Lessons learned

Vic Henningsen ’69 taught History 300 off cycle to the best group during my upper and senior years. We were a diverse group of kids from all the different clusters and friend groups on campus, but in that room, we were a truly close cohort.

Vic had this mesmerizing voice, which made learning about American history interesting and intriguing. We actually looked forward to our “movie night” in the basement of Sam Phil watching Amistad.

The most important thing he taught me was hard work and earning a grade. My upper spring was incredibly personally difficult with the death of my mother; I poured myself into my schoolwork to help cope. I will never forget a comment at the end of spring term from Mr. Henningsen: “Molly earned the lowest possible 5 I have ever given, but mathematically she in fact earned a 5.” This comment might have seemed harsh to some, but to me it meant the world. He knew I had studied; he knew how hard I was trying, and he wanted me to know I had earned it. I was a straight 4 student in history before that; I had never earned an honors grade outside of Spanish or art. Seeing that slide across my desktop meant everything. Vic created a space for us not just to study, but also place to truly learn together.

—Molly Ozimek-Maier ’07

Mr. McQuilken was one of my teachers at Andover (1967-1968). I remember a kind remark he made on my way out of class one day. It had to do with yet another vicious nosebleed; he asked if I worried a lot.

I’d had nosebleeds as long as I could remember. In my freshman year at college, mid-shave, a.m. bleed (hardly a normal time), his words came to mind. I remember looking in the mirror and telling myself, “I don’t care if I flunk out of this school, I’m not going to do it worrying.” Interestingly, that was my last nose bleed.

Two things struck me. The first, on a basic level, that the mind is very powerful relative to the body. More importantly, I’ve come to see that worry is a lack of faith. Rather, God simply isn’t big enough - a tenet to which I don’t subscribe. The application of this knowledge has allowed great things for me and my family.

—Peter G. Hawkins ’69

I took Middle East Politics with Peter Drench my senior year. On one of my policy briefs, he advised that I should consider pursuing international relations since I had a knack for it. I now work for the Department of State creating and implementing U.S. foreign policy. —Allison Callery ’07

I had the pleasure of taking Mandarin with Dr. Yuan Han all four years at PA. I’m an African American female who arrived at Andover via Washington, D.C. public schools with no background in Asian languages whatsoever. Both family and friends thought I was insane for picking Mandarin, and after I received a 60 percent on my first quiz, I also began seriously doubting the wisdom in that decision.

Dr. Han scheduled a time to speak with me, and I was certain that he would encourage me to switch to a different language. When I sat down with him, he didn’t try to dissuade me from taking Mandarin. He didn’t go over the material that I got wrong on the quiz. Instead, he simply asked how I was adjusting to Andover and if there was anything he could do to help ease my transition. He told me that my issue was self-doubt and a lack of confidence, not a failure to grasp the material. He said, “You made it here for a reason. All the teachers know that, and you should never forget it!”

I went on to do study abroad programs in China; in college I received a minor in Chinese and today in my law practice I handle many of my firm’s U.S.-China litigation matters. Over 20 years have passed since I graduated, and I still hear Dr. Han’s voice in my head when imposter syndrome or insecurities set in. “You made it here for a reason...never forget it!” Dr. Han has no idea how those simple words—and all the support he offered during my time at Andover—has impacted my life.

—Shevon Bengston Rockett ’99

By telling this then-skinny Southern kid from Beaufort, South Carolina, that he should stay on a hill in Massachusetts despite his homesickness, the late, great Jean St. Pierre, teacher at Abbot and later at PA, not only taught me competence from 1987 to 1988, she also made me feel competent enough to remain and thrive on that very same hill. —G. Hamlin O’Kelley III ’90

Simeon Hyde Jr. ’37 became the acting headmaster for my upper year (1971-1972) upon the death of headmaster John Kemper. Although I never took an English class from Sim, his speech to the student body that spring—when he announced that a new headmaster had been selected and that he would now retire after a 23-year teaching career at Phillips Academy—left me stunned and impassioned.

Although I never once had a direct encounter with the man, Simeon wasn’t somebody I had deeply admired. I was immature, caught up in a self-image as a jock (really a jock wannabe), and Simeon appeared to be the antithesis of jockdom. He was a dapper little man with snowy white hair who wrote poetry...clearly not the manly persona I was looking to emulate.

His retirement announcement, however, sent my admiration through the roof. Instead of retiring to a life of puttering in the garden and playing bridge, Simeon announced to the student body that, after a lifetime at Andover as a student, teacher, and administrator, he and his wife were moving to Albuquerque, where he would enroll as a student in the University of New Mexico School of Architecture to prepare for a new career as an architect. Not only was he not following the typical and predictable retirement scenario I had presupposed, but he also was about to invest several years of time, effort, and money in preparation for an ambitious new professional career.

His announcement had a major impact on my life. It taught me a lot about prejudging people I don’t really know. It also opened my eyes to the incredible life opportunities that are out there, no matter your age, as long as you have the energy and vitality to seize them.

—Doug Mavor ’73

Matt Lisa was my upper year teacher. Math was never an easy subject for me, particularly in high school, and Mr. Lisa spent many conference periods helping me that year. Having a teacher who was so invested in my success helped me find a voice to be not only a better student, but also a better advocate for my academic needs, a critical lesson for me that built the foundation I needed to succeed in graduate school. —Genevieve Kandler ’04

The most important teacher I had at Andover was Kelly Wise, whose Novel & Drama seminar (1971-1972) was the class that taught me—finally—how to read, how to write, and how to think. I owe so much to that special class, to Kelly, and to the other students who took it with me for exploring the literary art deeply and passionately. —David Schwartz ’72

Bill Brown was my first-year English teacher. He taught by example and always went the extra lap. The first in-class writing assignment was to take 20 minutes and describe how to cut a piece of string into three equal parts. I finished quickest with a simple solution. From then on, he took an interest in me and for four years checked on me to make sure that I stayed on the right track.

Fresh from Bay Shore High School, Long Island, and a wee bit cocky, I entered PA to repeat my freshman year. I had high Regents scores, and was co-captain of the freshman football team, starting guard on the freshman basketball team, catcher on the freshman baseball team, second doubles on an undefeated varsity tennis team, plus girls were becoming less of a mystery! Veritably invincible, a legend in my own mind, I spent more time in the first marking period learning the plays for the football team than I spent hitting the books.

Bill Brown’s caring, his skills in the classroom, and his record in WWII resonated with me as I grew older. His teaching about brevity and observation—“seeing the forest through the trees,” and then translating succinctly what you saw into a word picture—all comes flashing back.

—George Rider ’51