King City Joint Union High School - Mustang Yearbook (King City, CA)

Page 21 text:

QER K I x Q N26-BN QQ W ,gk Q5 Wai X -x 1 Q LJ 1 X X x Q-X X XX : I vx 'ig XS U y C . 1 'A 'V J F ffggg , X ':f n+ -W' wax 0 A RA H Y' ' J , ! L ' ' F 9 Q :Si 'E + H 1 v4 QQ, ' .JMR X U' ' ' A G . ff Q -f7'Z x' X, ? ,sw W W C5 U 1 NU! Q 0. J? , L1. W N59 ,, if A 1 X NNMBX v . G Q, X N 1? ' V , X N x X l Z Ill! 25,5 5 qw, Mfij j Qi? Qpi kvj 1- fxxffix f 0-fJQflblw nu rlflusT Sbak spzaref

Page 20 text:

S. ,1 , .ff-,,,f',g .r- .12- X. s 4 BEST EDITORIALS FROM KING HI-WA YS A TTEND T0 rome WEAK SPOTS You probably know the story of the Greek warrior Achilles whose mother sought to keep his body immune to wounds by dipping him, when a boy, into the River Styx. She succeeded except for one of his heels by which she held him. So this heel became his weak spot, and his death came from a poisoned arrow which struck him in the tiny vulnerable place. You can learn a lesson from Achilles which should result in your endeavor to do away with your weak spot in your school work. Report cards are out and they effectively tell your weaknesses. At least, you can put up a strong fight against them. lt is perfectly natural for you to find pleasure in doing the thing that is easiest. But good study demands that you seek out your difficulties and spend time trying to co1'rect them. If you find that your attempt to do easy Spanish translation is hampered by your weakness in the vocabulary, you should immediately begin to learn the various words. You are now old enough to begin to diagnose your own weaknesses. You will discover them long before your teacher does. In fact, you often try to cnceal them from her. But you cannot conceal them from yourself. There is just one way to keep them in perfect darkness and that is to d1'ill yourself until they gradually fade away. -MARION MANSFIELD, '28 HPOSSIBILITIES IN AGRICULTURE If you decide to go into agriculture, you will be joining a great voca- tional army, for one third of all the people in this country live on farms. The farmer to-day enjoys a much better position than he used to. The popular notion of the farmer as a hayseed has changed. He now dresses in the same style as his city friends, goes to the city frequently in his auto- mobile, keeps in daily touch with the world through the newspaper and radio, and above all, is applying the teachings of science to his daily tasks. He is interested in public affairs and in scientific progressg both touch his life very closely. The farmer is no longer a be-whiskered back-number. The agriculture courses offered in high school will be of value to you if you are interested in this vocation. Some high schools have a four-year course in this subject, which is a great opportunity for thorough training. There are, too, boys' and girls' agriculture clubs in almost every community, which set up practical High school graduation further training at an to you. Farming calls for labor, but the days of hard, grinding toil are disappearing. Continued im- provements in farm machinery have greatly lessened the amount of human labor needed. A man may be a farmer and yet not be so ground down by toil that he cares nothing about anything intellectual. There are hours on the farm as elsewhere. The general farmer with his different kinds of crops is safer against a disasterous year, yet in this age of specialization, many young men will prefer to center their progress on some particular type of farming. Life on the modern farm is wholesome. -ELMA CHAMBERS, '28 projects to be carried on during summer vacation. is essential but if you are going into agriculture a agriculture college is needed really to be of value a fairly strong physique and for a willingness to

Page 22 text:

r i Q v-Q11 -2 . ' ,L ili --. 5 A - Springtime! Springtime! The cherry trees were bloom- ing gorgeously. Flowers of every kind and color were peeping through a carpet of tangled vines and ferns. Far across the city the temple bells were tolling the hour of four. The sun, a firey ball, was slowly sinking into the sea, paint- ing the sky myriad hues of purple, red, and orange. Beside the stream, suspended from a marble arch, were the most beautiful and yet most fan- tastically painted wind chimes I have ever seen. Melancholy tinkling re- sounded through the garden as a faint breeze came slowly over the wall. Breaking the silence came an unmistakable whisper. The Wind Chimes By IONA LANG, '28 Listen to Rela, the wind chimes, and learn 'the story of Cushala and the garden. I sank upon the ground, reclined against the marble arch, and gazed intently at the chimes. This is the story. Wong-Po, a rich tea merchant had a beautiful daughter upon whom he lavished many a costly gift. For her he built this garden, and fifty years ago he bought us, the most beautiful and wonderful chimes in China, to be placed in the garden. But one day the priests in the Temple of Lee Sol warned Wong-Po of a terrible misfortune that would overwhelm him if he did not give his daughter to the temple when she would become eighteen. Such a great love as Wong- Po's had made the gods jealous, and nothing but his daughter as a sacrifice could appease their wrath. ' In the garden, loving every bird, flower, and wind, Cushala was grow- ing up ignorant of what Fate had in store for her. All day long she frolicked with the winds or played beside the brook. We played our happiest tunes, and all things in the garden conspired to make Cushala happy. Happy hours flew swiftly, and soon the time came for Cushala to leave. It was on a dark and stormy night that Wong-Po called her to him and told her she was to become a priestess in the Temple of Lee Sol. Outside the thunder roared and the wind raged. Lightning flashed, the heavens opened and a torrent of water descended to the earth. Cushala begged her father not to let her go, but he had promised. When entreaties were no longer of avail, she threatened to end her life. Finally, Wong-Po, angry with her disobedience, agreed to break his word to the priests, but Cushala would have to spend the rest of her life in her room. Never again could she go to her garden. Cushala ran to her room, weeping bitterly. The storm gradually sub- sided. Cushala went to the window and looked out upon the garden, illuminated by a pale moon as it moved through the murky clouds. The scene was one of desolation and havoc. Vines and flowers were in tangled masses, and small branches were scattered all over the garden. Day after day the flowers, birds, and winds watched for Cushalag but Cushala never came. Flowers drooped and died. Birds ceased to sing. The Wind wandered listlessly over the garden, humming the saddest of tunes. For the first time in our life we played sad and melancholy music. The days filed slowly past and Springtime came again to the world outside, but it was still winter in the garden. ' But one day the birds returned to the garden, for they had heard that Cushala would come once again. Cushala came, but it was a changed Cushala the winds greeted. She was wan and weak, and even the joyful F I