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Page 8 text:
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Only He Can Give, Who Has . John Joseph Landrigan BLS ’25 Nearly fifty years ago Mr. John J. Landrigan began his teaching career in Newbury, New York, after graduating from Boston College Returning to Boston two years later, he accepted an assignment at the Michelangelo School in the North End for a period of six years before leaving for Roslindale High School where he taught for seventeen years. In 1954 he advanced to Girls ' Latin School for a thirteen year period at that very distinguished institution while awaiting an opening at his alma mater. Twelve years ago his life ' s ambition achieved fulfillment when he received the coveted appointment of English Department Head here at The Latin School. His enthusiasm for correct speech and logical writing influenced to a marked degree every student with whom he came in contact. He always exemplified the best qualities of the genu ine pedagogue — a willingness to pose and answer questions thoughtfully, a talent for criticizing work constructively, and a desire to motivate students earnestly. His skills were not those of the classroom entertainer but rather, those of the scho- lastic taskmaster whose firm and repeated insistence upon specific details and coherence, upon clarity and emphasis, and upon mechanics like punctuation and capitalization made many members of this year’s class better and more confi- dent writers. If Mr. Landrigan throughout his years of teaching had obtained a small amount of change for every mixed metaphor he untangled, or all the dangling participles he secured, or each unparallel construction he reoriented, he would today be a wealthy man. This modest man who led Boston students for so many years through the thorny thickets of modern poetry, by the pitfalls of faulty reference, and past the quagmires of shifting viewpoint should indeed be a rich man if for only one reason — that he cared about his students and their development as writers and as individuals. But the riches accruing to Mr. Landrigan are not those of the bank vault or the stock portfolio, his riches are those of the spirit, the satisfaction of knowing that his sincere efforts to provide the world with better men and women have been successful. Although his portrait may never hang in the auditorium, his heart will always remain at The Latin School which nurtured his youth and delighted his later years. In dedicating this Liber Actorum to him, the Class of Nineteen Seventy-nine, reaching deep into its Word Wealth Advanced, salutes him as the Supererogatory Septuagenarian, confers upon him the title, Magister Emeritus, and wishes him many pleasant years of well-deserved retirement. 4
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Page 9 text:
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Ave Atque Vale Mr. Contompasis, Mr. Tierney, Mr. Looney, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Vara, members of the faculty, parents, and guests, you are present here today to witness the graduation of a senior class from the Boston Latin School. For those associated with the school this is merely another graduation; yet I am certain that for most of these each graduation is as genuine an occasion for unabated pride as any preceding it. For the parents especially, this is a time of mixed feelings. There are present at once the sentiments of joy at seeing their children successfully pass from one stage of life to another, and of sorrow at the realization that, having become adults, they are about to leave them. Fellow Graduates of the Class of 1 979: An experience which comes only once in a lifetime is over. I am referring to the years we have spent at the Boston Latin School in their broadest sense. From the grueling tests we had to take and the endless papers we had to write to the clubs we joined and the games we played, all is unforgettable. The memories are fond ones which we will treasure for the rest of our lives. Before I frown on the present and exhort you to look with glass eyes toward the future, I think it might be appropriate to spend a bit of time reflecting upon the past. First of all, rather than congratulating ourselves on having gotten this far in our lives, let us put most of the praise where it is due. The Boston Latin School and what it represents are what we must truly thank. The education we have received there is invaluable. Today this education is called a classical education, to distinguish it from the pragmatic education which has supplanted it to a great extent. The very word “classical” has acquired a negative connotation in a world where modernity is emphasized in all walks of life and where all that is old is stuffed into a closet. There are those who would do this to the Boston Latin School. But we must say no! Let us not forget the past . . . Greece, where education and democracy had their beginnings, . . . Rome, the empire that rose high and fell with a roar and out of whose ashes the western world, like the phoenix, was reborn. Alas . . . where would we be without Vergil’s pious Aeneas, Homer’s wily Odysseus, Euclid’s Elements, Plato’s Dialogues, or Aristophanes’ Clouds. How much the poorer would man be without Shakespeare’s sonnets, Baudelaire’s fragrant bouquet, or Dali’s warped uni- verse, without the Prince of the Clouds or the Law-giver of the seventeenth century. The list is endless and boundless: “All knowledge is our province.” Indeed, this is what an education ought to encompass. Although many may be better suited with the clothes of tradesmen, large numbers will always resist the daily push they have to give themselves to make the nine o’clock shift. It is for these and for all who will ask for something more out of life that an education such as the Boston Latin School has offered, offers, and must offer, is priceless. The gifted deserve more. Let them be called preachers in ivory towers, . . . what is wrong with that? . . . ivory makes fine bricks, vale alma mater vale postes sacri “Would that philosophers were kings or that kings were philosophers” may as well be the cry heard round the world today. Unfortunately, like the shot which preceded it, it does not carry very far. We have seen a great deal recently: the fall of the Shah and the rise of an Ayatollah, the fall of a Duke and the rise of a King, the fall of a Pope and the rise of a Pole, the fall of the dollar and the rise of the price. In three out of the four cases the rise has been to the fall as a famine is to a drought. We watch with forlorn faces as governments, not unlike harlequins, juggle our rights, and very like gam- blers, shuffle our money. Yet we refrain from taking a stand, some out of fear, others out of disgust, more out of lethargy. But we do have a power and a say; we are not yet chained by the anxieties of every day. We are still free from the bonds which life will later put on us; those of family, home, and work. The only advice that can be given is this: beware of the commonplace, question everything, leave no stone unturned in the search for the truth. Socrates was given hemlock for teaching this. Let not his message go unheeded. Meanwhile, let us remember the words of Emerson: Speak what you think now in hard words and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day. “Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.” vale studentes primi vale amici cari Jaroslaw Olesiak 5
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