Mama C - Sally Crawford, Great Debate Coach, Passes Away at 91

From : http://www.joplinglobe.com/editorial/local_story_312103854.html?keyword=secondarystory

Carol Stark: Mama C’s principles live on with students

I am among those who count themselves privileged to have sat in the class of one of the most accomplished speech and debate coaches this area has ever seen.

So, as some of you can imagine, I would have loved to have had a long conversation with her during this last week as I, and every other American, waited for the outcome of the presidential election; one of the longest and most contentious debates this country has seen in a long time.

Instead, I attended her funeral and found myself reliving some of the best times of my life and shedding a few tears for what truly seems like the end of an era.

Sally Anne Crawford — or Mama C as she was affectionately known to many of her Carthage High School students — died on Oct. 30, living to the wonderful age of 91. But those principles she taught during her 40 years as a teacher will not die with her. That’s because anyone who ever had the chance to be part of her speech and debate squad knew better than to embarrass her by being a poor loser.

You’ve been hearing the phrase “step across the aisle” a lot lately. Mama C could have coined it. Only in her world, win or lose, it meant you shook hands with your opponents. There was no room for a bad sport in debate. And, from the standpoint of an accomplished debater, I believe she would have been just as impressed last week by John McCain’s concession speech as the acceptance speech from Barack Obama.

But, back in 1975 and 1976 when I studied under her, it was just a class full of teens who were trying their darndest to make a good impression on the legendary Mrs. Crawford. Because, by the time my class got their turn behind her lectern, her reputation was well known.

I only realized last week that Mrs. Crawford was nearing the 60-year mark when she was my teacher. But there was nothing of an “old lady” in her demeanor. In fact, when Mama C got a really good mad on, she was a splendid sight to behold.

I can still see her marching down to the principal’s office, ready to do battle for one of her brood. She fought back during a time when some educators discounted the importance of a last-minute practice debate or the need to run through a speech just one more time before the weekend tournament. So, if you happened to be that teacher who wouldn’t excuse one of her student just a few minutes early so they could head to her class, well, I bet you, too, remember what a mad Mama C looked like.

Not only did she teach us the difference between the status quo and a hole in the ground, she made us clean up in dresses and suits almost every weekend, as we headed out in the school’s mini-bus to argue with other students. When I was on the circuit, we were debating the value of OPEC and the Electoral College. Hmmm. Was that really 32 years ago?

We’d load up those heavy file drawers filled with evidence cards we never used except to try to intimidate our opponents. Next the briefcases and the overnight bags. Then, usually late Friday afternoon, Mama C, with her signature Coke in hand, would get behind the wheel and take the whole load of us down the road. She was our driver and our overnight chaperone. She dispensed aspirins, Band-Aids and quarters for the vending machines. She was more than a teacher. She was our weekend Mama C.

But there was more than just debate. There was drama, too.

My junior year, while my classmates David Mouton and Steve Evans got to present their dramatic interpretation from the totally cool “Inherit the Wind,” I was assigned a cutting from “Medea,” the play by Euripides.

“Manifold are thy shapings, Providence! Many a hopeless matter gods arrange. What we expected never came to pass, What we did not expect the gods brought to bear; So have things gone, this whole experience through!”

I begged Mrs. Crawford over and over to give me something a thousand years more contemporary, but she kept telling me that if I could master “Medea,” why I could do anything.

I never mastered “Medea” and David and Steve won all the trophies that year. Not that I’m holding a grudge for 32 years.

But, you know what? Long after I accepted my high-school diploma, Mrs. Crawford was there for me. Notes of encouragement, an occasional critique of a speech that I might have to give, or just a friendly chat in the grocery-store aisle. I truly believe that the best teachers, later in life, make the best friends.

So, even though I couldn’t talk to her last week about the finer points of heated debate, I didn’t really have to. She long ago taught me what I needed to know to get my point across.

Now there’s only one thing left to say.

Resolved: Sally Anne Crawford’s legacy of oration, debate and drama will live always through those she taught.

No argument here.