Girls' voices grow strong without boys

If I had any thought of walking into Ursuline Academy in Blue Ash and passing myself off as a high school student, my hopes were dashed in the parking lot. Fresh-faced coeds held the doors open for me politely, probably hoping the geezer with the notebook wouldn't collapse in the midst of heavy traffic.

But then again, I wasn't there to fool them. I was there to fool myself.

I was going back to high school to see whether things would have been different if I had been educated solely in the company of females.

This month, Ursuline celebrates a century of all-girls education.

Most of the girls probably don't realize how extraordinary their daily school life is. Every day, they are surrounded almost exclusively by female voices. A female principal makes announcements. In 90 percent of the classrooms, a female teaches the day's lesson. The first voice to volunteer in class is female. So are the presiding officers of every club, class and sport.

The loudest laugh, strongest opinion, heartiest encouragement all come from another girl.

Thinking, not preening

These girls are here to think, not to look pretty, act pretty or be voted queen of anything. As senior Heidi Kanet put it, ''There's no one to impress here but ourselves.''

Amazing. When I was in school, it seemed like my job was to impress everyone but myself.

But can't the same female self-confidence occur at a coed school? Of course, and surely it does all over the Tristate. But most women - and especially girls - would be less than honest if they said dynamics don't change with the presence of males.

It happens in lunchrooms and boardrooms and not the least classrooms. Voices soften. Assertiveness weakens. Leadership lessens. As decades of educational research shows, female students become more silent and passive when boys are in the room.

Accustomed to respect

''I feel a lot more comfortable here. If you do something stupid, girls are less judgmental than guys,'' says Stevia Haller. ''If you try to read your paper in class, the boys would be sitting together snickering.''

Classmate Lindsay Rolfson nods. ''When I gave my presentation for English class, I wasn't nervous at all,'' she says. ''With guys here, my knees would have been shaking.''

Girls ache to speak up here. They love to be listened to. Their hands are up before the question is out of their teacher's mouth.

Principal Shirley Speaks smiles at the description. ''A real strong message from us to them is that they need to find their own voice, and they need to use it.'' She laughs. ''Sometimes they use it right back on us.''

And they do. There is a powerfulness in these girls, a claiming of ground they know is theirs. They are used to attention. They expect respect.

''At my other school, the guys were always goofing off so the teachers had to pay so much attention to them,'' says freshman Beth Schmidt. ''They forgot the girls were even sitting there.''

But here at Ursuline, things are different, says this circle of quietly confident girls.

''So the boys got attention by misbehaving,'' I say. ''What do you have to do to get attention here?''

''Raise your hand,'' freshman Brooke Bluestein says matter-of-factly. And the girls laugh lustily, passing a smile from one to another, their faces filled with unmistakeable delight.

Krista Ramsey's column appears in The Enquirer on Saturdays. Write her at 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati 45202 or fax at 768-8340.

Published Sept. 7, 1996.