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We didn’t belong on the same court. This was not Marlborough, Marymount or Notre Dame. We were in Inglewood to play girls who were going to play hoops in college. For them, a ticket out of town. For us, humiliation.
Every Wednesday night, Barb managed us through this challenge. Sometimes she wanted to laugh, other times cry, because she knew how hard we had worked. She was tough on us: “You run like a three-legged turtle with asthma!” But somehow, we knew she was proud of us.
I can see her now, shaking hands with the opposing coach, then walking toward us in tennis shorts with that distinctive gait, taking the defeat with the utmost class. She patted us on the backs. By the time we were on the bus, she was joking. After all her hard-nosed coaching, she showed us not to take it too seriously.
I’ll always remember the pre-game war cry she taught us to shout, in a circle, arms around each other: “Tenacity!”
— Melissa Carey Holberton ’85
More than any single teacher, Ms. Welsh influenced my life immeasurably. I was a Letter girl and only Ms. Welsh knew how much that meant to me. I was not the best athlete, but for a point guard of 5’3” I poured every bit of heart and spirit into the game.
Although I was unaware of it at the time, Ms. Welsh taught me about virtue and character, without which academic prowess means little. She taught me about truth and principle. She expected nobility in every action in every sport I played. She taught me self-respect.
She expected us to tuck in our shirts, stand straight, speak with dignity, and to never disparage a team member on either side. She taught me about treating people equally. Her discipline was righteous, kind but firm. Her southern drawl provoked many laughs. She was a drillmaster, an educator and the heart of my most treasured memories at Westlake.
— Laura Schuman Craig ’87 |