A SECRET SAVIOR
In 1968, I was a student at the Levon & Sophia Hagopian Armenian High School in Beirut. When the time came to register for tenth grade, I went to the principal’s office and told the staff my parents could not pay the tuition. Although I was the top student in my class, I was sent home. This was a heartbreaking experience, as I loved being in school and desperately wanted to continue my education.
I went home and spent the day helping my father at his tire-repair shop. He could barely earn enough to pay the tuition of my two siblings.
A very old man saw me in the shop and wondered why I was not in school. I told him I was sent home because of lack of funding. He offered to help by calling the principal of another school to ask him to register me tuition-free. Even though the school was far away from my home, I could not pass up the opportunity to continue my education. I took a city bus to downtown Beirut and went to the principal’s office. Embarrassed to tell him that I was supposed to get free tuition, I told the principal that arrangements had been made for me to study at a discounted
tuition. I was stunned when the principal screamed at me that there was no such thing as a discounted tuition. I immediately turned around and rushed back to my father’s tire shop.
Three days later, one of my classmates from Sophia Hagopian came over. Our principal had sent him to tell me that I should come back to school. When I arrived, I told the registrar that I could not pay the tuition. She informed me that my tuition was fully paid and that I should join my classmates. I asked who had paid for my tuition so I could thank that wonderful individual. I was told that the benefactor wanted to remain anonymous.
I went to my classroom, but I kept wondering who had given me this golden opportunity. I went back to the principal’s office after classes and begged the registrar to disclose the name of the benefactor. Upon my insistence—and on the condition that I didn’t go and thank the person and risk the registrar’s getting fired for breaking confidentiality—she informed me that the benefactor was my English teacher, Olivia Balian.
The registrar explained that when the school year started and Ms. Balian noticed my desk was empty, she inquired why I was not in school. She was told my parents could not pay the tuition. She then told the principal to deduct my tuition from her salary.
The whole year I sat in Ms. Balian’s class, thinking about her magnanimous gesture but unable to express my appreciation. A year later, I moved to the United States. I eventually received two master’s degrees, one from Columbia University and one from Pepperdine University.
I never forgot the kindness and generosity of Ms. Balian. Almost 40 years later, I returned to Beirut for the first time to donate $4.5 million from Kirk Kerkorian’s Lincy Foundation to all 28 Armenian schools in Lebanon. Among the schools I visited was my former high school. While handing
I finally learned who my benefactor was—on the condition that I couldn’t thank her for her actions.
the principal a donation of several hundred thousand dollars, I advised him to never send any student away for lack of money, because one never knew what that student might become in the future. He or she could be a brilliant doctor, a good diplomat, or someone who ends up working for a billionaire benefactor who would make a major donation to the school.
While in Lebanon, I visited Ms. Balian. She had retired from teaching long ago and lived in an apartment by herself outside Beirut. She was as thrilled to see me as I was to see her. I was finally able to thank her for her generosity all those years ago, but she did not want to hear about it and humbly changed the subject. I offered to assist her in any way possible, including financial help or special recognition for her many decades of educating young Armenians. She declined all offers.
While this story is about Ms. Olivia Balian, who passed away in 2017, it is also a testimony that one person can make a great difference in the lives of others. Without her timely assistance, giving me the unique opportunity to study English, I probably would have never come to the United States and would not have ended up as the publisher of an English newspaper, the California Courier. I probably would have spent the rest of my life repairing tires at my father’s shop in Beirut.