Remembering Bill

Thank you Mr. Biddle by Chris Brown’61

Dear Mr. Biddle,

… although by now I suppose rightfully it should be Bill. Having followed in your footsteps as a teacher, and later an administrator, I’m more comfortable with former students calling me “Chris” rather than “Mr. Brown”.

I am writing in hopes that you will be able to attend the 50th reunion of the class of 1961. Peter Ward has said that you might and I have depended on him to encourage you to do so up until now.

You should be aware that your influence was very much a part of my editorship of the reunion booklet that was sent out. Originally I volunteered to help out on whatever art work might be needed for its publication, but all too soon realized that I was the only one to indicate an interest in working on it, and thus became editor, chief cook and bottle washer. Not totally uncomfortable with the task – I did have your excellent tutelage in writing – I set to it. But you might as well have been sitting by the computer next to me as it progressed. As it was a dog-eared grammar book remained within reach, only slightly more tangibly than dusty recollections of what comment you might make in the margin of a passage as I went over the submissions of my classmates. You can imagine the fun I had making suggested corrections to my Harvard-educated classmates who had hastily dashed off their experiences of the past 50 years. Most took them in stride, but not all.

So I thank you for that preparation. You should also know that my writing ability enabled me to stay employed when the Weymouth Schools eliminated all of their department heads, including my position as the Art Department Head. They needed someone to write up the minutes of the school committee meetings and to be responsible for writing all federal grants for the system. Not something that an art educator necessarily might want to do, but I was confident in being able to do it, and I did so for the last 12 years of employment.

Another memory I want to thank you for goes back I believe to the first day I was in one of your classes. It was an Ancient History class and you start it by asking something that had never been asked by a teacher before that moment, or sadly since. You asked, “Why do we study history?” An obvious question; one that could profitably be asked by about any subject; but hardly ever brought up. In my own teaching, I posed the question often, not only in terms of the course but many of its components. Doing so guided me in what I wanted to teach about a subject, but also opened my students’ eyes to its significance to them.

There are many,. many memories I would love to uncover again. The episode of your pacing me in running the decathlon circle and my sweat pants falling down just before the finish line. Glidden and me acting out in class. My gun powder oral report when you had sufficient confidence in me to let me light a small amount of black powder at its conclusion. The bonus question of Hannibal’s most probable route across the Alps to be found in a recently published book you had thumbed through in Harvard Square. The search for the poet, Wilfred Wilson Gibson, who wrote, “The Stone”. Going into BC to hear Robert Frost. Researching Sir Wilfred Grenfell for the Wiggins essay. There must be a hundred more.

I hope you can make it back. If not, appreciate that you continue to have has a strong impact on my life, both directly and indirectly, and I thank you for that.

Most sincerely,

Chris Brown