Salem High School - Witch Yearbook (Salem, MA)

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We took all this in stride, however, and our Junior Year wa great. It was the year of the Bicentennial, the year the Music O] ganizations toured the Eastern Seaboard, the year the Varsit sports teams combined for the best over-all record in the North east Conference. pi The Junior Minstrel Show proved that we could function suer cessfully as a group. Our prom, held at the Colonial-Hilton Inn hr Lynnfield on May 14 was well-attended by Juniors and thei dates, all enjoying an evening never to be forgotten. The Mt$ ei Monadnock climb concluded our Junior Year. P It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch op belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light 13 it was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. We were all going direct to Heaven, we a were all going direct the other way. In short, it was our Senior Year. P Like death and taxes, “senior-itis” is inevitable, and we all contracted it in October of 1976. Regardless, the fall brought with it several accomplishments, one of which was the Cross Country team’s participation in the State Finals. Another was the much-improved Band. 16

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Peeling paint and plaster, crowded cafeteria and classrooms, somehow seemed more bearable because we knew that in the fall of our junior year we would move to the “plastic kiddie castle” — or so we thought. We packed and unpacked and packed again. For an entire se- mester we lived out of Casey and Hayes boxes, waiting in antici- pation of the DAY. Suddenly it happened — co-ed gym came into existence and our education began. No longer was co-ed volleyball a special treat. Now there was no mystery as to what lurked behind the big green curtain. “Animal ball” and “bombardment” were replaced by more sophicated activities such as fencing and gymnastics. And “oh-h-h that Salem High cookin,” remained the same the difference being the way it was served — color coded. “Look, there’s a blue tray in the orange caf!” Although a foreign tray could be easily noticed, it was more difficult to detect “a stranger in a strange caf.” especially because most people carried three different i.d.’s. Once you got into the caf, the next problem was how to get out. How many times were we accosted by an aide demanding a pass, or your life. The courtyard, affectionately known as the “pit” was one option which did not require a pass. Neither rain nor hail nor sleet nor snow could stop the patrons of the pit from their appointed puff. The only other “no-passing zone” was the route from the caf to the I.M.C. (not to be confused with the library). Of course, the atmospheric conditions on the 3rd level were not condusive to the support of human life. In other words, we could not sit there!

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Winter brought two memorable events: a giant snow-storm and le Junior Senior Winter Cotillion, held at the Witchcraft Heights chool. The blizzard provided us with an extra week’s vacation; le Cotillion gave us sore feet and a nice memory, i “Stars were born” in the Spring. After much hard work, our enior Show was finally produced, and Mr. Box and Mr. Burns lherited a few more grey hairs. We still had some blank corridor passes left when we realized rat our chances to use them were gone. The last day of school r as upon us. This afforded us the opportunity to demonstrate our aeronauti- al skills by releasing a convoy of planes in the I.M.C. (not to be onfused with the library!) I hat had seemed like forever suddenly seemed like a minute as ur high school years drew to a close. alem High has given us more than the academic basics; it has iven us a working knowledge of life. “Kick the juke box will ya,” it’s off again.” “Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you. It was ut yesterday we met in a dream. You have sung to me in my loneness, and I of your longings have built a tower in the sky. ut now our sleep has fled, and our dream is over, and it is no mger dawn. The noontide is upon us and our half waking has irned to fuller day, and we must part. If in the twilight of mem- ry we should meet once more, we shall speak again together nd you shall sing to me a deeper son. And if our hands should leet in another dream we shall build another tower in the sky.” Kahil Gibran 17