Auburn High School - Bulldog Yearbook (Auburn, NE)

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 reen MISS HELEN STORMS Sponsor i tstorp of t )t Class of ’23 Is there a man, woman, boy or girl in the whole wide woild who has never read or heard the story of “The Ugly Ducking”? Surely now, yes, you remember that old story of the last duckling to hatch? How large, ungainly, and unlovely he was? He was scorned and despised by the rest of the fowls of the barnyard, even his mother didn’t love him because of his ungainliness. Then one day he could stand life among them no longer and he went off tc himself in the woods and there he lived alonfe in peace holding his own in the world. Out there he slowly felt himself developing and saw himself dawning new and strange feathers, until at last his day came. He went to the lake and looked at himself and what did he see? Ah, he was no longer the ugly duckling. He was a swan. He had dawned swan’s feathers- Somehow the histcry of the class of ’23 reminds me of that old, old story When we were Freshmen we were the ugly ducklings, made fun of by the upper class-men, and we were the largest most ungainly class in the school. Then when we were Sophomores we retired and lived a life of quiet, but we held our own in the world. During the next year, or as Juniors, we felt power and influence slowly, but surely creeping upon us. But now! Now, we are swans. We definitely have a place to fill, a swan’s featheis and are taking our place in affairs. We are Seniors and our day has come. Picture to yourself a hot September afternoon, a large room with a row of desks across cne end, and girls seated as far as possible from that formidable group of teachers at those desks, and you have a snapshot of the Freshman class of 1919. It was then three o’clock and at six-thirty that evening the last one had been registered and assigned a seat in that great study hall. The first days passed as all days have a habit of doing. We drifted with the teachers for a couple of weeks, but we finally organized with Kenneth Davis as president. During the time between the opening of school in September until in October we were steadily learning the ways of the wise, but it was in October that we were formally initiated. We showed our metal and endured all, but in December we saw our chance for revenge. We surprised ourselves as well as the other three classes by winning over the Sophomores in the inter-class debate. For a while all was quiet like the calm after the storm, then picnic, picnic, buzzed everywhere. We wert picnicing and the school year slid gently to a close. Then ended the ugly duckling’s stay in the barnyard. In the fall of 1920 fifty-two, a few less than when we started out, gathered together under Dayton Maclay, president, and decided to go into solitude and live a life of peace. Yes, we took a small part in passing affairs. We helped in a minor way

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LETA WARNKE' Don’t disturb me, I’m thinking. Glee Club (1) Y. W. C. A. (1), (2) GLEN WILLIAMS He is not responsible for your supposin’. Springtime (4) ELIZABETH WULF “IBBEY” Exhausting thought and living wisdom with each studious year. Glee Club (1), (2), (3), (4) Y. W. C. A. (1), (2), (3)j (4) Katcha Koo (2) Calendar Reporter for Scarlet and Green (4) Springtime (4) HILDE ZABEL Do you for others lest they do for you. Glee Club (1) Y. W. C. A. (1), (2), (3) Springtime (4) SB AN

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-Ifca reen to initiate the latest Freshmen and went so far as to have a Freshmen-Sophomore party. We had found other occupations more profitable, I won’t say pleasant, in oui new life of quiet. We were absorbing Latin and Geometry. The year rolled along until finally again we heard the sound of picnic, picnic everywhere. We came out from our hiding place long enough to go picnicing to Peru. Thus another year of preparation was done. “And every clod feels a stir of might,” so did we when as Juniors we met, and elected Julius Liess to lead us along a Junior’s thorny pathway. For, “Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,” would hard luck never end? I admit we didn’t study Latin any-more, but there was Physics and advanced MathmaticsH! We were still in a retired stage and everything rolled by smoothly until we felt ourselves developing and we knew at last that we w’ere not destined to remain in the ugly duckling class always. Of course we had r.o idea of the wonderful changes ahead of us. Then one day we were told that the class winning in a ticket-sale contest would get in free at a picnic to be given at the expense of the other classes. We, the Juniors made up our minds to win, and win we did fair and square, but somehow it wasn’t so announced and the affair slid by; but, nevertheless, we had tried our wings and found them strong. We put on the Annual Junior-Senior Banquet and everyone admitted that we made it a success. We then decided to have a sneak day but that idea was wrought too young, for in trying to dawn swan’s feathers so soon we learned that only fullgrown swan’s are so privileged. Thus our three years of trial were over at last and we found ourselves full-fledged swans. Then began cur glorious reign as Seniors, no longer ugly ducklings, but swans. Do not misundei stand me. I do not mean facial beauty nor extreme gracefulness, but only that we are aware of our opportunity and ale prepared to live our lives as we find them. Fcr the first time we are really counting, before we were merely ma king time, but now each one has a goal to strive for. Sixteen of our fifty-one aie preparing for a life as teachers, others for a business life and still others fcr a life at College or University. There are eight less than when we entered in 1919. Of this number some have been honorably discharged from the great army of education and some are simply deserters from the ship. I believe we have the honor cf being the only Senior class to have a girl for president, this in the person of Ilda Schriefer, our efficient leader. And thus is the history of the class of ’23 divided into four parts as was the life of the Ugly Duckling, and as he developed and found his own kingdom, so will the class of ’23 reach its goal. —FAY E. BROD.