A Great Loss

The Dublin School flag is at half-mast because we have lost a great man and our headmaster, Christopher Horgan. Chris was out shoveling snow on the Dublin tennis courts when he suffered a fatal stroke. According to his wife, he left us suddenly and with little pain.

Along with Dan Finnegan, Chris was the reason that both Erin and I took a chance on traveling 1,400 miles north to a school and a region we knew very little about. It's a measure of how charismatic and engaging a man Chris was that he made us want to take such a gamble.

It was just a year ago that I sat in Chris' office during my job interview where he asked me no real questions about my teaching, my experience or why we wanted to move to a boarding school. We just sat there and talked about our mutual love for Mark Twain and how Twain summered in Dublin for several years with his daughters and that they were the best years of his life. Chris also told me some great stories about how Corner House, a dorm building, was actually half of a former home that was given to the school and then brought on to campus by a team of horses and put on the hill. I enjoyed the hour we spent, however, it definitely left me wondering how he was able to gauge my employability.

After getting to know Chris a little better over the past year, I finally figured out that my interview had little to do with my teaching skills and was Chris' shrewd way of determining if I would fit into the Dublin community. I think he believed that anyone could teach a class, but he wanted to make sure that I would be able to "get" Dublin and would want to be part of this wonderful extended family.

One of my proudest moments at Dublin was when Chris came in to observe me teach earlier in the year. He had heard of my method and had come to observe firsthand what I had to offer. Chris left a few minutes before my class ended and headed back to his office. With butterflies in my stomach, I headed over to hear what he thought, but first I ran into Anne, his assistant, who had a beaming smile on her face and said Chris was ecstatic when he returned and loved what he had observed. My heart melted because I really wanted Chris' approval.

He ushered me into his office and told me how much he enjoyed my class, and I don't think I even heard what else he actually said because it felt so good to be appreciated.

I felt like I was working for a man who really understood me. Chris not only made me feel that I was a valuable teacher, but that I was important to the school as a whole. On the few occasions that I came into his office with ideas, he would patiently listen and nod his head and then actually put some of them into practice. Chris was no pushover and would quickly tell you if you were off base, so when you did convince him of something it felt like a personal triumph.

In recent days, I've heard many people echo similar sentiments and that Chris had a wonderful way of connecting with people. I think the greatest compliment I can pay to Chris is that he always made me feel my existence mattered.

Chris was a great storyteller and both Erin and I enjoyed the occasions where we could kick back and hear him spin a good yarn about his time in Ireland, his commerical fishing boat adventures and a host of other topics. The last time I spoke with Chris was at lunch on the day he passed away and we spoke about the beauty of bats. And it didn't matter what the topic was, Chris could always pull a story out of his hat that was related. Often his stories would involve his close family and you could see how much he loved them through the warm smile on his face.

Another thing I loved about Chris was that he was a tireless cheerleader for Dublin School. I can't imagine another person who spent as much time studying where this school came from, where it was currently and where it was headed. Chris truly kept Paul Lehmann's spirit alive on this campus.

It still hurts so much to walk by his quiet office and empty desk chair and imagine he'll never sit there again.

Althought we didn't know Chris Horgan for a long time, he had a huge impact on our lives and we'll never forget him.

It's a sad time...