Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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lEQilBll2L12EB!2MmiMMBMEEIMQUDQMBQMlE1EMl!1lB!lD3lDXlNEllZlE !Q3QA!l!i?5lEii2!ll?iiE611Jill!!XlllixlQiM1211BlDSIDKilkillllililllili7ilL31liX1liiKl.?il for approximately twenty-five years. During this time he has been chief con- fidant and adviser to hundreds of Ips- wich joes and Janes in everything from love affairs and prom dates to parties and student councils. For many years the boys' athletic coach, and this year the athletic director, Mr. Conary has, through his interest and hard work, spurred the teams on to many victories. As a teacher of science, he has been known and liked for his good teaching interspersed with caustic or witty re- marks or discussions on matters of in- terest. Although his teasing and dry humor often caused a blush, his hapless victims came back for more, as could be seen by the groups of fellows and girls continually about him. WVe were all sorry to lose Mr. Conary, teachers and pupils alike, but we sent him oil wishing him the best of future happiness in the new field he has chosen. We earnestly hope that he will come back often to visit the corridors and classes of Ipswich High. Xl' i f 21

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123MEE!lQ?lQ2l31163L81Q11NIliEIZMEMElMTEEEEEEEJQJEEEEEEEEIEEEEEEEQEE EEEEEEEEEWEEEEEEE. Editorial ON GRADUATION HIS june, as in countless other -Innes for a countless number of years, Americans are graduating, not only from Ipswich High, but from high schools all over the country. In doing this, we feel that we are standing on the brink of one of the most important phases of our lives - that of loosening old familiar ties and going into the world alone. We may not be gaining complete independence, but high school gradua- tion is one big step toward it. We can- not be sure what tasks lie in store for us in this world, but we feel sure that whatever they are, We will accept them with faith, meet them with confidence, and accomplish them to the best of our ability. We do not feel, as is so often said, that the complete hope of the world lies in us, the Class of 1946. We realize that it does only in that we, as indi- viduals, help in our own small way to make up one of the most powerful na- tions of the world, but we realize also that a great part of this hope is and must be invested in more experienced, more powerful people than we are or probably will be. Let us hope that we may use the little influence left to us to help make this a better world. 20 We know that we shall be able to look back, in later days, on our four years in high school, realizing that these years shaped us and prepared us in many ways for what we shall be then. We have worked and played together during these years, we have known anxiety, sorrow, and happiness, and look back with no small amount of regret. Let us hope that, although we may for- get some details of our high school days, we shall not forget the friends we made, the laughter and tears we shared, our faith in the future, our eternal hope and confidence, or that carefree feeling of being young in an old, careworn world. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF TEACHING HIS year for I.H.S. marked the de- parture of one of the best-loved members of the faculty, a man with laughing blue eyes and a dynamic, mag- netic personality. With the exception of his leave of absence when he graced the Army Air Corps with his presence, Mr. Conary has been teaching in the Ipswich schools

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EQIZXJQBEIZSIBli8lMDilQl!ilBlE'!ilEIliiJlXlliQi.2iliEE1llZl IE E lilglililililillililliliiili IEEEIIEEEEEQEIEQEIEQIEEISJEIZIEDQEEE Literary ' ' SMILE, PLEASE! OR weeks I had been looking for- ward to this day. For hours this morning I had stood before my mirror, trying glamorous poses and amorous smiles. Now the moment had arrived. On entering the photographeris make- shift studio,' I was abashed by the array of equipment, more formidable than that of a dentist. Trying not to show my feelings concerning the un- familiar implements, I collapsed weakly on the beach designated by the Wiry little photographer who was hopping about, waving his arms, and making insane faces in an effort to make me look at least a little amiable. Finally realizing what he Wanted, I gave him a generous smile - almost a million dollars, worth - sat very still, and awaited for what seemed to be an eternity and a day the click of the camera. By this time my generous smile had changed into a frozen array of teeth, and my once steady knees began twitching. At this the photographer shot out from behind the black peplum, pointed his paralyzing finger at me, and shouted, You movedlv I did notli' I responded hotly. 22 Yes, you didli' he roared, grabbing my ears and jerking my head around as though it operated like a swivel chair until it reached a position that Ripley would have believed impossible. Retreating again to his camera, he surveyed the pose for a moment, yelled innumerable orders at me, none of which I heard, and then ducked beneath the peplum once more. I held my pose for another eternity, then heard the click of the camera and the welcome voice of the photographer dismissing me. I rose weakly, crawled shakily away, and hoped never to retu1'n. -Athena Vlahos, '46 THE BIRDS, THE BEES, AND THE LOLLYPOP TREES N a cold and clear Sunday morning I saddled my white pony and ven- tured forth across the bridle paths and sand to see what beauties nature had in store for me. The sun had risen to the level of the tops of the pine trees on a nearby hill and only the purest sunlight sifted through the light green leaves of the wild cherry that bordered the trodden path.