Memorable Accounts of Angela
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Sequins of Events
Of course, Thornton Hall was Miss Greig. Her vision and intellect shaped the school. She ruled her domain like Joseph Stalin in a sequined sweater. She hammered into me an appreciation for the arts that has stayed with me even in my most cynical moments. Like so many other students, I never fully appreciated her lessons at the time. It took years of life experience to see the relevance of her instruction. To this day, her ruminations on Rembrandt or on artistic composition will lurch to the surface at the most unexpected times to add insight as I contemplate some situation.
However, Miss Greig skillfully wielded psychological manipulation and a fine sense of dramatics to intimidate students and extract an acceptable level of compliance. The level of hostility in the studio was at times a crucible, vaporizing one's self-confidence and stripping one's soul bare. Indeed, for me, this hostility became the devil of Thornton Hall. A number of students found this too hard to manage and found their own forms of solace.
Over the years, I realize that Thornton Hall shapes and changes its students. We are different from other people and have been honed by our experiences, both good and bad. I am certain I am better for it. If one ever believes otherwise, consider Aristotle:
"The roots of education are bitter but the fruit is sweet."
Shooting Daggers
I woke up this morning remembering another bit of Thornton lore. It was spring. You remember what it was like to be in that studio. The stench of rabbit size for the canvasses cooking on the hotplate. Kids coming to the studio as early as 7 a.m. (I was one of those), frantically/desperately trying to finish a piece. How hot and airless it could become by 10:30.
One morning, Angela came into the studio dressed in black, complete with netted veil. She wore a gold chainlink belt and from the belt hung a dagger. We stood as she entered; she walked to her chair. The room, silent. We knew something was up because she had not greeted anyone on her way in and did not sit down immediately, as was her custom. She stood and stared at all of us...individually. Her stare piercing to the back of each of our skulls. I felt as naked as Igor. About 10 minutes passed...the silence was palpable. Some poor fool blundered into the studio. Angela's gaze stopped him dead in his tracks. He literally backed out of the room as if he'd been struck. She then stood, announced that homework was not being done to her satisfaction and that she was in mourning for the cultural death of the school. She had her hand on the dagger while she spoke...like one of us 'cretins' might just make a move. She then left the studio. We sat in silence for the whole morning.
After lunch, she was her old self, acting as if nothing had happened.
I was always impressed with how she handled that situation. No long lectures on the importance of doing your homework, no buckle down, nose to the grindstone crap. Just 10 minutes of silence, a look and a few words. I never felt so focused in my life. I don't know about you, but I would have rather fallen on that dagger than have Miss Greig disappointed in me.
I'm
Still Big. It's the Pictures That Got Small
The parallels between Angela and Gloria Swanson (playing Norma Desmond in Billy Wilder's "Sunset Boulevard") [as she] gave her bizarre but charming morning exhortations to students were ominous. Clad in a flowing ball gown, Angela would wave her arms in graceful motions to illustrate her speeches, delivered in her trademark deep, breathy voice. Each time she spoke, I kept thinking of Norma Desmond saying to a crowd of reporters, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.")
Naughty by Nature
...[Having
been designated Santa, I took] the opportunity to sit Angela on my knee and
tell her that she was a very bad girl!
Santa: "Have you been a good girl, Miss Greig?"
Angela: "Yes, Santa. All of my Prismacolours are in order and the universe is unfolding as it should."
Santa: "An excellent answer...but Santa's research indicates otherwise. But let's not call it fibbing; let's call it 'prevarication.' Peter-elf, please present Miss Greig her complimentary lump of coal and we'll never speak of this again...until next year."
To tell you the truth, I think she liked being called a bad girl. And I don't recall any reprisals afterwards...
Immortal Beloved
...I was a watered-down Catholic, and was credulous when Miss Greig announced in her Great Religions course that there was no such thing as an afterlife: "You get one chance, and then you rot in a box!". Misguided, I repeated that choice phrase at the dinner table. My father, who had studied to become a Catholic priest, ranted, threatening to sue Angela for turning me into an Agnostic.
Make That a Double
I remember well one portion of Miss Greig's opening remarks during [my years of attendance]. Standing in front of her class out in the art studio she would announce that anyone who got less than perfect grades would fail the year. Her reasoning, apparently, was that if you got less than 100% -- say, 99% -- well, you just had not completed the course!
...There was hope, however, which we found out later. Miss Greig had formulated a rather interesting scheme which she called "Double Deficiency." If one received a grade of less than 50% you could still move on under the Double Deficiency plan but in the next course you would have to get a grade with a mark that was above 50 by a margin that was twice as much as the amount you were below 50 previously! I know this sounds complicated, and she certainly had us befuddled -- but then we were no maths stars either. Basically if you ever failed you would owe her marks the following year! She most certainly had a way of getting you to be beholden to her. In any case, a popular retort in those days when a friend asked you how you had done on an exam was "DOUBLE DEFICIENCY!"
I think many of us left Thornton thinking that we still owed Miss Greig marks.
"Prime" Time
I smile anytime somebody talks about Maggie Smith in "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie." If they only knew that the real thing was on stage every day in Forest Hill, regally ensconced in a rattan peacock chair.
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Naming Ceremony
If there is one definitive Thornton Hall/Miss Greig story that I will always remember it would be about my name. In the beginning of my first year Miss Greig called me by the name that I have always used, Catherine. However, halfway through the first year she decided that she liked my middle name better and began to call me Catherine Wannita. I became known by both names for the rest of that year and the beginning of the next. By the middle of my second and graduating year, Miss Greig had decided that both names were too long and since she liked Wannita that is how I should be addressed. So when I graduated, I graduated as Wannita Coulter. Over the years, I have run into a few Thornton Hall classmates, and if I don't refer to myself as Wannita, they never know who I am. Only Miss Greig could change a person's name!
--Catherine Wannita Coulter Wood
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School Ties: Thornton Hall Alumni
Yearbook: Photos and Memorabilia
This page was last updated 7/27/02.