (silver) and third (gold) boats at the New England Championships, where on the basis of the performance of all four varsity boats, we finished second overall, only five points out of first and having bested 30 other teams. Taken as a whole, the 2014 season was a great success: the oarsmen stretched themselves mentally and physically; they bonded as a team and learned the rewards of commitment, tenacity, and teamwork. A job well done. All of the above would not have been possible without the collaboration and able coaching of the third and fourth boats by Steve Timpany and the superlative coaching of the junior varsity by Mike O’Donnell and Toby McDougal. Thanks also to all the parents of these exceptional young men for the sumptuous regatta support throughout the season. I look forward to a strong team next year and to the tri-captaincy of Michael Gates ’15, Simon Colloredo-Mansfeld ’15, and Hugh Cecil ’15. — Coach Charlie Hamlin

Girls Crew

7-2-1

After three undefeated seasons in a row, the varsity crews came back down to earth this spring. Half of the 20 rowers and coxswains who comprised the four varsity boats were new to varsity this year. We missed the experience of the past few years, but that’s not to say that we didn’t have a good season. The boats worked hard—the now-traditional ab routine was supplemented by erg pieces at the boathouse after practice. Scattered throughout the spring were some extraordinary races. The fourth boat raced down our course evenly with Nobles, pulling the race out with an impressive sprint and winning by one second. The third boat piled up a raft of big wins and showed everyone that, despite inexperience, they knew how to get the most out of themselves. The second boat won all of its races until the NEIRA, where they slipped to fourth in New England. Their highlight was undoubtedly the photo finish with Choate on a windy Brooks course. After racing side by side the whole course, Choate moved ahead with five strokes to go, but Groton, led by Sixth Form stroke Gen Corman, unleashed a furious sprint and won by about a foot. And in a season of close races, the first boat, with Sixth Formers Lucie Oken at stroke, Co-captains Ally Dick and Rachel Reed, and coxswain Cynthia Fang, were joined by Caroline Morss ’15 in three barnburners. After dropping a race to Middlesex and Choate on the St. Mark’s course, they beat Middlesex the next week at home by a second-and-a-half in a thrilling victory. The first boat followed that with a pair of one-second wins, over Nobles at home on Reunion Weekend and in the preliminary heat at Quinsigamond. We came out on the short end of a two-tenths of a second battle with Choate in the finals of the NEIRA, almost avenging our two losses to them. What impressed this coach (who has seen a lot of high school races over the past 35 years) is that this year’s crews never gave up on themselves. They kept working harder each week; they kept having fun every day. It was a pleasure to have these girls represent Groton. 1st boat 6th at NEIRA 2nd boat 4th at NEIRA 3rd boat 3rd at NEIRA 4th boat 5th at NEIRA Team finish: Third — Coach Andy Anderson

de Menil Gallery Fall exhibit

“Black and White” Photographs by Baldwin Lee September 11 – November 17, 2014

“B

lack and White” features works from Baldwin Lee’s collection, “Photographs from the American South.” The large-format prints offer intimate glimpses into the everyday lives of Southern blacks. Lee, an art professor at the University of Tennessee, has received a National Endowment for the Arts

Fellowship twice as well as a John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Fellowship. His photographs hang in the permanent collections of several museums, including the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Museum of the City of New York, the Yale University Art Gallery, and the National Trust for Historic Preservation.

The de Menil Gallery is open 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. on weekdays (except Wednesdays) and 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekends (except School holidays). The de Menil Gallery is free and open to the public.

Top, “Monroe, Louisiana, 1985” At right, “Armadillo, Waterproof, Louisiana, 1986”

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John B. Rhinelander ’51, p’81, ’83, ’85, ’87, gp’12, ’14 June 18, 1933 - March 2, 2014 by J. Alan McLean ’51, William E. Chauncey ’51, and Richard V. Buel, Jr. ’51

p From the Historic SALT Talks to Title IX, a Legacy of Service

ith John Rhinelander’s

death on March 2, Jeanne and their Groton-educated children, John, Margaret, Katherine, and Thomas, lost a beloved husband and father. The extended Rhinelander family, including two of John’s brothers, who are Groton graduates, lost a devoted sibling, and his nine grandchildren, two of whom again are Grotonians, lost a loving mentor who brought magic to their lives. Finally, Groton’s Form of 1951, plus the wide circle of friends, legal colleagues, and associates in government service, all of whom experienced firsthand John’s remarkable commitment to the people and causes he believed in, lost a distinguished and cherished friend. At Groton, John was the quarterback on the undefeated football team of 1950. Long before the days of “specialized play callers” in booths, and “offensive coordinators” sending in decisions from the sidelines, John made the key decisions directing the team. During the winter months of his Groton years, John pursued his passion for ice hockey, playing center on the first line and serving as captain in his Sixth Form year. Come

Groton School Quarterly

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Fall 2014

spring, he anchored third for the varsity baseball team. John was also an avid “Fives” player and, with four other form members from the baseball squad, played tennis for the School. Given his passion for athletics, acting as sports editor for the Third Form Weekly came naturally enough. But it was his stature as a quarterback that remains most vivid in our memory. John was a born leader who fostered confidence in those he led. That quality accompanied him in the legal, professional, and public service positions that followed his years at Groton. After graduating from Yale in 1955, and two years in the U.S. Army, where he served at a Nike missile base in northern New York, John earned his law degree from the University of Virginia, acting during his final year as editor-in-chief of the law review. John then clerked for John Marshall Harlan, associate justice of the United States Supreme Court. From 1966-68, John was the special civilian assistant to Secretary of the Navy Paul H. Nitze. He then became chief counsel and deputy director at the Commerce Department’s Office of Foreign Investments (OFDI), before serving between 1969 and 1972 as deputy legal advisor at the Department of State.

Form notes

R Form Notes are now password-protected. Members of the Groton community may read them online by signing in at www.groton.org/myGroton.