Dear Sweet Briar Classmates,
As you all know, the Supreme Court of the Commonwealth of
Virginia will hear arguments on June 4–next week–regarding the closing of Sweet
Briar. Because it is vitally important
to let the Court know that the opponents of closing can muster sufficient funds
to support a renewed Sweet Briar, the women of Saving Sweet Briar recently sent
us all a letter asking that we make immediate pledges in order to reach a goal
of $20 million before the Court meets.
It is clearly stipulated that these pledges will be redeemed only after
we are successful in halting the closing.
I’m sure that many of you have responded, as I have, by making new
pledges even if you had already pledged in the past. If you have not responded to this recent
letter, I ask you to do so right now.
Many, many women have worked long and hard, neglecting almost every
other aspect of their lives, in order to save Sweet Briar. This is OUR chance to help, and it is our
LAST chance. If you have a few minutes
to read further, I’d like to tell you why I think this is so very
important.
During the final days of April I paid a visit to Sweet
Briar. Ever since the terrible
announcement of March 3, I had known that I must do so. I wanted to talk to students and faculty, to
hear their stories, to let them know that I cared deeply about what they were
enduring and that I shared in their grief.
Most of all, perhaps, I wanted to be at Sweet Briar, to
experience it in a way I cannot at reunion or fall homecoming because during
those events I am so busy visiting with all of you that I do nothing else. Now I wanted to be at Sweet Briar by myself–looking,
walking, remembering, thinking. But I
was apprehensive: Would I spend the entire time weeping? Would I feel, literally, like jumping in the
lake? Finally, with only a week
remaining before the end of classes, I bit the bullet.
It was to the lake I took myself as soon as I’d checked
in at the Elston Inn. On my way there I
stopped in front of the library to talk to a group of students–two seniors and
three juniors. As I told them why I was
there, I felt the tears coming; tears welled up in their eyes as well. I heard their stories, the first of many I
was to hear, all basically the same story and not a good one. The juniors recounted the plans they are trying
to make for next year–a process infinitely more complicated and discouraging
and downright impossible than the rosy reports of “teach-in” colleges put forth
by Jones and the Board. During my stay
(Wednesday afternoon through late Friday afternoon) I ate with groups of
students at every meal in Prothro Commons, waylaid them as they walked across
campus, and met with them after a Sweet Tones concert and an art history
lecture. Many of the students–and just
about all of the juniors, including some with nearly perfect GPS’s–are finding
that all their credits will not transfer because of different course
requirements in their majors and certain residence requirements. Every student that I talked to was finding it
difficult or impossible to get financial aid from the new institution.
By the time I arrived in May the students had recovered
from the initial shock but not from their anger. They were angry at the betrayal they had
suffered and even angrier at the betrayal of Sweet Briar. I was particularly moved by the fact that
many seemed more worried about Sweet Briar than about themselves. They treasure every inch of Sweet Briar’s
3,250 acres and feel, as I believe many of us do, a living presence, the very
soul of the place now violated or threatened with violation. Girl after girl told me that she would be
back at Sweet Briar next fall if Sweet Briar is there. One of the students I had dinner with on my
first night talked to me again before I departed. A sophomore, she had been admitted to one of
the “teach-in” colleges. “I visited
there when I was looking at colleges,” she told me, “and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to go there then and I don’t
want to go now. If Sweet Briar is open
in the fall, I’ll be here. If it doesn’t
reopen till 2016, I’ll treat next year like my junior year abroad.” Then she stopped and the tears came into her
eyes. “I want to be here,” she said, “because
there is no place else like this on earth.”
The faculty, as you can imagine, had other horror tales
to tell. Since academic jobs do not grow
on trees, many who for years have dedicated their lives to educating the young
women of Sweet Briar now find themselves hung out to dry. Unluckier still are those who actually own
houses on campus but, of course, not the land under them. They are to be paid “fair market value,” but
who knows what that means under these strange circumstances? Whatever they are paid, they are expected to clear
out almost immediately. A junior
chemistry major reported that science faculty have been ordered to clean out
the labs in Guion, a job that would involve the disposal of hazardous
substances, which of course legally they cannot do. But such is the wisdom of the
close-the-place-down President and Board.
Still, in the midst of all this chaos and personal disaster, many of the
faculty with whom I spoke seemed most concerned about the fate of their
students. This remarkable care and
dedication have characterized Sweet Briar faculty from the beginning. It certainly was their hallmark in our day,
and it is another of Sweet Briar’s glories that must not be tossed aside like
so much useless debris.
So I listened and I walked and I thought. I climbed to the third floor of Fletcher, still the abode of the
English department. In the library I sat
in the Browsing Room, wound through the stacks, admired the spectacular new
addition (insanely built after some on the Board must already have made their
decision), and almost wept when I saw the recently restored main reference
room, every little stucco rose in the ceiling exquisitely defined in gleaming
white. In our beloved Refectory, now the
Pannell Center, I attended a fascinating lecture on medieval art by a 2003
Sweet Briar graduate (now a curator at the National Gallery in Washington) and
felt a familiar pride in the accomplishments of yet another Sweet Briar
woman. Finally I went to the Monument,
where I spent a long time talking to Miss Indie and Daisy and looking down at
beautiful Sweet Briar. But I did not
have to be on Monument Hill to commune with Miss Indie. I could feel her presence wherever I walked
on campus, just as I felt the presence of Sweet Briar’s other ghosts. Those ghosts are different for all of us, I
suppose. Mine are Mr. Nelson, Miss Sarah
Ramage, Nancy Baldwin, Mrs. Pannell, and, yes, even Dean Pearl. Whoever your Sweet Briar ghosts may be, they
are the people who taught you, inspired you, and in some way shaped you. That process of shaping young women goes on
today. It needs to continue at Sweet
Briar for a very long time to come. The
young women who could and should go to Sweet Briar tomorrow require the nurture
and inspiration that Sweet Briar has always supplied. Sweet Briar must be there tomorrow to
continue the work that Miss Indie began and from which we, like generations of
other Sweet Briar women, have benefitted.
I know that Sweet Briar is an essential part of who I
am. Now, having observed the strength,
intelligence, courage, and toughness of the women fighting to save Sweet Briar,
I have never been more proud of the fact.
But pride in the past is not enough.
We must do ALL THAT WE CAN to insure Sweet Briar’s future. Please sit down right now and send your pledge–or
increase your pledge if possible. (Note:
All pledges may be paid over a five-year period.) TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE: please do it
now! To donate online, go to www.savingsweetbriar.com
or email your pledges to e.smith@alexanderhaas.com. Please address any questions to the Saving
Sweet Briar campaign office: 404-832-9210.
Love to you all and many
thanks,
Grace Mary
(Grace Mary Garry
Oates)
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