Editor's Note: This piece was originally published on the Wyndcroft website for the 90th anniversary of the school's founding. As a part of our Centennial celebration we revisit this part of Wyndcroft's history.

Mabel and Me

Musings on Ninety Years of Wyndcroft

In this, the school’s ninetieth year, I find myself thinking a lot about the school’s history.  There is something awesome about being part of an institution that has endured so long.  When my father turned ninety (he is now ninety-eight) he said to me one day, “You can’t imagine how the world has changed in my lifetime.”  I like trying to imagine how Wyndcroft has changed in ninety years.  And I like to hope that in many ways it has stayed the same.

A formidable name that pops up early in the history of Wyndcroft is the name of Mrs. Mabel Day Steele.  She was the Headmistress of the school for twenty-three years, from 1925 to 1948.  She instituted a tradition of dancing around a maypole every spring, and she aspired to have our graduates go out as a “light to the world.” 

In terms of gender, she is my direct predecessor.  There have been several men in between her tenure and mine, but as far as women go, it’s just Mabel and me.   I think about her a lot.  I hope she doesn’t mind me calling her Mabel. I say good-morning to her every morning when I pass her portrait in the front hall.  As Wyndcroft’s only other female head of school in ninety years, I feel a bond with her.

I like her style.  In her photograph she is wearing a very smart dress, what looks like some really good jewelry, and a huge flower.  Her hair is nicely arranged.  In the photograph she is notably not smiling.  There is a touch of Margaret Thatcher or The Queen about that.  It denotes to me a seriousness and a confidence that does not need to ingratiate.  Is she saying, “I am who I am,” or “Don’t try messing with me?”  Does this lack of a winning smile show the strength of a female leader in past times?  Or perhaps in those days people just did not smile in formal pictures and she was really a very jolly person.  I prefer to think of her as strong.

I think she must have been a very good administrator given that Wyndcroft grew and thrived under her leadership for twenty-three years.  I did read a report of an alum once who said that Mrs. Steele might have loved education but he didn’t think she liked children very much.  I just can’t believe that.  Who could do this job, dedicate your life’s work to the welfare of other people’s children, and not like children overall?  Impossible!  I think perhaps she was just part of that generation who firmly believed that children should be seen and not heard.  Perhaps she thought it her duty to impose good manners and deportment and was not doing her job for the students seeking their good opinion, but was seeking the good of their character.  Or perhaps that alum was just a cut-up or a goof-off kid at school and incurred her wrath too often.  Looking at Mabel, I suspect she did indeed love children, but as a child, you’d definitely want to behave when she was around.

It is entertaining to compare Mabel’s daily work to my own.  It is tempting for me to think she must have had an easier time.  The school was very small and I imagine she spent much more time in the classroom, having fun with the kids.  I don’t think she spent a moment worrying that the growing cost of technology was killing the budget.  (I wonder if chalk was expensive then?)  And I know for sure she did not spend two years planning a new website!  She never had to worry about some upper schoolers and their off-campus internet activity.  I can’t imagine she dealt with figuring out our complicated schedule or spent time trying to find coaches in those days.   And I bet she didn’t have to deal with that mystery leak that floods the hallway regularly and can’t seem to be fixed.

But in reality, she must have had her stresses.  Children’s health was precarious then, with regular childhood diseases like measles and mumps running rampant, no antibiotics, and deadly things like TB and polio going around.  She was headmistress during the depression so she must have seen families slide into poverty, perhaps having to withdraw their children from the school.  And what on earth did she do if a child forgot to pack his or her lunch with no cafeteria?   Did she worry about the future of the very intelligent girls, in an era when women couldn’t imagine a fulfilling career in areas other than nursing and teaching?  And then she must have had fathers lose their lives in World War II and that can’t have been easy. The sorrow of those widows and children would have been acute in such a small school.

I like to think that if Mabel stepped out of her picture one day and took a walk around Wyndcroft that she would be pleased with what she saw.  I hope she would see continuity in our still valuing Non Sibi, good manners, and good effort.  I think she would be glad we still teach Latin and French and a regular form of mathematics where things like multiplication facts and accuracy still count.  I bet she would approve that a Wyndcroft student still loses points for spelling errors.  I think she would be impressed to see how much our teachers care for their charges, not just academically, but emotionally too.  I think she might find our children more outgoing, more outspoken, and more at ease in the school, than she was used to, but I hope she’d think that better than the old seen-and-not-heard days.  And I think she might be ecstatic to see our Graduation, when our wonderfully grown and impressive eighth graders go forth still to carry their light to the world.

I do hope she does not go looking for that Maypole with the long white ribbons because she’s not going to find it.  But she will see we have a nice picture of it on our wall and if I could meet her in the hall I’d say, “Mabel, be assured, your little school has grown, but it is in very good shape, and please know that we still do treasure our traditions, ninety years on.”

Kate Wunner
October 2008