Harlem High School - Meteor Yearbook (Machesney Park, IL)

Page 33 text:

Harlem Consolidated High School Room 9. as a matter of fact, has a mathematical atmosphere with the equations and formulas around the walls of the room. Mr. Horn coaches the Freshmen in their x , y,. and r3's and is certainly packing the wisdom. While we're here we should stop in and see Mr. Moore, who has his office next door. Hello, there! We usually find our Dean of Boys in a humorous humor, or something. Besides dishing out Washington's maneuvers and Boone's boomerangs, he also passes out the zero hours. So if you go A.W.O.L. you will know where not to go! In Room 8 our fellow schoolmates are cramming their heads full of is or are, was or were, verbs, nouns, adverbs and so on into the night. At the desk we see Miss Walker, our chief librarian. She has volunteered to show us the library personally. Up three flights of stairs to our expansive store room for literary-inclined students where hundreds of books have found their places on the numerous book shelves; and thanks to Miss Walker's love of knowledge, no one will ever be able to drink the cup to the bitter dregs. Here's a toast to our magnetic Miss and to the Junior librarians for dusting off the rusty Anglo-Saxon histories! Right across the hall we hear that unmistakable pound. No, it's not buzz saws or carpentry class. You have it! Miss Pettis' Senior Typing class. The same Miss Pettis! The same good jokes! Her industrious pupils soem to reflect her charms with that unhappy look on their faces as if something were wrong. Oh, no. that couldn't be! Typing is such an agreeable subject (so it says here). We give a great big bow to our popular Dean of Girls and, truthfully, we couldn't imagine Harlem without Miss Pettis or versa-visa. In Room 23 what do we find but our sweet little trigonome-triss, Miss Valentine, voted by the fellows of Harlem The Girl You'd Most Want to Solve an Equation With. Mind you, they learn their trig or bust! (Shucks! Did I forget to mend that tear again?) The best of luck to one of Harlem's most efficient teachers along our path to success! Keep those Girls-Scouting! Farther on down the hall we'll peek in for a moment on Mr. DeCamp's history class. Here they are outlining miles of Mac-Arthur's maneuvers and seem to be enioying it. Mr. DeCamp has a way with you that gets you—sooner or later. Keep 'em cramming, Mr. DeCamp! We're with you! Another few feet and — Well, that's not the odor of roses. Oh. it's just Mr. Sontag's chicks. Come on in and see our menagerie, or aquarium—anything from ants to anthropology! The students seem to be working Experiment No. 7. Gas masks and everything! It's really quite calm, and loads of fun for these vibrant, future chemists. It is reported that Mr. Sontag has the most complete classroom in the country. Here's to a perfect exhibit! More fun! More Science! nineteen hundred and forty-four

Page 32 text:

Harlem Consolidated High School To register the informal chatter of students living in the 1943-1944 period of history, we use our visit through the halls and classrooms as a topic. A METEOR EDITOR INTERPRETS THE DAILY HUM OF HARLEM'S MACHINERY— First of all. let's pop into the office and visit our genial master, Mr. Hovey. What, not in? Well, behind that tremendous pile of letters and documents we can almost find our pretty little secretary, Nellie Olson! We never spy our mistress but what she's smiling her usual Colgate smile. Nellie, don't give up the ship! Navy orders! We'll see Mr. Hovey later. What do you say we buzz downstairs and sort of peek into the various rooms to see what's cookin'? HHHmmmmm! Smells like food! You guessed itl Here's Miss Lola Barkley dressed up fit to cook—cooking what did you say? Don't tell me it's lemon pie! Our future Misses Housewives seem to enjoy mixing, measuring, and making with the mince meat. And who wouldn't love to stir the batter in our cozy little kitchen trimmed with colorful posters, and furnished with General Electrics? Miss Barkley is doing a super job of giving these future little homemakers the once-over in everything from soup to nuts! She also guides the group in snapping, snipping, and shirring—in other words, the art of sewmg. Hats off to our gallant grinders and the best to Miss Barkley! Let's wander across the hall and see what's up in the gym. Well, looks as if the ferns are getting the workout under the direction of Mrs. Doyle. She informs me that the Bloomer Girls” are challenging the Wolverines in a tough game of volleyball. She's certainly doing a marvelous job of building our paint and powder beauties into healthy future women of America. Here's to you and to a grand group of gorgeous girls! While we're so near lets slip back and see how the demons of the jig saws are prospering. We mean, of course. Mr. Young's manual training class. These little shavers are getting broken in—just learning a few of the tricks of trade that trick the trader into trading. Well, Mr. Young, keep 'em chipping off the block! Night and Day—you are the one' — Sounds as if those sweet sopranos are off on another song swoon. Mr. Alrutz has these crooners well on the way to Broadway. No kidding! They're all right and so is their maestro! We have him to thank for our grand Thanksgiving program, operetta, and all the other sweet note performances. The fellows also put in their do-re-me's, the mixed chorus hums along, and our orchestra beats out to the wand of our music master. Ever want to hear a song—just get within two miles of room 8 every afternoon and you're bound to be out of this world 1 nineteen hundred and o r t y - o u r

Page 34 text:

Harlem Consolidated High School Hey, I'll bet we're just in time to see the Coach give the old work out on the ball. Escalator south and—well, right-o! Those sharpshooters are pronto on the beam—buckets and more buckets—and we don't mean oaken ones! This man Lotzer is really the frosting, and we're sticking by you, Coach, all the way! Up to Room 16! Miss Bartling and her Soph history class are digging into those ancient pyramids. Well, don't dig too deep. It's almost time for the bell! Miss Bartling certainly has her winning ways with the student body. Just be sure to keep 'em winning! What-do-ya-say we walk into Miss Meier's Orchid Room. And whom do we encounter first but Mrs. Stamper, retired from her English classes and doing something concerning Emerson's philosophy. Hello.'' Here we meet another sweet and charming Mrs. who is devoted to our Alma Mater and to the school paper, The Pepper, which she sponsors. Can't you tell by the sparkle in her eye, she's up to something? We're counting on you and that sparkle, Mrs. Stamper! After goodbyes were said to Mrs. Stamper, Mrs. Jones was greeted. The Junior Play, The Pepper, The Prom — my, how beautifully she presided! Thanks a million for your sincere concern for our welfare. Caesar dixit! —The Augustans are slaving away at—well, you know, and who is leading his victories but our leading lady. Miss Meier. Not only does she look into the future, drool on Shakespeare, direct dynamic plays, but she has also set up a military objective and has us pinch-hitting on our pre-induc! Here's to our gallant Meteor advisor! And fellows—when you're furlough bound, you'll know that when you strike Room 14 you've struck home! There's a hospitality sign on her door! A toast to our sky-high Miss, and millions of bright banners to her ever-encouraging way! Out into the hall and—well, if we don't meet our man about school, Mr. Hovey. He's busy all right, as usual, but never too much so, to stop for a few exchanges of what have you about the weather! Down in the hearts of every student there dwells the utmost respect for our superintendent. To our superior for making every possible chance to success, achievement to joy and happiness, we thank you from the bottom up! As the class of '44 graduates, we leave with an infinite desire to better ourselves and humanity, a challenge to use our ability to attain the highest possible goal, and an ever-soft spot in our hearts for all our classmates, teachers and Mr. Hovey. Yes, we will think back to the happy and the serious moments that filled our years here, and we will thank God for such blessings! ninete e n hundred and f o r t y • f o u r