Recently I attended lectures from finalists for a music position in an area my father,
Berton Coffin, established. His approach dealt with the teaching of singing: vocal
pedagogy. He wanted to know about sound and the difference singing on various
vowels would make.
Marty Coffin Evans
Upon my introduction to one of the candidates, the response was, “He was my hero!” I
responded, “Mine too!” Much to my surprise, I felt a rush of emotions although no tears
fell.
Where did that emotion come from, I wondered? Was it years of growing up watching
my father’s curiosity become transformed into almost a dozen books about his subject?
Was it watching him being ahead of his time in his research and teaching as others
were skeptical of his approach?
Perhaps knowing now his impact is still being felt added to that emotion. I wish my
father, who died in 1987, could know the regard with which he is held even that “hero”
status.
Without checking Webster’s definition of a hero, I thought about what he did. My father
took his inheritance from his maternal grandparents and funded his doctorate at
Columbia University. Some questioned his decision. He knew the value and importance
of that degree.
Maybe watching how he stood up, much to the disagreement of other colleagues, when
he found a newly hired faculty member’s credentials were questionable, increased my
admiration. His was an “harder right” than an “easier wrong.” Eventually, the faculty
came around and the new hire left.
As a young teacher, I wrote my parents I was going to quit. My students weren’t getting
it. Father’s encouraging, and most treasured, letter urged me to keep on, giving my
students a chance to come around. They did and I didn’t quit!
He believed in what he was doing and never quit in spite of the skeptics. Just maybe,
that’s what a hero does.
Martha (Marty) Coffin Evans, Ed.D., freelance writer with MACE Associates, LLC, can
be reached at itsmemartee@aol.com or her website martycoffinevans.com.