Harley School - Comet Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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V MR. WHITING Arrirtant Director Dear Seniors: I'll never forget my mother's words when I left to go to college some thousand miles away. Words don't make any difference now, she said, the life we've lived together has said more than parting words could ever say. So my words are not words of advice . . . those you have heard until you must be well sick of them . . . they are words of appreciation for what you have given to me. These are the things you have given me, and I'll cherish them long: the response of searching minds to new ideas, a sharing of the interests and feelings of youth, forgiveness of unreasonable demandsg unquestioned loyaltyg stimulation to personal achievement, your belief your understandingg and, I hope your affection. You have given me strength when I was weak, and belief in myself when it was questioned. If it was given unbeknownst to you . . . so much greater the gift. In return I can only give my complete belief in you, and my affection for you not only as a group, but as each member of the graduating class of 1949. Cliff Whiting 6

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We started as five year olds, a few of us. Ken can't remember - he thinks he was here. Dixie knows she was, for she remembers one successful iight with jimmy Chace when jim got the bloody nose. Hank insists he was at Harley at some time in his younger days, but unfortunately and incredibly Hank left no evidence. Our big moment came when we graduated to the first grade, and the anti- climax when we walked into school the next fall and saw Judy and Steve. That was the year we became domesticated - and to prove it gave a terrific popcorn-ball party for the seniors. Second grade was confusing. We scared our teachers away as fast as they came. That year Stevie gave a commendable performance as Hansel in Hansel and Gretelf' Bakker and MacLean were angels. Third grade was wonderful, we all agree. And we'll always remember Mrs. Mac who helped make it that way. Among our accomplishments were a bridge across the creek which we made from a nursery school slide, and a piece of literature entitled Going Places and Seeing Things. McGhee came to Harley that year and has been coming and going ever since. The next year found us sneaking stealthily through the halls, making generally unsuccessful attempts to scalp each other, and yelling wahoo! at the top of our lungs. We hold Mr. Cramer responsible. Fifth grade was a bit calmer. Mr. Biscoe tried desperately to show us some of the 'finer things in life. He was reasonably successful, for by the end of the year we could box the compass, recite almost all of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and divide decimals. 8