St Timothys School - Steward Yearbook (Stevenson, MD)

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THE STEVVARD EDITORIAL HEN VVE reach the ripe old age of eighteen or twenty-two or whenever we choose to leave off being taught and start learning, it is natural to think back over the teachers we have had at school or college. Henry Adams once said, A teacher affects eternity, he can never tell where his influence stops. Grateful students as they graduate often say, He taught me all I know, or, perhaps, VVhat I didn't know. Through the influence of one memorable person has evolved a life-long way of thinking or an open-minded approach to new opportunities. At our first solo step on our lives' stairs, we pause before college, realizing with a sudden, frightening ma- turity that what we do from now on depends on us. After years of reluctantly submitting to the advice of adults, we find ourselves making a decision which ultimately concerns us alone, we can no longer consider the responsibility to be theirs. Facing this task with new-found powers, we search for the college which best fits our own needs. We surprise ourselves as we maturely weigh every aspect-their faculty, the students, but, above all, the attitude they Will illstill in LIS t0WH1'd the work we pursue afterwards and the lives we lead. Soon we sadly admit that many of the Standards we set cannot be met-college is too big in many cases. We have come full circle, our parents, who were deeply concerned in us personally, could not give us all the opportunities they wished us to have. College can give us just what wc choose to gain from it, but we will be considered just one of a group. As we despair of ever fully finding what We Seek, we suddenly begin to appreciate that what we seek, we, in reality, have already. Perhaps the reason we know so well what we are looking for is that this attitude toward life on which we place such value has been so well impressed upon us that we are not conscious of learning it but just Of knowing. In the years to come we will pick up a newspaper to note with interest an article on Antarctica. Why, I remember Mr. Bianchi, he spoke to us at our Seminar-of course . . . we have a Seminar and I was as close to him as . . we will say to our amazed listeners. Nowhere are we going to find a school which maintains one of the highest scholastic standings and at the same time wants to pack us ofi to Gigi because it will be good for us. Nowhere will we find a faculty who will be as eager that their classrooms extend beyond the schoolhouse-to The Baltimore Art Museum, the Vanguard Center in Wash- ington. Very few other schoolmates will tell their grandchildren they went to the Inaugural pa- rade, a once-in-a-lifetime experience for most, very few can be proud that their school considers an education does include such things. A school, too, can effect eternity like the teachers it may be privileged to have, its value is not confined within its walls. The best of every experience is not in living through it but in taking from it something to guide future experience. We know how valuable it is to be introduced to many things, to give everything a chance, to test our interests. St. Timothyls has given us a criterion of what those interests can and should be. To put large thoughts into small words . . . we have been taught to learn. N .H. Thirty-five

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POINTS THE WEEKEND ICMUND IVREUD was tossed aside as the dirt-filled Boston local skipped another beat. 'l'he philosophy book seemed strangely out of place there on the floor with comic strips, candy wrappers, and some kid's sports equipment. But it was a young man who reached down for the book and came up with a hockey skate instead. llis hand caressed the worn leather and passed over the cutting bite of the blade, but the sensa- tion he had so often seen in the faces of others never came to him. Ile felt nothingg he might as well be clutching a dish rag. VVinter's twilight had darkened New England when the train finally stopped. The young man slowly gathered his possessions-tucking Sigmund Freud into his pocket. lle was glad that no one knew of his homecoming. and decided to take advantage of the occasion. The uneven hay fields stretched before him, seeming to continue forever. llayward was glad. Ile was glad that after the fields came the woodsg and after the woods came the lake. Ile remembered when he used to think that the lake was a sort of paradise, and only the noble adventurers who dared cross the fields and woods were worthy of its gifts. As a child he thought that life would be nothing but the fuller enjoyment of these elements of nature. llayward grinned cynically-only to fall back into his thoughts. Slowly, over a period of years. llayward realized that the lake didn't represent the symbol of paradise. It may have been his fathers joy. his 'I 'hirty-seven inother's pride. but to himself it suggested only cold water. Hayward shook his head in puzzle- inent. One couldn't even love it as a bit of perf fected nature, but to love it for ice skating was ridiculous. The thought of ice reminded him of the cold, and he innncdiately set out across the last field. llc reached the doorstep and tried to think of an appropriate Grand Entrance, but decided to shirlc it as he remembered that the l riday-night hockey game would rate top billing. lle thought of his father-his father. who. at nearly fifty, still lived for the Connnuters' Leagueg his father. who would have been far prouder of a son that could race across the blueline at his side, propelled by a strong pair of legs and a fighting spirit. Iley. Ilay! Ilockey game tonight! Gonna watch the 'ole man? greeted his father. 'l'hc door had opened while llay had been standing there. llc had to grin at this athletic and excited schoolboy formally called l ather. llayward nodded in aliirmation, and strolled in with a deflated spirit. Youll hardly be able to tell your Pop from Maurice Richards tonight-just you wait. boy. llay patiently smiled and patted the muscular old shoulder. 'l'he same smile seemed to stay glued to his face during the car ride to the lake. If he parted his lips he was afraid he might laugh -and he knew that the laugh wouldn't sound just right.