Rudolf Steiner School - Spectrum Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 36 text:

MARSHA TUMARKIN ...Alias Masha, or just plain Mash...Disorganized, but trying hard not to be..f'No, I'm not going to French, I told myself that I'd get all my homework done early so I could go to sleepH...bona fide member of the large Thmarkin tribe, Oh, I'm sorry. I can't come. My aunt's having a partyn...At home in the Russian language, Nina, PAJAHLUSTAH...Multi-lingual-folk-song enthusiast, The Limeliters are coming next weekn...Sings and plays the guitar with gusto...lhe creative writer, par excellence, 'Everything I write is emotional, but I can't help itn... Admired and respected...gentle and sympathetic, I know how you feel, really...Oh, I'm so happy for you!'2..If anyone can be said to he truly selfless, it's our Mash. l f 2 Student Council Representative ........ 4 Literary Magazine ..... 3,3 Newspaper ............... 3 Special Chorus... 2,3,H Drama Club....... .......2

Page 38 text:

If there is any particular day or event that especially stands out in my memory of my association as class teacher with this year's Seniors, it is the day I took the First Graders out to recess for the first time. It was an overwhelming experience! Never before had I fully grasped the state of mind of a mother-hen when she finds herself with 26 newly born chicks crossingthe barnyard for the first time. What concern, what frustration, let alone responsibility! But then, a mother-hen has inherent capabilities, she seems to know just what to do when her children scatter in all directions, even if she is a mother for the first time, and besides that she has tremendous wings to protect her brood. I was a novice and my wings had hardly sprouted any feathers, and I was at a definite disadvantage from the start, being a male mother-hen. Do you remember the first day of school when you were in the first grade? I told you the story of the Golden Key. A boy had found a golden key, and he said to himself, Where there is a key, there must be a lock.n And he found the lock on an iron treasure chest and, of course, the key did fit the lock, but the lid was heavy and the treasures could be reached only in time and with effort and good will. And in time and with effort and good will, we succeeded in lifting the lid, and we were able to capture, from time to time, a bit of the treasure or a sparkle of light in a precious stone. Do you remember the journey we took with a dew-drop which we discovered in a flower one early spring morning? And do you remember how the dew-drop fell in love with the sun and in its great longing grew smaller and smaller until it had completely vanished? Later it reappeared together with millions of other dew-drops in a cloud and returned to the thirsty plant as rain. Do you remember the picture of man as we saw him standing firmly upon the earth, dignified and composed, surrounded by the friendly cown, the burning bright tigeru, and the eagle that falls like a thunderboltn, ready to lift his hands to work, to serve, to create, or to pray? Do you remember the exercise of concentrated imagination in which we put a seed into fertile ground, observing Cimaginativelyl how it gradually gives up its substance and life in order to create new life? And do you remember the tires we ventured upon a winding, rocky and treach- erous road, a road that seemingly never comes to an end, where we found ourselves in the company of millions of fellow travelers, and yet each one of us was absolutely alone - in the quest of man - of someone called' 'myselfH? I do remember these times and many more, and I also remember the satisfaction and joy that found expression in exclamations such as, Oh, now I see!n, Why that's easy!n, I got it rightln, or just a sigh of relief. At times there was even no exclamation, but just a sparkle of light from within that matched the sparkles from the jewels in the treasure chest!