Central High School - Colt Yearbook (Paterson, NJ)

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THE SPECTATOR and then, behold, you yourself are a Sophomore! That you started a month behind time, you remember, because of the paralysis epidemic. tUnconsciously, perhaps, in the course of your reflections, you drop into the past tense. Impressions no longer seem as vivid as when you were merely a Freshman.J You enjoyed that -- extra month. but still you were glad to go back to your friends and to discover who your new teachers were. The term was short and busy, but seemingly uneventful. One event, however, stands out clearly. You went to have your schedule changed. That is, you tried to have it changed. You didn't quite know where to find the schedule-room, and forgot to ask before leaving the section. Therefore, you pro- ceeded to the office, a.nd thence were directed to the third floor. Entering that room, you of course stumbled over that treacherous little step and just escaped falling headlong. You blushed. When your confusion had cleared away, you saw Mr. Frazee chatting with his helpers, took heart, and began to state your request. He, however, interrupted the flow of elo- quence of your plea, to inquire for your program-card. It seems that you had for- gotten to bring it. Well, get out of here until you do get it, and don't come back until you do! You got out, and got your card, too, but you did not go back. Your request, after all, was not important, -not important enough, at any rate, to risk another trial. The scene changes to the fourth of April. Will you ever forget that day? Before this assembly meets again, the United States will have declared war on Germany! The war, to be sure, had not, up to this time, seemed very close at hand, though you knew it must come, nor did it yet seem,-well, seem wholly personal. There was something vague about it. Of course. you were ready to back up Uncle Sam, and to do your bit, but you didn't know just how. Soon, however, appeals for aid began to pour in, and how gladly you answered then1! Your country began to mean something real, and big, and vital. It means something, now, when you rose. and saluted the flag. And then, around came June again, and your high-school career was half pver. The work begun this term was carried on during your Junior- year: Now, too, you began to miss brother, relatives, friends, who had gone to iight for Uncle Sam. Your teachers, too, were answering the call to arms. Meanwhile, all of you were working. There were drives for War Savings Stamps, and for Liberty Bonds. The boys were working to fulllll their Y. M. C. A. pledges, and the girls were knitting. Do you remember how you used to ply your needles under the desk, during class, and then, growing bolder, you worked openly? And how many things besides knitting that big bag carried? The year, too, was remarkable for another thing,--the introduction of Phy- sical Training. With how much pleasure did you not look forward to those periods, and with what scorn did you not regard the few pessimists who were entirely un- enthusiastic over the prospect! How many lessons did it take to disilluslon you? Well, now that you are through with it all, and can look down from the lofty emi- nence of Seniordom, it was, certainly, a splendid thing,-particularly if you lived in the country, and found it necessary to run three blocksto the car each morning. year marked You had be- And then, your Junior the beginning of things. gun to know everyone, and people had be- gun to know you. Can you ever forget the proud and exultant feeling in your heart the day that a small girl, a total stranger to you, addressed you by name? ln your thirty-two term, too, you appeared be- fore the assembly in the capacity of speaker for the hrst time. That was a. truly terrible experience. Your knees trembled, you forgot your lines, you were

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V, ' ls, l- , ,WEP :,f V n ,V my-,il P' -2 Vfif sag, A ----WA HTFIEL A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour! --Byron. Krtrnaprrtinn ELL, lt's commencement night, - the long-awaited, long-anticipated commencement night. You are L ' seated on the platform, trying anxiously to pick out familiar faces from the sea before you, hoping fervently that your tie is straight and that, in spite of the heat, your collar is not wilting, or that your hair is keeping its curl, and your nose is not in need of powder, as the case may be. The speaker is addressing the class,--your class,-you, but your thoughts are far away. The faces in front of you become dim. They are no longer those of relatives, friends, strangers. You sit no longer on the platform, the beheld of all beholders, a Senior, for it is the opening day of school ln September, nineteen-fifteen, and you are one of Eve hundred Freshmen, awe- strlcken, bewildered Freshmen, anxiously awaiting your fate. Sorted out according to courses, with about thirty fellow- sufferers, you are dispatched to some mys- terious place, a section-room. You have, also, it appears, a section-teacher. At least, there is one comfort. There is a place where you belong. You proceed thither, and, after a, few words of instruc- tion and advice from teacher I you have not, as yet, learned her namej, you are dismissed for the day. How strange lt seems to remain in school until flve o'clock! You remember, these are the days when the A school enters at eight- ilfteen, and is through at one, while the B session begins at one and is dismissed K let out is a more exact expression! at tive. Then, full of news, you hurry home to mother. Can you ever forget those nrst few months in High School? The readjust- ment of ideas, the formation of new ac- quaintances, the flrst test, the tlrst report? Then, no sooner are you accustomed to your schedule, than there comes. in December, a change in sessions. You are told to report at ten-fifteen, and that your day will now end at four. Matters, how- ever, easlly straighten themselves, and things again move smoothly. At examina- tion-time, to be sure, there are a few weeks of intense excitement, but even the dred exams are not so black as kindly Sophomores have painted them. The time passed quickly until June, and vacation, 3

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THE SPECTATOR unable to recall which paragraph came next. Your voice sounded thin and far away. Finally you finished and in some way got back to your seat, convinced that the speech or recitation had been a miser- able failure. Kind friends, however, assured you otherwise, and the self- contldence proper to a Senior-to-be, soon returned. One more year! For only ten more months, forty more weeks, would you be able to call yourself a student of the Paterson High School. Three weeks of this time, too, were taken up by the influ- enza epldemic, that awful scourge which visited so many of our homes. All thoughts of this, however, soon were thrown aside. Peace was declared! Surely that day, of all others in your high-school career, can never be forgotten. There ls so little one can say about it,- and the time ls growing short. Already the speaker shows evidences of closing his address, and you are anxious to finish your retrospectlon. In February, nineteen-nineteen, the class met, organized, and elected officers. As had been done by each preceding clas , the students voted to adopt a ring which should serve as the standard emblem of them, however, the the school. Unlike ring was selected by a committee working ln conjunction with and was officially the Student Council, adopted. On April thlrtleth, a social was held at the Junior Order Hall. Here, for the flrst time, the class assembled for a glorious good time, and all expectations were fulfilled. Two months left! How quickly they have passed! Here you are, seated midst your companions for the last time, waiting for that diploma which shall certify that you have completed a prescribed course of study in the Paterson High School. Yes, you have taken and passed certain sub- jects, done well in some, not so well in others: you wish you had done better in all. How many things you would do differently if you had an opportunity, and yet,-would you? All the little, petty misfortunes, trials, dislikes, scrapes, have faded away, and only pleasant memories of friendships with teacher and pupil alike, of good times, of small triumphs, and, after all, the sense of a task well done, remain. It is your class that is dis- banding, your school that you are leaving. Is that a lump in your throat? If it is, you don't care, but you do hope it doesn't show. Now the speaker has finished, and in a few minutes more, you have received your diploma., and, behold, you are an Alumnus, ready to go forth into the world, to tlght your own battles, and, aided by those greater lessons learned ln Paterson High School, to overcome every obstacle which the future may interpose, to win your way to SUCCESS, and, flrst and fore- most, now and forever, wherever you may be, and whatever may befall you, to be a credit, every one, to dear old Paterson. CLARA M. ELSAESSER, '19. Qllass Brnphrrg Each one of us has some ambition That we plan to follow through life, But all's not a path of roses And your future may change in the strife. The brightest may plan for big things And fail 'ere he gets very old, And the quiet, unassuming chap Have his history carved in gold. .,...... . -.,..... ' ' '-' 5 I, who have undertaken The future to overtake, May sometimes err in my prophecy- All men are apt to mistake. Tonight, as I sit a-thinking, Trying each future to probe, The spirits all have forsaken me- I'll resort to the crystal globe.