Wheaton College - Nike Yearbook (Norton, MA)

Page 14 text:

ADMINISTRATION “The Backbone of the College is the Ad- ministration,’ and in the Ad. Building, we find all the vertebrae! First of all, there is Dr. Meneely, who, if we were to continue on with this metaphor, might be designated as the spinal cord; Miss Remick 1s whatever it is that connects the spinal cord with the rest of the backbone. But here we had best let the figure of speech die a natural death, as we take a look around the rest of the Ad. Building. There is the Dean's office, where Miss Barker is always ready with advice when we feel we need it, and with a scolding, if it should be necessary. Secretary Jeanne Wirtz is there to sign weekend slips, make appoint- ments, and answer any and all questions that don’t need to be taken to Miss Barker. There’s the table there for program cards, and appli- cations for self-help and scholarships. Down the hall, Miss Littlefield, Dean of Freshmen, helps the potential sophomores on their way. In the Admissions office, Miss Townsend interviews sub-freshmen, and goes over hun- dreds of applications, with their accompany- ing photographs. Then there’s Miss Young and Miss Moore; theirs is the job of straightening out room problems, and worrying about course cards and permission slips and grades and every- thing else with which a Registrar’s office has to be concerned. Across the hall, Miss Dunkle and her as- sistants see that we get our bills and our pay on time. Especially bills, or does it just seem that way? Without Information and Miss Dunham, Wheaton girls would never get those wonder- ful long-distance calls that come in every so not-often-enough; our late pers, our changes in registration, flowers, telegrams, and visit- ing firemen all come through Information. — Upstairs, there are rooms for the faculty and staff, which the majority of students never see. Then downstairs. Mr. Fillmore checks on general conditions, Nancy Newbert sells us the books and paper we need, and above all, we get our MAIL! [ 10 |

Page 13 text:

Like a small-scale New England village is our cam- pus, with the dimple as the village green; the chapel, the church; the administration building, the town hall; Emerson and Everett, the eating places; the dorms, the houses; and the library, itself. We have stopped our air- raid drills, but a few training planes still dive over the dorms; News reporters stop you on your way to Mary Lyon to ask you what you think of compulsory service after the war; and someone tries to nab you for scraping dishes in Emerson. Autumn comes quickly to the campus and almost be- fore you know it the Christmas tree in front of the Chapel reflects its colored lights across the snow, and the long white finger of the Chapel spire points into a starry night. When the elms turn to a filigree of green and gay skirts flutter about the campus, it’s a sign of spring. The May Day pageant comes sweeping down the dimple and finally the graduation procession adds its climax to the campus year. Cee Mere US

Page 15 text:

MARY LYON Some people call it an eyesore, and tolerate it for its historical value, while others are genuinely fond of it, and still others call it beautiful. But whatever we think, Mary Lyon and classes go on. From 8:30 to 12:30, and again through the afternoon, there is a steady stream of blue jeans, skirts, and armsful of books flowing in and out through that swinging door and up and down the big stairway, every hour on the half-hour: girls with the harried expres- sion of ‘‘oh my gosh how am I going to ex- plain why my paper isn’t ready yet and I still have two more to write’ on their faces, some with a smile of ‘hooray, hooray a new day is dawning,’ some with a look of resigned boredom, but most just looking as though they were going to class. On Fridays, there is a slight difference; and then, on Saturday, there are two classes of girls: those who are going somewhere over the weekend and those who aren't! But Mary Lyon has more than just classes. There are lectures (especially those freshman meetings when they learn how to budget their time), Music Club programs, and the two kinds of class meetings, “Please come to M.L. 11 right after lunch; it won’t take long’’ and Roll Call. Then, too, there are plaster statues, which have become chipped and pencil-marked through the years; a wonderful view of Pea- cock Pond, especially in spring, from M.L. 2; an impressive placque at the foot of the stairs, which everyone reads as she comes down, but few remember; a special piece of plyboard against the wall in M.L. 6, where the French assignment sheet is posted; mathematical models up in M.L. 8; slide projectors in 11 and 12 for the Art classes; reproductions of paintings; and the attic. There used to be a harp up there, among all sorts of other inter- esting things. Mary Lyon always means midyears and finals, too, and lots of bluebooks for students to write and faculty to read. Nor should we forget the greenhouse, where Miss Yates, in spite of the many plants she always has to take care of, has room for our plants during vacations. [11]