Living the Mission & Values: Ring Ceremony, 2024

Ceremonies and traditions link one generation to another in our schools, reminding students that they are part of something larger than themselves. At Laurel, each November, the Junior Class receives their school ring, a Laurel branch engraved into a flat surface.  They ask a member of the faculty to speak, and this year, they asked me.  Here are my remarks, excerpted—they were too long and the whole Upper School was so patient. What a privilege to address them. 

What a privilege to be invited to speak with you this morning–in a year of lasts for me, this is a first.  Thank you.

Because I will not be with you next year, I want to use my time consider how the mission and the values of our school link to the Laurel ring, to the history of our school and to women’s history in this country. And I hope to inspire each of you to think about how you choose to live while you are members of the Laurel community and long after you leave these dear walls.  

Though  I am not an alum, I proudly wear a Laurel ring. In the winter of 2012, a Laurel Junior, Jessica, died in a sledding accident, and her class and I walked through many sad months together, grieving. The whole school grieved.  I think that’s when the candy in my office became a real thing–it gave those Juniors who became Seniors a reason to stop by, to sit and talk and cry and be with me and with each other. We made a garden across from the quiet study room and dedicated it to Jess in the fall of what would have been her Senior year. The days slipped by, and soon it was Last Chapel, the day before Jess’ classmates’ Commencement. At the very end, when I was about to ask everyone to stand to sing the alma mater, the Senior class President said, “Ms. Klotz, give me the microphone.”

I said, “Emily, we’ve given all the awards–”

She reached for the mic, and, on behalf of her class, presented me with this ring that I wear every day.  Your class, whom I love so deeply, reminds me of that class.

Jessica’s legacy has been carried forward by her classmates. They remember her mane of bright blonde hair, her quick laugh, her talent as a gymnast, her love of the outdoors. They try not to take their lives for granted because they remember a classmate whose life was far too short. They are turning thirty this year, and Jess is frozen at 17. I remember turning her ring on this day thirteen  years ago. We do not forget those we love.  

When I leave Laurel, with this ring on my left pinky, I will carry all my Laurel classes and all of you with me into my next chapter.  

We don’t know what we will remember when we have left these dear walls--but this ring is a talisman, a symbol of the time we have spent here and a call to action for how we choose to live.  Someday, you may run into someone in a restaurant or in another country, and you might look down and see this ring on her finger–a connection across generations. On this day, you look both backwards and forwards.  

I have told you Jess’ story because my own Laurel ring is a symbol of how love endures; it reminds me to be the best headmistress I can be, to hold myself accountable, to lead with our mission and values in mind. 

128 years ago–1896–Jennie Prentiss, at 26 years old, founded our school in her living room, inspired by the audacious belief that girls deserved an education equal to that available to boys. In 1896, few women had the right to vote in this country, though women had been working for suffrage even before the Seneca Falls convention in 1848. Abolition and suffrage were both movements that sought to give legal rights to Black people and to citizens.  The 19th amendment would finally pass in 1920, 24 years after our school was founded. The right to vote for people of color was not guaranteed–nationwide–until the voting rights act of 1964. In 1964, I was three years old. Why tell you that? Because the freedoms we take for granted have not been in existence for very long–freedoms are not guaranteed. 

To be sure, at the beginning, Laurel enrolled only affluent, white, Protestant girls–now I am proud that we have broadened our definition of who belongs at Laurel–we have made a Laurel education accessible to many students whose families could not afford it. Even the cost of the ring you receive today is now built into our fees now because the ring  is an important symbol of belonging here, and I wanted everyone to be able to have one.

Laurel is not paradise. Your workload is heavy; our expectations are high. Some days, it rains, or the candy jar is empty. I stand on the other side of 13 years in my own all-girls school–I was a lifer–and I have spent 41 years teaching and leading in historically all-girls schools–I say historically because we now have a better understanding of gender than we once did.  I urge you to  appreciate the privilege of being in a school that takes you seriously, that cares more about what you think than what you look like, that respects and celebrates your intersectional  identities, that encourages you to use your voice, that is designed for you to dare to fail gloriously–which you know is one of my mantras.  Not every space you occupy will. Sexism is alive and well in America.

Back to History–in particular, women’s history.  

A few weeks ago, Seth and I went to see Suffs, a musical on Broadway about the suffrage movement. For women to get get  the vote took generations, and along the way, there were big divisions and disagreements. It’s not for nothing that the word rage is part of suffrage. Women were mad at men for their refusal to include women as full citizens; they were mad at each other because of competing priorities and strategies.  There were egos involved and a woman riding on a white horse down Pennsylvania avenue, and people excluded and delays and hunger strikes. There were cliques and fights and moments of triumph and despair. It was a long struggle.  But the women kept marching, literally and metaphorically. They did not give up. When you are discouraged or feel hopeless, I want you to remember the story of suffrage.  I want you to keep marching–metaphorically–through your lives fighting for what you believe in.

Today, white women earn 84 cents for every dollar earned by a man–for Black and Brown women, it’s less than that. When I graduated from high school, women earned 58 cents on every dollar a man earned–so, in 45 years, we have gained 26 cents.  

The equal rights amendment has ever passed in America.  

Has there been progress? Certainly. Many more women now hold political office, work as CEOs, doctors, lawyers, athletes. Women have achieved great heights.  We should celebrate that progress and know that it is not complete–the success of women, people of color and LGBTQ+ people is never assured.

Has enough progress been made? I don’t think so. As a feminist–one who advocates for women's rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes, I reject patriarchy–a structure in which men hold authority simply because they are men–and I am dismayed by and baffled by the way misogyny persists–misogyny means hatred of women–and it’s not only men who practice misogyny–plenty of women are threatened by other women, too. 

Patriarchy and misogyny persist because many fear what would happen if power shifted, if the status quo were to be upended, But what if we chose circles rather than pyramids to represent success? 

I want patriarchy and misogyny to make you mad, to inspire you to create structures and systems  that are just and equitable. Progress is slow–change requires effort, persistence, resolve, resilience and hope. 

Sometimes, we look around, and realize we’ve moved backwards and then have to gather ourselves to fight the same fight over again. That feels unfair. But the mission and the values of our school call us  to carry as we climb, to strive towards ideals,  to be sure that the quietest voices are encouraged to speak, to listen deeply and to get on with the hard work of bettering the complicated world.

My charge to you is to live the mission and the values. That’s a tall order. When you slip your ring on your finger and invite the people you love to turn it, you are making a pledge–not to the school, but to yourself–to fulfill your promise and to better your world, to commit to build a just and inclusive world–because the world needs you–all of you. Urgently.

Now, my hopes for you–Class of 2026–and, for all of you:

Remember that few people are all bad or all good–most are a combination.

When you get tired, ask a friend to tap in, give you a chance to breathe and rest and get back in the game.  

Keep your sense of humor and your humility, even as you do great things.  

Do not be afraid of your own vulnerability; do not be afraid to ask for help.

When you speak, do so with confidence and conviction, and be sure to share the air-time; 

Remember that collaboration takes more work than doing flying solo, but the results of true collaboration are often stronger.

Don’t take relationships for granted, and remember, too, the people here who will support you and help you for the rest of your lives because we share this school. 

I trust you will lead the school brilliantly next year and welcome Ms. Breen, so that she, too, can come to love all of you as I have. She will need you to teach her about things like Laurel bananas and the Flower Ceremony, and Green & White day and the Snowflake Assembly.  

Try not to wish away your time in pursuit of the golden carousel ring we call college.

Take  time to really look at one another, to appreciate the small moments, to see each other.

Look around at your class.  You are Laurel.  Slow down. Breathe.  Once it ends, we cannot get this moment back.

When you wear your ring, remember that a ring is a circle of love, unbroken. Laurel School wraps you in a circle of love; I do, too. Though I will be far away in Pennsylvania or New York City, remember that the same sky stretches above us, the same stars.