Northrop Collegiate School - Tatler Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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There is someone In the life of every one of us Who has been our keeper Our comforter Our teacher And our friend . . . Someone who patched scraped knees And mended hurt prides . . . Someone who scolded us — But never too harshly — Who reminded us of our manners And saw that we remembered our gloves When we went to Sunday School . . . Someone who treasured every gilt — No matter how small or shabby — Because it was of us ... Someone who loved tine things But saw first that they were ours ... Someone who could forever understand And sympathize And make the world once more a golden ball . . Someone who taught us love And goodness And fair play And honesty And hundreds of little things That are now so much a part of everyday life .. Someone who gave us hopes And dreams for the future — Her hopes Her dreams . . . Someone who gave us all But asked nothing in return ... Whose love and tenderness Played on our paths As sunlight flickers upon the earth Beneath an overhanging bough. She is a mother — Your mother, my mother — And to our mothers this book is lovingly dedicated .

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Dedication 3 INTRODUCTION 4 Faculty .............. .... 7 Lower School 13 Upper School 21 Seniors 33 Activities 71 Literary’ Section 91 C- 100 Class Of 1957

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 This Is Our School . . . These arc our ivied walls. These arc our ragged notebooks Inscribed with a host of sacred names, Boy names, of course. These arc our stairways. Steps curved to the trample of many feet Through many days, many years. Here we have walked in sadness, slowly shuffling Here we have run in times of greatest joy. Here we have stood and talked of Everything, Here fell our tears and here our laughter rang, Here grew our hearts through healthful suffering, Here lie the hours which we together shared. The precious hours in which we hoped and dared And traded thoughts and spoke our wanderings; Even when we arc not. these shall have b:cn. Here are the elm trees which have shaded us Spattering spots of dark on the cool damp grass Beckoning restless eyes away from books When Spring came at last. These arc our classrooms Full of the millions of thoughts which here were formed Full of the echoes of words we spoke and heard The thousand words on which our minds were fed Till at last we learned. This is our chapel, A patch of sunlight shimmering on the floor, CO