I can’t thank you enough for being such an unwavering source of guidance and support for me during my very formative years at Andover. You were my mother, completely, and served as a wonderful example of how to offer unconditional love. I couldn’t have made it through without you. I pray this isn’t goodbye and that our paths cross many times in the future. I will never look back at my time at Andover (that I loved so much) and not think of your loving smile.”
In her own words...
My career path at Andover has not been a straight one. I’ve functioned in a wide variety of capacities. That I’ve had the chance to take on so many challenges demonstrates that Andover provides opportunities for learning and growth not just to its students but also to its faculty. My years at Andover have been so very enriching by virtue of the persons I’ve worked with— students, families, and employees—and the opportunity to be a lifelong learner.
Retirement provides me the luxury of focusing on my greatest pleasure—time with my daughters, Laura and Karen Schoenherr; son-in-law, Eduardo Santacana; and parents, Ed and Mickey Korn. I will be relocating to San Francisco, where Laura and Eduardo reside, but visiting Karen and my parents back East regularly.
* * *
My early years at Andover were such that I can easily relate to students who feel that they don’t fully belong. I looked young for my then 30 years of age, so, when I inquired about getting a faculty parking sticker, I was suspected of being a student trying to pull a prank. Because I lived off-campus and was employed part-time, I felt that my voice wasn’t as important as that of full-time faculty with dorm experience.
Most significantly, I attended a public high school, one named after a baseball player. It was an excellent school—and Walter Johnson was a magnificent pitcher—but it did not prepare me for what I’d find at Andover. I didn’t even know schools like Phillips Academy existed until I met some prep school grads at my New England college.
Betsy Korn
At Andover, I was expected to show up to locations identified not by a street address but only by the buildings’ names; to know that juniors are not in their second-to-last year of high school; and, hardest of all, to follow customs sufficiently unfamiliar to me that I had to question whether I belonged: important school meetings held in a chapel, the December celebration for faculty children focusing solely on Anglo-Christian traditions, most major leadership roles held by white men.
Phillips Academy has changed since 1986; the faculty children’s December celebration and, more significantly, the faces of the administration now represent a broader array of humanity. And I’ve changed, too, coming to feel a full-fledged member of the Andover community. My sense of belonging blossomed in 2000, when, because of a change in my personal circumstances, I asked if I might become a full-time employee and live on campus. I am forever grateful to then dean of faculty Pete Joel for making this possible and to, coincidentally, his son Chris Joel, for the warm greeting he gave my daughters and me on our first day in Stevens. The Misters Joel eased what could have been a difficult transition. They were there for us, as so many at Andover have been over the years. We thank you all, and we will miss you.
Betsy is probably one of the most caring, selfless people I have ever met in my life. She is an amazing mother who always puts her kids first, an exemplary house counselor who treated each of the Stevens House girls as if they were her own, and a wonderfully hard-working and sometimes overlooked member of the extremely talented and unglorified behind-the-scenes faculty on campus.”