Mount Hermon School - Gateway Yearbook (Mount Hermon, MA)

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DEDIC TIO OT merely a teacher, but a friend .... No other words describe, as accurately, our feeling for Mr. Frederick S. McVeigh. He has taken a genuine interest in us and in all our activities, and, owing to his fair- ness and his tireless patience, we have looked to him, time and time again, for guidance. Through his sincerity and his constant willingness to be of service, he has earned the liking and the deep respect of the entire student body, and particularly the Senior Class. Outstanding among his many contributions is his superb work as coach of the cross-country team, which has been defeated only twice in fourteen years of dual competition. He has been praised, many times, for his ability to inspire, in his teams, an indomitable spirit. Mr. McVeigh is well-known also for the time he has unselfishly given as di- rector of the annual College Cevenol Campaign. It is fitting, therefore, that we dedicate, as the symbol of our friend- ship and our gratitude, the 1951 Gateway to Mr. Frederick S. McVeigh.

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TEW Fok 195: MOUNT HERMON SCHOOL Mount Hermon, Massachusetts

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F0ltEWORD OUNT HERMON SCHOOL began to be fully appreciated by us only as our graduation day approached. Especially in the last term of our senior year, we began to realize the overpowering fact that soon we should no longer be students on the hill. Each time we return as alumni, though maturer collegians or more sophisticated adults, we shall poign- antly recall the bitter moments., tl1e lively hours. April, May, June of our last year were happy months. Our academic senior standing had already been determined, and all our college appli- cations filled-our classes seemed a little easier, for most of the pressure was gone. Somewhat relaxed, we noticed our classmates on the athletic field, in the dormitory, and at West Hall, we saw our teachers as sensi- tive human beings. Almost suddenly we became aware of how much these friendships meant to us. Perhaps on a warm, drowsy spring eve- ning, returning from a Crossley softball game, or walking up to Vliest Hall for breakfast when the sun was bright, we unexpectedly realized the importance of each day here in the long life ahead of us. This chronicle will best be justified perhaps when, with pride and a trace of nostalgia, we hold out to a smooth-faced youngster with wor- ship in his eyes Hpictures of Daddy when he was just a little older than you.