Milton Academy - Yearbook (Milton, MA)

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strong force in the school, be it in sports, in student organizations, or in performances. We began to pro- duce talents of all sorts: Kristin Perini's running, Sid Whelan and Miguel Lawson's music, Patrice Dolan and Sharon DeSouza's sing- ing, the thirty-five seniors' efforts on the Speech Team, to name only a few. As we moved into our final year, our student leadership be- came strong as we, as a class, assumed leadership positions. Also, members of our class took on new challenges such as the Spring Fair and the founding of the Milton Paper. I have been lucky to work as co- Class I councillor, lucky to work closely with members of a really special group. I've watched the names add and the faces change, Here from the Start . . . but the spirit of the class has al- ways remained strong. The history of this class has been colorful and eventful. Many happenings I have been unable to list, but I'm sure those that have come in contact with us will not forget them. It has been a good thirteen years - congratulations, Class of '84, and good luck always! ...,..,, - A... ,W-...ga.... . '-val-seq-Q - W... , ,..-.....,,,,....7 .1 . . .,., , Thirteen Years! i

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CL SS HISTCRY by Michelle Dandridge As one looks around Straus at a typical Class I meeting, it is hard to imagine the roots of the Class of 1984: a kindergarten class of sev- enteen. Now, possibly this thought doesn't come to mind to the aver- age senior at 8:00 on a Thursday morning. However, to one who has watched and been a part of the change and growth of this class over the last thirteen years, the re- flective thoughts become a con- tinual occurrence. In looking back at our earlier years in the Lower School, the first feeling that comes to mind is the sense of closeness that our class had, and continued to have. This closeness always helped us to turn the many class projects into something special. Our first big effort was a performance of The Princess and the Pea, a stunning . Ju l 22 extravaganza, as kindergarten per- formances go. From there, we were off to take on the many projects that lay ahead. Yet, the highlight of any lower-schooler's career was the Sixth Grade Play. We went to work to produce our version of the musical Oliver. Once again the class pulled together not only on the musical, but also in a tribute to Sir Patterson, our teacher and in- spiration. With characteristic class unity and spirit, we made a scrap- book of class pictures, and rewrote the words of To Sir with Lovei' to fit our feelings for a man we came to love. The sight of thirty kids crying and hugging each other as our performance ended will al- ways be a vivid memory. As we moved to the next phase of our experience, the Upper School, new students joined and opportunities opened, yet we maintained our closeness. With the first taste of boarders came the first real challenge of our identi- ties, which we met head on. Soon we became visible on sports teams, r l l in clubs, on the Speech Team, and on the stage as we went to work on our production of the Fourth Class Play. The class took on the task of per- forming Bertolt Brecht's The Caucasian Chalk Circle. It was one of Milton's largest Class IV produc- tions, for it involved over eighty- five people on stage at all times including intermission, calling on the limitless energy of our class. The inventive direction of Rey Buono, the acting and musical tal- ents of the performers, and the adeptness of the technical crew assured a stunning performance. The many weeks of hard work cer- tainly paid off. The play served as a unifying force experienced by the whole class. The Class IV play is truly a highlight for all who par- ticipated in itg for many, it became the first step to strong theatrical careers at Milton. During the years that followed, more people came, more talents were discovered, more friendships made. As a class, we became a

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yggflgiggii The Velveteen Rabbit -ish sensa- tion of feeling an ordinary, some- times ugly room at Milton turn into a home,' never fails to be exciting. A confined space stops being a functional, everyday geographical location of certain activities and becomes an atmosphere, a feeling, a tattered photo album of private moments. The physical character- istics become so familiarized as to lose all relevancy, like a grand- mother's face. It's always a personal experience, but some homes are so commonly shared they are taken for granted. Goodwin Room, for in- stance, lost none on its Goodwin- ity when its actual location was changedg it's one of the rare rooms defined by the reassuring emo- tions we associate with it, a home. 1 i l 24 The Straus Library is another. The Student Center was intended to be a home , a Holiday Inn would be more accurate. Warren Hall's sec- ond floor, the butt room, and the third floor of Ware have made it. Neither the Link, the Computer Room, nor anything in the Science Building ever will make it. The periodical room, cluttered as it is with tourists, is home to a small but fanatical cult of Milton's wild- eyed intellectual elite. Room 3203, the lunch room, and the dorm common rooms will always have it. Wigg Hall never had it, never will. And don't try to deny it, you chose your favorite bathroom three years ago. A Milton career is like a pizza. When the Crust of your Identity is baked and firm, you can pile on the goodies. The Tomato Sauce of Honesty. The Gooey Cheese of Self-respect. The Green Peppers of Academic Achievement. The Pep- peronis of Class V Acne Attacks. The Mushrooms of Perseverance. The Oregano of Spiritual Courage. Into the Oven of Maturity. Behold, the Pizza of Adolescence. Then again, Milton is like a pizza in that the more of it you ingest, the more likely you are to throw up. Being a liberal at Milton means al- ways having to say you're sorry. Things that were Not Worth It: the IPS lab you slaved over in class V, the hours you spent on your face before the first freshman dance, the boring courses you endured to appear well-rounded. Vanity of Vanities, saith the weary senior. All is vanity. The excuses you thought up for your blue slips, the night you spent awake in bed sweating before the PSAT's, the re- cesses you squished through the crowd to peer into an empty mail- box. The terrifying authority fig- ures you struggled to please for years, the assemblies you sprained your buns to get to on time. The swearing you did when your mug- book photo resembled Bela Lugusi on steroids. The anger. The grudges. The putdowns, even the QM W4 Wag .. l I 'ff' , F 1 'A 73 1'1mS5l'9, clever ones. The times you actual- ly put on your school socks and jock for P.E. Hell, the times you actually showed up for P.E. Need we go on? Yea verily saith the se- nior. I'm afraid that all this and more was simply Not Worth lt. But Most of it was. Why did God make seniors? Some- body has to buy all those orange and blue scarves at the Bookstore. I always love looking in a class- room between classes and seeing