Clay City High School - Claytonian Yearbook (Clay City, IL)

Page 12 text:

FACULTY POEM CLAYTONIAN Faculty, we leave you! After four such happy years, You may stretch now, raise your shoulders, But won’t you miss us little dears? Won’t you miss our shining faces, And the gags and tricks we’ve done. All our bright remarks and questions? Now admit, we were some fun. Didn’t we lighten up your duties With our nonsense, and our lack Of interest in our Classes? Say it, 'Fore very long you’ll wish us back. Think of all the lovely quizzes You shot at us day by day, All the fun you had in writing “F’s” on our work, in ample pay. You’ll miss our whispers and hollers, The cute sayings, all our own, The happy privilege of our company. Oh, you’ll miss us when we’re gone. Don’t you feel you’ve worked a marvel. Forcing us to dig, way down deep too, To absorb some good book lamin’ ? Faculty! Hats off to you! In the quickly nearing future. You can feel you’ve done your bit While we roll in fame and glory. Will your efforts equal the joy you get? We’re sorry for the gray hairs. And those lines, and all the things Which we have brought upon you. May the new comers bring a change. May future scholars be more ready To obey your every whim. “May God Bless You,” this our prayer, “Also mercy on teaching men.” It's an under-rated profession; You can slave for years on end. The transformation of a would be heathen To a human, the prize you’ll win. FERN SAPP :NINETEEN HUNDRED THIRTY NINE