Letter from Meghan Rose Donnelly '11

January 12, 2011

Dear Dean Wagner,

            I am disheartened to hear of the decision not to renew the contract of Sheafe Satterthwaite, lecturer in Art History devoted instructor for almost forty years.  I know you have received word from other students past and present, but I would like to add my own voice to the choir of those clamoring for your reconsideration.

            I first met Sheafe during my sophomore fall; he was my conference director for Art History 101.  From the first day, I was captured by his uncanny ability to remember and store information as well as his particular teaching method.  He wanted us to make “dumb” observations, he wanted us to ask the wrong questions, he wanted us to flip our minds upside down so that we might see the art he set before us from a new perspective, and in that way edify ourselves.  During class, he redesigned his lectures to relate to the particular characters in his class, disregarding what I fear may come to be the norm here at Williams: sticking to the syllabus at all costs.  Sheafe does the opposite, enabling the intellectual journeys that most impassion his students.

            My weekly sessions with Sheafe were enough to hook.  I decided I had to have him as a teacher again, no matter what he was teaching.  “History of the American Landscape” did not particularly appeal to me; there was no exotic ring to it, and not even a whisper of excitement.  I registered for the class anyway.  It was my senior Fall, I was in the beginnings of a thesis in two departments and I already had four classes on the docket.  My advisor told me to drop it; I did not need this class to fulfill any requirements and it was cutting down on the time I might spend on other things.  I agreed with his reasoning, but I could not tear myself away.  I stuck it out for the whole semester and never regretted a moment of it.

            I have learned more in this class than I have in any other at Williams.  Not only did I receive my weekly essays back with dense annotations and packets of supplementary reading, but I was exposed to the work of my peers as they were to mine.  Is it not odd that, in other classes, we never see each others’ work?  We share the same classroom and strive towards similar goals but we do not benefit fully from the minds of our peers.  In Sheafe’s class we did.  In this, we made grander connections and grew closer to one another. 

            During our lab sessions for 201 (History of the American Landscape), Sheafe personally drove us to locations within a one hour radius of Williamstown, introducing us to people and places both present and historic which have made the area the way it is.  As we drove down streets that have become familiar to me over these four years, he pointed out features I had never noticed and narrated their history in such a way that I came to understand and feel deeply attached to this land that has served as the backdrop to these last few years.  The highlight of the class was an all-day field trip to a girls’ private school, a mansion in Troy, a valve factory, a warehouse, an apple orchard, and finally Sheafe’s own home in which he had gathered for our entertainment and education friends of his both old and young, many of whom were past students.  Moreover, he prepared a feast for us before inviting all of us (there must have been fifty all told) up into his library to have a lengthy discussion on the lessons of the day.

            And many there were.  Throughout our lab and class sessions, Sheafe strove to make every moment a learning experience (indeed, even his house is decorated in such a way that a person is confronted by a miniature lesson wherever he might turn).  While driving down streets in backwater New York, he would point out evidence of poverty.  When speaking of an acquaintance, he would discuss the boy’s background and family history.  When listening to us tell our stories or discuss our research, he would ply us with questions to which we were unlikely to know the answer.  We would have to do a little digging around and a lot of thinking in order to satisfy ourselves and him.  

            On top of governing a spectacular class (perhaps having the opportunity to see molten copper being poured into a small mold only three feet away from oneself would be fascinating under any teacher’s direction) Sheafe devoted inhuman amounts of time to those of us in his class.  He met with each of us once a week for hour-long discussions.  He pored over his library for books that might help us in our individual research projects.  He opened his house to us and connected us with alumni.  He treated us to lunches and showed interest in our hometowns.  We came to feel that we were important in his unstoppable quest for knowledge.  And perhaps we are.

            This past Sunday, I had dinner with Ross Cheit ’77 and his wife Kathy.  I contacted them simply because Sheafe told me to, and I explained as much in my email.  Ross replied back enthusiastically and invited me out to dinner.  We had a thrilling time talking about Williams, Sheafe, Rhode Island politics, salt marshes, children’s books and everything else under the sun.  Ross agreed to meet with me because I expressed fondness for Sheafe whom he still considers to be a very good friend.  And Ross is only one of many Sheafe devotees.  I am not ashamed to say I am fast becoming one.

            But I am ashamed that the school I know and love is letting this treasure go.  At the age of 71 and after almost forty years of powerful, dedicated teaching, you are turning him to the door and denying a few more students the honor of learning from the great Sheafe Satterthwaite.  Yes, he is unusual, and rigorously so, but he is the most singularly great teacher I have encountered at Williams.  I beg you to reconsider your decision.

                        With much regard,

                                    Meghan Rose Donnelly ‘11