Berrien Springs High School - Canoe Yearbook (Berrien Springs, MI)

Page 24 text:

To Erma Davis—the ten cent diamond which Louise received from the class of 1919. To Dick Dean—a pair of long; trousers. To Carl Erlandson—the right to be the only Carl in High School. To Frances Housam—a patent on her giggle. To Koyden Ingleright—the privilege of entertaining- all High School girls. To Marguerite Kinney and Lorraine Sattler—Barret Slight’s composition on “How 1 grew tall.” To Marjorie Murphy—the right to fall off her chair whenever Miss Ireland’s cousin comes to visit. To Walter Murphy—the right to build all fires for basket ball girls next year. To Alvin Pfeifer—one-half of Lillian’s voice. To Ivan Smith—an air pump to replenish himself when his present supply of hot air gives out. To Myron Stover—the privilege of taking all the girls out riding in his new Ford. Last, but not least, we leave to the teachers the following: To Mr. Arink—the right to be Superintendant of B. S. H. S. the third year. To Miss Stap--one bucket of hard oil, one gallon cylinder oil, and one can of axel grease for use in the typewriting room. To Miss Ferguson—a cottage by the lake and a Hudson super six. To Miss Carter—a bright Caesar class to teach next year. To Miss Stewart—the right to study at Oberiin when she decides to leave here. To Miss Ireland—the sincerest regards of all the Senior girls. To Mr. Waldorff—a truck patch for his agriculture class. To Mr. Hankins, our faithful janitor,—a celluloid stovepoker for use in the furnace room. In the witness whereof we do solemnly swear this to be the last will and testament of the class of 1921. As we write, the time is the 15th night after the 14th day, with the barometer at 879 per cent humidity, the temperature is at 50 -50 between 100 degrees and 14 degrees centigrade traveling in the shade. MARVEL SCHRIVER MARGUERITE MOYER. Witnesses: A. Mike Kobe B. A. Penman A. Q. Kumber

Page 23 text:

SENIOR CLASS WILL We, the industrious class of 1921, being: of sound mind and poor memory, do in the presence of the undersigned witnesses, create, will and bequeath the following named property: To the Faculty and Superintendent, we leave our best regards and, ah— er—happy remembrances. To the Juniors, we leave our most heartfelt sympathy, for it is they who think a senior’s life is one continuous round of pleasure. To the Sophmores, we will a good time. To the Freshies, we bequeath the right to boss and care for the next year’s crop of “grass.” To the Eighth Grade, we give 540 gallons of red paint to camouflage their greenness next year. To Iva Armstrong, we leave the love of the Senior Class. To Pearl Billet—the right to be valedictorian. To Francis Boal—$.50 for a hair cut. To Lillian Burgoyne—another teacher. To Frank Dubert—a girl and a tear. To Arthur Kuen—Learon Skinner’s ability to act. To Marrs Neidlinger—one year’s supply of midnight oil. To Myron Sattler—5,478,000 sheets of music. To Francis Stover—Miss Ferguson’s electric curling iron. To Lorraine Shearer—the right to be star center on the Girl’s Basket Ball team next year. To Ruth Boal—4 jars of preserving cream to keep her complexion the same as it is now. To Thelma Dean—her pick of the high school boys. To Russell Eggert—a place on 1st basket ball team. To Margaret Feather—Marguerite Moyer’s temper, hoping she will not indulge in it too freely. To Marie Fleisher—Florence’s place on the debating team. To Violet Housam—privilege of being late for school every morning if she wishes. To Mary Kesterke—six inches of Pearl Billet’s dress. To Glenn Kinney—a girl. To Ralph Landen—the right to go to sleep in English class. To Laurence Lauer—our hopes that he can attend school next year. To Thelma Neidlinger—49 pairs of silk stockings in case Marrs should lose his and want to borrow hers. We appoint lone Raymer the school vamp. To Marie Parkerton—the June number of the Vogue. To Clara Penland—one dozen erasers to use in Bookkeeping. To Eldon Reed—popularity again next year. To Erma and Howard Rice—some chopsuey to go with Rice. To Gladys Stover—a wealthy husband.

Page 25 text:

It has always been the custom And it seems to be so yet, That in the entire high school The Senior is the pet. He’s in a sort of upper class Way far above the rest; And among the various pupils He’s thought to be the best. There seems to be no limit To the things that he can do; But still, he always manages In some way to get through. And if, perchance, he comes to class And says he can’t recite. The teacher thinks as well as he That’s perfectly all right. He whispers and he talks out loud. In exams he’s sure to cheat And as for throwing paper wads He simply can’t be beat. And when you’re sudden’ startled By an awful lot of noise. You think that’s not a Senior, But those awful Freshman boys. Just let a Junior try his luck And do just one small thing A Senior does, and then you’ll see How things begin to ring. Or let a Freshie or a Soph Stand gazing in the hall, Some teacher’ll sternly say to him, “This won’t be allowed at all.” And so it seems to go right on In just this sort of way. The Seniors always have the fun, The others have to pay. But don’t you get discouraged, folks. Your time is coming soon; And then you’ll have possession Of the whole assembly room. —By Ruth Ewalt 5 ODOO OOQ %9W ODCr OOOO 5