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Page 13 text:
IN OUR SCHOOL LIFE 9 till 9:15 Clay Models by Van Gelder Photograph by Wood
Page 12 text:
• • THE EVENTS WH CH OCCUR It is 8:45 by the Office Clock. We are here—thirteen hundred of us ready and eager to begin the day. Our spacious Lewis Halls are scenes of laughter, cheer and gayety, as friends rush to and fro greeting friends, pausing for brief conversations by locker doors. Passing the office door where a long line is waiting we hear a familiar voice, “Is that your mother’s signature?” A glance at the clock warns that there are only two minutes in which to get to Home Room. Sud¬ denly all is quiet. The halls are vacant. The hilarity of the moment has disappeared as if by magic. “Lucifer Lewis” “Present” “Marie, your excuse, please.” “Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the Kingdom”— “Of course, none of us expect to miss the Jefferson Game. Will the Home Room President get the tickets from Mr. Oglesby, please.” “The principal would like to see John Smith and Rufus Roe in the office, please.” The bell sounds. Again, the halls resound with mirth for a brief five minutes.
Page 14 text:
A SENIOR REVIEWS A TYPICAL DAY IN SCHOOL This morning I arrive earlier than usual for today is Friday which means that the newspapers must be delivered to the various home rooms. A moment later, passing along the first floor, newspapers tucked under my arm, I look over the Senior Class in general. How much we have changed from the squirming, giggling freshmen we were four years ago! Can we ever forget those memorable days at Broad Street High before we entered Andrew Lewis as sophomores? So very much has happened in that brief span of years that it is difficult to realize that even we, the Class of ’39, are donning cap and gown. Tempus fugit! Suddenly a loud blast from the hall interrupts my pleasant reverie. Not the nine o’clock bell—it can’t be, but it is—- and I haven’t started to deliver my papers. I’ll have to hurry! I am in English Literature Class now, eagerly watching the progress of “Hamlet” under “teacher’s” direction. I study my nearby classmates. While one of the pupils is swinging her locker key on what must be a five-foot string, another is dozing peacefully. How comfortable he looks! Another young man, a member of our Annual Staff, is arranging his candid camera in order to catch a characteristic pose of our professor impersonating the great Hamlet. Ready, aim, fire!— Yes, he really got a good pose. But at the sound of the next bell, we are in the hall again amid the chatter about Trig Class, the latest “stumper” in Geometry, the happenings in Sociology, and most recent Civics test. Second period finds us in English Grammar Class struggling quietly with a test. As my gaze out the window views the beautiful new addition to our building, I can but wonder how this high school will look ten years from now! Do, re, me, fa, sol—we’re in Music Class now getting “warmed up” for some real singing. What fun we’ve had in Music Class! Shall we ever forget “Pickles,” that grand operetta two years ago, which was followed up by “Miss Cherry- blossom” last year, and ’39’s “Oh Doctor!” And the trips our Music Club has enjoyed! The memories of these, as well as the songs, will live in our hearts forever. When the next bell sounds, the mad dash for the cafeteria begins. At the lunch table the events of the day form the subject for discussion. “Do you know what happened in Algebra 4, today . . . You don’t say. . . Wasn’t that cute? . . . Yes, I mean it . . . etc., etc.” A little later we stroll up to the first floor for a view of our classmates. Oh, excuse me—(I just bumped into some one.) Next is “Lovers Lane.” (In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to-?) Lunch is over and we pass on to Chemistry Class. Suddenly I remember that an experiment is today’s assignment. “Only five more minutes, you’d better hurry,” says the instructor. “Did you hear that? We have only five more minutes to finish this crazy experiment. What—the hydrochloric acid? Heavens, I poured it out. I thought it was water. You say the Bunser burner won’t light? Let’s get a light from Mickey. Now, why won’t this litmus paper turn blue? No wonder—we’ve done the wrong experiment!” At this part of the day, fifth period, we turn our thoughts aside from studies to our extra-curricula activities. On Friday, assemblies usually occupy the time—and speaking of assemblies, remember the Dramatic Club’s production of “The Red Lamp,” the acrobats from University of Virginia, The Pioneer Staff’s Amateur Hour, which presented some of Lewis’ “Men of Brawn,” and numerous other enjoyable occasions? On Thursdays, the various clubs meet and hold programs. Usually on the other days, we study (?) in our home rooms. We’re in French Class now, translating “Labbe Constantin.” As I gaze out the window, however, my mind unwit¬ tingly wanders far from French. Yes, our four years of high school have been full of gala occasions. Going back a few years—the Jeff.-Lewis game when we cheered our team on to victory. We’ll win again soon, we feel, and that’s a challenge to the team of 1940 and all the teams to come. “The Blue and White will wave on high!” And then, we’ll never forget our Senior Play—that rip-roaring comedy, “The Patsy.” In this same class are those tournaments of public speaking and debating that helped put Lewis “on the map.” The publications of our alma mater— The Pioneer and Andrew Lewis News —we salute not only their editors but also the staffs. May they continue to hold high the standards for which they are known. Last, but far from least, we pay tribute to our teachers—those ladies and gentlemen of the faculty who patiently and kindly have guided our faltering footsteps over four years. They deserve a great deal more praise than we are capable of giving them. And our classmates—the boys and girls of our own age with whom we have worked and played—we shall never fail to connect them with the happiest days of our lives. We have come to the end of the trail. Behind us the sun is setting—the sun of our high school career. But there will be another sun rising as a new day in our lives. It is this new day we eagerly anticipate. Let come what may, we shall never lose sight of high school days. . . Horrors! Is she talking to me? “Ma’am? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. Yes’m, I have my book open—well, maybe not to the right page. Translate? Ah, ah, yes’m.” The bell! Thank heavens, just in time. A day in school is ended! —Eleanor C. Folk
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