Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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F. Haiaaay GIANTS IN THE EARTH By O. E. Rolvaag: For months now they had been traveling ever westward to the Sunset Land. Many weeks ago when they had left Norway they were happy, but now they were disheartened by their struggle to conquer the seemingly never-ending distance between them and their destination. The caravan consisted of Per Hansa, a hardy Norwegian searching for a home and happiness in America; Beret, his wife; their three children, Ole, Store-Hans, and And-Ongen; Rosie, the cow; a yoke of oxen; and a dilapidated wagon. They had started with three other wagons, but because of an accident they were delayed and had to resume the journey alone. After days of anxiety they finally reached the place where the others had settled. Then began the hard work — the building of sod huts, the plowing, the seeding, the trips after wood, and innumer- able other things. These days Per Hansa abounded in good spirits. His dream was a reality at last. He was with his friends; Hans Olsa and his wife, Syvert Tonseten and his wife, and the two Solum boys, Henry and Sam. Beret, however, did not share her husband ' s joy. The vastness of the plains overwhelmed her; lack of civilization oppressed her; the black nights frightened her. Oh, how could any- thing exist in such a place ! Yet life did exist and even progressed in this small settlement. More people came and settled here. They had to endure great hardships: devastating clouds of locusts, terrible snowstorms, and sickness. Beret suffered the most. She could not adapt herself to her new surround- ings. She was homesick and afraid. She saw Christianity flee from the settlement; she saw the men turn into beasts; she saw nothing but horrible sights everywhere. Gradually she began to lose her senses. She was saved from going mad by the opportune arrival of a minister who reconciled her with God. From then on she was very pious, and she resigned herself to such a life as the Lord destined she should lead. One winter night Hans Olsa contracted a severe cold. Death was approaching, and Hans wanted a minister. Per Hansa, uncertain whether he should ever return, set out in the worst sort of weather in search of one. Many months later after Hans Olsa had died. Per Hansa ' s body was found in the snow — just another block in the foundation of America. As briefly as possible I have outlined the story of Giants in the Earth. No resume, however, could convey an ade- quate idea of how gripping this novel is. This book is not essentially one of action, but more one of psychology. O. E. Rolvaag, the author, is not concerned with the romance of pioneering; he wishes to show what it costs in human life. There are, however, many incidents which provide action and humor. Beret is the main character in the tale. Her homesickness is the dominating motive in the story. Giants in the Earth contains two books, the first of which ends with the birth of Beret ' s fourth child. As Beret was moribund, her recovery placed the others in a joyful mood. Although the first book has a happy ending, a melancholy atmosphere pervades, supplied for the most part by Beret. The second book is a continuance of the first. Rolvaag brings religion into Book Two by the introduction of a minister. Beret ' s morbidness is greatly cleared by the minister. This book concludes with its inevitable tragedy. Rolvaag makes effective use of onomatopoeia in this story. You can almost hear the grass go tish-ah, tish-ah, and the wheels of the wagon squeak to one another. He is also clever in constructing vivid descriptions. Giants in the Earth will play with your emotions. At times you will have a sizeable lump in your throat, and at other times you will be laughing. Suddenly, you will find yourself saying, Punch him, Hans. Then, all at once, you will be sad again and full of pity for Beret. When you have finished the book, you will know the grim realities of the founding of America, and you will have a new insight into pioneer life. Yes, indeed, you should read Rolvaag ' s Giants in the Earth. Frank A. Whitney, P. G.

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items about students, teachers, and alumni) , are always read with eagerness, for aren ' t we always interested in what our friends are doing? Editorials — not the fiery, one-sided type, but calm expressions of opinion — add to the prestige of any journal. A feature that is fast becoming the vogue with regular newspapers, is the substitution of pictures for stories . People will look sooner at a picture with a brief caption under it, than at a long, wordy news account, for the simple reason that most people are in a hurry nowadays. Pictures of athletic contests, students, and school activities will, in all probability, be received with open arms by the readers of school papers. Money is usually involved in ninety-nine per cent of everything, and so it is in the school journal. Very few school papers are paid for and supported by the subscrip- tion money. Advertising is the life blood of almost all periodicals; the school paper is no exception. An able busi- ness manager and his assistant should procure advertising matter from local merchants and firms, which should more than defray any expenses incurred. If a school paper does not develop initiative, ability to shoulder responsibility, and does not help some students to find out what their life work will be, it is deficient in the qualities of a good school paper. Paul Ryan, ' 31. THE DOUBLE SESSION PLAN A Student ' s Point of View Many remedies for the present crowded conditions of Wakefield High School have been suggested. One of these is the double session plan. For the present, with the finan- cial condition of the town at such a low ebb, this is the most plausible. To the taxpaper, it is preferable, for it means putting off the erection of a new building. To the teachers and pupils, just what does it mean? The upperclassmen will have to go from early morning until noon. Since students cannot have study periods, all their school preparation must be done at home. A person with five consecutive recitations is going to have a hard job. If the required seven periods are to be kept, it means the shortening of each, thereby forcing the teachers either to lengthen assignments, or to eliminate some essentials. The underclassmen are going to find it harder to attend school all afternoon. They will have no time for lunch or recreation, and they will feel the lack of being a part of things . Moreover, their parents will be caused undue anxiety by the necessary lateness of the session. As for the instructors, such an arrangement will necessi- tate the hiring of additional teachers, for no faculty member can work all day and give his or her best work. An in- creased teaching staff will mean added expense, a situation which the taxpayers are trying to avoid. Still, this matter is not one for a pupil to settle, since he should be thankful that he is getting an education — even under adverse circumstances. But he can say, in behalf of other students, that something must be done and done quickly. And in the long run, that something will be a new school. Raymond Amiro, ' 31. LABELS What does your label say? Does it tell the truth? Is it easily read? Cans and packages are labeled so that one may know just what they contain. Many times the labels deceive us. It may be that we read them carelessly, or, perhaps, we do not entirely understand them. You and I also have labels. Ours are changeable; they are often very deceiving. The expressions on our faces and the way we carry ourselves label us. Are not our faces mirrors of our thoughts? If we never can see the silver lining but only the dark cloud, do we not reflect that attitude in our faces? Thus, our expression spells GLOOM, and people turn away. If the silver lining outshines the dark cloud, its radiance reflects in our eyes and smile. HAPPINESS is written on our label — people turn to us for comfort. The person who slouches and scuffs when he walks is generally marked CARELESS. Perhaps he is misleading us; he may be so engrossed in his own thoughts that he for- gets himself. On the other hand, the one who walks erect, with his head up, may carry a heavy heart. As the song goes — When I pretend I ' m gay, I never feel that way, I ' m only painting the clouds with sunshine. Many times, we allow other persons ' labels to deceive us. We decide at first glance that we do or do not like them, when we really should find out whether they are labeling themselves justly, or whether we ourselves are fair to them in our judgment. Is it right to allow labels to be false? Priscilla Eaton, ' 31. SCHOOL PARTIES There are two reasons for giving school parties: one is for the purpose of making money, the other is for the en- joyment of the pupils. At present I hear that the first reason is emphasized much more than the second. Many parties are considered flops just because they are not overwhelming successes. In my opinion a party is a social success if any of the guests have a good time. Twenty-five years after you are graduated, will you think back to a party and remember it as a financial suc- cess or as a social success? Most of the adults I ' ve asked about school parties have forgotten entirely whether a party made money or not, but they all seem to remember certain enjoyable incidents that happened. Everyone knows that adults consider their school days the happiest part of their life, and that school parties are supposed to be banner events in school life. Therefore, I hope these parties will not be spoiled by commercialization. Of course the finan- cial question must be considered, but I think the social side should be emphasized at least as much, if not more. If I continue much longer, you ' ll consider me another crank with nothing else to do but find fault. If you think my point of view is true, ponder on the question yourself, and I ' m sure you will come to the same conclusion. Charles B. Weeks, ' 31.

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ON LEARNING TO SKATE Winter, with all its cold weattier and out-door sports, has always been a period of great unhappiness to you, not because you can ' t skate, but because your parents are always after you to learn how. But this Winter things are going to be different — your mother has bought you a pair of skates which means that you simply must learn how. The eventful day dawns clear and cold; and, unluckily for you, it falls on Saturday — the day of house-cleaning. Mother constantly urges you to hurry with your work so that you can go and try the new skates. You, however, are in no hurry, and you ask several times every hour if there isn ' t something else to do, but mother says that she will do your work this morning so that you can get down to the pond early. You mumble something about not feeling very well, but mother is busy and doesn ' t hear you, so you trudge reluctantly upstairs to get your wraps on. This you do slowly, trying to think of some excuse that will keep you ai home. All of a sudden a faint light begins to glimmer in the Stygian darkness of your brain, and, after thinking a mo- ment, you dash out of the house and down to the pond — where you stand and watch the others all afternoon, secretly hoping that your mother will not go into your room. Then you come home and sneak upstairs, remove your wraps, and march trivunphantly into the dining-room, and sit down to dinner. You begin eating, not daring to look up and meet the inquiring glances of the family, and wait for the bombard- ment of questions that you feel sure the family will ask. It does. Well, dear, how did you get along? Oh— all right. Have a good time? Yeh — Pretty good. How do you like your skates? They ' re swell. Have many tumbles? Nope. (You wonder when this is going to end because you know you can ' t keep on fibbing much longer.) Going again tomorrow? Yeh. Then your mother pops a question that you can ' t duck. You ' ll have to excuse my seeming so dense, but will you please explain to me how you can go ice-skating when you leave your skates at home? You look -up blankly. She repeats her question and, again, you feel the eyes of the family upon you. Your eyes refuse to meet theirs, and you try to think of the excuse you had ready; but you can ' t, so you explain glibly, between blushes, something about forgetting to take your skates along. There is silence for a moment. Then father booms — Haw-Haw! and stifles the rest in his napkin; Junior yells Fraid-cat! ; but mother— mother maintains a stony silence, knowing that her expression will make a deeper and more lasting impression upon you than words. It does, and you rise hurriedly from the table and make for your room, but not before your mother promises you that you will go right back to the pond tonight and get used to those skates. And, after a time, you do. At last you are down at the pond watching the skaters skim gracefully over the ice. It looks easy. So you stand upon your feet and try to skim gracefully, but you succeed only in wobbling back and forth. You try to stop yourself from falling, and only fall harder with the snickers and laughing remarks of the on-lookers buzzing in your ear. You can feel your face going scarlet, and you ' re glad it ' s dark so that your blushes can ' t be seen. You spend most of the evening in concentrated squirming, and you ' re so hot that you wonder vaguely why the ice doesn ' t melt under you. Suddenly you find yourself skimming, not very grace- fully, but skimming, and you congratulate yourself on your ability to skate so soon — and so well! People who skate by you see a smug, oh-see-how-well-I-can-skate grin on your face and grin sympathetically in return. After a while you become conscious of shouting behind you and you are so confident of your ability to keep your feet that you turn your head (you haven ' t learned to turn on skates yet) to learn what the excitement is about. They all seem to be shouting at you! Now, why should they do that? You are a good skater now; they have nothing to worry about. You wave your arm to show them that you are all right and then turn your head back again to get your bearings. You see a great, gaping hole full of cold, black water coming up to meet you! Splash ! ! Burr— It ' s Cold ! ! And as you are pulled out of the icy depth by many helping hands, you say to yourself that this will teach mother not to force you to do anything that you ' re not ready to do yet. Doris McClintock, ' 32. THE WIND WOMAN The Wind Woman whistled softly through the trees of the little woodland on the edge of The Lake of Laughing Waters as she twisted in and out among the trees. Some of these had been the lady ' s friends for years and years, but for others it was her first visit. Nevertheless, old or young, each in turn was glad to receive the warm, sweet, breath of Mother Wind. Its effect was like wine for, as she passed, they immediately spruced up and looked at the world with renewed courage. The reason was that she had whis- pered to them that she would help them to sprout graceful new limbs and dress them in the most enchanting leaf dresses that her style bag contained. From the woodland to the cave she blew, waking up hungry bears from theii ' long sleep. Everywhere she received a royal welcome from the woodland folk. Then came her last people to visit, the lapping, laughing waters of the lake. Up they rolled to meet her, great at first, but then growing smaller. Still again they returned to the lake to gain force to reach her first. Softly she stepped over the waves, patting each on the head, smiling at some, kissing her favorites, and giving advice to all. Then on she wandered to make new friends in other lands, but as the little waves washed back and forth, they chanted joyfully, Spring has come, the Wind Woman has been our guest. Spring has come. Marjorie Moore, ' 33.