The Bush School - Tykoe Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

Page 86 text:

Eli W i ARTISTIC EXPANSION CHAPTER THREE ART The art students this year have great variety in their methods of working and in their mediums. The art shack, the lair of these enthusiasts, proudly displays everything from drawings to plaster casts, which represent the inspiration and toil of the school year. Under the supervision of Mr. LaGrille the older pupils were free to work in any medium -that they wished while the younger students worked out designs in ink and compositions in water color. The department was very fortunate to have been able to have an excellent model for its life class. This opportunity afforded the class experience in life drawing and painting. Before the year was over almost everyone had experimented in clay modeling. plaster casting, poster making, and oil-painting as well. Much information was gathered from conversation while the girls worked. The art exhibits in the halls came in for much dis- cussion from time to time with Mr. LaGrille having to explain the beauty and merit of modern art, particularly, since most students find it extremely confusing. All Q9 .... 4.-Sala?

Page 85 text:

ACCENT ON RYTHM 75 ORCHESTRA4Left to right: Pelly, Pratt, Bell, Donworth, Frink, Osborne. Sitting: Hinman. atmosphere and enjoyment to school functions as well as outside performances. The chorus has sung for the Christmas party, D. A. R. House gatherings, the U. S. O., Senior Play intermission, Fath- er's Night, Fine Arts Tea, as well as several special assemblies here at school. The orchestra also has performed with the chorus on several occasions. The student body is literally overflowing with capable pianists such as Helen Buschmann, Anne Macfarlane, Katie Clare Roys, ldalice Squire and Kay Parker. There are also the vocalists Geneva Spalding and Phyllis Rattray, Ola Bell, flutist, and the crop of violin players grows larger every year. All of these musicians lend their talents to student assemblies and other functions. Not to be forgotten are Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Jackson who have skillfully guided many pianists over the rough spots in their musical careers.

Page 87 text:

LITERARY IMPERIALISTS '77 CHAPTER FOUR LITERATURE BURMESE BACKGROUND Velvet footfalls, Soft upon the carpet. Soft as if you were still walking the mossy jungles of your ancestors. Not conquered, but condescending, Condescending to grace our home with your presence. Cool, unflinching eyes-jade green eyes- Eyes that might belong to a stalking goddess. Rippling fur, unconscious grace-v symphony of motion when you walk. Savage stealth, unfathomable mind, How far above or below our own? Man has never mastered you, nor ever willg You are your own possessor, You stateliest of creatures, The cat. -Babs Peyser-Junior SCREAM IN THE FOG The dense, heavy fog, typical of that time of the year, hung over the harbor and the water front, and the stillness of the night was broken only by an occasional fog horn from some small tug out on the harbor. Coming down the street, far in the distance, the steady, faint tapping of heels could be heard. Mr. Grady, the policeman on this beat for five years, stopped under a street light and lit a cigarette. At the sound of approach- ing footsteps, he looked up and saw his relief officer. Hi Grady. All well? . All is calm as a sleeping dog. Guess no one dares venture out in this awful soup. Well, I'll go get a cup of coffee now and then go home. Be careful, this is a nasty night. With these encouraging words the two men departed, one to the com- fort of a nice warm room, the other to his old monotonous routine of pa- trolling the docks. As each went out of view, a blood curdling scream rose from the direc- tion of the harbor. The sound of run- ning footsteps and a whistle were heard, then stillness settled again only to be broken by a moaning fog horn. Out of the darkness, a lone solitary figure slipped, cautiously looked around before he crossed the street, and then he seemed to fade into the darkness of some doorway. Presently he again appeared and went directly to a cheap rooming house a few blocks up. With his hand on the door knob, he turned towards the harbor and muttered to himself, Well, that's done. He'll never cause any more trouble again. He stealthily let himself into the rooming house, and climbed toward his third floor room. A few more steps and he'd be in the safety of his room, when- Good evening Mr. Stephens. Why. what's the matter? You look as if you had seen a ghost! Well, I see you don't have that darned old cat with you. Did you have trouble get- ting rid of it ? -Janis Kerr-Senior I WATCHED A PLANE I watched a plane When I was quite small A dare-devil, bright painted craft. The tricks it performed astonished the crowds, A fun-loving, carefree show-off it was- Entertainment it had for a name.