I just learned that my high school English teacher, Mrs.
Vasey has died. I received the notification in the quarterly magazine of Loreto
Kirribilli, the convent parochial school that I attended for eleven years in
Sydney, Australia.
Mrs. Vasey inspired in me a love of reading. With a sparkle
in her eye, she told us about the luscious history of “penny dreadfuls.” These
cheap, sensational, highly illustrated novels and serials were the first to be
distributed to the masses in Victorian England, and they launched a new era in
literature. She used the “penny dreadful” term with affection, encouraging us
to read for pleasure, much like the rank and file did in old England. But she
also advocated quality reading. She disdained and dismissed condensed books in
any form as an abomination. Some time later, when I came upon a condensed
version of To Kill A Mockingbird, I
understood why – the grace, the art, the brilliance and the soul had been
ripped from the original.
Mrs. Vasey was a divorcee with three young children. Back in
the sixties, that was a rare and scandalous state, even more so in Catholic
circles. There were titters amongst some of the students, snippets of gossip,
smirks when they witnessed her frustration with her sometimes rambunctious
children.
Years later I experienced the pain, the guilt and the shame
of divorce. I had two young children at the time, and some of my reflections
are in Lonely Refugee: A Hungarian
Australian American Memoir.
For me, Mrs. Vasey’s legacy is manifold. From her came the
pure pleasure and love of reading, and the discrimination to seek out quality
literature. From her I learned how to find grace and strength as a divorcee, as
a professional woman, and as a single mother. She and I are part of that
sisterhood. I am grateful to her for leading the way, and for forging the path
for those of us who followed.
Your legacy lives on, Patricia Vasey. May you rest in peace.
