East High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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“Tis Passing Strange” A Dissertation on the Inefficiency of Mere Human Knowledge. We are an extraordinary class, there is no question about that. If all the world does not admit it. it is because of prejudice or jealousy. In future generations when historians arc searching for material for their books on the great men of these times, they will be hunting for facts about each and every one of us,—hence this history. When we were Freshmen, it is said that we were green. This does not now seem possible; but if we ever did take on that hateful hue. it was only a very light and pleasant variety, not the bright, offensive shade that we have noticed upon our younger classmen for the last two years. We learned many things in those first few months: among them, that no man might hope for heaven until he could write upon his passport. Unity. Mass, and Coherence; that periods and commas, and such light trifles, were still necessary, and had not been dispensed with at the gates of the High School as we had so fondly imagined. We learned to bow with grace to mighty Juniors; we learned that it was proper to be silent till we were spoken to. and not to advance opinions before those awe-inspiring beings who inhabited the lower halls. Prodigious, indeed, was the number of the facts we acquired in those first, short five months. Before we realized the fact, the second term had come. By that time the braver ones ameng us could walk by—even a Senior, without dropping our eyes to the ground and trembling lest he should ask us if we knew the way home, or if Mamma knew we were out. We were on the second floor now. We made out our own programs. We went where we liked, when we liked. Ah! we were mighty men1 We now knew all about a “mental point of view. We proudly marched up to our Latin verb tests conning rapidly, amo. amas. amat. (Surely we did not love the tests; it must have been the teacher.) At that sweet time we believed we could factor unfactorable quantities. Grecian history was our delight. How soon this happy dream flew by! There came one fateful day when a long line of us stood outside the office door, waiting because the Principal, on account of their very poor work, desired to see the following. How very, very long 18

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 EAST HIGH SCHOOL ORCHESTRA

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those lists were some months! Such things as these were, however, but momentary’ checks in our course toward fame and glory. Nothing could stop our class long. As Sophomores, we took our places the next autumn. ’ Tis sad but true that our Geometry did sorely vex us. Altho we spent most of our time in our journey among the angles in wondering how long the present teacher would last, yet one of our class, after much endeavor, succeeded in disproving our pedagogue’s pet theory, that, If you go half the distance in the first step, half the remainder in the second, etc., you will never reach the wall toward which you journey. This statement our brilliant friend classed as absurd; and boldly walked across the room and threw himself against the wall. Strange to say. the teacher did not laud him for his brilliancy. Thus it is, prophets are ever without honor in their own country. Altho our class marched over Caesar’s bridge in fearful disarray; altho Milton’s ghosts did sadly haunt us; altho the restlessness of the Ostrogoths, the Visigoths, the Vandals, and the Huns did lead us into many a snare; yet the most of us survived. and stood, battered heroes, ready for our fourth term. Now it was that our dear class was scattered. Part, from fell necessity, remained just where they were; the more fortunate ones among us came to the first floor where we mingled with those wonderful and superhuman beings called Juniors. There is was, we learned that it was bright to skip and to write most plausible excuses for the same. We found how excellent a thing it was to have a room so near the outside door. We discovered how much better cake tastes when bought in the middle of the second period, than at recess. Many a very pleasant thing did those good Juniors teach us. About this time it seemed as if we were indeed the Noble Six Hundred. ’ On all sides of us, militant teachers operated huge cannon whose chief aim it -seemed to be to mow down as many of our stalwart companions as possible with huge round zeros. Ours not to make reply. Ours not to reason why. Ours but to do and die. Yes, there were indeed. Cannon to the right of us. Cannon to the left of us, Cannon behind us. But, with valor unimpaired, all that was left of us, but not. not the six hundred, marched into the Junior room with colors flying. 19