The Thanksgiving Assembly is a beloved Berkeley Carroll tradition as it is the only occasion during the academic year when all three divisions convene in one place. Setting aside time to gather together prior to taking our leave for the Thanksgiving Break reminds us that we are a collective, committed to learning with and from each other, to receiving one another’s stories and perspectives, and to savoring the gifts of community and gratitude. 

At this morning’s assembly, we heard eloquent remarks from students Allana H. '34, Jude G. '30, and Effie A-P '27 as well as the inspiring words from our beloved Kindergarten Teacher Sherri Paller, who is celebrating 40 years at BC. We also enjoyed musical and dance performances from the MS and US as well as from the Third Grade Chorus, who led us in singing BC’s traditional “Thank You” song.

During my welcome, I shared a story about the joys of family traditions. I hope that you will enjoy it:

I’ve always been grateful for my reliable grey Kitchen-Aid stand mixer and so I was upset to discover recently that it was broken. The mixer remained silent and still when I slid the lever from the off position, and I noticed congealed, tan-colored machine oil oozing from under the band that binds the top to the base. This was more than an inconvenience–I would have to find a repair shop, and it was entirely possible that the stand mixer would not be fixed in time to make the coming season’s batch of holiday cookies. 

And to be clear, there was only one cookie on my mind–Ebbie’s Wedding Bell Cookies. When I was growing up, my Aunt Evelyn (Ebbie to us kids), would make everyone in the family a holiday cookie plate. She was a Home Economics teacher and her cookies were exquisite–perfect discs sprinkled with colored sugar, and flower-shaped confections with candied cherries in the center. Ebbie presented each member of the family with a meticulously arranged plate of these delights covered in cellophane. The grown ups took theirs home to enjoy later but my cousins and I had at it immediately. All of the cookies were delicious but the Wedding Bells were beyond delicious–they were ambrosial, sublime. The flavors of freshly creamed butter, newly chopped pecans, and gingerly sprinkled powdered sugar commingled in a melt-in-your-mouth morsel of magnificence. Each plate had only one Wedding Bell, sitting, appropriately, at the very top of the cookie pyramid. These cookies were currency, and some of my foolish cousins would trade their one Wedding Bell for three or four of the other cookies. But not me. I looked forward to that nutty, buttery mouthful of joy each year and I savored it.

When both Ebbie and I were much older, she gave me the recipe for her Wedding Bells. She did not part readily with her recipes but she saw how much I loved the Bells and so, during one of our visits, she slipped me a piece of yellow paper, the ingredients and proportions penned in her elegant handwriting. She forbade me to share the recipe and warned me never to use a mixer because the Wedding Bell dough was so dense that it would destroy the motor. This is why each person got only one Wedding Bell on the cookie plate–start to finish, they were made entirely by hand. I heeded her call and kept the recipe a secret but I wasn’t having the mixer part. Ebbie did not have the grey Kitchen-Aid stand mixer. But I did. And I used it. I could make exponentially more Wedding Bells in my trusty Kitchen-Aid than Ebbie could make chopping nuts and creaming butter by hand all day. My cookie plates were piled high with Wedding Bells–and only Wedding Bells. I made them for myself and for friends. But mostly for myself.

When I had children, I taught them to make Wedding Bell cookies. They started out nodding off in the high chair, lulled by the sound of the motor propelling the mixer’s flat beater through butter, sugar, and nuts. In time, the kids became experts at rolling each small mound of dough by hand, spacing them evenly on the baking sheet, recognizing when they were done to perfection, and dusting them, just so, with powdered sugar. I still have one of their prized school drawings entitled, Mockin’ Kookies Wit Me Momo (translation: Making Cookies With My Mama). 

Memories and relationships are folded into the dough of Ebbie’s cookies. She passed away some years ago but, thanks to her trust and that little yellow slip of paper, I have been able to continue the ritual of sharing the Wedding Bells with my family and friends. And so I was pressed to discover so near to cookie making season that my grey Kitchen-Aid stand mixer was busted. There weren’t enough hours in a day–days in a week–to make the requisite amount of Wedding Bells by hand. 

Discussing this predicament with the family, my youngest revealed in passing that she is not really a fan of the Wedding Bell. She said it is not her favorite among cookies. It was a double blow. First the broken mixer, and now this. “Really?,” I asked, “You're always so excited for them.” And then she explained that it’s the making of the Wedding Bells that she loves. A deeply cherished constant in her life and an eagerly anticipated marker in her year. The ritual of making the cookies together is the source of her pleasure because it represents family, festivity, and love. 

I quickly understood. When I was young, it was the chaos of cousins cutting up while trading and inhaling cookies that was the best part. And as a parent (although I really do love eating the cookies), it is the laughter in our warm kitchen over the whir of the mixer that gives me the greatest joy. And so, when I arrived home from school this Tuesday night to find my grey Kitchen-Aid stand mixer on the countertop, repaired and ready for action, I knew that soon the family would gather–and this is a delight even richer and sweeter than Ebbie’s Wedding Bells. 

As we head into family conferences and the Thanksgiving recess, I hope that the week ahead brings enriching conversations centered on collaboration and growth. I am profoundly grateful to you all—our students, colleagues, and families—for the enthusiasm, care, and kindness that you bring to Berkeley Carroll each day.

I am wishing you a restorative and joyful break and I look forward to our community gathering once more in the schoolhouse before long.

View the Thanksgiving Assembly Photo Gallery