Abington High School - Oracle Yearbook (Abington, PA)

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Dr. Carl Hoffman Superintendent of Schools BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS From left to right: Dr. Leslie E. Konkoly, Wm. Cecil Travis, Sr.. Edwin A. Neale, Alan R. Hoff- man, Percival R. Rieder, Esq., Edward C. Kline, President. Dr. Carl Hoflman, Robert E. Nugent Willard R. Bonwit, Mrs. Doris Bunn, Knot pictured: Henry M. Hermannsl. Alan A. Glatthorn Principal Abington High School 3- Wag

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ADMIN IST RATI ON A N D FACU LTY Let such teach others who themselves excell. T Alexander Pope These seven words speak for themselves. They tell of the dedication and involve- ment required of aaaa a first-rate administra- tion and faculty. One which takes firm actions and stands behind them-whose major concern is the school and The Societv therein. '

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THE FACES OF ABINGTON Abington High School has many faces. . . - The face of a black student, wanting to change the white man's world, to be recognized as an individual, trying to harmonize the pull of black identity and the struggle for selfhood, wanting to reach out beyond the color line but feeling most comfortable when the white faces had gone away . . . ' The face of an activist, indifferent to hair styles and makeup, hair long and eyes troubled, wondering why others are not touched by hunger in Biafra and war in Vietnam and racism at home, despairing of reaching and shaking those who walked in ignorance . . . The face of a boy who goes to tech school for half a day, jaws set in grimness while in the academic high school, angry that so EHi6fR7viW2T6uilieiifseeiiftwseless,isiifeiiiffiwsisrnafaeceitifocforwiiafheirs-awiwrurvrss s amea+0rw1s1afwekn0wsi+.s1s The face of a girl studying shorthand and typing, a face well scrubbed and hair neatly brushed and a smile set in place, but be- neath the placid exterior some nagging questions about why the school did not place greater value upon her skills and why all the recognition seemed to be given to the college-bound . , . The face of a football player, still carrying some small scars on his face that healed slowly and some scars inside that may never heal, wondering why all the cheering stopped so soon and why was it that November friends could not be found in May or June , . . A face that seemed almost anonymous, of a student who walked the corridors alone and looked straight ahead because there were no smiles of recognition, knowing that five years hence most would see his picture in the yearbook and ask, Who was that fellow with the glasses? - The face of a teacher, or a mask rather, set in place when he got out of his car, a mask that said confidence and security and authority, while beneath, the lines around the eyes and mouth said doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, working hard to convince the students that the formulas and dates and names were so important, but late at night when the papers had been marked ques- tioning whether they mattered at all . . . Your face, that you knew so well, yet always looked so strange in the bathroom mirror at seven in the morning, your face that you fixed so carefully so that others could not see beneath it the pain you felt and not even she who was closest to you could know the sense of despair that made you sick to your stomach on those cold winter nights when those mid-years seemed so difficult and so stupid . , . And my face, fixed in the half smile, hoping that students would smile and say hello, worried that I was not known except as a title and a voice over the PA system making stuffy speeches about moderation and loyalty. the half smile masking an anxious frown of frustration that l was not able to do more for the school I soon would leave . . , Abington was all these faces and more, each different, each showing or masking some deep frustrations, disappointments, anxi- eties. And yet as you look back through these pages you remember the good times most of all. You remember when someone reached out and touched you. You remember the fun of football games and senior play and prom that for a while at least helped you forget the pain. You remember that teacher who made a difference because he understood without your having to say the words. You remember those times when the pieces of learning began to fit together and you feltqthe strange excitement of real discovery. You remember when someone looked beyond your face and saw your soul. And you remember most of all the simple joy of seeing and knowing and being with the other faces of Abington. Allan A. Glatthorn, Principal 27