Alumni submissions for the Centenary book
As part of the Centenary book project, we invited our alumni community to share their memories, photographs, and treasured keepsakes. We received a wealth of inspiring submissions—from cherished memories and personal stories to photographs and treasured keepsakes—each one capturing a unique part of our shared history.
Although we couldn't include every contribution in the book, we didn't want these wonderful memories to go unseen. So, each month, we'll be featuring a selection of these stories and reflections here, celebrating the people, moments, and experiences that continue to shape our community.
You can order the book online here.
Julie Burley (CHA, 1999) shared this picture of her and classmates from La Châtaigneraie. After 30 years, they are still a close group of 10 friends.
"The photo was taken at a reunion we held outside of Paris. Unfortunately, not all 10 of us could be there but we gathered a few! We did also take a photo with partners and kids (of those who could make it for the weekend!).
La Chataigneraie holds a special place in many of our hearts - it's where friendships were formed and solidified, where we learnt about the world and where we grew up. None of us takes for granted what we experienced there!"
Memories of Ecolint by Elizabeth Knight, former teacher at La Grande Boissière
My husband and I came to teach at Ecolint in 1961 and I was obliged to depart into unwilling retirement almost forty years later, so I can truly say that Ecolint covered the span of my adult working life. I saw it change as it expanded and flourished. I grew with it into the International Baccalaureate. I witnessed Theatre become an accepted subject of the IB. It was a student of one of my classes whose parent provided the money for the first Drama Workshop, so that my classes no longer had to wander in the rain, looking for a damp sheltered place to foster their Self Expression.
My memories are rich and numerous. I remember the old Staff room in room 101 of the Grand Bâtiment. At Break, it was filled with noisy chatter and outsize personalities. There was John Morson, rather exquisite in his Cashmir polo necks and dark glasses, who put on plays, and was surrounded by a bevy of staff drama queens. Shrewd Mme Wend, sat in a corner, like one of the Fates, knitting, and Nansi Poirel exuded restrained but comforting advice. M. Giobbio, the once Jesuit priest, never appeared. He was too busy watering his classroom geraniums. The formidable Welsh Mme Elizabeth Briquet, head of Senior Division, would enter the relaxed smokey atmosphere, and a white coated man would come in from the Économat with an enormous tea tray. Once, he wobbled, and Peter Gras, that gentle but fastidious teacher of Latin, was extremely disturbed by tea dripping down his formal suit and by people dabbing him down. Mme Briquet would bang on the silver teapot with a spoon for attention and proceed with the notices. No one questioned or demurred. When she laughed, you laughed, but otherwise you didn’t. Bob Shade would feed her current items: Elizabeth expected service. Derry Campbell, Scottish and canny, would huff a bit, sotto voce, by the post boxes.
Once, Burt Lancaster wandered in behind dark glasses and sat down, but no one took any notice, beyond a passing glance. A few months later, his son, Jim, appeared in my husband’s History classes. I am persuaded that his famous actor father judged soundly: only such a crazy place could foster adolescent character and dispel glitz.
After the notices, the arguments and chatter surged back until the bell dispersed us.