Robin Wood
I just found out that one of my high school teachers, Robin Wood, died recently. Unlike some, I had an absolutely wonderful time in high school, and Robin was one of my favorite teachers. I wasn't especially close to her, but she was one of the most colorful and vivid people I've known, as well as an amazing educator and innovater. I remember she had bright red hair, a color I once sought to emulate, and a throaty voice that made you want to really listen to what she had to say.
When I was younger, in seventh grade perhaps, my father took me to see a production of Hamlet, but only after making me read the play first. I didn't understand most of it, either written or performed. Then in my freshman year, Robin cast me as Oberon in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I had a lot of trouble with my lines, until Robin made me write them out as prose instead of poetry. I don't remember how I did in the performance, but since then I've never had trouble understanding or appriciating the great bard.
In my senior year, I took Robin's "Evolution and Revolution of Love on Stage" class. I remember one morning in particular: we were in the middle of discussing homosexuality on stage, and Robin had left the room for a moment. The discussion was so good that I hadn't noticed her exit. But when she came back, she said "There's a national emergency." At first I assumed she was talking about the levels of homophobia in the country, but then she went on: "Terrorists just flew a plane into the world trade center." As a class we trooped upstairs to the colorful disarray of the costume room where Robin kept an old radio. She turned it on, and we sat in stunned horror, listening to the reports of the estimated death toll, and speculation on who was behind it. We stayed there for about fifteen minutes, until Robin got word that TVs had been set up all over campus, and took us to the nearest one so we could watch.
I have many more memories of Robin Wood, though not all are as vivid. I remember cast parties, one at a student's house, where Robin liked the guacomole I made (my first ever attempt at it) and another at her house. I recall looking at her back yard, which was overgrown and forest-like. It had animal dens of some kind, or maybe chicken coops, and I remember thinking that there was something just so Robin-like about it.
I'm so greatful to Robin for enhancing my high school education, for teaching me things I couldn't have learned half so well from anyone else. She will be missed.
For other CSW alums, if you didn't get the email about Robin, and want to share condolences or memories with her family, here:
It is natural for us to want to reach out to Robin and her family at this time, but, please, consider their privacy and direct your communications to Lelia Elliston '80 at lelliston@csw.org. We will ensure that any communications are forwarded along.
When I was younger, in seventh grade perhaps, my father took me to see a production of Hamlet, but only after making me read the play first. I didn't understand most of it, either written or performed. Then in my freshman year, Robin cast me as Oberon in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I had a lot of trouble with my lines, until Robin made me write them out as prose instead of poetry. I don't remember how I did in the performance, but since then I've never had trouble understanding or appriciating the great bard.
In my senior year, I took Robin's "Evolution and Revolution of Love on Stage" class. I remember one morning in particular: we were in the middle of discussing homosexuality on stage, and Robin had left the room for a moment. The discussion was so good that I hadn't noticed her exit. But when she came back, she said "There's a national emergency." At first I assumed she was talking about the levels of homophobia in the country, but then she went on: "Terrorists just flew a plane into the world trade center." As a class we trooped upstairs to the colorful disarray of the costume room where Robin kept an old radio. She turned it on, and we sat in stunned horror, listening to the reports of the estimated death toll, and speculation on who was behind it. We stayed there for about fifteen minutes, until Robin got word that TVs had been set up all over campus, and took us to the nearest one so we could watch.
I have many more memories of Robin Wood, though not all are as vivid. I remember cast parties, one at a student's house, where Robin liked the guacomole I made (my first ever attempt at it) and another at her house. I recall looking at her back yard, which was overgrown and forest-like. It had animal dens of some kind, or maybe chicken coops, and I remember thinking that there was something just so Robin-like about it.
I'm so greatful to Robin for enhancing my high school education, for teaching me things I couldn't have learned half so well from anyone else. She will be missed.
For other CSW alums, if you didn't get the email about Robin, and want to share condolences or memories with her family, here:
It is natural for us to want to reach out to Robin and her family at this time, but, please, consider their privacy and direct your communications to Lelia Elliston '80 at lelliston@csw.org. We will ensure that any communications are forwarded along.