Fond memories of St. Clare's

IB alumni Russ Sage (then Russell Warren Howe) recalls his time at St. Clare's from 1984-85.

St. Clare’s Hall, initially, was a chance to come home. By the time I was eight years old I had lived in as many countries—my father was a foreign correspondent for the London Times, and later The Washington Post. All I knew about St. Clare’s was that my Italian friend Francesco Odone had thrived there (London School of Economics bound). Francesco and I lived in neighboring flats in Washington DC, and I learned through him what a sweet place it was. Within a year I was heading to Oxford on one of the airport coaches. I remember my first day very well: being greeted by someone who noticed I had cut my hair (differing from my application photo); moving into to 195 Woodstock, where a beaming Mr. Skillikorn introduced himself as the warden; learning my schedule; taking in the body language of my new dorm mates; and politely refusing the invite to head out and party from some of the outgoing lads.


I soon learned that my dorm mates had similar upbringings. I started up some lasting friendships with Anders and Par (two giant-sized Swedish brothers), and Hugo and Henning (from Holland). Mr. Skillikorn was South African, which was fun to learn; when I wanted to make him laugh I would reveal my poor mastery of his native Afrikaans by way of butchered maxims and expressions.

Having been raised on: Breakfast; Dinner; Tea; and Supper, I was pleased to get back to a 3pm snack, and found the employees in the dining hall charming—one elderly woman with a strong Scottish accent, whose husband was Irish (Murphy) would daily have conversations with me. She was the first to stop my endless joking. I would put on an accent from somewhere and ask for things that weren’t available. Mrs. Murphy saw right through me and reduced me to size—I still miss her. David Staton was the next to inspire me. His nature not only allowed me to settle into boarding school life, but I would later surprise myself and write an essay on the Vietnam war that I still reference to this day. Lastly I remember Mr. Moon, a biology teacher who managed to keep us all in stitches whilst maintaining rigor. My daily check-ins with these nice people gave me the courage to slowly work out a rhythm and balance between learning to finally socialize and pacing myself in school work.

Some notable extracurricular activities included: swimming across the Thames in the last days of winter; skateboarding with Matthew Saa in the wee hours and buying test loaves of bread from the jolly bakers on nearby Banbury Road; climbing with Henning Ebinger (a seasoned ice climber); windsurfing as a class; cooking as a class; taking in England’s natural beauty in the form of many school field trips; playing soccer/football with dorm mates; enjoying the county side of Oxford with all the aforementioned dorm pals—to include negotiating sheep, ponies, and streams. With every outing, something of a transformation seemed to be taking place for all of us.

Since I was enrolled in the IB course, I naturally took it for granted that I would be there for two years. After enjoying a trip to Cortona/Venice with my class, I learned that my Dad wouldn’t be able to afford the second year and that it behoved me to begin my university experience at a local inexpensive institution. From this place, I transferred and maintained a high grade point average at the University of Maryland: College Park. My degree was in cultural anthropology, which was a subject I believe perfect for me and my sensibilities.

St. Clare’s Hall added something to my forward face, life. I no longer had the pariah status I grew up with. I gradually realized that I fit in to a broader world culture—and had been groomed for this all along. If I could rewind my life, I would not change how I lived it in a physical sense, but perhaps really knowing what I had at St. Clare’s whilst it was unfolding. I am grateful for this experience, it was a significant catalyst in getting on with my life and finding some direction worth investing in. I think they call it maturity now.


 

A trained teacher, Russ now works with autistic children in Washington D. C. He lives with his wife Gemma and their three children, and coaches his son's soccer team in his spare time.