Author: Sydney Reade

On Sunday, September 23, 2014, the Cornell community came together in Sage Chapel to remember the life of Kathy Berggren, graduate of the class of 1990, and Masters of Arts in Teaching recipient in 1993. Kathy was also a beloved professor both in the Communication department, where she created and taught Oral Communication for twenty years, and in the Dyson School, where she had recently relocated to begin teaching a new Management Communication course.

Many friends of Kathy’s, as well as colleagues and students, attended the event. Her family was also present, never expecting the outpouring of love, support, and gratitude Cornell in particular had to offer. Berggren’s father and brother made speeches attesting to a more personal side of Kathy, and colleagues remarked on her wonderful compassion for her students, but also on her exemplary professionalism and friendship.

Perhaps the most touching tribute was delivered by Communication Professor Sahara Byrne, who had the office next to Kathy’s in the Comm department. Byrne related an experience she had over the summer at Kathy’s memorial service in which she came face to face with a hummingbird for an inordinately long amount of time. She associates Berggren with the hummingbird, but acknowledged that Kathy, whose approach to public speaking emphasized backing up claims with a variety of facts, emotional appeals, and personal credibility, would never have accepted mere divine fate to substantiate the connection. Byrne’s comparison, from the small but strong stature both Berggren and hummingbirds shared to their unbounded energy, was heartwarmingly on point.

As a two-time student of Berggren’s, and one of her undergraduate TAs, I bore witness to the life of this truly beautiful person from a unique perspective. Her passion for teaching and her unwavering faith in the abilities of her students was rivaled only by the love she had for her family. Retrospectively, Kathy seemed to mine sources of energy no one else knew existed. As a freshman Communication student, I had a desperate administrative question, but I couldn’t get in touch with anyone who knew the answer. Someone suggested I email Kathy due to her responsiveness, and within minutes I had the information. She was always quick to help a student in need in whatever way she possibly could, whether she knew them personally or not.

Her dedication was never more apparent than when in the classroom with her. I took and TAed the 8:40 a.m. Oral Communication lecture—a noble feat for any student to attempt to get to Kennedy Hall at that hour, and then stand in front of peers and talk. But Kathy always came to class with a smile, often imparting some tidbit of information she’d learned in the news, usually related to teaching and bettering the educational process. She was not ignorant of the immense difficulties public speaking presents for many—in fact, she won awards for the curriculum she developed that emphasizes small but empowering techniques that can dramatically enhance students’ public speaking abilities.

But accolades never impressed her. She always said that a successful course was one in which the teacher could disappear in the end and the students would keep on learning. What she wanted most from her students was growth—personal or professional—and even when the gains were small, she knew how to seize any achievement and make a student feel like he’d just climbed Mt. Everest. I was by no means the best or most confident public speaker. But she saw in me the potential to improve and be a leader if given the chance. So she did.

 

Kathy’s effervescence extended beyond the classroom. No matter the holiday or occasion, students were always welcome in her house for Thanksgiving dinner or if they needed a place to go over school breaks. She ate lunch almost daily with students who simply wanted to talk and get to know her, and she them.

It would be easy to think Kathy had no time leftover to devote to her family after spending so much of it with her students. But on the one occasion I accepted an invitation to her home, she exhibited the same positive, optimistic, upbeat style of encouragement she used on her students with her children. She was their tireless cheerleader, always updating her students and colleagues on their successes. Her love for them shone through every word.

Kathy made everyone—students, colleagues, friends, community members—a part of her family. It was her way to be so nurturing, and the reason why I think her loss from the fold of students’ lives hit particularly hard. Once you were a part of Kathy Berggren’s life, you were always a part of it. The thought  that she is no longer a part of ours, at least physically, is unbearable. My greatest sadness is for the students who will never get to experience the influence Kathy could have had on their lives. It remains to her former students to allow her to disappear, but never from memory, and to carry on the learning, personal growth, and lessons she taught us that will never be forgotten.