NEWS

​Have you ever wondered why, in the US at least, a private school for boys was known as a “prep” school, while a private school for girls was called a “finishing” school? Like many things I took for granted while I was growing up but later questioned, the connotation of these two terms didn’t reach my threshold of awareness until after I was married and had children of my own. For many decades families of means expected their sons to go on to college or university, and thus secondary school was “preparation” for this more rigorous academic level. But these families, especially in the South, expected their daughters’ education to be “finished” at the secondary level.

I was totally unaware of this important distinction when I entered sixth grade and was enrolled in Ashley Hall, a private girls’ school in Charleston. I only knew that I was very unhappy in the County public school I attended, and when I overheard my parents talking about sending my sister to Ashley Hall, I begged to go too. I knew nothing of City versus County schools, public versus private, and had only recently learned that even the public Charleston City Schools (unlike the County) were segregated not only by race but also by sex.

Ashley Hall in Charleston, South Carolina

Once enrolled, I quickly learned that Ashley Hall was founded in 1909 for grades one through twelve, both boarding and day students, and its main building was a beautiful antebellum mansion on Rutledge Avenue. The Founder and Headmistress, Dr. Mary Vardrine McBee, grew up in North Carolina and graduated from Smith College, one of the “Seven Sisters,” a collection of academically rigorous liberal arts colleges designed to offer young women an education on the level of the Ivy League schools for young men. Educated in a Southern secondary school, Miss McBee struggled to pass the entrance exams into Smith, and from that experience she vowed to found a true “prep” school for girls in the South. She was determined that her girls would be ready for the academic challenges of the Seven Sisters, and Charleston was the right place for her vision to be fulfilled.

In 1945, I became one of Miss McBee’s girls, attending grades 6-12. Academic life at the school was demanding and richly layered. French was taught in all the Lower School grades, and two years of Latin were required in the Upper School, with continuing advanced electives in Latin, French, and Spanish. In sixth grade, I performed in a one-act play entirely in French. The chemistry and biology labs were well equipped. Math courses were limited by today’s standards but rigorously taught. English and History courses required extensive reading, research, analysis, and writing displaying both critical and creative thought. Several novels and Shakespearean plays were required reading. Further, the Upper School girls performed a different Shakespearean play every year and invited the community to attend. Our plays were directed and produced by staff from the historic Dock Street Theater. Sports, music, and theater were an important part of our school life. Our music director, the only male faculty member, was also the conductor of the Charleston Symphony, and the girls ushered at concerts and got to meet all the guest artists. When conducting the Ashley Hall Glee Club, this director would urge us, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Please don’t sing like Ashley Hall girls!” He meant, of course, to sing with confidence and gusto, and we did.

Miss McBee insisted that we correctly pronounce her name as MACKby, not McBEE. This distinction separated the “new girls,” who had not yet learned, from the “old girls,” in much the same way as newcomers to Charleston today still stumble over the pronunciation of Legare Street (hint: it’s Luh-GREE, not Luh-GAIR).

My older brothers teased my sister and me that we were going to school with the “hoity-toity” of Charleston. Indeed, there were some of the trappings of a “finishing school,” such as that the girls didn’t wear caps and gowns at graduation but dressed like debutantes in white evening gowns and carried bouquets of red roses – a tradition that continues today. We saw this differently because the importance of academic excellence was drilled into us by Miss McBee every day at assembly. And even though we didn’t wear school uniforms as today’s students do, it was impossible to know which of the girls were daughters of Charleston’s elite “South of Broad Street” families, and which of us were daughters of working stiffs like my dad. While it’s true that the boarding students had to wear hats and gloves (really!) whenever they left campus to go shopping downtown, all the girls were forbidden to wear make-up while on campus during the academic day. When the 2:30 bell rang at the end of the day, we all crowded around the bathroom mirrors to apply lipstick before exiting campus where we might run into some boys!

I’ve given a lot of thought over the years to the pros and cons of single-sex schools. But given the time I was there, I was very much aware that at Ashley Hall, all the academic honors went to girls; all the sports stars were girls; all the elected leaders were girls; all the college scholarships went to girls; all the lead roles in theater went to girls; all the soloists in concerts were girls. And our graduates were regularly accepted at the “Seven Sisters” colleges. Miss McBee indeed accomplished her goal. It was a great place for girls to explore their talents and come into their own.

Ashley Hall produced some famous alumnae. Many went on to successful careers as teachers and professors. One of the better-known alums was Barbara Pierce, class of ’43. Even though I graduated only nine years later, I didn’t learn about her and her famous pearl necklaces until her husband was elected Vice President, and then President of the United States – George H.W. Bush. I like to think that “Barb’s” open and ebullient personality blossomed at Ashley Hall. A more recent alumna is Evie McGee, class of ’81, who became a successful producer and actress… and the wife of fellow Charlestonian Stephen Colbert (pronounced Col-BAIR).

Graduating the year ahead of me in the class of ’51 were two authors who attained success and fame. Nancy Colbert Friday (pronounced COL-bert, no kin to Stephen) was an outstanding all-around student, one we considered most likely to succeed. She was an excellent scholar, athlete, and creative talent. Since she came from a theater family, she performed in every stage production throughout her high school years. Nancy was tall, lanky, and athletic, with a “Prince Valiant” hairstyle, so when students tried out for plays, Nancy was always given a boy’s role. In reverse of Shakespeare’s time, all the male roles in our plays had to be performed by girls. In her junior year she played Romeo and I played Juliet. Finally in her senior year the school performed Shakespeare’s “As You Like It,” and Nancy was cast as a woman (Rosalind) who disguises herself as a boy (Ganymede) in order to coach her love interest (Orlando) on how to cure himself of loving Rosalind (who is pretending to be Ganymede). Whew! What a gender bender!

Probably no one should have been surprised when, in the 1970s, Nancy became famous for writing best-selling books about women’s sexuality. She was frequently interviewed on “Oprah,” “Larry King,” “Good Morning America” and other shows and was commended for her contributions to the women’s movement. But I was surprised, and a bit amused, when, one morning while cleaning my teenaged sons’ bedroom, I discovered Nancy’s book about women’s sexual fantasies tucked under their mattress. I replaced it without comment and never told them that their mother went to school with the author, and that Nancy and I, as  Romeo and Juliet, once played love scenes. Why spoil their fantasies? (Ewww, Mom!)

At one Ashley Hall Alumnae weekend years ago, the school celebrated alumnae who had become successful authors. One large section was dedicated to author Alexandra Ripley, known in high school as Sandra Braid, also class of ’51. On display were her popular books in the southern historical romance, bodice-ripper category, good “beach reads.” Sandra gained fame when chosen by the Margaret Mitchell estate to write “Scarlett,” the officially sanctioned sequel to “Gone With the Wind.” Although panned by critics, “Scarlett” sold millions of copies.

But at this Alumnae author weekend, Nancy Friday’s name was missing and her best-selling, thoroughly researched analyses of women’s sexuality were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps too titillating for “Miss McBee’s girls.”

Although I didn’t go to one of the Seven Sisters, I was acutely aware of how well Ashley Hall prepared me for the academic challenges I faced at Agnes Scott and beyond. Miss McBee’s commitment to a demanding curriculum and rich learning experience ensured that “her girls” could hold their own. I remain proud and grateful that I was one of Miss McBee’s girls, where I learned that education is never really “finished.” Even if you’re a girl.