Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

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Canal Currents Bourne High School Girls — Phooey !! Qhe’S Stupid! Everyone knows she is. Didn’t she flunk English this term. ” Jean grumbled to Babs as they walked down the corridor in Lakeville High School. She never would have passed advanced math if she hadn’t flirted with the teacher, and then Mr. Tyler only gave her a C. She’s an awful flirt! She falls all over every man she sees. She makes me sickW Be careful, Jean. Here she comes now,’’ Babs warned. Hi, Babs. Hi ya, Jean,’’ greeted Susie. Hi, Susie,” returned Babs. Hello,” muttered Jean. Going to the dance tonight. Sue?” Babs inquired. Yes, Joe’s taking me,” she answered. Joe? I thought Jean, didn’t you say that ” No!” Jean snapped. I didn’t say anything of the kind!” But ” There was no need for Babs to continue. Jean’s sulky look answered for her.. Well, ’bye. Kids. See you at the dance tonight,” called Sue as she hur- ried down the corridor. I can’t stand that girl!” Jean began again. I see, I see,” Babs said low under her breath. Vivian Trench, ’46 Suspense I NTO the billowing mass of fog, plunged the Striper,” a small freighter. On board the men’s nerves were drawn as tight as a drum. They stood listening, and waiting for the horn of another ship. Their own horn was blowing loudly at regular intervals. The man in the crow’s-nest had his pow- erful glasses up to his eyes. All of a sudden, out of the dense fog, came the sound of engines. The man in the crow’s-nest shouted, Ship, dead ahead!” All hands on deck,” came the cry, and soon the lifeboats were ready to lower. The men jumped to their stations and the helmsman spun the wheel to get the ship out of the way. Captain Arthur Johnson climbed to his bridge post and peered ahead. All of a sudden, the air was filled with a terrific ex- plosion, made by the grinding impact. The ship was in a wild state of con- fusion. Explosion after explosion followed and the captain felt himself being hurled through the night into the cold, bleak waters. Then he woke with a start. Suddenly, he remembered he was only Arthur Johnson, a sixteen-year- old Junior at Hall High School. His brothers had thrown him into the bath- tub, after pulling him out of bed. Gordon Denison, ’47 Page Twenty -two

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Bourne High School Canal Currents journey over and back and complete the work, about two hours. I start over the Atlantic and wirhm two minutes I am in Germany. I cut the trees, pre- pare the lumber, build the homes and still have two minutes to make the journey home before my magic drink wears off. I start out over the Atlantic. My speed starts dying down. I become very panicky. I try to remain calm. I know it is of no use. Bang! Splash! I open my eyes. I am drenched! But, what am I sitting on? I am on the floor. I had fallen all too hard. I had fallen out of bed and had knocked the water off my night stand all over myself. Whewd Ruth Remick, ’47 Mistaken Identity A S I walked out of the office building and down 52nd Street, a cold damp fog was slowly creeping in from the sea and I could hear the persistent blaring of distant foghorns. As the light was rapidly fading, I tried in vain to signal a taxi and eventually gave it up as impossibl e. Dejectedly I turned once again in the direction of my apartment and also the fog, which was get- ting colder and thicker as the night wore on. After walking a block or so, I found it almost impossible to distinguish my hand before my face. As I stopped to light another cigarette, I noticed the dim outline of a man standing in the doorway on my left. Not desiring to lose my wallet, I quickened my step and with a hasty glance over my shoulder noticed that the man had taken up a position directly behind me. As I quickened my pace, he quickened his, and I was beginning to wonder who was going to win out in the end. It was about this time that I hit upon an idea. -I said to myself, who was I to run away from one man, and decided to wait for my would-be as- sailant in the next doorw’ay. Stepping into the doorvv ' ay I brushed against a shovel and I grasped it quickly, thinking it w ould bolster my courage. It did. I heard his footsteps slowing down as he approached the doorway and then, abruptly, they stopped. I took a firmer grip on the shovel, slowly rais- ing it above my head. I peered out from the doorw ay and could see nothing. I waited, peered out again, and there he was, standing directly in front of me. I raised the shovel higher above my head and was just about to bring it down when I noticed his police uniform. I dropped the shovel with a clatter as if it were a hot iron. The next tw ' O hours I spent at headquarters trying to explain. All be- cause of mistaken identity. George McGovern, ’46 Page P wenty -one

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Bourne High School Canal Currents I Just Don ' t Know I WAS told to write a story but I don’t know what to write about. I have been sit ting here actually racking my brain to think of something, but I guess it’s just no use. Maybe I’ll stay here all night; so I might just as well make myself comfortable. I just took off my shoes and have a bottle of coke here beside me. Nothing has come into my mind yet, but maybe I am straining it too much; so if you’ll excuse me. I’ll listen to the radio for a little while. Well, here I am again and still nothing has occurred to me. I might just as well quit. It could be that I’m just dumb or maybe I just don’t want to put my mind on it. Could be! I guess I’ll tell you about the , no, I don’t think you would be interested. How about a trip to the moon? No, that’s fantastic. I don’t know what to write about; so I’ll just go to bed. Good-night. Mary Dodd, ’47 Essay on Study Qtudiousness is a wonderful thing (if you like it.) Great men have often ' - said, quoted, and repeated that tomorrow’s world lies in the hands of to- day’s students. Seeing that so much furor and ferment has been raised on this subjea, I thought I would find out the different methods employed by earnest students in search of learning. In this research, I have studied several types and I will endeavor, to my utmost ability, to present to you the two most common ones. First of all, we will take up the one labeled Studentia Bactilla Book- wormia.” This specimen is the type that rushes home after school, buried under a pile of books with an occasional encyclopedia or perhaps one of Ein- stein’s works for a little light reading. This specimen usually wears glasses (from working too hard), and a vacant look comes into its eye when anyone speaks of fishing or football or such. It is the type which gets home as soon as possible after school. It studies for about three hours and then eats. Then it may rest a while. Before retiring it studies another hour or two and listens to a couple of quiz programs for relaxation. Then it retires. A common name on the campus for this specimen is The Greasy Grind.’’ The second type is the poor student who is afflicted with Sportsomania.” This poor creature is in abject terror always of flunking and being left out of srorts activities. He tries hard but is always being sidetracked. For instance, he will be doing his homework and someone will tune in on a night football game. Immediately his eyes brighten and he hurries to the radio. Forgotten is tomorrow’s history exam for he is in a world where he is kicking, passing, and good for a gain every time he runs. He is a Sammy Baugh, Red Grange, Jim Thorpe and Don Hutson all in one. He’ll flunk! After I. the happy medium, have continued my studies further, I shall submit another report on students. Francis Ojala, Ph. D., Litt. D., ’47 Page Twenty -three