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As a student who attended Westlake from 1st grade through 12th, I could say that the school was a second home. Quite a few of the teachers were to become friends on and off campus. I remember Helen Temple in her early years as head of the athletic department.
Never fond of team sports, I excelled in swimming and tennis. At an early age, I remember Helen wrapping us up in towels as we stepped out of the pool. Both Helen Temple and Carol Mills helped me get through the difficult months and years after my father died at the beginning of my sophomore year. They made sure I knew their offices were open to me if I needed to talk. I will always be grateful for their guidance.
— Louisa Wallace Jacobs ’54
Helen Temple Dickinson was a second mother to me. I was a resident student. My parents were international business people and traveled. Helen sensed the lost soul in me and adopted me. As a result, I brought my own children to her. I attribute two or three generations of Westlake graduates to her, even though it was Carol Mills who said, “And this is where you will send your daughter.”
Helen had many amazing qualities. She was highly intelligent, musical, artistic and athletic. She always included me in the events in her life. When she met Malcolm, she notified the House Mother that she needed me to deliver some tchotchke. I was allowed to go down to where she lived. And that’s how I met her future husband.
As headmistress, she was strict. People were intimidated by her. I wasn’t. She was vulnerable and afraid to show that side of her. The school was a metaphor for her. It was as much a part of her as anything could be for anyone.
The school was the image that she presented to the world. She cared about the students, the faculty — each and every one of us. I remember thinking when I was 12 or 13 that being a schoolteacher and owning your own school was a pretty nice idea. I became a school teacher but ended up being an educational therapist and now a psychologist. Helen was incredibly influential in my life. I have her picture among those of my own family. There wasn’t a time that either one of my children didn’t know Auntie Helen. We always had contact with one another until she died.
— Sigrid Banzhaf Toye ’56
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