The Class of 2021 was filled with talented students, each of whom will pursue their passions in college, professionally, or during a gap year. Check out these members of the class who will either play competitive athletics next year or study a specific art discipline in college and be sure to follow their careers in the years to come!
"Dwight", the van, whipping through the grand fields of New Mexico. I’m currently losing the “guess who’s song is playing” game run by Leo my beloved, our leader this week. Lars and I are amped up on Dunk's coffee which is pretty exciting considering we have seen nothing but Starbucks for two months (every New Englander's nightmare).
Thirty days. After bouncing in and out of quarantine and waiting for a full cast and crew to finally be available, Proctor’s Drama Department had less than thirty days to rehearse for this spring’s production of Mamma Mia!. But if you have the opportunity to watch the production live during the next four nights, odds are you would never know how compressed a rehearsal schedule this group navigated. The show is energetic, spunky, loud, funny, and clever, and as is always the case with Proctor’s theater productions, a reminder of how talented our students and faculty are.
Taking an early evening tour around campus Thursday in the spectacular light of a mid-May evening, I happened to pass the woodshop where Greg Allen holds “extra help” sessions on Tuesday and Thursday. The pool of light spilling out, the sound of the bandsaw and table saw, the hum of the vacuum system for dust mitigation, exerts a kind of gravitational pull.
The air is stale and the heat is unbearable. We drive through the main street of Sedona passing by an array of outdoor shops that all seem to sell the same five goods including palm readings, psychics, and crystals. Interspersed is a series of restaurants and cafes with prices that make airports seem cheap.
Buckle up, its a long one… (Not bad, just long)
A collection of memories and stories, laughter and light. Pages full of where you sat and who you met. And yes, the drawings are made up of scribbles and wonky lines. And yes, the colors blend in an unfavorable manner and the pencil smudges in lines across the page. To the eye of a stranger they are idle sketches, quite possibly a collection of nothingness. A graphite mountain stretches a small amount of the papers space, labeled “Mountains at Sunset” and a little frog who looks, mushy?? What could they mean to anyone? Each infantile sketch ignites a memory that would otherwise fade.