R J Reynolds High School - Black and Gold Yearbook (Winston Salem, NC)

Page 18 text:

The whole is the sum of all of its parts. A school is made up of many things. First there is a building— a mere shell alone, composed of walls, ceilings, and doors— That shelter out the cold in the winter and the heat in the summer, The rain, and wind, and snow. Inside the building are ideas to be questioned, acce pted, and refuted, Books to be read, History to learn, Mathematics and physics to do. And when the work is done we put aside the books to go outside the school And cheer for the team in the stadium under a cool night sky, To run in the gym, To sing in the chorus, debate after school, And on special occasions, To dance with someone we love. Throughout the school is spirit— Reynolds’ spirit. It is standing silently for the alma mater in chapel, Feeling proud when we play, humble when we win, Helping others, being honest, obeying the rules. But the school itself is people, Boys and girls, students and teachers, Youth and experience, hand in hand, For it is through people that ideas live, knowledge is gained and shared, service is given and spirit abounds. What is Reynolds? Reynolds is a building, classes, ballgames, cheers, dances, clubs, And most of all, it is people. The whole is the sum of all of its parts And we are a part of the whole.

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FACULTY AND ADMINISTRATION I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now; let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. —Stephen Grellet One fall not long ago we were little chil- dren, apprehensively approaching a school somewhere for the first time in our young lives, part of us clinging to a parent’s warm hand extended down to our side. We found many things to be fascinating—books, cray- ons, games, letters — but foremost in our thoughts and discussions was the intriguing individual known as the teacher. He was a wonderful being to the young eyes that look- ed up to him day to day. Children soon did not mind leaving the hand outside the build- ing quite so much, knowing there was an- other one waiting for them inside. Twelve years have passed since that time and our aspect of teachers has grown. We no longer look up to them as demi-gods; in- stead we recognize them as people, older and wiser than we are, but yet with love, joy, fears, meals to cook, families to raise, dead car batteries, income tax reports, and prob- lems of their own. Many of them have pass- ed up more financially rewarding jobs to give their lives to teaching. Patiently they wade through dry compositions, explain the same mathematical problems to the same class for the fourth day in a row, help a be- wildered pupil, fight the Civil War five times a day, and devote hours after school to de- bating, dramatics, music, service clubs, or athletic teams. They can be no more stag- nant than the world in which they live, for change — mellowed by tradition and tem- pered by age — is necessary to stimulate the youth whom they teach. Thinking back, we remember the times when a word of en- couragement from this teacher or that gave us the impetus we needed to go on. Looking forward, we realize what the wealth of knowledge our faculty has imparted to us will mean in the future, and thank them from our hearts.