The first chapter of that history began, fittingly enough, at a faculty meeting. On December 15, 1936, Principal Lewis Perry delivered a short memorial tribute to Latin instructor George B. Rogers, who had died earlier that year after more than four decades of service to the Academy. Irregularly at first, and then with increasing frequency and eloquence, the practice of eulogizing faculty members with a "memorial minute" composed by their colleagues and read at faculty meeting took hold. In the 1960s, "when President Kennedy was assassinated and our national history turned elegiac," practice became Academy tradition, notes the book's editor, Charles L. Terry, the Lewis Perry Professor in the Humanities Emeritus (and himself the co-author of several memorial minutes).

Some of the minutes have just a single author, but more often they are composed by a committee of faculty members who knew the late instructor in all his or her capacities. Appointed by the dean of faculty and supported by the Academy's archivist, "the committee members sit and talk about what was important in the person's life," explains Jackie Thomas, "and then the piece gets written." She pauses for effect. "And rewritten." Adds Charlie Terry: "Sometimes there is a sort-of 'captain' who writes the initial draft and then folds in the paragraphs the other committee members have written, but the [nature of the] collaboration differs for every minute." The authors are listed in alphabetical order; no class year or discipline is attached to these simple bylines.

Short, even terse, during the earlier years, the minutes grow in length and scope over time (to the point that most now take a good 10 to 15 minutes to be delivered in faculty meeting). Many read like essays on what makes a good teacher, and the correct answer is that there is no single answer. There are teachers more stern than tender, who motivate by high standards and high expectations and who believe that "those who accept mediocrity should not be at Exeter." And there are those who inspire through love of their subject and faith in their students, teachers "eager to create conditions in which young and old might grow."

In reading through the minutes, Terry says he was struck by "the intense passion these people felt for their work, and by the innovations [they made] within their disciplines and their departments." And surprised, he adds, given the Academy's no-nonsense reputation, how often faculty members were recognized for their patience and compassion: "It made me proud for the institution," he says, "to read these testaments to kindness and caring." There are also frequent testaments to the crucial role of faculty spouses in school life. For her part, Thomas says she is impressed with the minutes' candor, with their discreet acknowledgments of idiosyncrasies and imperfections. "Life in a school like this isn't always easy," she says. "I think we want to be remembered for our struggles" as well as our strengths. "We want to see the size of a person."

What follows here are brief excerpts from 22 of these sizable lives. Memorial Minutes: Phillips Exeter Academy 1936-2002 is published by the PEA Press, and is available from the Exeter Bookstore (hardcover, $29.95; paperback, $14.95). To order, visit the Exeter Bookstore website (www.exeterbook.com) or call 1-800-743-5181. -Beth Brosnan

Lewis Perry arrived [at Exeter in 1914] to find not only that the school was in financial difficulty but also that its main building had just been destroyed by fire. His wise leadership enlisted the cooperation of students, alumni and faculty and inspired the confidence of such friends as Thomas W. Lamont and Edward S. Harkness. He guided Exeter through two world wars and a depression and, upon retirement in 1946, left the Academy in good health and in a position of preeminence. His legacy is all about us-in Harkness classrooms and in buildings bearing the names of Thompson, Lamont and Lewis Perry. The new teacher or student meeting him for the first time received a firm handshake, a hearty "Glad to see you!" and what was probably the warmest smile he had ever seen. In Dr. Perry one felt he had found a friend who understood his feelings, a man he could count on. On closer acquaintance, he learned that Lewis Perry had a passion for excellence and that underneath the geniality and gentleness was a persistent firmness and a confidence in enduring values. But he was always approachable, always natural, always sympathetic.

-William N. Bates Jr. and Alan H. Vrooman