Southold High School - Snuffbox Yearbook (Southold, NY)

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THE SNUFF BOX me to her desk. It wasn’t long before I was assigned a desk and I began my career as a high school student. All my troubles weren’t over, though, for it wasn’t very many minutes before an electrical buzzer sounded forth with a discordant wrangling, setting every nerve a-tingle. Without being able to become calm after this recent outburst, 1 found myself adrift in a mass of very talkative humanity, attempting to find out where I was supposed to be going. These bewilderments were soon erased, as I had fervently hoped they would be. I could associate teachers with subjects, and it took little more than a week to make me one of the “insignificant freshmen, as we were so unjustly termed. And thus, the routine began. One which was later varied a bit by basketball, dancing classes, and a few class parties. The months flew by. and when the closing of the school year had arrived, each teacher, each new friend, and each new experience had become a vital part in my life. Three years more with these same teachers, these same friends, and these same subjects, more advanced each year, brought moments of supreme joy and moments when 1 wondered how I had ever become involved in such a system of education. Each year offered something in the way of growth and advancement, whether in the class room or on the athletic field. It would be an untruth to say that one of those years went by which hadn’t offered an opportunity for betterment in some manner. There may come the time when you will find something which can offer more, but you will never find anything which can take the place of the experiences of a high school education. The forlorn cry “I have to go to school” will be common and customary, perhaps forever, but believe me when 1 say it is better to be commencing a high school career, than to be concluding one. Despite the newly gained freedom (unless you are going to continue your studies at a college institution), there will come that moment when vou will long for the hum of high school activities, and the harness of school routine. I hey are years of hard work, but oh, they’re such fun ! Never have 1 heard a high school graduate or a person who has had a taste of high school say that he was glad those years were over. They're great and if college is half as grand, it will be marvelous! By all means take some time to be alone. Salute thyself! Know what thy soul dost wear. Dare to look into the chest—for ’tis thine own. And tumble up and down what thou findest there! 21

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THE SNUFF BOX the public. Our next stop was at the Smithsonian Institute. I he afternoon was ours to use as we desired, shopping , sightseeing or resting. I his was our last night here in this great city, and we were royally honored by a dance given for us at the Lee House. The evening flew by swiftly, and exhausted as we were, it was with reluctance we ceased our celebrating. Saturday, May 4. 1 lie day started somewhat gloomily, appro- priately so. for this was the day we were to begin our journey homeward. Enroute to the train several of the Embassies and the Zoo were pointed out to us. A few minutes iater we were aboard our train ready to depart for home. We shall always cherish the memories of our Washington trip, and shall never be able to thank Mr. Blodgett and Miss Malone enough for their co-operation in making the trip a success. M. M., ’35. A BACKWARD GLANCE I have to go to school! 1 he cry voiced by the majority of students who are yet held by the bonds of elementary educational institutions. It is not a cry emitted in the “Hello, everybody” intonation of Kate Smith, as she brings the moon over the mountain, but is more apt to be patterned after the “Is everybody happy” wail of the maestro, led Lewis. In any of its classifications, however, it is the rebellion of youth against confinement in the four walls of a school room and fulfillment of the requirements of daily assignments. hour years at high school mean hard work, but after all it is just a step harder than the work you accomplished while in grammar school. It means, too, an opportunity to labor with new subjects. to make new friends, and to have a variety of teachers. You can play basketball in the gym, you can pull grasshoppers apart in the laboratory, you can relieve your lungs of superfluous wind in the high school band, you can make trouble in general for the teachers. or you can just go to school. So, you see. after four years in a good high school, you should have acquired an education capable of offering you a position on a slightly higher plane. It will be many moons before I forget my first day at high school. In the first place I was coming from a three room school, where I had had the same teacher for three vears. In the second Place I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the Study Hall, and the multitude of girls who were present there on that first day Finally a Junior girl, apparently touched by my helpless expression, walked up to where I stood in the doorway, took my hand and led 20

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THE SNUFF BOX Claes mam We, the class of 1935, while admitting our trend of thought is somewhat odd in many instances, are convinced that generally we are considered sane, and without question, perfect specimens of good health. While in this condition, we desire to compose this, Our Last Wiil and Testament, whereby we may bequeath to the less fortunate under-classmen the advice and aids of which they are so in need, and which will insure their ultimate success as Seniors. We make it. therefore, our responsibility ere we pass through the portals of S. 11. S., to hereby bestow and bequeath: I. To the Junior Class: A generous supply of “Senior” dignity. II. To the Sophomore Class: More power to them! III. To the Freshman Class: A little “veni, vidi, vinci” spirit. IV. To Mr. Blodgett: Success with his next Intermediate Algebra Class. V. To Miss Malone: A male addition to her French 3 Class. VI. To Miss Whalen: An instruction book on “Driving a Chevrolet”. VII. To Miss Lunn: A petite statue of “The Thinker”. VIII. To Miss Benedict: A radio audition for her “Argo-nuts”. IX. To Miss Miller: Additional English 1 classes. X. To Mr. Dart: An automatic fish-feeder. XI. To Mr. Goldsmith: A new “Magic Carpet”. XII. To Madlyn Akscin: A gold medal for her “clem”-ency. XIII. To Lester Albertson: A few fires to extinguish. XIV. To William Peavey: More “Mor-(al)-ell” support. XV. To Mary Smolenski: A just reward for her scholastic achievements. XVI. To John Conrad: More “Breezie” days. XVII. To Emma Rothman: “Irving’s” Sketch Book. XVIII. To Alfred Peavey: A new “line” — for his fish. XV IV. To Rebecca Vail: Success in her 1936 responsibilities. XX. To John Papurca: A new tool chest. XXL To Bertha Mannweiler: Another trip to Shelter Island. XXII. To Ruth Jennings: A deodorized feline for playful pranks. XXIII. To Gordon Barning and Harry Waite: A car of their own. XXIV. To Jean Morrell: “Will” power. XXV. I'o Mary Grigonis: A set of form letters to aid her in her secretarial duties. XXV I. do Anna and Mary Aukscalnis: A vacation free from study. 22