Bryant Junior High School - Junior Life Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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THE JUNIOR LIFE 7 Competition The love of competition is in every one's blood. Just the desire to come out ahead of someone else in anything is natural to us. Take, for instance, our last paper sale. It followed very soon after the previous one but the amount of paper collected was remarkable. Why? Because the boys stood opposite the girls. We always have had competition in our paper sales but these results were unexpected. I was on the loser’s side and have been shamed enough already, but I must give credit where credit is due. The 9B boys deserve comment as they were the only boys to surpass the girls. Was it that they did so well or that the girls did not do as well as they might have. In each of the other grades the girls were the hard workers. There is something more than muscle needed to win in a contest like this. The girls accepted the challenge and showed what team work and hard work can do. Who would enjoy running a race alone? Why, there wouldn’t be anything to it. Competition always makes one work harder. The greater the challenge the greater the effort. The greater the effort, the greater the results. How are we meeting the challenge of Life every day? Are we responding with the best that is in us or arc we willing to acknowledge defeat before we start? Let us meet this challenge with the spirit that we accept any other, be it paper sale, athletic contests, or field day marching. • • The Lunch Period of a Boy at Bryant B—gins eating lunch on the way to the lunch room, and by the time he has found a comfortable scat he has finished. R—gues with the student officer; Y— s cracks a bit with A—girl that comes along. N—ters the girls’ gym where he is soon pushed out. T—zcz a group of 7B s. The bell rings and he rushes to his room for Home Activity period. • • Do You Know Your Definitions? Discreet ........In answering Odyssey tests Winged ..........To the lunch room Naiads ..........The girl splashers Cimmerian Land Study period Sacrifice........Two cents for banking Lotus Flower ...Fruit gum Wimple........... What can that he now-adays? Heedful .........After several warnings or receiving a “Fail” slip Prophecy ........That you'll receive all A’s on your report card

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6 THE JUNIOR LIFE whoops and scalps with the Red Man, but many Indians never heard or uttered a war-whoop and doubtless would not know what it meant while thousands of Indians never took a scalp and never had a desire to do so. It has also been proved that he is not so lazy as he is represented in the popular conception. The old idea of the uncivilized red man is rapidly disappearing and in its place stands a civilized Indian ready and eager to learn the ways of the White Man. • As the Junior Life staff has carried throughout this book the theme of the Indian, let us review some of the outstanding qualities of the American Indian. An Indian is loyal. If we were all as loyal as our red brother, in my opinion our loyalty would be an asset to be regarded with honor. An Indian is self-reliant. If he were sent on an errand whether favorable or not, the Indian would fulfill it or die in the attempt. If all of us had this quality equal to that of the Indian, I’m sure we should be more successful regardless of what we might undertake. An Indian practices self-denial. He would sacrifice comforts and even suffer in an effort to help or comfort one who had helped him in any way. We are proud to own that the founders of the land in which we live were outstanding in loyalty, self-denial, and self-reliance. The Indian had many other good qualities, but these are among the most common. • Obedience to Law Is Liberty Hardly a person attending Bryant can be ignorant of this quotation. Between the two office doors on the first floor near the main entrance these words rest. Every citizen has the right of protection and justice if he lives up to the laws. Is this not liberty? The laws are not to make things hard for us but just the opposite. Take the traffic rules for example. If we do not obey them the result is often serious injury to ourselves or to others. How many times right here in our own corridors disobedience of this law causes delay, shoving, pushing, bumping, and sometimes harm to someone. There is commotion and usually loss of time, with every possibility of having to retrace our steps and make the complete trip in the right direction anyway. If we arc instructed to be quiet in the halls and we do not obey, it sometimes means the remaining in school after regular dismissal time, whereas if we all do obey, it sometimes means early dismissal. In fact, wherever there is law obeyed by all, it means liberty and freedom for all.

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» T HE JllNI O H LIFE Grandmother’s Story m Father left early on a Friday morning for Emmctsburg to sell our grain and make our week-end purchases. My mother and I were left alone with my small brother. The bread was baking to a crisp, and I was churning the butter for my mother, who was not very strong. We had never been taught fear and when a heavy pounding was heard on the kitchen door, I ran immediately to answer it. Imagine my surprise when upon opening the door a huge dark figure loomed in the doorway. As he tried to push the door, the light struck his face and to my horror, it was an Indian. I had heard many times creepy stories about Indians from the neighboring farmers, but I had never seen one and never really expected to. It was too late to think of that now. My strength suddenly left me as I realized the situation. I was powerless to shut the door. The Indian grunted and motioned. I could not interpret this until the odor of the baked bread reached me. Then I understood. He wasn’t begging, but demanding the bread. I walked weakly to the stove and drew out three loaves, wrapped them in paper, and shakily tied them with cord. I was trying to take my time, hoping someone would come. The Indian’s squinting eyes followed every move I made. Finally 1 was compelled to hand the box to him. He grunted and disappeared from the doorway. During this time my mother had guarded my brother’s bed. She picked up a blanket and sweater. We crept silently out the front door and down the road to the nearest neighbor. In the morning a farm-hand ux k us home. When we reached the gate, we found the ground covered with white feathers of our prize chickens. The Indians had killed and stolen them. My courage was coming back; the farm boy and 1 searched the grounds. We had decided that the Indians had left when a string of smoke curling lazily above the trees caught my eye. We crept behind bushes and trees until we came to the camp. There were two Indians paddling a canoe near shore. Not twenty feet away was a grey-haired Indian carving what proved to be spears. It was plain that he was teaching the young boy beside him the art. The women were cooking our chickens