Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts - Mohawk Yearbook (North Adams, MA)

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THE IVY POEM The leaving grates against my mind, the awful ending of the all that we have known-finality. I cannot see the glowing world with arms that seek to take and hold my heart I only know that I shall lose a friend. Perhaps the sentiment is bare, perhaps I haven't got the stuff to face the stern realities of lifeg perhaps, but no, it isn't that,- it's just the memories, the dreams the quiet moments lost in pensive thought that suddenly engulf my mind, recalling all that was and is and cannot be again. They say tomorrow never comes and yet tomorrow with its awe full end, its grim excitement closing a door is coming, --now Goodbye to what has been my heart will never know that happiness again. What is a college? Old and tired walls surrounding ancient classrooms, musty with the smell of learningg Scuff- marked halls, still echoing with voices that were stilled a quarter century agog Terraces with grass that blooms anew each spring, vying with the dusty textbooks gathered thereg Adolescent nick-names scrawled on window casements Granite steps worn smooth and shiny by shoes forever changing in their styleg Youth in baggy sweaters and five o'clock shadow taking notes or doodling or dreaming--- of the end of classg Instructors lecturing from notes and wondering where the scholars wentg Youth wondering, worrying, cramming for examsg Youth loving, losing, taking margin notesg snapshots, hopes, ambitions, ---immaturity, The long and thankless job of moulding character, A way of life inshrined in all the hearts that ever beat within those ivy covered walls.

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IVY DAY ORATION Dr. Bowman, Members of the faculty, honored guests: An astute individual who, no doubt, was phil- osophically inclined, once made the profound state- ment that time passes. The wisdom of these words is, unfortunately, too often disregarded, yet the awful truth holds fast. But in its passing, time certainly brings many benefits, for with age certainly should come wisdom, of which we have a concrete example today. Slightly less than four years ago, our class en- tered this institution of higher learning. At the time the great majority of us were quite immature indi- viduals and, I must confess, quite devoid of the lore which a supposedly well-educated individual should possess to better himself in the world of today. Traditionally, class day marks the emergence of the aforementioned naive individuals from the supposedly cloistered, semi-protected existence they have been leading into the realm of reality, or if you will, into the hard, cruel world. From this moment on we must endeavor to reconcile principle with expedi- ency, supposition with fact, the hypothetical with the actual in our chosen profession as teachers. But what do we find in the world into which we have emerged? Does not this very epithet-teacher- connote an unfavorable meaning in itself? Webster defines the word teacher as one who guides the study of others, and according to the same authority an educator is one who develops and cultivates men- tally and morally . Which is of greater service to his country, the one who merely guides or the one who develops and cultivates ? And for whom should this function be exercised-merely for the pupils during the day in school, or for the community as a whole? The adherents of the policy that a teacher's sole duty lies to his pupils and that this duty consists only of guiding the studies of his charges have made the teacher, in far too many cases, an insignificant, in- nocuous, and insipid individual who is afraid to speak his mind on controversial issues for fear of the consequences which might ensue. The teacher should be a leader in his community, a shaper of public opinion, and a guardian of that most precious of all traits-an objective, logical viewpoint. The teacher should take it upon himself to be not only the guider of young children, but a developer and cultivator 4an educator in every sense of the word, not only of his charges, but of his compeers as well. Today the teacher is faced with a seemingly insoluble dilemma: either to remain in his sanctum sanctorum , safe from the inevitable criticism and difficulties brought about by outspokenessg or to emerge from this rustication, this seclusion, and en- deavor to fulfill his duty to his community, to his country and to his own conscience. But wherein lies this duty, you well may ask? At present, the mass of the populace of the United States are in a state of nervous tension which they seek to aleviate by some painless, effortless method. Everywhere, panacea are being offered by various persons who are capitalizing on this sense of insecurity. Books which deal with the problems of living a peaceful life and of gaining security are best- sellers. Obscure cults which purport to delve into the supernatural are everywhere springing into prom- inence. What is more important, this state of ten- sion is causing us to regress in both our moral and ethical beliefs, and is, moreover, bringing about a change in the hierarchy of the values which many people hold. No longer is the teacher, or any other educated person, looked up to and respected as an individual --Continued on Page 47

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History of The If a newcomer to the diminutive municipality of North Adams were to stroll up Church Street, he would pass by a small cluster of stately buildings which a weather- beaten sign proclaims to all to be the State Teachers College. There, on a certain fateful day in September, 1949, a group of ninety-six eager young men and women entered upon a severe program of studies designed to create from the crude, malleable ore of naive, immature adolescents the polished, erudite pedagogues that grace con- temporary institutions of edification. Their personal trials, tribulations, glories, and triumphs, although worthy, are too miscellaneous and vast a collection to present herewith, but their combined intellectual and social progress may, perhaps, be suggested by the following class history. This was a time of great stress in the world. The economic structures of nations the world over were tottering, the threat of communism was looming more and more ominous, and a genuine crisis was developing in Palestine over the conflicts between the Arabs and Israeli. But history is always history, and our minds were busy absorbing knowledge in more immediate fields. A casual onlooker might raise an eyebrow at the sight of freshmen scurrying about the campus busily examining the bark of trees, but we were oblivious to any ridicule, for those tree maps just had to be completed. We had our first glimpse of the erudite Dr. Freel, whom we were to know better and better as we progressed through N. A. S. T. C., the intrepid Miss Underhill, and that of the inimitable Wily Willie Malone. Not all of our time, however, was spent in pursuit of that fleeting imp, knowledge. We still found time for extra-curricular activities. The men began their four-year domi- nation of intramural sports, as Freel's Frosh swept all before them in the football league. We mingled with one another at the Freshman Reception, and somehow managed to survive a tumultuous election in which jim Gazzaniga edged out the incomparable Qremember him?J jim Young, Esq. A few stalwart members of our class were members of the New England Championship basketball team and still others starred in jenny Kissed Me . Our sophomore year brought back a group slightly diminished, a trifle more so- phisticated, but with that thirst for knowledge still unslaked. Somehow we staggered through Physical Science, Economic Geography, English, and American Literature, and drank deeply from other fountains of knowledge. Who of us that were present shall ever forget the day Charlie Chaplin appeared to do an experiment for us? We all strove