Bar Harbor High School - Islander Yearbook (Bar Harbor, ME)

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5 I LEN C£ CONCENIRATE j sm s LITERARY This I'ane Sponsored liy Music For All Occasions ('ll A KM K BK M:TTS ORCHESTRA RANCOR BAKING COMPANY Mother’s White Bread

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Eighth Grade Report There are 31 in the eighth grade. Gerard Garland is president; Kenneth Hans- com is secretary; and Martha Jellison is treasurer. Basil Davis. Ronnie MaeQuinn. Stanley Harris. David Real. Ronald Robinson, and Howard Hatnor represented the class on the Junior High varsity basketball team. Dale Ames was manager. Alison Beal. Betsy Flynn, Joyce Iverson, Geraldine Abbott, and Judith Fstcovitz were our cheerleaders. Together with the seventh grade, the eighth gave a performance of II.M.S. Pinafore” in April. Seventh Grade Report The seventh grade has taken part in a variety of activities. It placed several winners in the Curiis Publishing Company's fall campaign. Gale Brewer leading with $80.00 worth of subscriptions. number of seventh graders had leading parts in the “H.M.S. Pinafore production staged by Mr. Delulio. Peter Young, Lloyd Norwood, and Leon Hubbard made thejunior High varsity basketball team. The class raised $15.00 by putting on two sales, and supplied the refreshments at the Junior Hayseed Ball. Front row :J. Etscovitz, J. McKay, R. MaeQuinn, B. Davis, J. Kelly, D. Beal. R. Robin- son, G. Abbott. Second row: A. Beal, D. Morrison. P. Youn r, L. Hubbard. Mr. Somes, L. Norwood, R. Moran, H. Hamor, G. Reddy. Third row: R. Russell, Mrs. Gray, D. Ames. Fourth row: B. Flynn, J. Iverson. COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEVENTH GRADE

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Terrible Monday morning, like Iasi Monday, like ail awful school Mondays. It’s seven o’clock and I should he out of bed and I don’t want to get up at all. I can’t get up, hut I've got to. I'll he late again and I can’t stand going to that office late. But I can't get up. I can’t! Seven-thirty now! No, it can't he! Good Lord, did I drop off to sleep? Oh. dear, oh dear. I can't get up, I simply can’t. But I’m up and where are my clothes? Mother and I had an argument and she's sore at me, hut I’ll have to have some clothes. You can't go to school in your pajamas. I stand on the cold floor and yell out. “Mum. where are my clothes?” Faintly, “What do you want?” “My clothes! My clothes!” “Come and get them.” less faintly. “Where are they?” I yell. “How should I know? I don’t wear your clothes.” I go downstairs and hunt and hunt for my clothes, get into them, gulp breakfast, hating every- thing and everyone. Now I’m ready for school. But where are my hooks? Where are those darned hooks? Here they are. But where are my French sentences I spent so long doing? Why is everyone mad at me? Why do I have to live like this? Why is there a Monday morning? Will I ever get started? I slam the door and am on the street. I hurry along and I wonder why people have to live any- way. I come to the building, get inside. th° bell rings, the corridors are empty. Late again. 0 gee! —Herbert Mitchell There was no one in the Casino at all. It was faintly lighted so that I could see the huge cave-like ceiling floating above me. The sound of my foot- steps echoed around it. I began to sing: at first only to hear the echoes and then because the echoing made the singing itself l»eautiful to me. and I imagined into it all that it lacked. The music was a part of me, inside me. It came from within my own heart. —Vivian Scott As I stand here among the flakes of snow that silently fall around me. I wonder how it is that God has made each snow flake to have a meaning of its own. A meaning that alone says nothing, alone as a single snow flake, yet brought together with masses of others, forms a coverage over the earth. —Richard Salisbury “What is it like to die?” I ask. The answer is very important, for I am going to die in a few minutes. Through my mind race little things out of the past, like my first day at school and my first killing. Yes, I said my first killing. So long ago that was. and so many others since. And now I've got to pay. My eves are getting hazy, the room is going around and around, my stomach is sick. Fin falling, and yet I feel no pain. Why is there no pain? I open my eyes once more. A face, an eloquent dear face smiles at me. There is no fear any more in me, I am ready. —John Lymburner What am I taking Latin for anyway? I don't understand it. I can't memorize the declensions and conjugations. When I try to study the words get all blurry, my mind won’t absorb the funny words, and I just have to give up. Yet Latin goes through my head in idle moments; past tense, future tense, pluperfect, future perfect ... It’s all so strange. I'm confused, all mixed up. —Joy Lymburner - How can my parents he so mean? They re going to take me away from my friends for a whole summer. Just because they can get in with their crowd again in the fall, they think I can get in again with mine. But when I come hack everyone will have her own little clique and I'll he left out. Going to that awful place really makes me mad. There’s no one there and nothing to do. Nobody to talk to hut my parents. It's not that they're so had. hut it all gets tiresome after a while. Young people want young people. I try to talk to them about this matter, hut they just talk me down and keep saying sweetly how much I'll enjoy the summer. But I know I wont. I don’t want to go! —Betsy Croxfori» I sit here often pitying myself. I think that life holds nothing for me. and that I just want to lie down and die. It's an awful feeling, just wanting to die. What causes it? Am I tired? Bored? who knows? —Mary Jane Spear This Page Sponsored fly BLACK WHITE CABINS On The Beach CHAMBERS CHEVROLET CO.. INC. 322 Main Street Bar Harbor