Laura Zatt
This page is such a beautiful tribute to a truly amazing man. George! I don’t think we really knew what to make of him at the beginning. In some ways, he was pure theater – but at the same time utterly genuine. Fiery, passionate, committed, classy! Here was this man who some of my younger friends would now call “old school”, with his emphasis on form – punctuality, politeness, poise (yikes, all those “p” words!), yet clearly such a real and loving soul. His insistence on the social niceties was about self-respect and values, because we mattered. And being well grounded so that we could fly.
Ok, this is going to get long.
I wasn’t in choir for most of high school – I couldn’t participate in the vocal and theater side of the productions because I needed to be in the pit band. But in my senior year, George convinced me to sing with the choir and in of the smaller groups. He told me that even though I didn’t have “much of a voice”, as he so bluntly put it, I could sing in tune. He encouraged me to sing loudly to positively influence my neighbors. So I sang, loud, and in turn he acted as if I was doing HIM a great favor. He always treated me as a professional, a peer, as if I was on loan from Gary. I was sort of immune from criticism, although I wasn’t ever tempted to test that! At the time I knew it was unusual, and that I needed to act the professional, however far from the truth that might be.
I can’t think about George without getting lost in memory of those early days of Blind Brook, a heady and magical time. The school was something of a grand experiment which could have gone many ways, but thanks to the vision of Dave Schein, became something truly great.
I knew a lot of kids who attended other high schools in Westchester, so even as a self-absorbed teenager I knew that my experience was unique. We had amazing teachers who were engaged and genuinely interested in students as individuals. They fostered our growth and creativity, and wanted to know us. George and Gary, Press and Del and Bil and Roger and so many more – you guys invested in us. Press remained my friend, even though I was a lousy math student who didn’t even want to become a better one. Gary went so far above and beyond just being my teacher (and knew what I would be long before I did) that I don’t even know where to start. That’s another volume entirely.
I’ve often felt that I was at my creative peak in high school (sort of pathetic, as I’ve been a working artist for years). But I was turned on by so many things, was so much more fearless, and much of that was due to this rare and wonderful place and the people who populated it who made embracing the new and unknown (or at least checking it out) feel safe. The atmosphere, one of experimentation, was infectious. It really was the best of times, and made me who I am. George Trautwein personified this spirit.
Much love and thanks to George, and to you all.
This page is such a beautiful tribute to a truly amazing man. George! I don’t think we really knew what to make of him at the beginning. In some ways, he was pure theater – but at the same time utterly genuine. Fiery, passionate, committed, classy! Here was this man who some of my younger friends would now call “old school”, with his emphasis on form – punctuality, politeness, poise (yikes, all those “p” words!), yet clearly such a real and loving soul. His insistence on the social niceties was about self-respect and values, because we mattered. And being well grounded so that we could fly.
Ok, this is going to get long.
I wasn’t in choir for most of high school – I couldn’t participate in the vocal and theater side of the productions because I needed to be in the pit band. But in my senior year, George convinced me to sing with the choir and in of the smaller groups. He told me that even though I didn’t have “much of a voice”, as he so bluntly put it, I could sing in tune. He encouraged me to sing loudly to positively influence my neighbors. So I sang, loud, and in turn he acted as if I was doing HIM a great favor. He always treated me as a professional, a peer, as if I was on loan from Gary. I was sort of immune from criticism, although I wasn’t ever tempted to test that! At the time I knew it was unusual, and that I needed to act the professional, however far from the truth that might be.
I can’t think about George without getting lost in memory of those early days of Blind Brook, a heady and magical time. The school was something of a grand experiment which could have gone many ways, but thanks to the vision of Dave Schein, became something truly great.
I knew a lot of kids who attended other high schools in Westchester, so even as a self-absorbed teenager I knew that my experience was unique. We had amazing teachers who were engaged and genuinely interested in students as individuals. They fostered our growth and creativity, and wanted to know us. George and Gary, Press and Del and Bil and Roger and so many more – you guys invested in us. Press remained my friend, even though I was a lousy math student who didn’t even want to become a better one. Gary went so far above and beyond just being my teacher (and knew what I would be long before I did) that I don’t even know where to start. That’s another volume entirely.
I’ve often felt that I was at my creative peak in high school (sort of pathetic, as I’ve been a working artist for years). But I was turned on by so many things, was so much more fearless, and much of that was due to this rare and wonderful place and the people who populated it who made embracing the new and unknown (or at least checking it out) feel safe. The atmosphere, one of experimentation, was infectious. It really was the best of times, and made me who I am. George Trautwein personified this spirit.
Much love and thanks to George, and to you all.
