Nightingale Faculty Newsletter Volume XXI / March 2013

A Civilized Yogi: The Life of French Explorer Alexandra David-Néel, 1868–1969 Heidi Kasevich

p. 4

Hauling Water: An Eyewitness Account Brad Whitehurst

p. 6

IN THE CLASSROOM Class IV’s Study of American Landscape Painting Claire Anderson

p. 10

Public Forum Debate at Nightingale LE Hartmann-Ting

p. 12

Why Women Aren’t Funny (For Example) John Loughery

p. 14

Library Update Diane Neary

p. 16

iPad Pilot Program: Updates From Our Faculty

p. 17

PERSPECTIVES ON THE PEOPLE OF COLOR CONFERENCE Student Reflections Appreciation Valerie Cardozo

p. 20

Elements of a Leader Traciann Celestin

p. 20

Where Have You Been? Grace McLeod

p. 20

Finding My Place p. 21 Yacine Niang Your Story p. 22 Caroline Schoen Taking a Stand p. 22 Sydney Vann Faculty Reflections People of Color Conference Linda Field

p. 23

My First Experience at the PoCC Eileen Saguirer

p. 24

TRAVEL London, as Imagined Heather Beveridge

p. 25

Incredible India Susan Cohen-Nicole

p. 27

Escape from NYC: Reflections from Yosemite and Crater Lake Nikki Vivion

p. 28

ACADEMIC AFFAIRS AND PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT Highlights from Academic Affairs Kitty Gordan

p. 30

Workshops and Conferences

p. 32

References on Creativity Scott Meikle

p. 34

2 Faculty Newslette r

“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.” —Albert Einstein In the words of John Dewey in 1916, “Schools are social institutions that need to provide mechanisms for exchanging ideas and defining collective visions always open to negotiating and redefining these visions according to the needs of the community.” This is as true now as then. The open exchange of ideas is a hallmark of teaching at Nightingale. Conversations—both formal and informal—happen among our faculty all the time, and they continue well beyond the blue doors—with fellow educators at conferences; with students; and with others we encounter in our “spare time,” through travel (to places like India, London, Crater Lake, and Yosemite, for example) and other experiences. Through those conversations and experiences, we are motivated to reexamine our own teaching, hone our approach, and channel our creativity. “Creativity: It’s not just for artists….It is about solving problems for which popular or conventional responses don’t work… It is about an ability to generate alternatives,” explains Scott Meikle in his article on creativity to be published in the 2013–2014 issue of Independent School magazine. Paul Burke struck a similar chord in his January letter to parents when he said that “creativity can be developed as much as analytical thinking or expository writing, and can emerge from any discipline, and from any girl…. It is about building in iterative processes that obligate students to try and then try again. It has optimism as its seedbed, and Nightingale girls are generally an optimistic lot. Let us tap into that optimism fully…” Our winter issue of the Faculty Newsletter is a tribute to creativity in faculty life and in the classroom, and I hope that you will find it both an inspiration and an enjoyable read. —Kitty Gordan

march 2013 3

A Civilized Yogi: The Life of Alexandra David-Néel 1868–1969 Heidi Kasevich / History, Head “Obedience is death.”2 In fact, this tension is just one of many that characterizes the personality and life of a complex and multifaceted individual. The list of apparent conflicts is seemingly endless: the explorer’s love of solitude was counterbalanced by an equally strong need to be in the spotlight; the anarchist jettisoned rules and created her own values, but she treated those closest to her in authoritarian ways; the wife never lived with her husband on a full-time basis; the bohemian remained attached to the goal of living a comfortable bourgeois life; the feminist adhered to traditional norms of femininity; the mother thought it was an abomination to have children; the Orientalist adopted native dress and customs; the pacifist carried a revolver; the traveler yearned to escape from and be a part of Western society.

Courtesy of the Alexandra David-Néel Cultural Center in Digne, France

Heidi Kasevich delivered the inaugural Catherine M.S. Gordan Nightingale Mind Lecture on January 22, 2013. Her topic: the life of renowned explorer, philosopher, spiritualist, and writer Alexandra David-Néel. Below is a short extract from her talk; the full text is available at nightingale.org/events/lectures/ gordan-lecture. Alexandra David-Néel’s life is a compelling story about a woman who dared to embrace career over family when it was not the norm to do so; as she said herself many times, she was never suited for “life in a house.”1 Even though authentic freedom proved to be an elusive goal—the yogi remained a “Parisian dilettante, philosopher, and artist” at heart—David-Néel, with her anarchist spirit, never gave up trying to live without submitting to anyone or anything: 1

David-Néel, Correspondance, 341.

4 Faculty Newslette r

This list suggests more than the idea that the human self is multiple and changing or that David-Néel was a perpetual actress: most importantly, it reveals that this perspicacious feminist recast her identity in ways that served her purpose as a female explorer in a man’s world. For example, her anarchist beliefs drove her out of the colonial home, yet her domineering approach with others enabled her to focus on adventure rather than on the more mundane tasks of life. If she had procreated with her husband, it is highly probable that she would not have been able to travel so extensively in the Orient; as the mother of an adopted Asian son, she gained a devoted and loyal companion. Befriending natives enabled her to gain expertise as an Orientalist, but maintaining ties with colonial communities provided her with the funding and travel authorizations necessary to pursue her career goals. Without her love of the silence of the Himalayas, she may not have forged ahead with her risky plan to travel in forbidden Tibet and accomplish a feat that propelled her into the international spotlight. That she both violated and validated traditional norms of femininity enhanced her reputation as a female explorer in the interwar years. Recurrent statements about free will and karma in her writings imply that David-Néel made sense of these paradoxes in her own life through the lens of Buddhism: while the karmic law of cause and effect shaped her behavior, she ultimately believed 2

A  lexandra David-Néel, Féministe et libertaire (Paris: Les Nuits Rouges, 2003), 79.

that she possessed the liberty to alter her own destiny— within the matrices of heredity and the environment. Buddhist philosophy also provided her with a way to cope with pain and suffering, and she strove to approach her life with an attitude of detachment, which would save her from the “trap of concentration on the self.” Nevertheless, for a Buddhist who endeavored to “expect nothing, neither from gods nor from men,” she certainly did cling to people (Philippe, Yongden, and Marie-Madeleine), possessions (including her Oriental treasures), and the quest for glory.3 Throughout her life, the first Western woman to penetrate Lhasa remained torn between the conflicting landscapes of egoism and selflessness, the fulfillment of desires and the renunciation of attachments; her anarchist definition of liberty as freedom of the ego clashed with the Buddhist conception of happiness as freedom from the ego.4 As with the other apparent conflicts in her life, this metaphysical dilemma ultimately proved to be a productive one: the quest to pursue diametrically opposed philosophical goals compelled the pioneer to reject conventional female roles, travel to Asia through her late seventies, and write books until the eve of her death. Without her determination and endurance, and her faith in her own ability to accomplish daring and unconventional feats, she would never have trekked through the Himalayas on foot or lived in a Sikkimese cave. Her sheer will and energy enabled her to break rules and engage in risky behavior—in calculated and successful ways. On the other hand, her conversion 3 4

Indian Daily Mirror, 24 April 1912. Alexandra David-Néel, Grand Tibet et Vaste Chine. Compilation of 5 books: Au Pays des Brigands Gentilshommes; Voyage d’une Parisienne à Lassa; Sous des Nuées d’Orage; À l’Ouest Barbare de la Vaste Chine; Le Vieux Tibet face à la Chine Nouvelle (Paris: Plon, 1999), 565. Alexandra David-Néel, La lampe de sagesse (Paris: Rocher, 1986), 22.

to Buddhism helped her overcome obstacles in her life, which were rooted in an extremely unhappy childhood, and propelled her forward on multiple journeys throughout Asia as an inquisitive practitioner of the Buddhist faith and eager scholar of Eastern religions. It is doubtful that an actress who was repeatedly afflicted by neurasthenia would have journeyed to the Orient without the Buddhist cure for suffering in her arsenal of props. Did her life end in 1969 with feelings of peace and serenity? The Anarcho-Buddhist, for whom “adventure was the only reason for living,” renewed her passport at age 100 but bemoaned the fact that all of the corners of the earth had already been explored.5 Yearning to travel—even to space—but inhibited by the physical constraints of old age, David-Néel focused instead on the other activities that had infused her life with a sense of purpose: studying and writing. Her armchair in her bedroom in Digne, however, could never compete with the natural beauty of the Himalayas, which had bewitched her with “deceitful magic” and enabled her to “sink into the bliss of sensation and the joy of living.”6 In her late nineties, she frequently held her pencil in a tenuous manner and scribbled, “I am going to go out for a walk.”7 David-Néel’s struggle to approach life with a spirit of tranquil detachment persisted during her final hours: “I have everything to learn,” she finally whispered to Marie-Madeleine.8 5 6 7 8

Peyronnet, 145. David-Néel, My Journey to Lhasa, 34. Peyronnet, 144. Marie-Madeleine Peyronnet, interviewed by author, March 18, 2007.

march 2013 5

Hauling Water: An Eyewitness Account Brad Whitehurst / English

Last spring, Mr. Whitehurst was invited by his former English teacher, Ron Smith, to guest teach for the day at his alma mater, St. Christopher’s School in Richmond, Virginia. While there, he delivered the following talk to the Upper School students at their daily chapel service. I would like to tell you a real New York story from a time when most of you were between the ages of four and eight. Some of the background may be familiar to you, but the specific details that make it my story will be new. You Saints gathered here may be pleased to note that the Episcopal Church figures prominently. One September morning on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I sat alone in my classroom at St. Hilda’s & St. Hugh’s School, grading. Suddenly, a colleague stuck her head into the doorway and exclaimed, “a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center!” I reacted as most of you probably would: in shock, horror, and disbelief. It must have been a stray commuter plane, I still remember thinking, maybe a small prop plane that somehow had lost its way. How foolish of the pilot (and how sad for him), I thought in my stunned state. Half-formed images were suppressed: of a plane (or the wreckage of a plane) buried into the side of one of the towers (or perhaps falling out of the tower) and of how it must be for those caught in the plane or in the building (or on the ground below). While my instinct was to avoid overreacting, the effect was to minimize the damage before I even knew its extent— in fact, before I even knew what had happened at all. Notice that my first reaction was to assume pilot error: a strikingly naïve response in our post-9/11 era. When I heard minutes later that another plane had flown into the other tower, it became clear that the accidents were no accident. But who could do such a thing? Who would be motivated to take such action? Gathered around a large television wheeled into a faculty office, some of us adults watched as, in real time, the first tower fell—and soon after, the second, though at this point my recollections grow fuzzy. Faced with a crisis, we as an Episcopal school convened in chapel. The Head of School assured the students that they were safe—as, indeed, they

6 Faculty Newslette r

were, sitting some six miles north of the stricken site. But before they could be dismissed that day, we contacted all parents to ensure that each student had a home and a parent to return to. Miraculously, each one did, though there would be some who would discover in the days ahead that a certain relative or family friend was still reported missing.

In English classes, we try not to reduce round characters in all their messy complexity into flat characters of, say, absolute nobility free of flaws— in other words, devoid of their real humanity. The stakes are higher, however, when the characters are not fictional. Because of disrupted subway service all over the city, I took a bus that afternoon down Riverside Drive along the Hudson River and then walked due east across Central Park to my apartment on the Upper East Side. I needed to walk. Standing in the middle of the park, I stared, blankly, upward: no planes in sight because they all had been grounded; it was just a clear, blue sky, achingly beautiful. The city was eerily quiet except for the periodic wail of a siren from a police car or fire truck speeding downtown, a sound that

march 2013 7

recurred late into the evening. Everything else seemed muted, as if on an early Sunday morning in winter after a heavy snowfall. Crossing Madison Avenue, I looked south down the concrete canyon. Framed at the distant end of that vista was a mushroom cloud like a small stencil cutout: vivid and apparently unmoving, indelible. I felt both drawn and repelled: I wanted to hail a cab right then to come within closer range yet was repelled by my own ambulance-chasing impulse to gawk at the suffering of others. Besides, what could I do? What good would it do? Everyone in New York in those early days wanted to do something—to be useful in some way—as did so many Americans across the country. But there was little that could be done by ordinary folk. Fortunately, the former chaplain of St. Hilda’s & St. Hugh’s, the Reverend Lyndon Harris, was then serving at St. Paul’s Chapel. You may have seen images of the little Episcopal church catty corner to the World Trade Center that, despite all odds, survived the fall of the towers. That is St. Paul’s Chapel, which was soon thrust into the spotlight as a beacon of hope and the nerve center for the relief effort. Father Harris found himself coordinating volunteers to help at the site, and he reserved some of those coveted spots for faculty and parents at St. Hilda’s, which is how I came to volunteer twice. The first time was on an evening shift within a week of the disaster. Exiting the subway station downtown, I was struck immediately by a pervasive smell like burnt rubber or burnt rope mixed with something that at the time I could not, or would not, name: an unforgettable smell that would linger over lower Manhattan for weeks. After meeting Father Harris at the perimeter checkpoint, we volunteers were escorted to St. Paul’s Chapel. Donated supplies for the rescue operation flooding in from across the country were being gathered under tents pitched alongside the wrought iron fence surrounding the chapel’s graveyard. Workers’ gloves, hammers, crowbars, flashlights, goggles, face masks with air filters—the assembled items suggested a cross between a hardware store and a military supply depot. Among the supplies were hundreds of cases of bottled water. Soon I found myself lugging two plastic paint buckets full of bottled water, wandering the dust-covered streets surrounding the site to pass out water for free to whoever happened to walk by: policemen, firemen, construction workers, many of them volunteers from far-flung corners of the country who had driven to New York to help out. One of them, a fireman from the Los Angeles Police Department (so his helmet indicated), walked up to me to ask if I would help him. Of course I would. This anonymous fireman—whose name I did not have the presence of mind to ask for—walked me past a group of policemen and right up to the brink of the site.

8 Faculty Newslette r

People often refer to our first responders—soldiers, policemen, firemen—as heroes. While these folks certainly deserve our admiration and respect, I think that hero-worship, however well intentioned, easily leads to objectification, turning individual human beings into symbols to gratify our own desire for inspiration and encouragement. We all want to take heart, naturally, and heroes help us do that. In English classes, we try not to reduce round characters in all their messy complexity into flat characters of, say, absolute nobility free of flaws—in other words, devoid of their real humanity. The stakes are higher, however, when the characters are not fictional. Despite these reservations, I tried months later to write a poem about my experience. My challenge, I decided, was to sketch a few select details and let the images carry the poem. Here is the latest version. HAULING WATER He walked me beyond the makeshift sawhorse checkpoint down to the staging ground where buckled pavers of shattered granite dropped, sheer as a cliff, where hardhats scanned the smoldering morass. If you can bring them here, I’ll take them in, he said, meaning my buckets of bottled water relayed into the pile. (His L.A. squad had driven east to help clean up the site not yet declared a crime scene, nor set off-limits to volunteers like me.) And so I hauled, exchanging full pails for empty. Not till my shift was over did I dare to pause, to stare at girder snags the size of trains, great slabs of rubble strewn like cars post-hurricane, the storied slag heaps, the offices of concrete dust on a scale diminished in the telling. There comes a time when one more word may do more harm than good, when the toxic drift of this world stifles the urge to witness. That was when I saw him: fifty yards out in the ruin, helmet removed, a firefighter stood astride a minor peak as if exploring for the first time what had gone unnoticed, an unobstructed westward view of the Hudson, then leaned through gaps in wreckage to the unseen diggers, passing in bottles, one by one.

Was that my fireman from Los Angeles? I’d like to think so, but I will never know. Our paths did not cross again that evening, though the pails kept reappearing where I had left them, and I never saw him again. (By the way, “Hauling Water” was my first published poem since college; it appeared in Meridian magazine at the University of Virginia. When I sent a copy to Mr. Smith, he kindly framed it and put in the poetry center, where I believe it still is hanging.) That evening, faced with incomprehensible devastation in what amounted to a mass gravesite, workers persevered in their search for survivors, risking life and limb to do what needed to be done. Ordinary human beings, perfect strangers humbled in a dark hour, manifested extraordinary strength and—to use a Christian term—grace. The ripple effect seemed to radiate throughout the city: in the weeks and months that followed, people in Manhattan seemed to move more slowly, forgive more easily, and actually look at one another, to see one another, on the streets. Think of it as the shock of suddenly recognizing other human beings who, like you, have been wounded: it was like seeing Jesus in one another. Out of unfathomable loss that September day emerged moments of heroism and even redemption. Moments—that did not last, of course. So I want to remember those moments and remind myself that they did take place. I want to be heartened by those moments and look for more of them—and to act on more of them—in my own life. Recently, reading an essay by the poet Christian Wiman, I was struck by what he wrote about the role of suffering in life, in his case shadowed by the looming threat of fatal illness. Wiman wrote, “what extreme grief has given me is the very thing it seemed at first to obliterate: a sense of life beyond the moment, a sense of hope.” How odd that extreme grief could give rise to a sense of hope, and yet it can. Is that not, essentially, the message of Easter? And of Passover? And of so many works of literature? What other moments of hope, I wonder, are rising out of the abyss today?

What other life-affirming narratives are being written in zones of devastation—whether in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, or even here at home in the United States? By the time my second volunteer shift at Ground Zero came around, procedures had been formalized, barriers had been erected, and volunteers like me were kept at a safe distance from the pile. Happily, I was assigned to a morning shift under the portico at the entrance to St. Paul’s Chapel, which had been transformed into a kind of short-order kitchen—think part outdoor barbecue and part New York coffee shop. Our customers, served at no charge, were workers taking a break on their way into, or out of, the pile. Despite their frayed nerves, they quietly teased and laughed together, tossed around off-color stories, and otherwise tried to cope with the horror a block away. All of us there, both the servers and the served, seemed to crave simple human contact: whether for a few minutes or a few hours, community was being formed. I will never forget how one weary worker after another walked up to the steaming chafing dishes I stood behind, smiled warmly, and offered a heartfelt thank-you for a measly dish of scrambled eggs. “I should be thanking you,” I wanted to say, without sounding forced or trite. Instead, moved to the core of my being, I smiled back the tears, said “you’re welcome,” and passed another paper plate. You know the rest of the story—or at least partial versions gleaned from media accounts or studied in history class. Seniors, I understand that you are taking a course called 9/11 to Now. As you surely know, my account is just one of thousands that could be told, that have been told, as part of a much larger narrative that is still unfolding. As Americans and as global citizens, you are part of that narrative. I hope that whenever you face moments of suffering beyond your ken, you resolve not to despair. Or when you despair, you search through the wreckage for hope. Or you search the stranger’s face for hope. For that is where you may find it.

march 2013 9

Class IV’s Study of American Landscape Painting Claire Anderson / Class IV Homeroom

sheer scale of these paintings but also at the intricate detail of the scene before them. The details gave the viewer a glimpse into an exotic world very different from any experience they had ever had. The visual experience that was created in these exhibition halls could be equated to today’s cinematic experiences.

Albert Bierstadt, The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak

My interest in the history of American art often influences my summer work and the choices I make when developing curriculum. Through the summer stipend program, I have been able to take a number of classes at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art and New York University, all of which have focused on American landscape painting. American landscape paintings from the Hudson River School (nineteenth-century American art movement) presented images from the American West and celebrated both westward expansion and Manifest Destiny. Grand works were created in studios in the northeast after an artist returned from travels out west. These large-scale paintings were often ideal renderings of places and peoples visited on their journeys. Paintings were exhibited in galleries and exhibition halls in New York. Most of the audiences viewing the paintings would never have the opportunity to travel to the west to experience the vast beauty of the natural landscape and geography themselves. Therefore, the experience of visiting exhibition halls to view these idealized places was entertainment. Each work of art provided an opportunity for people to escape and to come into contact with a world unlike anything they had ever seen before. Often, the paintings were displayed behind velvet curtains in dark rooms, and people paid as much as a quarter to wait with suspense for that moment when the curtain was removed and the work was unveiled. The audience would not only marvel at the

10 Faculty Newslette r

My interest in American landscape painting and the opportunities I have had to engage in academic study have given me confidence to review and update specific areas of the Class IV visual education and English curricula. I have developed experiences and created writing assignments based on close examination of landscape paintings, and have found that the study of landscape paintings also strengthens the geography curriculum because the girls are asked to identify land and water forms in new contexts as well as to articulate their understanding through writing and discussion. My work to develop these new curricula is supported by many colleagues, and I must give thanks to Mark Donovan, Maggie Tobin, and April Tonin for their commitment to the program. Their ideas and flexibility enable me to rethink the girls’ experiences and help to develop and connect their understanding in multiple ways. Each fall, Class IV visits the Metropolitan Museum of Art to examine landscape paintings of the Hudson River School art movement, including Albert Bierstadt’s 1863 painting, The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak, which depicts the grandeur of Lander’s Peak of the Wyoming Range and an idyllic lake surrounded by tranquil woods. In the foreground of the painting is a peaceful community of Native Americans whose lives seem untouched by European colonization. The work provides true escapism to all who view it. April Tonin and I have reworked our approach to studying Bierstadt’s painting to allow the girls to appreciate both its scale and the details of the work. In order to do this, we first ask the girls to spend time viewing the landscape and to offer observations about what they notice. We, as teachers, guide the discussion to include an identification of the land and water forms studied in class. Then, the girls are asked to focus on the details of the painting and share their observations about the daily life of the Native American community before

Painting by Olivia Plimpton ‘13

them. The girls notice and discuss how the community relies on the natural world for survival and identify tools and items from the scene to support their point of view. Finally, the girls are given cardboard frames to select a small area of the painting on which to focus. Each girl is then asked to write a clue about what she observes and shares it with the group. This activity engages the girls in a “Where’s Waldo” or scavenger-hunt-type of game that encourages close examination and observation of all the hidden details of the painting. In addition to viewing paintings at a museum, the girls also have opportunities to write creatively about landscape paintings created in Maggie Tobin’s Upper School art class. The girls view the landscapes hanging in the hallways as they would in any other gallery or museum. Each girl studies all of the student works before selecting one for further reflection. She then takes notes about the details of her chosen painting,

which she then draws upon to write an imaginative story. We give the girls parameters for their stories: they are asked to pretend that they are in the landscape that they have chosen and to describe the environment, using simile, metaphor, alliteration, and other figurative language to add detail to their prose. Next, they are asked to explain how they got to the landscape and what will happen now that they are there. This writing assignment, which Mark Donovan and I developed, supports each girl’s observation skills and encourages a greater connection to the art as she has not only to interact with the landscape but also to write creatively about it. I hope to continue to use my professional development opportunities to build my own knowledge of American painting as well as to collaborate with colleagues to develop lessons that will support the girls’ comfort in discussing and writing about art.

ma rch 2013 11

Public Forum Debate at Nightingale LE Hartmann-Ting / History

Although Nightingale has had a forensics program since the 1990s, we decided just last year to compete exclusively in Public Forum debate. The preparation necessary for this type of debate complements Nightingale’s academic and extracurricular program and adds depth to our commitment to training our students to be confident and prepared public speakers. Public Forum (PF) is a relatively new genre of forensics that was originally introduced by Ted Turner in 2003 and inspired by CNN’s “Crossfire.” PF was designed to fill a niche in the debate world, as longer established formats such as Policy and Lincoln-Douglas debate lost some of their appeal. Unlike Policy debate, which requires students to commit to one resolution (topic) for a whole year, PF resolutions change each month. This makes it easier to balance debate with other commitments, and also introduces students to a broad range of important domestic and international topics. In addition, unlike Lincoln-Douglas debate, PF requires students to work in two-person teams, which provides an important collaborative experience as well as the security to try something that most people find intimidating. Since Public Forum was conceived as a “spectator sport,” the judging criteria are significantly less technical than for other forms of debate. When new judges are trained they are given a bottom line: vote for the team that persuaded you they were right. Yet PF is a rigorous discipline with structure and rules that develop research, logic, and speaking skills. The activity works like this: On the first of each month, the National Forensics League (the “other” NFL) releases the resolution for the next month (e.g., the January resolution is published on December 1). Once the resolution is published, our students perform “topic analysis,” during which they dissect the wording of the resolution, list potential arguments on both the pro and con sides, and discuss possible frameworks (e.g., net benefits, morality, social contract) that will be used to justify and weigh their arguments. Once the team agrees on the shape and scope of the issues at stake, this year’s co-captains—Sophia Kiam ‘14 and Sarah Allen ‘14— guide the team’s research efforts, pool evidence, and help novices (first-year debaters) write their cases. Then the fun begins. Public Forum debate is fast and focused. Debate rounds start with the flip of a coin. The team that

12 Faculty Newslette r

wins chooses either the side of the resolution they wish to represent or whether they will take the advantage of having the last speech in the round. Once that is established, the first speaker from each team delivers a four-minute, prepared speech followed by cross examination. From that point on, all speeches are extemporaneous. As an example, let’s pretend that Annie Abruzzo ‘16 and Megan Yang ‘16 (Team A) are affirming the resolution against Isabella Beroutsos ’15 and Rebecca Lin ‘15 (Team B) on the current topic: “Resolved: On balance, the rise of China is beneficial to the interests of the United States.” A round might look like this: Team A’s Megan (affirming the resolution) reads a four-minute, prepared, well-researched speech arguing that the rise of China is in the interests of the United States. Our debts to China, Megan asserts, create a mutuality of interests that promise greater security and has the moral advantage of raising Chinese people out of rural poverty. In response, Team B’s Isabella reads her team’s four-minute, prepared speech arguing that the rise of China is bad for the United States. China’s rise, she maintains, clearly costs American jobs. Next comes three minutes of crossfire, when Megan and Isabella take turns cross examining one another. While the pro team gets to ask the first question, no team has privilege in control of the discussion. Thus debaters must learn to command attention and control the flow of questioning. Following the crossfire round, Team A’s second speaker, Annie, must now give a four-minute extemporaneous speech critiquing the “con” arguments Isabella laid out. Here, Annie needs to know the economic evidence to refute arguments that contradict hers, and defend the position that China’s rise is beneficial to the US economy. Following Annie comes Rebecca, Team B’s second speaker, who now has four minutes to extemporaneously critique Megan’s case. Rebecca hammers the economic vulnerability of the United States and challenges the pro side’s claim that helping the Chinese escape poverty is in the US interest. It might be a nice thing to do, but is that what the resolution is asking us to consider? Another three-minute crossfire round follows for Annie and Rebecca to cross examine one another. Effective crossfires discredit arguments and lay the foundations for attacks to come. Therefore Rebecca could ask Annie whether or not she agrees that a government’s primary responsibility ought to be to its own citizens.

[L to R:] Annie Abruzzo ’16, Megan Yang ’16, Sophia Kiam ’14, and Arlene Casey ’15 work on their arguments.

Thus concludes the “constructive phase” of the round, after which debaters are forced to focus and narrow the issues at stake. The round continues with summary speeches that are shorter—only two minutes—and must therefore be tighter and more focused on the issues each side hopes the judge will vote on. When teaching students how to handle this part of the round, I tell them to imagine their arguments being pushed through a funnel. All four debaters then duke it out during one last “grand crossfire,” followed by each side’s two minute “final focus” speech that offers a last chance to win the judge over. Rounds are hard. Our students usually compete against boys and have to navigate issues of gender and authority in a fast-paced, high-pressure situation. Debaters do not politely disagree. They question, contend, undermine, argue, contradict, and challenge. Students learn to think on their feet, speak clearly, and not shrink from challenges to their ideas. All this is compounded by the reality that as women, our girls need to command the round without alienating judges who, on occasion, warn our students about being “too aggressive.”

Nightingale’s debate team competes on the local, state, and national circuits. Highlights of our schedule include Bronx Science’s “Big Bronx” tournament each October and Harvard’s tournament each President’s Day weekend. (At the time of this writing, in fact, 18 of our students are preparing to join over 1,000 students from across the country for three days of debate competition at Harvard University from February 15–18.) Closer to home, Nightingale competes regularly against Stuyvesant, Regis, Bronx Science, Hunter, Trinity, and Fordham. Our greatest challenge—finding time to practice—is endemic in independent schools. Presently, we meet Tuesdays after school in room 312, and team members have added Friday mornings at 7:00 a.m. in the weeks we compete. The schedule is not ideal, but it shows the commitment our students develop once they get the debate bug. One of our students described the incredible feeling of being able to argue a point by saying that “the best part of debate is being told you are wrong. And then proving you are right.” I wish that kind of confidence for all of our students, and appreciate greatly the support the school, parents, and my colleagues have extended to the team.

ma rch 2013 13

Why Women Aren’t Funny (For Example) John Loughery / English, Head

For most of the last two decades, Class X English was the “Great Books” year: a gallop through some classics of Western literature (Homer to F. Scott Fitzgerald via Shakespeare, Jane Austen, the Romantics, and Henrik Ibsen, among others), a mini-mini-version of Columbia’s freshman “Literature Humanities” and “Contemporary Civilization” program. It is a premise I thoroughly endorse. While I believe that students should read in school as many sophisticated novels by living writers, American writers of color, and non-Western writers as possible, I also think a grounding in the Western canon, while fully acknowledging that the canon is a work in progress, an ever-shifting list of masterpieces, even a challenged entity, is essential to the achievement of a first-rate education. Now, of course, this is where the well-trained ear prepares for the “but” or the “however.” And, indeed, there was a problem that never ceased to nag at me with this well-intentioned, jam-packed sophomoreyear syllabus. The reading load was so heavy and the pace so brisk that it was on to the next book without pause. Done with The Odyssey, time for Sophocles; Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy are wed, time for Wordsworth to feel that the world is too much with us; Nora Helmer slams the door and Daisy Buchanan walks in. There was precious little time to talk about the essays the students were working on, and those essays tended necessarily to be about the literature that had been discussed to death in class. I didn’t feel that our students in Class X learned much about writing itself, about the protean nature of the essay and the strategies that clever writers employ, no matter how many pages they turned in. So the department instituted a change that would allow for a firstsemester break in the course’s immersion in the classics and give us the time and occasion for some highly specific writing instruction. First, we had to decide what work or works would be cut to carve out the space for a five- or six-week writing workshop. In our rearranging of the course away from a strictly chronological line, Austen, Shakespeare, and Ibsen, in that order, formed too good a thematic unit in the autumn to eliminate—the theme was courtship and marriage—focusing

14 Faculty Newslette r

on Pride and Prejudice, Twelfth Night, and A Doll’s House, diverse works that raise important ideas about attraction, love, lust, gender identity, power, and commitment. We also accepted that Brad Whitehurst would be impossible to live with if we dropped the Wordsworth-Byron-Shelley-Keats lineup and that giving diplomas to high-school graduates who hadn’t read The Great Gatsby or Their Eyes Were Watching God was not a distinction we were eager to embrace. So it was the Greeks that went. The scowls of Dakouras, Kearney, and Schapiro were going to have to be endured, and we would content ourselves with the knowledge that any truly literate person is apt to read Homer, Oedipus Rex, and Antigone in college or on her own someday. In fact, it wasn’t the classics department that we heard from most vehemently; it was a few very philhellenic parents who made (not surprisingly) a highly articulate case for keeping The Odyssey. We forged ahead, nonetheless. (I note in passing that an elective will be offered for juniors and seniors in the spring of 2014, “Homer: The Iliad and The Odyssey,” and that sixteen students have already signed up for that course. The decline of Western civilization gets put off for another day.) Then came the matter of deciding what would be read and what writing would be assigned in this new writing workshop. It wasn’t easy putting together a file of usable essays. That endeavor is even now (and always will be) a work-in-progress, but I knew the sort of thing I was looking for. I wanted essays like Claire Berlinski’s “Ban the Burqa,” which makes the painful case for limiting religious tolerance and banning Islamic head and body coverings, or Howard Jacobson’s impassioned directive to librarians to make their institutions temples of literacy by eliminating all DVDs and romance novels. (In his essay collection, Whatever It Is, I Don’t Like It, this British master of bile actually goes a bit further: he urges librarians to ban all adults from the premises who have the bad taste to want to check out the Harry Potter books). I wanted the students in the workshop to spend time with writers who found reasons to attack cherished values (e.g., Susan Sontag on American defensiveness about 9/11) and to extol the unextolled (e.g., Mark Slouka’s “Quitting the Paint Factory: On the Virtues of Idleness” and Joseph Epstein on the vital role boredom can play in our lives). I wanted them

to have a taste of writers like the late Christopher Hitchens, who—no matter what one thinks of his politics (sometimes so savvy, sometimes so wrong-headed)—never wrote a dull word in his life. His gender-baiting essay “Why Women Aren’t Funny” became a starting-point model: a title that provided an immediate, irresistible hook, a tactically cogent tone, a line of reasoning that was archly persuasive, and a subtle mixture of the serious and the playful. If the goal of the workshop could be summarized in a single phrase, it would be: to ignite a Christopher Hitchens-like spark in all our writers.

We also accepted that Brad Whitehurst would be impossible to live with if we dropped the WordsworthByron-Shelley-Keats line-up and that giving diplomas to high-school graduates who hadn’t read The Great Gatsby or Their Eyes Were Watching God was not a distinction we were eager to embrace. So it was the Greeks that went. The result of all this? Sherwyn Smith and I read essays about the use of the “F word” at Nightingale (“Fuller”), the wisdom of not tapping into government funds to rebuild the Rockaways, the brutality of all pet ownership, the need

to end the stigma associated with flatulence in public (don’t ask: the writer was promised anonymity), and paeans to pessimism, procrastination, and legalized prostitution. We read about banning smart phones for minors, legislating the hours working mothers can be away from their children, and ending the tyranny of the gym and health-club fanatics. We read about the right to obesity, the value of elitism, and an attack on World Religions as no more than a course in fairy tales. As you can well imagine, these topics themselves and the freedom we urged on our students from straightjacket notions of the structure of an essay (e.g., “Be sure to include a thesis sentence at the end of your first paragraph,” “Restate your main idea in your conclusion,” “Be careful not to rile or alienate the reader”) led to a freshness of prose, an originality of structure, and a feistiness in attitude that both writer and readers found, at times, quite exciting. The workshop involves considerably more drafting and mandatory one-on-one teacher meetings than Upper-School essays usually entail, and the students have to become used to the idea of vigorous peer-group editing. Everyone reads her work aloud, even when it is far from finished or polished, and everyone is called upon to provide feedback about titles and opening paragraphs, length and closing lines, voice and degrees of provocation. No fading into the background allowed. Some of the most helpful comments come from other students, whose advice can in some circumstances carry more weight than the teacher’s. The whiteboard is filled with lists of “literary strategies,” of the technical effects a writer might want to strive for and the avenues to that end, and the dead-ends she is likely to confront along the way. By the end of the semester, I hope very few students still think of an essay as a plain summary of their beliefs, an artless and honest statement of a thesis forthrightly expressed with x-number of examples and proofs. I hope they come to see redundancy and filler as the Devil’s work. “The secret of writing a good essay,” the British writer J.B. Priestley once noted, “is to let yourself go.” Priestley wasn’t arguing the merits of formlessness or self-indulgence. He was speaking of the need to look beyond prepackaged ideas and readymade structures, to see writing as an act of intellectual exploration. He was indirectly reminding us that the essay is an art form no less than fiction, poetry, and drama. As such, the essayist is an artist, and that means she must be as attentive to craft and audience perception as to content. To whatever extent student writers absorb this truth, a writing workshop serves its exhausting, exhilarating, long-range purpose.

ma rch 2013 15

Library Update Diane Neary / Head Librarian

Libraries have been in the forefront in independent schools in terms of moving into the digital world. The transition from those rows and rows of solid wood card catalog drawers to modern online catalogs began over twenty-five years ago. The digitized book record was only the beginning of a long series of changes that seems to gather momentum every day. The Nightingale library collection is neither all digital nor all print. We know that the world of books, publishing, and libraries is in a dizzying state of transition and we know how important it is to remain on the lookout for the best available resources in the most accessible formats. Today, Nightingale’s library continues to keep pace with ongoing change at the same time that it aims to hold on to those parts of the traditional library that are most important to our mission. One of the valuable—most definitely non-digital—resources we offer our students are opportunities to meet and learn from contemporary authors. Thanks to the visits organized by Lower School librarian Lois Strell and Middle School librarian Nora Lidell, our Lower and Middle School girls have had the opportunity to meet and hear from well-known authors, as well as to ask them questions about their work. Quite a bit of preparation goes into these visits: the book is, of course, the most essential starting point, and both Ms. Strell and Ms. Lidell are experts at finding just the right books to build excitement among our young readers. Usually, when one book is a hit, the author’s other titles are likely to be of interest as well. Such has been the case this year with the works of Julia DeVillers in the Lower School (whose LIBERTY PORTER won first place in Class II for the Lower School Book Election) and Raina Telgemeier in the Middle School (whose hit books Smile—all six copies—and Drama—another six copies!—have been in great demand as well). Authors are rock stars here, and the girls are always thrilled to see a favorite author in person. After the Middle School assembly, students lined up to get Ms. Telgemeier’s autograph on their books, napkins, and even on one girl’s hand! In the realm of digital resources, the librarians have been reviewing our current holdings as well as experimenting with new ways to acquire and share e-books. We are collaborating with teachers as we test various kinds of e-books on multiple platforms. We want to see how sample books behave on desktop computers, laptops, and iPads. Questions about

16 Faculty Newslette r

individual use, classroom use, and library-lending models are part of our current studies. It is unlikely that we will find one single device or distributor that will suit all of our needs, so we are looking for the best fit for each age level in our school environment. Two of our most recently reviewed methods for accessing e-books are the Follett Shelf e-book collection and the iPad app called Subtext. Follett e-books, which may only be used by one reader at a time, are accessible directly through our library catalog. Once readers log in and borrow the e-book, they can add notes, highlight text, or have the text read aloud. The e-books may be read on screen and returned to the “virtual shelf” or borrowed for two to three weeks. Most of our current Follett collection consists of non-fiction titles, collected with an eye to supporting Middle School research. In collaboration with Class III homeroom teachers Fernanda Winthrop and Naomi Hayashi, the librarians have begun to explore Follett fiction titles for use on the iPad. Thus far, teachers and librarians are still exploring and have yet to settle on a format for class use, although we do expect to have more e-book fiction titles for general use in our collection soon. Subtext is a free app for the iPad. It is a reader app created for classrooms or reading groups which enables group discussions, quizzes, or embedded assignments. The app provides the platform while teachers or librarians acquire and distribute digital copies of selected books. Similar to other digital reading tools, this app requires one-to-one ownership of texts. Currently, the librarians and some Lower School teachers are testing Subtext in order to determine its usability in our school setting. We are raising questions about its ease of use, availability of appropriate titles, and cost. As with every e-book acquisition and delivery system, this app requires librarians and teachers to work through a number of administrative and distribution issues, and we are working through the challenges posed by reading in groups or individually with e-books. All three librarians, Lois Strell, Nora Lidell, and Diane Neary, will continue to develop both the physical and the virtual library collections, all the while staying closely connected to our readers and our faculty. Stop by the library to see what’s new!

iPad Pilot Program: Updates From Our Faculty Nightingale is five months into its iPad pilot program, and the technology department is excited by the creative and innovative ways our faculty are using these devices in their teaching and professional activities. Rather than keep this information to ourselves, we asked a few teachers to share how they are incorporating iPads into their teaching. Below, in their own words, are their answers. —Adam Van Auken, Director of Technology Marilina Kim Having the iPad is having many heavy things in one small package. I no longer carry—nor have to constantly look for—a planner, several AP textbooks and answer books, dictionaries of several languages, a chronometer, a calculator, my iPod, PDF files, or microphones. On top of that, I have access to many news sources in foreign languages, which I can read and easily save for classes. A few of the apps have also helped me organize PDF files by subject and theme, making them easy to access. All of these things have helped my organization and clutter management, allowing me to be more efficient with my time. For example, when I have my iPad and material to grade that requires me to use a book as a reference, I am no longer limited by the absence of the book. I can just pop open the file with the copy of the book and grade.   I have found the iPad most useful in my coaching and in the AP Spanish class I teach. In cross country, I was able to use an app to easily calculate scores as runners finished and another app for keeping a record of times for each run. In the AP class, I have been able to use apps to play audio recordings from different sources. Yes, I could have done this with the computer, but the iPad makes the process much more efficient. Before, I would look for audios on a Web site at home, e-mail the link to myself, save it (optional), and play it in class. If I wanted to post questions on the SMART Board for students to read while the recording played, the board got messy. Now, I can open the app and play the audio independently of what is on the board. Another wonderful thing about the iPad/iPhone in general (not mine, but the girls’) is that students can easily send me voice recordings via these devices.

Nicole Seibert When the iPad pilot program was launched, I immediately jumped at the opportunity to test its viability as a classroom teaching tool. Although my first encounter with the iPad over a year ago led me to think that the limitations of the tool might outweigh its benefits, my initial misgivings quickly transformed into a multitude of creative ideas. So many, in fact, that I found myself completely overwhelmed. As I continued my exploration of the iPad, however, I found several simple ways to integrate it into my classroom and, with further planning, developed a few lessons to incorporate into the curriculum. I started out simply by using AirServer to project my PowerPoint presentations onto the SMART Board. Students who brought iPads of their own could access the same presentation on Moodle and follow along with me, which allowed them to use a stylus to annotate their own versions of the presentation. By importing my SMART Notes files into the app Notability, I could add notes to my files right on the iPad. The iPad has meant that I am no longer restricted to the front of the classroom; many students have even started completing homework and submitting it digitally, making paper unnecessary. Last spring, I modified Class VII’s annual final project and presentation on space science to make better use of the iPad’s capabilities. Instead of asking students to make a PowerPoint presentation (at which they are quite adept), I decided to have them create a podcast video using the app Explain Everything. They were able to create the presentation, add the vocal component, and save it as a video file to be presented on the class Moodle page. More recently, this year’s Class VII students made their first attempt at creating a podcast to present their research on a chosen volcano. Podcasts involve both a visual and an oral presentation, and the students used a number of apps to find their information. Interestingly, their first impulse was to create a PowerPoint for the visual portion of the presentation and they were hesitant at first to use a new approach. They rose to the challenge, however, and used Explain Everything to create both components. Their final products instilled a strong sense of pride and confidence in their ability to learn new technical skills.

ma rch 2013 17

Claire Anderson Class IV uses the iPads in a variety of ways. Using the WordPress app, the girls blog about events in the classroom to share with their parents, who can then leave comments on the site, which can be found at enightingale.org/blogs/classiv. This helps to build a strong school/home partnership as parents interact with their daughters to learn more about the school day. We also use the iPads as study aids. The girls use various apps such as Spelling City, Enjoy Learning US Map Puzzles, and US State Capitals to prepare for tests. Finally, the girls have been using Word Mover in their reading groups to write poetry in response to the novels read in class; their final works have been displayed in the Anderson homeroom. Scott Meikle The iPad has proved itself useful to my art program in a number of ways. When combined with the Apple TV installed in the art studio, my iPad serves as a conveniently portable image-storage and access system from which I can project student art as well as images from the world at large onto a window blind that doubles as a projector screen. I use an app that allows illustrative lines and text to be quickly added to an existing image, and my students have done so as well to good effect. I’ve also used the iPad to film students at work to use as a self-diagnostic teaching tool. Filming has also allowed students to present demonstrations that I then show to different class sections. In addition, I have found it useful during lessons to quickly flash an image onscreen that reinforces the concept/process students are exploring, which allows me to underline pertinent information in a non-intrusive way: students merely look up, then get back to work.

students can simply snap a picture with their iPad camera and then write over the picture to add details and point out key ideas. During lab work, students are able to take pictures of the lab set up and record results to assist them when they are preparing their lab reports. If a girl is absent, the students e-mail her data and pictures so she can see what she missed. In classes where a PowerPoint presentation is posted on Moodle, my students have the slides available on their iPads and write directly onto each slide. I have even had students who record answers to a homework quiz on their iPad and then e-mail the file to me. Roughly half of my homework assignments in biology are submitted, graded, and returned to students via an electronic file; no paper is required! Although I have not taken class time to teach these skills, nor to instruct students about how to effectively utilize the iPad, its use has presented problem-solving opportunities, and our students have risen to the challenge. I believe that a tablet device of some type is the ring binder of this generation, and educators need to embrace the possibilities. Annette Rodríguez Last May, I went into the tech office to beg Adam Van Auken for laptops to use in skills class. Instead of hearing the tired “I have to talk to Marina” line, I was offered a personal iPad for each girl! There was no negotiation involved; it was a gift to an often overlooked group of students. The primary goal was to equip girls with a computer-like system to link to Moodle, access the Internet, and “word process.” The result has been very positive. The applications that are most frequently used are for taking notes and making index cards. These are punctuated with multi-sensory components, including graphics, animation, handwritten notations, and audio. The product is personalized, and while the benefits of the “bells and whistles” in the products is hard to gauge, it is obvious to us that the level of student engagement is higher because of them. The students are absorbed in their notetaking and they are more likely to reread their notes as well.

Roz Smith I use the Screen Chomp app for spelling practice. The girls enjoy using the different colors they can select for their writing as well as using the quick eraser. I also use Voice Memo and record my girls’ oral reading: each week I record them and we periodically listen to their previous recordings so the girls can hear the progress they are making as the year progresses. I also use the information gained to meet with each girl individually to discuss oral reading techniques that will help to improve her fluency and expression.

Class VII and VIII students have installed audio versions of A Midsummer’s Night Dream and Macbeth; they listen to a dramatic rendition as they read along on the iPad and make margin notes in their book. It is a sight to behold the concentration in their faces as they literally plug in to the play. We can tell that there is a lot more “reading” and superior comprehension with the use of the audio app.

Charlotte Jennings I have enjoyed watching my students discover the many ways they can effectively utilize iPads as an everyday tool in the classroom. They have acted responsibly, and once the novelty of the new device wore off, the work began. Most of my students enjoy using Notability or a similar note-taking app to organize and take notes. They are able to type, write with a stylus, add images, highlight, and add color, much in the same way that I write on the SMART Board. When the slide we are discussing is an intricate graph or diagram, the

Although we have designed a series of reading and writing lessons, it seems that the more self-directed aspects of using the iPad will be most beneficial to the girls in our skills pilot program. Exams are on the horizon—will there be fewer stacks of index cards and (misplaced) wrinkled paper scattered around? Possibly. As a more intimate and localized interaction with the iPad emerges, there is the potential of harnessing the capabilities of students who would have otherwise been overwhelmed with folders overflowing with information.

18 Faculty Newslette r

Naomi Hayashi and Fernanda Winthrop The iPads have been a welcome addition to the Class III curriculum. The girls are of course thrilled to be piloting oneto-one use of the devices in the Lower School and have been excellent guinea pigs as we learn and experiment with ways to integrate technology across the curriculum. The program in the third grade is unique in that the girls have the opportunity to use the iPads in every aspect of their school life, from math and reading to science, music, and homeroom. While there has been quite a lot to juggle logistically, the broad reach of the program has allowed us to experiment more widely. In math class, we have used the iPad for routine fact practice, spicing up the multiplication tables with game-style apps like Operation Math, or apps that record practice and progress such as Math Board. The app Skitch has allowed the girls to explore the schoolhouse for evidence of math (for example, multiplication in the form of arrays), and to take and annotate photographs of what they find. In reading and social studies, we have had great success using apps designed by ReadWriteThink and the National Council of Teachers of English: Trading Cards gives girls the opportunity to explore reading concepts like character development, historical events, or new vocabulary by answering guiding questions that range from basic information to more conceptual thinking, and Word Mover is essentially an electronic version of refrigerator magnet poetry. The girls craft free form and often poetic responses to their reading, pulling from a higher level of vocabulary. Recently,

the girls engaged in a particularly worthwhile exercise using Word Mover: in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the girls rearranged the words from the “I have a Dream” speech in order to express their feelings on issues of importance. The girls practiced their oral reading by recording before the iPad video camera passages from the novels studied in class. They were then able to play it back to themselves and hear areas where improvements might be made. One of the most valuable benefits of the iPad, we have found, is its unique ability to give each student a voice. Using interactive white board apps like Educreations or the particularly child-friendly ScreenChomp, each girl has had the opportunity to “teach” a lesson based upon what she is learning in class. Students can sketch and explain the box method of multiplication or concepts like multiples and fractions, confidently volunteering their understanding and information to the iPad when perhaps it is intimidating to do so before a group of peers. Recently, we’ve begun using Google Drive with the girls. Teachers can create shared folders for each reading or math group in order to collect student work (photographs, digital projects, written documents) and distribute assignments. Perhaps one of the biggest challenges we’ve encountered is finding ways to ensure that use of the iPad does not diminish the opportunity for group work that so frequently happens in the Lower School. Learning from the thoughts and ideas of others is a large part of our program, and so we continue to seek out new apps and tools that support this approach.

ma rch 2013 19

Perspectives on the People of Color Conference STUDENT REFLECTIONS The Student Diversity Leadership Conference (SDLC) gathers students from all over the country to talk about issues of diversity and social justice and develop strategies for effective cross-cultural communication; the conference also provides students with a safe and welcoming space in which to explore important parts of their identities. This year’s SDLC was held in Houston, and six students from Nightingale’s Upper School attended: Valerie Cardozo, Traciann Celestin, Grace McLeod, Yacine Niang, Caroline Schoen, and Sydney Vann. Thanks to these students for representing Nightingale, and for sharing some of their experiences in the following reflections. —Laura Kirk Appreciation Valerie Cardozo / Class XII My experience at SDLC made me realize how good we have it at Nightingale. I had always appreciated the Nightingale community and found it to be a safe and loving place, but hearing other people’s experiences from other schools made me realize that Nightingale is a unique environment. Some people felt discriminated at their schools, but—when reflecting upon my own experience at Nightingale—I have never felt anything other than love and support, and I greatly appreciate this every day. I felt that I was introduced to a whole new world at SDLC because I met people with so many different stories and opinions than my own. I find that sometimes I forget there is a totally different world outside these blue doors that isn’t as kind and open as Nightingale, and SDLC opened my eyes to this. I never want to leave Nightingale and I yearned for the friends I made at SDLC to find a community as caring and understanding as my own. Elements of a Leader Traciann Celestin / Class X “Live the life you came here to lead.” This was the greatest charge SDLC left with me. I truly learned the elements of a leader. My definition of a leader is someone who accepts that she or he has a powerful story to share with others in order to inspire. It is a person who has come to accept that everyone should be held on the same pedestal regardless of their race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, or any of society’s constraining factors. My SDLC family—all 1,387 of us—are leaders. We all went to Houston that weekend to share our

20 Faculty Newslette r

stories with people who cared and listened. Tears were shed. Eyes were opened. Lives were saved. Magic occurred. After SDLC 2012, I can honestly say that I am living the life I came here to lead. Where Have You Been? Grace McLeod / Class XII In the opening minutes of the conference, Rodney Glasgow, the director of SDLC, stood before an audience of 1,500 students and asked us where we had been. The boy on my left dropped his eyes to the floor; the girl in front of me looked around her as if she would somehow find the answer in the hundreds of faces in the auditorium. There was no one word to use, no key identifier, no easy answer. Where have I been? I’ve been watching Cultural Night every year in the mindset of a cultureless spectator. I’ve been embarrassed to take taxis from Tribeca to school. I’ve been unsure of where to look while changing with my teammates in the locker room. I’ve been privileged. I’ve been shopping for clothes that people expect me to wear and not the clothes that I necessarily like to wear. I’ve been terrified of failing. After I had contemplated this question for a few minutes, I sat on the edge of my seat, eagerly anticipating what was to come next. To say that my expectations were high would be an understatement. I came to Houston expecting nothing less than enlightening answers, life-altering workshops, and inspiring speakers. The speakers were excellent, the workshops informative, and there were a few interesting answers that were suggested over the course of three days, but it became apparent quickly that the power of SDLC lay not in its format or program, but in the people present and all of the places they had been. I used to think of diversity solely as a matter of individual identity. Who are you? What do you look like? What do you believe? SDLC provided the simple one-word identifiers that answer these questions, but from the very beginning, the discussion was taken one step further. When I attended the first LGBTQIA affinity group meeting, the word “gay” suddenly seemed less charged to me. There was no agenda in that room except for the sole goal of finding common

ground, and acceptance was understood, not talked about. It was a powerful thing to feel that, for the first time in my life, I was surrounded by people who were just like me. As the conference ended, I appreciated that I had been in a convention center full of those people for three whole days. We, the 1,500 students, were of different backgrounds and ways of life, but we had all been to the same places at some point. We had all felt the same angers, the same loves, the same disappointments. It was this communal bond—this deep understanding—that was the ultimate take-home message. As we shared our stories, it became clear that although we need to celebrate our differences, our similarities are what unite us. Sometimes, in our ardent quest to be individuals, we forget that in many ways we are exactly the same. Reminding ourselves should be the paramount diversity initiative. Finding My Place Yacine Niang / Class X The most moving experience I ever had in my life happened at the SDLC. I was in a group that was charged with discussing the eight social identifiers and the ways in which different people connected to these identifiers. I found myself

learning a lot but not being very emotionally affected—until our last meeting, when everything changed. We started with our facilitators turning all the lights in the room off and placing four candles in each corner of the room. We were told to speak if compelled to do so, and people told the most heartwrenching stories. I heard stories of child abduction, child molestation, struggles with eating disorders, bullying in school, and lots more. I even told some stories of my own struggle finding my place in my huge family. I cried so hard— for myself, the other kids in the room, the kids at Nightingale who had stories to tell but didn’t know how to tell them, and because I felt so happy that I could make someone feel so safe that they would tell me a story that they’ve never even told their own family. This experience as a whole reminded me that under every smiling face is a sad story waiting to be told, and that I should open myself up more so that people feel comfortable talking to me about any issue that they may have. It also made me realize that I had to learn to be more sensitive towards people—especially if I don’t know them well—because I can hurt someone’s feelings without meaning to. I also learned not to generalize because not everyone comes from the same background or has had the same experiences as I have.

ma rch 2013 21

Your Story Caroline Schoen / Class XII As I walked into the auditorium in Houston, filled with 2,000 other individuals, it finally hit me that I was back at SDLC. I had been thinking about this moment since my return home from Philadelphia last year, and I could not contain my excitement at the thought of being a part of the SDLC community once again. I looked at Val, Grace, Sydney, Traci, and Yacine, noticing the eager grins that encompassed their faces. I knew that they were the perfect girls to be at the conference, and I was excited for them to start their incredible SDLC journey while I continued mine. When our chaperones picked us up the first night, we were exhausted, but ecstatic to be back together and eager to share stories from our day. The six of us huddled in one room and took turns talking about the inspiring people we had met, enlightening activities we had participated in, and the emotional exhaustion we were all feeling. I reflected on the three students who, during the opening ceremonies, had shared with everyone at the conference their stories about what was holding them back in life, and the impact their stories had on me. While listening to these stories in the crowd of students, there was an intense feeling of love, support, and connectedness among everyone in the audience. I began to think, what was my story? What was holding me back in life? I knew these were big questions, but I was inspired by these brave students to discover the answers. The next night, we all gathered with even more stories and anecdotes from the day. It seemed that I had not been the only one thinking about these questions. As we were talking, I felt connected to and supported by my Nightingale family in ways I never thought possible. Discovering that the feeling was mutual, we began sharing our answers to these questions. We were sharing things that we had never told anyone before, but wanted to in order to accept these things as part of our being. Ten years from now, I might not remember the exact definition of institutionalized oppression, but I will remember the moments that I helped others come to terms with their stories while they helped me accept mine. For this, I am infinitely grateful. Your story is a part of who you are. Discover it, accept it, and share it. You may even make lifelong friends in the process. Taking a Stand Sydney Vann / Class XI The room was completely silent, but at the same time, overwhelmingly loud. No one said a word, but you could feel the harbored pain of the 50 kids sitting on the geometric-printed rug of Room 894 resonating in your soul. The room was covered with phrases such as “lean into discomfort,” “say what’s core,” “value yourself and

22 Faculty Newslette r

your opinion,” “be comfortable with silence,” and “listen and prosper.” Each face was diverse, each background was different, and no story was alike—but everyone in the room was unified as one. We were all committed to the overall purpose of the conference: coming to terms with yourself, learning about all aspects of diversity, and taking a stand to make the world a more loving and less ignorant place to live. It was the last family-group session of the conference, after two days of discussions on the eight social identifiers: age, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, race, religion, socio-economic class, and ability. Our facilitators covered the first seven, but wanted to save ability for last. Throughout the first two days, we were not close enough yet to live up to the notion of our becoming a family. We were reserved. We were afraid of letting our guards down. We learned a lot and shared our opinions on different topics, but we didn’t go under the surface. For most of the kids, it was the first time they had ever even gotten close to coming to terms with the stories of their past or exposing a part of themselves to anyone, let alone strangers. “Hey, I know this is off topic, but can I share something?” my friend asked as she stood up and broke the awkward silence. We all said yes and let her go on. “This identifier of ability means the most to me. You see, I’ve struggled the past five years of my life with suicide attempts and an eating disorder.” She went on in tears, exposing her story to us all, entrusting it with us. She initiated a domino effect of every single person in the room (including myself) telling their deepest, darkest secrets, bringing their full selves forward, breaking down their shells, and coming to terms with who they are. Some people fell to their knees in hysteria, some couldn’t stop shaking, and some forgot how to use words. We held hands and embraced each other in this room full of love and support. We were finally a family. It was at this very moment when I truly understood what SDLC stood for. It’s a powerful, unforgettable conference based upon bravery, love, and the reassurance that you’re never alone. The facilitators were waiting for this moment to happen; it happens every year—but it’s only sparked by the students. It’s an electrifying journey of self-acceptance that truly opens your eyes. You would never have expected the happiest and prettiest looking girl in the room who seemed utterly perfect to be dealing with depression after she was raped by a family member two years prior. You would never have expected the hot football jock of the group to be the product of constant verbal and physical abuse from his family. I learned more about myself in these three days than I could ever have achieved in a lifetime. I came back to Nightingale empowered with a greater sense of self and the ambition and tools to make our world a less ignorant and unaccepting place to live.

FACULTY REFLECTIONS People of Color Conference Linda Field / History Although I am not a person of color (I’m one of the “clear people,” as someone at a long-ago diversity conference I attended put it), I was able to attend the People of Color Conference (PoCC) this year as part of my introduction to “official” diversity work. I have been to many diversity conferences over the years—I attended the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) Summer Diversity Institute in 1990—but I always find that there is something new to learn, a new insight that I had never considered, a different practice that might help us in our work here. The PoCC was no exception. The combination of keynote speeches, workshops, affinity group discussions (White/European Heritage/European American, and then white women), and regional discussions (New York State, and then NYC-Upper East Side with students) gave me a lot to think about. In general, I found the keynote speeches the most thought-provoking. Over the three days we were in Houston, I heard from: • Helene Cooper, a Liberian-born journalist who fled to the US in 1980 with her mother and sister and is now a White House correspondent for The New York Times; • Dan Choi, a Korean-American Christian who graduated from West Point, is fluent in Arabic, and served in Iraq but was discharged for violating “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and is now an activist for LGBT civil rights and veterans’ health; • Kim Phuc Phan Thi, the “girl in the picture” running down a road in Vietnam screaming from the pain of napalm burns, who is now a Canadian citizen and an international advocate for children who have been victimized by war; and • Baratunde Thurston, a young African-American comedian who graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington, DC and Harvard University, works for The Onion, and has written a book entitled How to Be Black. Each of these people spoke from his or her own experience and, in the process, touched on issues of race, ethnicity, religion, class, and sexual orientation that are part of the lives of many in our community. The strength, determination, and optimism of these speakers—in the face of all manner of difficulty and, in some cases, unspeakable hardship and tragedy—were deeply inspiring. Their resilience, and that of their families, gave me a model that I hope to carry with me always.

The affinity groups and regional discussions were also very interesting. The regional conversations reminded me how fortunate we are to be in a large urban area, with many schools with which to exchange ideas as well as large communities of various ethnicities so that our students don’t feel isolated in all facets of their lives. Some schools outside of New York City might have no neighbor schools with which to hold joint meetings or events, and the teachers and students can really feel like “voices crying in the wilderness.” I was reminded to make use of the variety of ideas and experiences in our larger community, both to help all of our students experience worlds outside their own and to find ideas and practices that can be incorporated into our community to make it a more inclusive, interesting place. I was somewhat skeptical of the value of a white person’s affinity group, but that experience also proved to be valuable; it actually gave me some clarity about the role of affinity groups in general, something that I have had conflicting ideas about before now. Affinity groups were presented as “communities within a community” that can strengthen students’ connections to the school as a whole rather than contribute to its fragmentation. I learned that Allen-Stevenson, for example, has affinity groups for grades four through six and seven through nine: Boys of Color at Allen-Stevenson (BOCAS) and the Explorations of Culture and Heritage Organization (ECHO—their name for the affinity group for white students). These groups are voluntary, mentored by faculty members, and meet at lunchtime once a week for the boys to discuss issues of race and culture that have either come up in the school or are of wider interest. For most of the three days of the conference, teachers and students were separated—the students attended the Student Diversity Leadership Conference, which was held at the same location and which Yacine Niang described in a recent Spectator article. [See also the student reflections immediately preceding.] On the last day, however, our entire Nightingale group met with the group from Spence; the students had planned an activity that they hoped would allow us all to share some of what we had learned and what we hoped to bring back to our schools. I was very proud of our girls. They were serious and articulate both about what they value at Nightingale and where they see the need for change. In her Spectator article, Yacine wrote that the conference changed her life, and many students who have attended SDLC have said the same. Although I don’t think that my experience at PoCC affected me in such a dramatic way, it was still definitely worth the money the school spent and the time and energy it took for me to go. I came home with a broader perspective, some new ideas and new connections,

ma rch 2013 23

renewed energy for the multiple tasks ahead of me, and even greater respect for the intelligence, integrity, and positive commitment of our students. I would be happy to describe my experience in more detail for anyone who is interested, and I encourage anyone who is interested in issues relating to diversity to consider attending one of the many conferences that NAIS and NYSAIS organize on the topic.

•W  ork out during the work day if time permits. If not, find a way to “remove and improve” to make way for physical activity.

My First Experience at the PoCC

•S  tudies show that by adding physical activity to our lives, we become more socially active—it boosts our confidence and provides us an opportunity to meet people.

Eileen Saguirer / Physical Education

•K  eep the exercise fun and varied and do not be afraid to try something new. Most importantly, do what helps your mind feel at ease.

•F  ind a workout buddy. •D  o a five-day challenge of exercising 20 minutes a day and determine if your stress levels decrease. Only you can measure that. Another highlight of the trip was meeting Kim Phuc Phan Thi, who was the little girl running naked from a napalm bomb attack in the iconic Pulitzer Prize–winning photograph from the Vietnam War. In the 40 years since the photo was taken, she has turned her traumatic experience into an incredible success story, and I found her inspirational message of love and forgiveness both powerful and uplifting.

Eileen Saguirer and Kim Phuc Phan Thi

This year, I was fortunate enough to attend my first NAIS People of Color Conference in Houston, Texas. One of the highlights of the trip was getting to know better—outside of the blue doors—the colleagues and students who traveled with me. The conference gave me the opportunity to network and build connections with others who are committed to building and sustaining independent school communities for people of color. Attendees were able to share stories, resources and opportunities for students, teachers, and schools. One of the conference sessions, entitled “Keep It Moving: Reduce Stress During the Work Week,” focused on encouraging faculty and staff members, as well as students, to find a healthy balance on a daily basis. Here are the key points from the session that I want to pass on to you: • Find 20–30 minutes each day to incorporate physical activity for stress reduction.

24 Faculty Newslette r

London, as Imagined Heather Beveridge / Director of College Counseling

My arrival in London last March was filled with much less anxiety than the first time I was there in 1994, when I passed through on my way to and from visiting friends in St. Andrews, Scotland. Without a cell phone or Google maps, I spent that flight unable to sleep, wondering whether I would be able to figure out how to navigate from Victoria Station to Kings Cross in time to catch my train; what would happen if my friend was not there to meet me when I stepped off of the train in Edinburgh; and if it would be obvious to everyone who looked at me that I was an unsophisticated American traveling abroad for the very first time. In 2012, I felt excitement coupled with at least a bit more confidence as I made my way through customs, onto the tube, and then through Hammersmith to the campus of St. Paul’s (the boys’ school) where St. Paul’s Girls’ School (SPGS) had arranged for me to stay. After quickly settling in, I walked back over the Hammersmith Bridge to figure out the best route to SPGS, ate my first truly English meal (fish and chips with a side of mushy peas), and then made my way to take a quick peek at Buckingham Palace. London was in the midst of preparations for both the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the Olympic Games, so everything in the city was bright and shiny. As I left for SPGS the following morning, I gathered my things together to the rhythmic pounding of dozens of balls being bounced, hit, and chased by scores of Lower School boys as they burned off some energy before sitting down to their lessons. When I arrived at SPGS, I was given a tour of the school by one of the girls who had visited Nightingale earlier in the year as well as a member of our own Class XI who was just starting her two-week-long exchange. There are obvious physical differences between SPGS and Nightingale—the buildings are older and there is much more room than at Nightingale—but I was struck by how much seemed familiar: the girls themselves, the small classes, the energy. After a lunch with faculty, I spent the afternoon with the higher education coordinators. Over the past several years, many more “Paulinas” have considered studying in the US, and the counselors at St. Paul’s were eager to review what they were doing to see if it made sense to someone who

ma rch 2013 25

was more familiar with the US system. While the application process in the UK differs a great deal from that in the US (ours is more holistic, considering non-academic factors to a much greater extent), some of their concerns would sound familiar to any college counselor at an independent school here: How do we get students to consider a broader range of schools rather than just those that top the rankings? What is a healthy level of parental involvement in the college application process? How can we get the girls to focus on enjoying what they are learning now rather than viewing it as a stop on their way to university? Although many of our responsibilities as counselors were the same, there were two differences that struck me. The first was the extent to which career advice is incorporated into the higher education advising. While this makes sense given the structure of undergraduate study in the UK (three years rather than four, and students may enter into a professional course, such as law or medicine, directly) and the choices students need to make in terms of the examinations for which they will sit, it is very different than working with the majority of Nightingale girls, very few of whom have decided upon a definite course of study. The second difference was the large number of Paulinas who take a gap year before entering university, not to mention the amount of work the school does in assisting students in finding placements for that year. The timing of my trip also gave me an opportunity to sit in on classes while students were focused on preparing for their examinations. The strong intellect of the students was apparent in the questions they posed to their teachers as well as the level of discourse. However, just as the conversation took an unexpected and intriguing turn, the instructor would often interrupt and say something such as, “While that is a very good point, in the examination that will not be of interest so you should not address that point in your essay.”

26 Faculty Newslette r

My time at St. Paul’s ended with my inclusion on an outing with the graduating class and their advisors. The school was looking for ways to give the girls more opportunities to bond as a class, so the advisors to the senior class had arranged for them to have dinner together in Soho, followed by a show in the West End. While Mexican food and Legally Blonde might not have been my first choices, it was a wonderful opportunity to speak with the girls informally and to connect with the SPGS faculty who work most closely with their senior girls. Over the next few days, I toured Imperial College as well as the colleges that make up the University of London, spent a day with a former New York University colleague who is now a college counselor at the American School in London, and went on a day trip to Oxford. I also had time to follow some of the excellent advice given to me—a first-time visitor to London—from Sally Edgar, a veteran. The Cromwell Road entrance to the Natural History Museum, the ceramic staircase and Victorian tearooms at the Victoria and Albert Museum, the John Soane’s Museum, and the Royal Observatory at Greenwich all lived up to Sally’s descriptions. While I have referred back to what I learned at SPGS and the colleges I visited frequently this year, what has stuck with me most from my trip is just the experience of London itself. Like Anna Quindlen, whose excellent book Imagined London I read in preparation for my trip, I grew up reading and reading about London. Before I ever arrived, I felt I knew the city—at least the London of Sherlock Holmes and countless other mystery series, the London of the Forsyte family, and the London of the Cazalets. During my free days, I mapped out routes that would take me through parts of London I had come to know on the page, through the streets where much-loved heroines and much-loathed villains resided. In a way, it felt like coming home.

Incredible India Susan Cohen-Nicole / Modern Languages

Incredible India. That is how books, travel agents, and guides refer to the country my husband and I visited over winter break, thanks in great part to the generous travel grant awarded me by the Nightingale-Bamford School, and for which I am very grateful. I found what I saw of India incredible in the beauty of its monuments and its arts. But all beauty is incredible. I also found it incredible in the horror of its poverty and oppression. Again, though, all poverty and oppression are horrible and they exist everywhere. Perhaps part of what made it all so striking and wrenching in every way was the quantity—sheer numbers—of people, of animals, of refuse, everywhere, the incredible intermingling of what we call modernity and what gets called “medieval” conditions, a rather facile way of saying poverty. One sees people walking with cell phones next to women carrying heavy loads and jars of water on their heads; cars on the same roads as carts drawn by camels, or by people. As everywhere, everyone is trying to survive and improve her or his lot. The sheer quantities and the difficulties of the circumstances make reflection and analysis inescapable. We saw magnificent things. In Delhi, the Qutub Minar, the glorious twelfth-century tower created to symbolize the power of the newly victorious Muslims, but carved by Hindu stonecutters (the best available), who managed to sculpt images of Hindu gods and goddesses and camouflage them in this Muslim monument; the exquisite miniatures and sculptures in the National Museum of Delhi, including the “dancing girl” figurine, from 2,000–3,000 BC, Humayun’s tomb, the Mughal predecessor of the Taj Mahal. It is impossible to overstate the beauty and harmony of the Taj Mahal itself, which surpasses anything any image or film could render. After that, in Agra, we concentrated on Rajasthan, going from superb, mostly Mughal forts and palaces in Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer, to sacred Hindu temples and pilgrimage sites in Pushkar and Osyian. We went into the Thar desert, to the dunes on camels (help!) approximately 120 km from the Pakistani border, and heard a local group play wildly beautiful traditional music that was so infectious that it incited many of the Indian tourists to dance spontaneously. We were there when we learned of the horrific rape that had just occurred in Delhi, the “rape capital of India,” as it was noted in English language Indian newspapers. In addition to feeling horror at that event and at the statistics

of rape in India (as at the incidence of rape right here in our own country), I found it thrilling to see how that particular rape galvanized Indian women and many Indian men. Their outrage produced massive protests not only in Delhi, which was paralyzed for an entire day, but throughout the country, something that was less well reported in the international media, I believe. It was fascinating to remark that 95% of the tourists we saw at all of the hotels and monuments were Indian, or of Indian origin. Winter break is the time when many Indians living in foreign lands return to visit their families, but they—as well as the local people—also visit monuments as tourists and make pilgrimages to religious sites. Religion, of course, is the elephant in the room (the metaphor is a bit cutesy given that this concerns India, but I’ve succumbed to temptation here). Religion in its connections to power and the oppression of women; in how it gets manipulated and manipulates; in the rampant religious hatred that is still so pervasive in India and, of course, in the West as well. It is something that must not be ignored, since something that remains such an incredibly powerful force in the world must be faced and understood. For now, though, I’ll leave that particular elephant and end with the glorious image of the Palace of the Winds from Jaipur, as I prefer finishing with a testament to beauty.

Thank you again, Nightingale, for enhancing my awareness of the world through the travelship grant. The voyage has changed me permanently and will affect my teaching, not only of my Authors of the “Orient” class, but of everything.

ma rch 2013 27

Escape from NYC: Reflections from Yosemite and Crater Lake Nikki Vivion / Science, Head

addition to our ever-expanding list of future places to explore. After eight hours traveling through rural northern California, we finally arrived in Klamath County, Oregon. Although we were initially upset that the Crater Lake Lodge had no vacancies during our trip, any disappointment quickly subsided when we pulled up to the Lonesome Duck Settlement Bed & Breakfast on the Williamson River. The property offered over 200 acres of serenity and natural beauty. And the non-human animal residents of the home—an energetic black lab and three fussy but adorable llamas— kept us company while we weren’t out exploring Crater Lake National Park.

Aleks Radovich and Nikki Vivion in Yosemite National Park

Travel is not only a passion of mine, but also a much needed time to reflect and reset. It affords me the opportunity to reconnect with the natural world—an essential means of rejuvenation. While I love living in the hustle and bustle of New York City, I am at heart a girl from Southern California who spent much of her youth exploring the outdoors. I lacked the perspective at the time, but I now appreciate just how lucky I was to be able to so easily explore beaches, deserts, mountains, oceans, and islands in my extended backyard. In fact, it was during my eighth grade class trip to Yosemite National Park that I first remember falling in love with a place. I have since amassed many locations on my list of must-sees, and Crater Lake, Oregon had been on the short list for quite some time. So when it came time to select a destination for my faculty travelship application, deciding on a road trip from the Bay Area to Crater Lake and Yosemite seemed like an obvious choice. Cut to mid-July of 2012. Aleks [Radovich] and I arrived in Oakland, hopped in our rented Jeep Liberty, and hit the road. It didn’t take long to leave the urban life behind and find ourselves surrounded by natural beauty. Surely the most impressive site we passed on our journey north to Oregon was Mount Shasta. Towering nearly 15,000 feet above sea level and completely disconnected from other neighboring mountains, this giant truly dominates the surrounding landscape. We both agreed that this site was a worthy

28 Faculty Newslette r

Our first glimpse of Crater Lake took our breath away. Some of this was due to the very cold temperatures we encountered—not unseasonable for late July in that region, but difficult to grasp until you experience it for yourself. In all seriousness, Crater Lake is one of the most beautiful natural wonders I have ever seen and genuinely is like no place else on Earth. Formed over 7,700 years ago when Mount Mazama erupted in a dazzling fashion but then collapsed into a caldera, Crater Lake was then filled in over centuries with rainwater and snow melt. What remains is a cold, freshwater lake glimmering in color, with some of the deepest blues and richest greens imaginable. We spent much of our time hiking around the park and touring the lake on a boat: in the middle of Crater Lake lies Wizard Island, which is actually a volcanic cinder cone formed sometime after Mazama’s eruption; it boasts trees more than 800 years old and populations of small mammals and visiting birds. We sailed from there to one of the more memorable sights—the mysterious Phantom Ship—an island that seems to disappear and reappear depending upon your vantage point from the rim. We were also lucky to also catch a glimpse of the Old Man, a hemlock trunk that has been bobbing vertically in the waters for over 100 years. One of our final hikes in the park involved a short walk out to the Pinnacles—seemingly never-ending rows of chimneys that formed when hot ash from the climatic eruption cooled and surrounding rock eroded away. Twisting and reaching up into the sky, these fossil fumaroles [volcanic steam vents] left quite an impression upon us as we drove away from the national park and back to the B & B for our final night.

Crater Lake National Park

Although we were reluctant to leave Crater Lake behind, we brimmed with excitement about what awaited us at our final destination. I never imagined that it would take me so long to return to Yosemite, but the experience was worth the wait. The valley never fails to impress when one first lays eyes on the roaring waterfalls, towering granite cliffs, and groves of giant sequoias filling the landscape. The anticipation builds as one drives through the Wawona Tunnel knowing that—just at the other end—awaits one of the most awe-inspiring views imaginable of the span of Yosemite Valley. Flanked by the giant granite monolith known as El Capitan on one side and the lovely Bridalveil Fall on the other, my beloved Half Dome beckoned me in the distance. On my eighth-grade trip long ago, I elected to go with my friends to the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir instead of doing what I really wanted to do, which was to climb Half Dome; I had always regretted that decision and vowed to conquer the massive rock one day. Sadly, I now found myself on a waiting list for a reservation to climb and had to wait a few days to learn my fate. After multiple stops for photo opportunities along the way, we finally arrived at our cabin, a home in the only privately owned residential development within the park boundaries. It was perched on a hillside surrounded by scattered conifers

and rambunctious chipmunks. We settled in after dinner and rested up for an early start the next morning to Vernal Fall. On the way from the car to the trailhead, we encountered a doe and her fawn crossing a meadow. They hardly flinched at our presence as they cautiously made their way across the road to a nearby field. Along the Mist Trail, we crisscrossed the Merced River several times before beginning to climb the steep and slippery steps to the top of Vernal Fall. Aleks and I continued to take in all that Yosemite had to offer during our last few days. Although we were disappointed to learn that the Half Dome waiting list ran short, we were instead able to head to Wawona Valley on our final day for a hike through the famous grove of giant sequoias. Only outdone in height by their coastal redwood cousins, these massive trees made us feel insignificant standing in their shadows and imagining the history they had witnessed during their 2,000 years in the valley. On our way back to Oakland for our flight home, we marveled at the distances we had traveled and the sights we had seen. There was no argument from either of us that we would return again someday to both majestic worlds, in part so that I can satisfy the allure of Half Dome still beckoning for my return.

ma rch 2013 29

Highlights from Academic Affairs Kitty Gordan / Associate Head of School

The Committee on Academic Affairs meets monthly to handle the administrative routine of school and to address educational issues that span disciplines and divisions. Some are of an ongoing nature while others are specific to this year. The committee’s agenda for 2012–2013 has been very full and will continue to be so. Divisional Priorities for 2012–2013 We started the year with a discussion of the goals of each division. The Lower School faculty would focus on making use of the wealth of internal resources that teaching at Nightingale offers, starting with faculty visiting each other’s classes and giving each other feedback. They also planned to review reports and conferences with reference to their alignment with the mission and values of the school. Our visual education program continues to be a major component in the Lower School, and the modern language program (offering French, Mandarin, and Spanish) that began last year is now a fixture in Classes III and IV. In the Middle School, the focus would be to ensure that the academic program meets the needs of every girl, and the self-study was seen as an opportunity to dig deeply into what we teach and how we teach it. The faculty started with a discussion of what our Middle School girls should know when they leave Class VIII, and plans to analyze the curriculum with a focus on finding interdisciplinary connections. They will also look at assessments. In the Upper School, the faculty looked to recast Big Questions to be more inclusive and to build greater student ownership and leadership. They would also focus on how to best use iPads across grades and disciplines, and on celebrating learning and achievement with the girls. The Upper School faculty also planned to reach out to Interschool regarding their Museum and Finance program as well as a science initiative.

30 Faculty Newslette r

Guest Speakers Academic Affairs meetings have been enriched by presentations by many faculty invitees. Scott Meikle, Claire Anderson, Diane Neary, Nikki Vivion, Marilina Kim, Nicole Seibert, and Mary Beth Alexander reported on how they are using iPads in their teaching so that we can learn from each other about the classroom potential of the iPad. Elizabeth Angney, Hilary Lucas, and Heidi Kasevich all gave interesting reports about their experiences at the “Innovation Summit” they attended at the Hathaway Brown conference last October. Elizabeth spoke about Anu Partanen, a Finnish journalist who discussed the Finnish “education miracle.” Finnish schools have shorter school days, spend $3,000 less per year on students than we do, assign less homework, and place greater emphasis on play, yet in international rankings, their students significantly outperform those in the United States. Ms. Partanen credits the strong mathematics and foreign languages performance of Finnish students to teacher education, school independence, preschool focus, and the incorporation of tutoring and support systems for all students that have been instituted by the Finnish government. Hilary reported on Paul Tough’s talk, which focused on questions like “What is the secret to success?” and “What is failure?” According to his research, IQ and cognitive abilities do not play a defining role in life; rather, it is the “gritty characteristics”— grit, self-control, zest, social intelligence, gratitude, optimism, and curiosity—that make the difference. Finally, Heidi reported on Thomas Friedman’s keynote address, during which he said that there is no more American dream, but also that our future is not “used up.” He also advocated that we respond to the “merger of globalization in the IT revolution.” What do we do as educators? His answer is that we teach students how to think like a new immigrant, as well as like artisans who carve initials on their work, a starter-upper who is never finished, and a waitress who is always taking control of her domain.

The iPad Initiative Does teaching with iPads improve student learning? What roles can and should iPads play in the teacher’s toolkit? What impact does student use of iPads have on classroom dynamics and the quality of our school community? These are but a few of the questions we are exploring this year. In order to be fully informed when it comes time to assess our progress and make decisions about next year, the Committee on Academic Affairs has been compiling information about faculty progress and feedback. Individual faculty members report at every Academic Affairs meeting, and the department heads discuss their departmental experience. The technology department also keeps us current: most recently, they presented the results of their faculty survey on iPad use, which gave a wealth of data, including information about faculty use and professional development preferences. Faculty feedback about the sort of training it would most benefit from led the technology department to create “iPad U,” which will be offered for multiple two-day sessions this June, July, and August to accommodate individual summer plans. Meanwhile, additional information is being compiled by a cross-departmental and cross-divisional task force headed by Noni Thomas, which will make recommendations to Paul Burke for next year’s Academic Affairs discussions. Travel Policy Foreign travel is an important complement to our curriculum and its focus is on educating students who see themselves as “citizens of the world.” In the words of our vision statement for the Nightingale graduate of 2020, we would like her “to be more aware of her place in the world, embracing global diversity and aiming to work across barriers, whether of ideology, language, culture, or faith.” We therefore offer

a wide array of opportunities for travel and exchanges. After extensive discussions, however, we have agreed that some limits should be set on the number of trips an Upper School student can go on in order to protect family time as well as to teach our students to prioritize. Other considerations leading to this decision included concerns about overburdening the faculty, equity, and the impact of our travel program on our financial aid budget. We reaffirmed our commitment to offering trips that grow out of curriculum and are putting in place an annual application process to facilitate financial planning and preparation for both students and faculty. Henceforth, students who want to go on a school-sponsored trip will apply to the “trip committee,” composed of the head of the Upper School, the Upper School dean of students, and additional faculty members. Advanced Placement Offerings Our last in-depth review of our AP offerings was in 2007. Over the last five years, student enrollment has stayed steady and our students have done very well. Nationwide, student enrollment has grown dramatically and many colleges no longer offer credit or set the bar much higher before giving it. Meanwhile, the College Board has dropped the French Literature AP as well as the Latin Lyric exam, and modifications have taken and continue to take place with the language, science, and US History APs. We continue to offer the courses that suit our program; we no longer offer AP European History to make space for electives, and abandoned Spanish Literature because we prefer to teach literature in greater depth than the AP syllabus allows. Effective next year, we will also stop offering AP Art History. Finding the proper balance between our own curricular goals and national standards is important and will continue to require thought in the years ahead.

ma rch 2013 31

2012–2013 Conference Registrations Nightingale is committed to the professional development of its faculty; below is a list of conferences attended (or to be attended) by members of the faculty in the 2012–2013 school year.

conference

date

attendees

National Association of Independent Schools Annual Conference

February 27–March 1, 2013

Paul Burke Debra Malmgren Catherine Steiner-Adair Rebecca Urciuoli

New York State Association of Independent Schools (NYSAIS) Education and Information Technology

January 30, 2013

Nicole Blandford Diane Neary Dan Ristea Adam Van Auken

NYSAIS Teaching with Technology

February 20, 2013

Nora Lidell Anne Longley Lois Strell

NYSAIS Educating Girls

January 22, 2013

Abby Balafas Paul Burke Felicia Collins Kitty Gordan Heidi Kasevich Anne Longley Noni Thomas Nancy Wheeler

NYSAIS Understanding Sex, Gender, and Sexuality

December 13, 2012

Claire DuNouy Linda Field Naomi Hayashi Laura Kirk Rebecca Urciuoli

Gardner Carney Leadership Institute Lab

June 14–20, 2013

Anne Longley

32 Faculty Newslette r

conference

date

attendees

National Association of Principals of Schools for Girls Women’s Leadership Seminar

October 5–7, 2012

Abby Balafas Claire DuNouy

Digital Learning Summit at Avenues

November 10, 2012

Claire Anderson Kelly Qualman Grace Wang

Learning and the Brain

November 29, 2012

Naomi Hayashi Kelly Qualman Fernanda Winthrop

Functional Movement Systems Level 1—Centennial

September 15–16, 2012

Lisa Campbell

Hathaway Brown Education Innovation Summit

October 4–5, 2012.

Elizabeth Angney Heidi Kasevich Hilary Lucas

The Center for Spiritual and Ethical Education Community Service: Empowering Kids in the 21st Century

February 15–16, 2013

Damaris Maclean

NYSAIS Professional Development Liasons Workshop

October 4, 2012

Blanche Mansfield

International Society for Technology in Education Annual Conference

June 23–26, 2013

Nicole Blandford

NYSAIS Race for the White House: Integrating Election 2012 into your School’s Curriculum

September 19, 2012

Amanda Goodwin

NYSAIS Building Emotionally Literate Schools: A Year-Long Course

September 20, 2012, October 25, 2012, January 17, 2013, and March 14, 2013

Hilary Lucas

NYSAIS Designing Educational Activities With Google Earth

October 26, 2012

Claire Anderson Kelly Qualman

NYSAIS New Division Heads Series

October 30, 2012, January 16, 2013, and April 25, 2013

Anne Longley

NYSAIS Grading and Reporting Student Learning: Effective Policies and Practices

October 3, 2012

Beth Horboychuck Fernanda Winthrop

ma rch 2013 33

References on Creativity Scott Meikle / Art

Scott Meikle has written an article on creativity that will be published in the 2013–2014 issue of Independent School magazine. With thanks to him, below is a list of some reference materials that may be of interest to our readers. Felder, R.M., “Reaching the Second Tier: Learning and Teaching Styles in College Science Education,” J. Coll. Sci. Teaching, 23(5), 286–290, 1993. Felder, R.M. and Silverman, L.K., “Learning Styles and Teaching Styles in Engineering Education,”Engr. Education, 1988. The Decline of Creativity in the United States: 5 Questions for Educational Psychologist Kyung Hee Kim 2010 Encyclopedia Britannica blog interview. http://www.britannica.com/ blogs/2010/10/the-decline-of-creativity-in-the-united-states5-questions-for-educational-psychologist-kyung-hee-kim/ Gregorc, A., Learning Styles Model, 1988 http://gregorc.com/ instrume.html

34 Faculty Newslette r

Mailick, Sidney and Stumpf, Stephen A., Learning Theory in the Practice of Management Development: Evolution and Applications. Quorum Books, 1998. http://www.questia. com/read/101045240/learning-theory-in-the-practice-ofmanagement-development-evolution. McCarthy, Bernice, The 4-MAT System: Teaching to Learning Styles with Right/Left Mode Processing Techniques. http:// www.4mat.eu/4mat-who-developed-it.aspx Smith, M.K., “David A. Kolb on Experiential Learning,” The Encyclopedia of Informal Education, 2001. http://www.infed. org/b-explrn.htm. Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking (E. Paul Torrance, 1962). http://www.indiana.edu/~bobweb/Handout/d3.ttct.htm Wakefield, A., “Learning Styles and Learning Dispositions in Public Schools: Some Implications of Preference,” Education, Vol. 113, 1993. http://connection.ebscohost.com/c/ articles/9308195448/learning-styles-learning-dispositionspublic-schools-some-implications-preference

ma rch 2013 35

Nightingale The Nightingale-Bamford School 20 East 92nd Street, New York, NY 10128 nightingale.org

36 Faculty Newslette r