Lebanon Valley College - Quittapahilla Yearbook (Annville, PA)

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Maintaining forever an instution of highest quality ShoukI we offer new programs of study? Should minors be reinstituted? How can the leadership program be im- plemented mto the present curriculum? Should we review the alcohol policy? Should we discuss plans for a new gymnasium and speak with the Eagles? Are we in a healthy financial state? These are just a few of the cjuestions board members ponder, attempting to provide the best possible answer to keep alive and maintain forever an institution of highest cjuality. I ' r ■ ' l(it■nl ol Ihr Boiird i i Iruslfcs, Dr Eiiz.ibt ' lh k Weisburgcr, a l ' M-1 gr.idujte, IS tht ' guirling Icirte of ttie Bii.ird. Bf)ard member Curvin Deiiinger presents an item lor discussion at the tall meeting. Our board is unique in that it i; ontains three students. Board of Trustees Offiters (jer.ild D- kaullmaii F irsi Vice President Elaine G. Hackman Second Vice ( ' resident E. D. Williams, |r. Secretary E. Peter Strickler Treasurer Harry B Yost Assistant Secretary F. Allen Rutherford, )r. Immediate Past President Quittapahilla 24

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Remembering a professor: Dr. Leonard Geissel (Ed. Note: Dr. Leonard Ceissel was a music professor who directed the bands. Dr. Ceissel taught here trom 1979 to the time ol nis death on July 1 5, 1985. Mary Bar- thasus, a member ot the class of 1 987, died following a car accident during the sum- mer of 1985. Mary was an English ma|or and a member of Clio. We will always remember these people who made their mark on this campus and made it a better place to be.) I remember vividly the first time I met Leonard Geissel. He had come from Pitts- burgh one late spring afternoon to interview for the music education position which was created by tne retirement of Dr. lames Thurmond. The meeting was lengthv, in- cluding not only a description oi the specific duties associated with this position, but also also a lengthy discussion about tne philosophy of music education. In addition to my assessment regarding Leonard ' s credentials to fill this position, I recall my per- sonal reaction to him — he seemed like such a nice person. This initial assessment was verified many times by both faculty and students m the first months after Leonard became a faculty member of the music department. Some consider children as accurate barometers of adults ' personalities. As a part of his doctoral research concerning learning theory, Leonard did testing in the local school district. My younger daughter was among those he tested. . Although she did not recall his name, stating only that he works tor you at the college, she did make an observation about him: He seems like a really nice person. Leonard ' s nice person qualities were manifested in many different ways. I remember on occasions — some in formal settings such as over coffee at the Co- Ed, — his expressions of concern about students in his classes. These comments were always delivered in a most genuine and caring manner, one in which identify- ing the source of the problem was much more important than either ignoring or dismissing it. When Leonard ' s illness advanced to a stage at which many would have been unable to continue with their daily obligations, he refused to yield. When it became necessary for him to cancel or postpone or ask for help, it bothered him greatly. Those ol us who were close enougn to witness his perseverance on a daily basis marveled at it. Yet, at this time he was actively participating with other members of the college community in a project to provide meals for those of the community who are less fortunate. If a music administrator had to list those qualifications which exemplify a well- rounded musician, he would be hard pressed not to point out that Leonard ex- hibited most of them: teacher, scholar, conductor, composer. But in addition to these, he exhibited another quality toward which most civilized humans aspire: he was a caring person. In a world which often smacks of insincerity, I think there is a lesson in this for all of us. r „ , , -Dr. Robert C. Lau Remembering a classmate: Mary Bartashus It was the first Tuesday in May, the warmest day of the year so tar, and we sat around after the English department picnic m my newly green and blossomy back yard. At many department attairs like this the students tind reasons to leave shortly after dessert-who wants to talk too long with professors who would torget their heafi it il were not attached to their syllabus? But this evening fifteen or twenty students stayed on to tell stories, laugh, complain, delend, and generally en|oy themselves. Daylight-savings time had begun three days earlier, and we were all acting like children still happily stunned by the gift of an extra hour to play after supper In the middle of the group sat a stock sophomore girl in a yellow sundress. She didn ' t dominate the talk, but somehow the group seemed to take its energy from her. Her voice was stronger than the others, her laugh fuller, warmer, her words more entertaining. Sometimes they also showed more anger And the rasp in her voice and the dry, creased skin around her eyes made her seem older than any of us. Yet the energy and the frilly sundress made her seem younger. She seemed, simply, to be more of everything at once, to have been fashioned in a stronger, more intense way, I don ' t remember what all the talk was about, |ust that it was good and that it went on longer than anyone expected. But finally some students did have to go, then others, then other professors, until the only ones left were the six seniors, myself, and the girl in the sundress. Suddenly things had become slighly awkward. The seniors all sat there not by coincidence but because I had arranged to have our last senior seminar that evening at the house, after the picnic. Actually, what we were about to have was not a class. We had studied all the books, the papers weren ' t due until Friday, and the only real item left on our agenda was a last, looking-ahead, there ' s-to-us-and LVC parly. Although the gift of light made it seem earlier, it was time to get on with our plans. But the girl in the yellow sundress didn ' t know any of this. She so clearly en|oyed being there, accepted, even needed, that it look awhile before one of us, probably myself, had the heart to tell her At first her face darkened, but when she understood that we meant nothing personal the smile came back. Everyone said goodbye. I remember standing in my front yard a minute to watch her walk across the big empty ballfield back up toward campus. When she got past the dirt at second base, she stooped down quickly and took off her sandals. The slow strides, bare teet disappearing one at a lime into the cenlerfield grass, strong white calves and shoulders and the yellow dress so bright against the green bank she was ap- proaching, head down, sandals dangling from one hand — that ' s my last picture of Mary. I remember that when I returned to the seniors out back a slight chill had come into the air. II was not summer after all. Obviously the party would soon have to move inside: and we all sensed that when It did the music would be quieter and slower than usual and, for this one time at least, we would do a lot more looking back than looking ahead. -Dr. Phihp Bilhngs Dr. Geissel was p rofessor of music Dr. Ceissel Mary Bartashus

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Dr. Arthur L. Peterson President of the College Dr. Peterson stands In front of the fireplace In the living room of kreiderhelm, the official residence of the President. Dr. and Mrs. Peterson trim the kreiderheim Christmas tree. Krelderheim is bustling with activi- ty during the Christmas season. Studying the football team ' s moves. Dr. Peterson hopes for a Valley score.