Earlier this week, Saint David's warmly welcomed back alumnus Tommy Robertshaw '10 to deliver a Chapel Talk at one of Saint David's special traditions, the Mother-Son Chapel. The annual Chapel gathers our fifth grade boys and their mothers or mother figures for a special, shared experience; a Chapel Talk by a young alumnus who reflects upon the role his mother has played in his life.
Eloquently connecting his love for his mother with his affection for his elementary school, Tommy's words moved and inspired us all. I would like to share them, below:
And so is this: All that we can be, all that we will be, all we are began in thee. O alma mater, fostering parent, hail to thee Saint David’s School.
Can anyone tell me what "alma mater" translates to?
It means nourishing mother–the song goes with fostering parent, that’s pretty close. But today is about the moms. When I was thinking about what I wanted to say today – to honor my mom, your moms, and also Saint David’s, our school song came into my head. And got stuck there.
“All that we can be, all that we will be, all we are began in thee.” That’s obviously true about our moms. And I know that it’s true for me about Saint David’s: almost all the things I love doing and learning about now started when I was here. Mr. Best showed me that I love to sing (in this room, he taught me to look up at the exit sign, above the crowd, to calm my stage fright). Dr. Gilbert taught me how to ask questions of the world around me (in fifth grade science), Mr. Kilkeary brought theater and acting into my life, Mr. Ryan shared with me the magic of good writing, and Dr. O’Halloran gave me an ongoing master class in public speaking.
What did my Mom teach me?...Everything.
That’s the right answer.
But most of all, she taught me about beauty. She still does. In the way she sets her table—with linen napkins and candles made of beeswax. How she knows the name of every flower she’s planted and every flower she hasn’t, and when they’ll make their way up and into the sun. The way she makes her own entrances—fashionably late but as elegant as any peony, allium, or hyacinth. How she arranges the moment to make it lovelier, to make it last–wicker Easter baskets, and stockings at Christmas, the gravy for Thanksgiving that she stirs over low heat in high heels. She’s filled my life with color and fireplaces and clean and gentle spaces. She’s taught me to dress well, lead with a joke, to leave a guest room cleaner than I found it, to play jacks, four-square, and charades, to rage against hopelessness, to accentuate the positive.
My mom has taught me how to pay attention to the details waiting for you in every room and every day. In that lesson, she had a partner: my other alma mater, Saint David’s.
I remember sitting in this room every morning and staring at these stained-glass windows. These delicate, breakable panes of glass have made it across continents, through wars, countless eyes and hands, and five centuries–to greet us here, every morning, with light. Sometimes, I would stare so hard at the ship or at Mary Magdalene cleaning Jesus’s feet with her long golden hair that everything else would fade out around them, and the windows would pulse and glow–brighter and brighter until it felt like there was nothing else in the world.
It felt like heaven on earth.
I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a fifth grader now. There is so much pulling at your attention all of the time. The things I remember, of course: puberty, friendships, homework, grades. And many things I didn’t have to worry about when I was your age: Instagram, texting, the climate crisis, TikTok. Everybody wants a piece of your attention, and they’re willing to beg, barter, and steal to get it.
The education you’re getting here focuses intentionally on beauty. You are surrounded by beautiful objects and art, by teachers trained in the best that has been thought, said, written, sung, painted, and prayed. If I can offer any piece of advice to you all it’s this: let beauty slow you down, let it work its way into your thoughts, let it soothe them. Pay attention to little things, to details. When you do, I think time becomes elastic, moments last longer, and you feel very much alive.
My mom and Saint David’s have taught me how to notice, celebrate, and hold onto beauty. Think about what your moms have taught you. What Saint David’s has taught you. And enjoy your time here–it is so very special, and faster than you think, it will become a memory.
Be good to your moms.
Thank you.
Tommy, who graduated from Saint David’s in 2010 is also a graduate of Taft and Williams, where he studied theater and English. He is a writer and works in advertising.
.