Have a nice day.
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Have a nice day.
This is the text of the tribute paid to Miss Urie by Sally Cox, former pupil and staff member of Wynberg, at Miss Urie’s memorial service held in the St John’s Church, Wynberg.
I am honoured to stand here today to pay tribute to a great lady.
Last night my mind was in a turmoil, knowing it was impossible to put together a tribute to Miss Urie that would do her justice, so I jotted down some things that came to mind.
I had the privilege of knowing Miss Urie for thirty-six years. She appointed me to the staff in 1963, the year she herself became one of the youngest headmistresses in South Africa.
One of the first things I realized was that Miss Urie’s integrity was never to be doubted. She was the guardian and fierce protector of Wynberg Girls’ High, and she did only what she thought was in the best interest of the school and of all those in her care.
Many a time the staff pleaded for more equipment, pinning panels, new cups for the staffroom. In those days money was in short supply, but after a while these things would appear. Some of us realized that in fact Miss Urie had paid for them out of her own pocket – as were the ice creams the whole school received on Prize Giving Day. I am sure that there were many other things that we never knew about.
Throughout the years, she believed implicitly in the motto Honour Before Honours. A confidence was never broken. The letter of the law was upheld to the nth degree. Miss Urie was to be trusted. Her devotion to the school was also never doubted. Wynberg was Miss Urie and Miss Urie was Wynberg. Her life seemed to be School, Hostel - Hostel, School. Some of us doubted that she ever slept at all, or that she ever had time for anything else. Yet Miss Urie knew what was in the newspapers: seemed to have time for the theatre; read extensively; kept scrapbooks; had time for her godchildren and planned overseas holidays.
We also sometimes doubted that Miss Urie was actually human. She had extremely high standards and expected everyone else to be perfect, at least. Many a job was done by her, because she knew that she could do it better than anyone else and she would get frustrated at our bumbling along.
The handwritten reports were a nightmare. She read every single one of our comments. She left the school at five or six o’clock laden with baskets of reports, and we knew that the next morning we could expect to get them back littered with corrections. Correcting fluid was not acceptable so we had to rewrite the whole report if she could find a mistake.
And then came the folding of the reports. There was obviously a line on the front page that only Miss Urie could see, and woe betide us if we did not fold the report exactly on that line.
Then came the staff fashion show. One of our members decided it was time to liven up the school and show the girls that we were also human. But what about Miss Urie? She had never taken part in similar antics. One lunch hour the school hall was packed with girls. They were there to laugh at the staff and laugh they did. Eventually the end of the show arrived and the curtains were drawn. The girls shouted for more. The curtains opened again to reveal a lone figure, back to the audience, dressed in tight fitting jeans and a purple wig. Quite a figure, too. The figure turned, the spotlight focused and the body moved in time to the music. There was a stunned silence. It couldn’t be! Suddenly the school erupted. Yes it was – it was Miss Urie. A stranger would have thought that this was some famous pop star performing for her fan club. A memory never to be forgotten. Miss Urie was human – very, very human.
Miss Urie had the uncanny knack of suddenly appearing behind our backs, just as we were speaking about her and there were often many red faces. She also knew her staff very well. She amazed and often embarrassed us with her wealth of information about us. But some of us learnt that here was someone full of compassion for the frailty of human nature. Without a fuss or fanfare she looked after those in need – girls, staff, cleaners. She took in girls who were in trouble and needed a fresh start in life. She guided those who were lost and she offered quiet words of wisdom to those who asked for help. She did not fail us.
Some of us here today spent hours arguing with her in her office, knowing full well that in the end we would throw in the towel because of her ability to talk circles around us. Some of us spent hours outside her office door just hoping that some time we would hear the tinkle of the little bell that would admit us into her office. Some of us learnt to love her dearly once we were able to scratch away that outer shell. But all of us have had one thing in common – respect, printed in bold for a true lady with a wonderful mind – a broadminded South African.
Miss Urie, we salute you. Thank you for what you have given us and thank you for your devotion to Wynberg, You will not be forgotten. You have earned your badge of courage with the motto Honour Before Honours
Click on the House to go back to the URIE home page
Have a nice day.