Kent School - Kent Yearbook (Kent, CT)

Page 18 text:

.-' 1 cf all ' 5 ., . log,-.,.lr,,,. - , if- . .W - SECOND FORM YEAR Looking like prisoners crossing the Bridge of Sighs, thirty-seven members of the Class of 1957 arrived at Kent on September ll, 1952. Weatherwise the day was not unusual. The rains descended, and the haze on Algo's height had decided that it was not yet time to rend, as if to afford the incoming rabble a forecast of the perennial Kent clime. Early that Sunday morning we assembled for our first chapel service, neatly dressed in double-breasted blue serge suits. After the service wc ate our first meal at the age-old wooden tables. Soon our sponsors assumed command of our acti- vities, and we were labeled with name tags and led to our rooms where we unpacked. A short time later we waved good-bye to our parents, some tearfully and some indifferently. Then began the process of learning what Kent was all about, During the days of early week the form was divided into two groups and given a pre- view of Kent life. Mr. Gilliam taught us the school songsg Mr. Kingsbury tried in vain to show us how in- teresting chemistry could beg and Mr. Park guided us through the library. Bob Wvard, the senior prefect, gave us a stern and impressive lecture in study hall. It did not take us very long to learn to respect the Class of 1953. They were all huge, with beards, and were of the opinion that we were the lowest of all forms of human existence. Self-help soon became a reality to us. Our finger- nails became permanently encrusted with Bon Ami and brass polish, and our hands became calloused from con- stant contact with broom handles and wet mops. W'e were presented with sheaves of mimeographed literature, which we were supposed to read, mark, and inwardly digest , but which most of us swept out the door at inspection time. The testing we received was quite trying at times, but the afternoon recreation provided a pleasant diver- sion from the less interesting aspects of the week.

Page 17 text:

THE SIXTH FORM k. if iii X-N... , fm. , ' 4- :0-g7.i.AVi ' 'QSQ5 . ., fu L, Af-if f' , 14- Q., S C Q 1

Page 19 text:

On Thursday, after four days of gruelling indoc- trination, we learned that Kent was made up of over three hundred students, and that most of them were older and bigger than we. We soon found ourselves the despised rabble, object of derisive comments from all old boys, who acted as if the admissions department had made a ghastly mistake. We were a bit awed by the complexity of the system as Kent life unfolded before us, especially since we found ourselves so small a part of it. We soon learned through experience about the Hour Board. Many of us labored under the threatening forebear- ance of a dominating southerner for whom we had ac- quired no small measure of respect. Rusty Dodsworth, Sam Robinson, and Nick Joukovsky had their names engraved on the board. Like every form, we found that we too had wheels. Mike Hegeler and Bill Estabrook were elected to lead our form, with the able assistance of Jerry Baird, who had gained previous experience as a second former the year before. As the sports schedule got under way, the majority of our class found openings on the club teams. Dick Baker and Cliff Conway won starting assignments on Ralph Ritchie's undefeated, un-scored-upon junior Hoosie football team. Paul White won laurels for the form by playing on the first soccer squad. As a whole, the form mustered great spirit to boost the first foot- ball team to victory on Saturdays. For those who were interested, extra-curricular activities offered enjoyment. Pete Fairchild, Ralph Pedersen, and Palmer Schweppe joined the Glee Club, while Bill Estabrook, Paul White, Frank Niepold, and Nick Joukovsky plied their talents in the Art Club. 101' For most of us, rooming with another boy was a novel experience. As a result many interesting com- binations occurred. Frank Niepold was all but com- pletely subdued by Bar-Bar White, a sturdy lad who exibited feats of strength at the snap of a finger. How often we in the North Dorm would be lying in our beds at night when suddenly the patch of moonlight on the floor would be obliterated by an ape-like shadow. Paul would swing in the window, and the room would shud- der as he hit the floor. The silence would then be broken by a hoarse whisper, Whose turn is it to scratch my back? Bill Estabrook had many strange and intriguing tales to tell about Rusty Dodsworth who, in a fit of wrath, smashed his guitar to splinters on a bedpost, barely missing Bill's neatly combed head. Study hall was a scandal most of the time. Hans Kalinka used brute strength to keep us in check, but Don Bald Eaglew Kress found our harassing not much to his enjoyment. All of us, at one time or another, found ourselves polishing shoes or brass for our mis- deeds. During the football season we all contributed our precious nickles to the raffle, and once in a while one of our lucky formmates would win an incredible two dollars in nickles. One morning we were irked to learn that Joe Chalmers had borrowed all our ink bottles and smashed them against the wall outside study hall. Occasionally, when the noise became unbearable, the door would burst open, and in would stride Mr. Armstrong, letting fly a torrent of abuse, with eyes glaring and teeth bared. Within seconds absolute sil- ence would prevail. The cold war between Paul White and Hans Kalinka was finally won by Paul when he learned to sleep with his eyes open.