Wayland High School - Reflector Yearbook (Wayland, MA)

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DEDICATION MRS. RAYMOND ALEXAND

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TABLE OP CCN TEN TS Dedication 4 Faculty, Administration, Staff 6 Principal's Message 8 Tribute 10 Seniors 34 Class Officers 36 Executive Board 37 Class of 1968 38 Senior Honors 70 Class Memories 72 Class History 74 Class Will 75 Underclassmen 94 Class of 1969 96 Class of 1970 102 Class ot 1971 108 Activities 1 14 Sports 138 Advertising 164

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...TGAFRIE Well, I suppose I was getting into the groove-out in front with a stiff wind in my face, the course ahead clear of traffic, the less spirited crowd lagging behind me. This, the tedium of the track, running hard and gasping, gulping in the breeze, foot-sore and brain-fagged-with no end in sight and the be- ginning too far back and too painful to recall. But a runner must run: it is his only lot. Then from somewhere, or perhaps out of nowhere, a new figure pulls up alongside me-half-grinning, and with a glint of magic in the eye. Well, now things start picking up. What is this? . . . I no longer plod along the course, heavy with exhaustion, like some ancient plowman behind a yoke of hard study, aimlessly turning the sod into furrows . . . the two of us are borne almost off the ground and carried away by new and unknown forces of acceleration, exhilaration. Flying over the earth now, with laughter in our straining lungs, eyes watering wind-blown tears, and every once in a while, just for spite, a clap of the hands-Lord, this is a new sort of race! For two years, side by side the both of us fly along, skimming over the cindered track. Whenever needed, this new-found friend of mine was al- ways ready and willing to drop back and run with some other member of our team, always there to call out an encouraging word, always ready to befriend a teammate. And gradually, this road I had traveled took on a definite direction. At the beginning of the eleventh lap, my friend pulls out and takes the lead-I do not fear, my friend has made it a good race and there are yet almost two laps to go. Oh what a thing of beauty it is-to soar along, skimming over the path, the Past retreating from sight while Destiny, onrush- ing, looms up before me, leaning into the curves, fleeing over the earth with the wind-song in my ears and the silent landscape slipping by. And my friend, always there just before me as we float along the downgrades, strain on the upgrades, and squeeze through the corners-my friend sets my pace, my friend's confidence encourages me, I follow the path of my friend. And now we come into the final stretch, the end in sight and a new ioy is mine. I'm going to make it. I am caught up and mastered by this surging toward the promise of Success, alive and rampant, speeding, exultant, through light of sun and moon. Now my friend does a strange thing, slipping back and away, with a wink and a grin, saying quietly, It's your race, and the lead is mine. Next thing I know, there's a happily beaming man before me, pumping my hand. In the other hand I hold a diploma. Quite suddenly the race is over-the prize is won. I feel the slap of a hand on my back. I feel the presence of my friend behind me, no doubt smiling, still flushed with the heat of the race, and anxious to congratulate me. I turn, the team turns, to thank this true friend-Mrs. Alexander. Epitomizing the height of personal interest and encouragement, overflow- ing with integrity and diligence, tempered with firmness, blessed with percep- tion, and aglow with humor-it is these qualities which have made so valu- able your guidance and direction throughout our high school experience. You have graciously and selflessly devoted your efforts to our welfare, we can hope but only to begin to show our gratitude by dedicating this, our yearbook, to you. And we do this not only gratefully, but humbly . . . for we wish to reflect the humble yet energetic spirit with which you labored in our behalf. May this book become the long standing record of your de- votion, as well as our achievements. Thank you, Mrs. Alexander. Sincerely, The Class of I968