Marybeth Mayzak was a force. There are very few people in my life I’ve ever been fearful of, and this woman was near the top of my minuscule list. However, in retrospect that fear was likely more so an admiration and the deepest respect. She was commanding without having to try. She was confident and vibrant. She was bold but so elegant and a lady in every sense of the word. She was also a badass. Gritty. Real. She was her whole self all day, everyday and her passion for what she loved and believed in was pure and unquestionable. She was a boss bitch before we even had the lingo for it.
High school was a hellacious time and experience for me. I had troubles at home and troubles with myself as I was coming into my own as a woman of color in some very white ass spaces. But Mrs. Mayzak saw me. She accepted me as I was and somehow seemed to know who I could be. Oftentimes, without even having to say anything, she gave me the push I needed to come into my own and be as I was meant to be. As nonchalant as I may have acted in her classes, her approval meant the world to me, and as a young musician I soaked up all that she could teach me. It was a blessing to be welcomed into her Mixed Chorus class Freshman year and finally find a space where I felt a sense of belonging, purpose, and most importantly acceptance. I LOVED coming to class everyday and sharing my own passion for music and vocal performance with a woman who freely reciprocated her great love of music – especially The Beach Boys. Mrs. Mayzak was a true California girl and as much of a West Coast OG as Tupac, with just as many colorful stories to share.
Mrs. Mayzak not only pushed us to be our best, she gave us her best everyday she stepped foot to the front of the room. I remember her signature hair do and the clips she’d wear on performance days with her collared dress and pearl necklace. I remember her stern facial expressions and how she could say a mouthful in just a glance. I remember her energy as she struck chords on the piano and vivaciously led us through warm-ups. I remember the fear I had going into my audition for the advanced women’s ensemble, Divina Voce, and the twinkle in her eye as we went through the exercises. The knowing look she gave me as if to communicate I could calm my ass down because we both knew I’d already worked for and earned my spot in the group. I remember my banter with her about hip hop and tanking my history presentation but, with her guidance, developing the analytical and research skills that would ultimately get me to Georgetown today. I remember coming to visit after my first year at Bellevue Community College and sharing my experience in Dr. Daudi Abe’s class which was essentially Hip Hop in America. She laughed and told me she wasn’t surprised but she was happy I was finding my place and following through on what I loved. There are so many more memories I could share, but above all I’ll always remember her authenticity, her consistency, and that I always felt seen and accepted.
The last time I saw Mrs. Mayzak was several years ago at either my brother’s graduation. She was retiring and moving on to her next chapter. I was saddened her time had come to leave teaching but thankful to have shared a space and time that I could treasure and recount as I trudged through the chapters of my own life. Upon learning of her passing this evening I’ve become flooded with these beautiful memories and a deep sense of gratitude to have had the privilege to know and be influenced by such a magnificent woman. Although I feel a sadness deeper than I could’ve ever imagined, Mrs. Mayzak left us all with a gift in her own words. Again, thinking of and uplifting others even in her last moments.
I love you Mrs. Mayzak. You are a reminder of the good that has been in my life, even at the worst of times, and you will forever be in my heart and in my scales.
My Ambitions Az a HOYA 