Adventure of Existance
Life is indivisible, and a method of teaching which presumes the contrary by an arbitrary division of knowledge is not only ineffectual but even disastrous. The student grows by his own impulse toward self-development. This impulse can be helped and directed, or it can be virtually destroyed.
Each individual carries within himself the adventure of existence. The educator stands, as it were, amidst what is already in motion—and violently so in the young. Sensing the quality of this motion, its predisposition and its nature, the teacher can point out the likely paths, or he can stand there stolidly and command a halt, and then proceed to lecture the adventure well nigh into oblivion.
—Excerpted from the Marlboro College Bulletin, December 1949. Do you recognize the young adventurers on this bike (pictured, right), or have reflections or stories from your own adventure at Marlboro? Send your memories to firstname.lastname@example.org.
I find Potash Hill consistently interesting, which is a way of saying that I find the activities of current and past students at Marlboro to be consistently interesting. My years at Marlboro served as a time when I was able to introduce myself to…my self. I became engaged in, and engaged to, music, and a music marriage soon followed. The degree to which I was trusted by Marlboro faculty to pursue what was essentially my own “curriculum” was incredibly influential. I subsequently got degrees from the New England and Peabody conservatories, but Marlboro remains the place where I met myself.
—Dick Riley FS77
As institutions in the world seem to get bigger and bigger, and individuals and their relationships less and less important, I realize how vital it is for me to support places like Marlboro, where truth, beauty, and caring for those around us is what we live for.
—Shaylor Lindsay FS74
I was a student of Audrey Gorton, an extraordinary teacher and person. She represented the best of the Marlboro tradition: critical thinking, brevity, and articulate speech. Audrey insisted on a student’s full attention and participation. There was no slouching in her class—neither in the chair nor in one’s decorum. I have applied the lessons learned in her classroom throughout my own professional career as a physician educator and corporate executive.
—Tadd Lazarus ’78
I would be remiss if I didn’t comment on the death of my good friend Milt Randolph (Potash Hill, Fall 2015). He was kind and easy-going, bright and well-liked by all the students and faculty. He was also the only black student in the college at the time when the school was in its infancy, when we were all called pioneers. One incident stands out when we went into Brattleboro to get haircuts. The barber refused to cut Milt’s hair so we walked out. When we told this story to our classmates, everyone at school, to their credit, pledged to boycott that barbershop. Milt died of cancer but when people called him he was his usual cheerful self, regardless of the pain he was in. He will be missed by all he came in contact with.
—Irwin Rosen FS55
Under class notes, Abby Jacobson ’82 was misspelled Abby Jackson. Sorry Abby!