Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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CLASS HISTORY

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Few men have started out in life with a frailer body than Theodore Roosevelt. For years he could sleep only in a sitting position. But from the beginning he dominated his suffering and through strenuous training and exercise finally became one of the most masterful of our Presidents. His life is a splendid example of service to mankind and devotion to his country. His mantle has indeed fallen on worthy shoulders in the person of his kinsman, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. In the fall of 1921, President Roosevelt was a complete and helpless paralytic. By patient perseverance and steadfastness of purpose, he gradually overcame his handicap, until to-day he stands before us, a man of clear vision and unselfish purpose, the President of the United States. Mothers and fathers, we are deeply grateful to you for the unfailing love and guidance which you have so freely given us from our childhood. May we never prove unworthy of such a priceless heritage. Mr. Pearson and Members of the School Committee, we sincerely appreciate the excellent work you have done in maintaining the high stand- ards of our schools in Weymouth. We shall ever remember our school life as one of our most important stepping stones toward success. Mr. Hilton and teachers, we thank you for your kindly help and cheer- ful co-operation. We hope that your tireless efforts in behalf of our class will not go unrewarded. Classmates, as we, the Class of 193 5, leave to-day this school where we have spent so many happy hours together, let us ever be inspired by the lives of these brave souls with their unwavering faith and dauntless courage even under the heaviest trials. There is no need to gaze only at the peaks on the skyline of history or literature, to find heroes of handicap. As we look around us to-day, we find much of heroism in the ordinary man and woman, unsung heroes, who are winning the greatest battle in the world — the Battle of Life. Let us go forth to meet the future with the determination to do whatever needs to be done, and despite the gray horizon that has been painted, let us keep before us in letters of flaming light, our motto: Look up and laugh and lift. [ 20 ]

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ONE night, as I sat idly dreaming, I suddenly became aware of a strange stillness which pervaded the living room. I huddled more closely in the big arm- chair, trying in vain not to become nervous. Why, oh, why, had I consented to re- main alone that night? Furtively I looked at the open window. A soft breeze was swaying the curtains. Just then my eyes rested on our old crystal ball, which was on a stand in front of the window. I seemed to be riveted to t he spot, as if a magic spell had been cast upon me. Then the thunderous boom of a grandfather ' s clock broke this terrifying silence, and tolled midnight. On the last stroke of twelve, the crystal ball turned from its colorless tinge to a soft rosy-colored hue. which, deepening into a brighter glow, illuminated the entire globe. I went over and gazed into its mystifying depths. What was happening? What were these pictures which moved before my eyes? Suddenly I realized that my freshman year at Weymouth High School was being unfolded before me. FRESHMAN YEAR Slowly the crystal changed from rose to yellow, revealing a beautiful iridescent glow. Music was heard, and I realized that I was looking at our Freshman-Senior Party, with timid freshmen huddled in corners, awed by the bold assurance of the seniors. As the minutes went by, some took courage to venture on the dance floor. Now games were being played, and a roar of laughter came from the mys- terious crystal as Richard Zeoli. the Senior Vice-President, was presented with a rattle. The crystal suddenly turned a deep black. A queer, hollow feeling came over me. Yet I could not turn my eyes away. A dim line of figures was seen. On the countenance of each person was a grim do-or-die expression. The line of figures proceeded down the hall, shivering at the prospect of the T. B. inoculation. Now they were returning, some laughing, some still grim. Some were running down the hall in spite of the teachers ' warnings, running, running — only now the scene had changed to the Legion Field and it was a group of girls who were running, prac- tising for their new sport, track. Others could be seen playing tennis and field hockev, two other games added to the sports for girls. The tennis ball gradually grew larger until it turned into a basket ball. A feeling of pride swept over me as I remembered that Weymouth High lost but two games in basket ball, one with Quincy and one with Plymouth for the South Shore Championship. The crystal turned pure white for a moment, and then a sound of clattering dishes could be heard coming from it. I beamed as I beheld the completion of the new Weymouth High Cafeteria, one of the best in Massachusetts. Teachers were hurrying to and fro. but strangely they were no longer in the cafeteria, but on the stage, enacting the teachers ' play, Ladies of the Jury . The stage seemed to fade away but then re-appeared more clearly with our first operetta, The Gypsy Rover , in action. The applause of the audience was thunderous, but now by some mystic change they were applauding the Senior Class Play, Enter Madame , with Ruth Stoddard and Richard Roach in the le ading parts. It was now June. The class filed out for the summer vacation. I watched on entranced as I saw my freshman year slip by. SOPHOMORE YEAR Once more I gazed into the rosy crystal with its changing hues. A faint blur of moving figures gradually became discernible. All was clear. There was a brightly lighted stage, filled with people dressed as Eskimos, in the annual operetta, Christina in Greenland . The scene grew dim in my globe and then suddenly another revealed itself. The same hall was crowded with laughing, chattering students. A hush came over the audience and as the lights went off, a moving pic- ture appeared on a screen set up on the stage. It was a talking picture made by Mr. and Mrs. Martin Johnson in Africa. This view dissolved into a greenish mist. The mist vanished and I then saw the interior of a schoolroom. There was a group of students listening to Miss Jefts. A new Spanish Club was beginning. That picture disappeared and now my eyes beheld the football field, but a very muddy field indeed. There was a game in progress, but it was difficult to tell the identity of the players, who were besmeared with mud. Somthing came toward me; it I 22 ]