• Fellows
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• Headmaster's Letter
• Mission Statement

“Two! Three times I tell you, no gum! No gum!” Suddenly, a black-socked heel comes crashing down within inches of little Donnie Young’s hand. As if on cue, his mouth drops open in slack-jawed amazement and the offending wad of chewing gum falls toward the desk—and into Mr. Lee’s lightning-quick hands.

“Gum is like lost butterfly—no home in mouth!” This is but another pearl of wisdom—as well as another mysterious non-violent (but effective) Oriental technique—brought to St. Giles’s dynamic foreign studies classroom by Mr. Lee!

For years, we were not sure what subject, exactly, Mr. Lee taught, but now we have learned not to ask, trusting his instincts to guide generation after generation of Old Sharpies into better karma.

“Ice it,” suggests Dr. Diggins, the affable trainer, as he strolls through the treatment room of Havinbottom Gymnasium. “Did you stretch that before icing it?” he asks a confused Willie McCollough. “Don’t make me re-tape that!” he threatens with wagging index finger as Laurence Lombard runs off.

Under “DD’s” watchful eye, first turned on Sharpies in 1973, the lads see only the finest treatment, with the most durable tape available today and the coldest ice possible under non-industrial methods. “Let me tape some more ice to that stretching injury…” Dr. Diggins offers, and we step back to let the man work his magic.

“Todo es posible, amigos, con dos zapatos buenos y cien hombres fuertes!” With clicking heels, the native Argentinean wheels quickly to surprise another student. “¿Donde estan las mujeres communistas?” he queries. “En el mercado,” the well taught Sharpie calmly intones.

Still, “der Señor” (as he is affectionately known) leans forward, intently: “¿Donde?” “Las mujeres communistas estan en el mercado con el hombre—el hombre mas infamoso que se llama Marco.”

Señor Von Arschentafel nods happily. “Bueno, bueno, amigo. Enough Cold War role-playing for today! Tomorrow, I look forward to your ‘Bridging the Oceans’ presentations on the prominent roles of German speakers in South American history.” Danke, Señor Von Arschentafel!

“You are either among the Elect or you are not. It is simply not worth worrying about—which of your friends will be with you in heaven and which will know fiery hell.” With this tenet as its bedrock, Calvinism still gets a new face from Heer Dijkman van der Landschot, originally schooled in New Rotterdam’s sister city: “Old” Rotterdam, Holland.

His mischievous grin disappears suddenly as he pulls out his black leather lesson plan book. “In any event, I expect that all of you will be turning in your dioramas on time tomorrow. And this time, more black.”

“Nothing is small,” Mr. Klein assures his students with a grandiose wave of his hands, a full pirouette and a loud swooshing sound, “except the words that remain unsaid!”

With contemplative nods, the boys jot down each and every word from St. Giles’s resident poet, on loan from the New Rotterdam writers colony during yet another “earning year.” After a deft hop back onto his two-legged stool, Mr. Klein once again retreats into a sad, silent stare before pulling his turtleneck up over his head, and his students politely excuse themselves a minute after the bell rings, certainly looking forward to tomorrow’s lesson in L-I-F-E.

“You call that an embedded array? Come back when your matrix has been reduced to its simplest form. You make me sick…”

Little Ronnie Eye crumples his latest code printout and sneaks back to his computer, defeated, but Dr. Crashuno pays him no heed. Instead, he adjusts his monocle, smoothes his white lab coat and addresses the group. “This is not rocket science, gentlemen. It is, instead, much more challenging, satisfying and relevant. The Project cannot be delayed!” We at the website would be downright terrified had Dr. Crashuno not been such a help in embedding that pleasant photo of a sunflower on our home page. Instead, we can’t argue with success. Back to work, Ronnie! We need animation on the alumni link!

Mr. Whitaker K. Randall has joined the ranks of the Saint Giles School for Male Youth as the new professor of New Hampshire Studies. Having recently finished graduate studies at the University of New Hampshire, Durham, Mr. Randall looks forward to engaging out-of-staters and “city folk” in the history of the Granite State. His dissertation entitled “Kangamangas Crypts” documented the countless thousands of New Hampshire workers who were buried directly into the Kanagamangas asphalt of the New Hampshire Kangamangas Highway and was nominated for a “Ski 93 Living History Award” but unfortunately lost to a University of New Hampshire, Manchester graduate who wrote something about how cool snowmobiles are.

Mr. Dan Kennedy will be joining the staff of Saint Giles this spring. Mr. Kennedy's meteoric rise to fame came on the heels of his recent banishment from the New York Prep School Art Scene after the public reaction to his exhibition of erotic poultry paintings, "Fowl Balls."

Mr. Kennedy is an accomplished writer who recently sold his novel "Evidently I Know Everything" to Crown Publishers as well as a film version focusing on the sequel to the Bible rumored to be picked up by Miramax.In between feverish bouts of writing and twice daily "tornado baths", Mr. Kennedy enjoys performing unrequested ballistics tests and body decomposition experiments with local stab victims. He takes issue with fictional renditions of the forensic sciences and has been known to call the Jack Klugman star vehicle, Quincy, M.D. "probably the biggest load of horse-sh*t I've ever seen in my life." He has a cat named Roger.

“Dammit, you stupid f***er, you’re bleeding theta, you have no idea what your vega is and you’re selling gamma—that you don’t have!” Willie McCollough certainly looks nervous as he cradles his three phones under his neck and watches the Thai Baht/US Dollar spot rate take another tick down during a choppy trading day in Singapore. “But Mr. Duke, I’m getting nothing but bulls*** markets on the November calls! The Credit Suisse guys are going to hold me down and rape me until I bleed!” Mr. Duke rolls his sleeves up further and stares at one of Willie’s eight flat-screen monitors before looking down at him grimly. “Get the f*** off the desk. Go downtown and get me seven chili dogs with everything, two Red Bulls and enough wintergreen gum for everyone on the floor while I try to fix this mess…” Headmaster Sharp has consistently voiced his concern at the relentless margin calls Morgan Stanley’s credit department has been making on the SGS endowment, but if past performance is any indication of future returns, we bet the Invisible Hand will be giving Mr. Duke and the Wildflower Trading Team a high five in no time.

“The summer is a time for hope,” Ms. Young opines via e-mail from under a shady tree in Quito, her summer fellowship winding down and her second year at SGS fast approaching. “And this year, I can only hope for more than three students to enroll in my classes. I’d be even more excited if those three had not actually filled out their enrollment cards in error after Flevo added the Cyrillc ‘zh’ letter to his ‘TrOuBlE DaNcE II’ course number…”

We don’t want to be the party poopers here, so why point out that nary a Sharpie has shown interest in either “Post-Feminist Capitalist Oppression” or “From A-Bomb to Sex Bomb: The 20th Century Woman as Superhero and Saint”? As far as we’re concerned, Senator, that federal funding check should be in the mail.

Ms. Marley is famous for her “hands on” approach to coaching Thirds Soccer. “If a Sharpie is unable to make the Varsity or JV, oftentimes they will find themselves with me – and that is the way I like it. In fact, I have had more than 130 of the boys in the last five years.” This number of players is staggering, since many players otherwise athletically inclined seem to want to be on the Thirds team. “I guess it is the rapport I have with my guys,” she says with an impish grin. “Because I have sex with them.”

Joao Andrade is a prep cook in the Saint Giles cafeteria. As a Portuguese immigrant, Joao came to this country to see "the streets paved with gold" and the "houses made of money." We're sure Joao is on his way towards those fabled streets as he starts his American success the old fashioned way, by earning it sweating 12-14 hours a day for a salary hovering around minimum wage and no benefits except an ESL class and rubber gloves for handling the salad. "How come dese children have more dan me?…They do nothing and have big, fancy cars while my children starve in a room we share wit 3 other families." I don't know the answer to that question Joao, but remember, unions don't do anything besides steal from the working man. They are really no help to you or anybody. We appreciate you and your diverse perspective.

“Sham-bam, straight across the jimmy hat of the whim-wham! Be cool, my man, if you can, can! Can? Can.” Art imitates life, they say, but Flevo, St. Giles’s avant garde dramatics and music instructor, has made a conscious effort to make his life imitate art. Whether he is walking about the campus on his hands or painting his feet with tomato soup, Flevo is constantly pushing the envelope, and encouraging his students to do the same. Or, as he would say, “skiff right back to the eight man, but don’t make me do the troUble daNce on your Good Hat!” St. Giles’s is very fortunate to have such a skilled artist living, breathing and eating his multi-grain diet among us, all the while under the watchful supervision of the state.

“The proof is, thus, left for the student.” Her cool stare is answered by confident nods around the room, until that irrepressible Joey Boyle notices something awry. “Hey, Ms. Dion! This odd-numbered problem isn’t answered in the back of the book!” She just smiles her mathematical grin...

“One can easily thus observe that the inertial path of the particle is undeterred by the magnetic field in the surrounding area, thereby causing one to pause and wonder what force, if any, is actually exerted. Well, rest easy, given the minute change in acceleration, we can safely infer that special relativity has not yet been refuted…”

We at the website have no idea what Mr. Reynolds is talking about, but he certainly sounds right to us, and the “Terrible Twosome” of N. Wingate Snyder and Hans Overbeck—also known as the Physics IV class—seem to agree!

“…” Nothing disturbs the silence of the Olde Sharpie’s Memorial Library when Ms. Haevesh’m is on duty. “Shhhh! Don’t make me come over there!” she yell-whispers from behind her pine desk. See how effective she is? “ShhHHH! That goes for you, too, web-boy!” Sorry, Ms. Haevesh’m ……. “Thank you.”

“1066. Who can tell me what happened in 1066?” Hands shoot up. Ms. Briszgby carefully counts them. “Eight. Good. Good work. I believe you. OK, 1067. Who can tell me what happened in 1067?” And thus, Ms. Briszghy ensures that no stone is left unturned in the tireless study of our history.