Lincoln High School: Pride of Midland, Pride of Our Family

In Midland, Pennsylvania, there once stood a school that carried not only the weight of books and lessons, but the heart and pride of an entire community—Lincoln High School. To many, it was simply where they went to class. To our family, it was a thread woven through generations, connecting parents, aunts, uncles, and even grandparents, all bound together by the shared memory of being a Lincoln Leopard.

My mother, Kathy, walked those halls with the kind of determination that only youth can carry—books clutched to her chest, friends at her side, the voices of teachers and the echoes of footsteps filling the long corridors. My father, too, lived his Lincoln High years beneath the same roof, sharing in the traditions and trials that shaped the young men and women of Midland. Their siblings, cousins, and extended family all gathered under the same banners and fight songs, a reminder that Lincoln High wasn’t just a school—it was an inheritance.

The pride of the Lincoln Leopards was everywhere. Friday nights filled the gym with cheers so loud they rattled the rafters, the basketball team battling under the bright lights while the band played with steady conviction. Dances and talent shows brought the community together, turning the auditorium into a stage where laughter and applause mingled. It was a place where friendships were born, young love blossomed, and dreams began to take shape.

By the 1980s, the school’s future grew uncertain. Industry decline and population shifts echoed through Midland, and eventually the proud halls of Lincoln High fell quiet. But for those who came of age there—like my parents and their families—the pride never left. Yearbooks became keepsakes, stories became treasures, and the leopard mascot remained a symbol not only of a school but of a way of life.

For my mother, Lincoln High was more than a memory. It was where she grew, laughed, struggled, and discovered herself. In her honor, I painted the school—a gift of remembrance, a way of keeping those walls standing in color and spirit, even if time has changed the town itself. The brushstrokes carried more than paint; they carried love, memory, and pride for a place that shaped her life and, through her, shaped mine.

Painted for Kathleen Galloway by April Galloway in 2017 (Painted on an actual brick from the demolished school)

Lincoln High may have closed its doors, but it will never close in the hearts of those who lived its story. For our family, it remains a beacon of tradition, resilience, and belonging. The pride of the Lincoln Bears lives on—in photographs, in yearbooks, in the stories passed down at family gatherings, and in that painting, where the school still stands tall as the pride of Midland.