Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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2۶ usa س١‎ = eli ہے‎ IDEALS By ADELE A. DE MOTTE With an impatient exclamation Katherine Duncan rose to answer the telephone. She was in the middle of a very exciting novel and things were going badly with the blonde, blue-eyed heroine. She recognized the voice of her inseparable friend and partner of joys and sorrows, Edith Blake. “Katherine, Katherine, I've found my ideal. I'm coming right over to tell you about it.” And the click of the receiver cut off her excited tones. All thoughts of the unhappy, misguided heroine had vanished from Katherine's curly head. So Edith had found her ideal. For months past Katherine and Edith had held much conversation as to what made up the ideal man, but high school and family life are not conducive to the finding of these same ideals. Edith soon arrived. She was very flushed and breathless and her hat was on backwards. “Oh, Katherine,” she gasped, “he's absolutely wonderful. He's a perfect dream.” “But, who is he, where did you meet him? Tell me all about it.” “Why, Katherine, you've met him. At least, you've seen him. Can't you guess who it is?” “Oh, my, but you're stupid. It's the new history teacher.” “What! “The history teacher? Why, he's “Hasn't he blue eyes and black hair?” “Yes,” admitted Katherine. “Isn't he tall and dignified?” To this question also Katherine was forced to say yes. 6 “Of course,” went on Edith, “I know he wears tortoise-shell glasses, but really they only add to his distinction.” “But he's old,” burst out Katherine, “and he's a teacher. How can you, Edith Blake?” “Well, I don't care what you say. I think he's just grand. I like older men. Young fellows are so silly. And I just know I am going to do won- derful work this term because he inspires me so.” But the entrance of Katherine's brother Jim put an end to the conversation. Jim was at the tender age of nineteen. He liked the girls, and as he was a good looking football hero, the girls liked him. “Hello, girls. Hope I didn't interrupt you. Sup- pose you are discussing what you are going to wear at the June dance. Edith, my child, how would you like me as an escort on the big night?” “Why, Jimmy,” broke in his sister, “that's a who le month off.” “Oh, 1 know that,” Jim replied loftily. “Just thought I'd get my application in early. “What do you say, Edith?” But Edith was up in the clouds. Of course, she reasoned, Jim was good looking and awfully nice, and it would be grand to appear at the dance with him. But she felt lifted far above such a frivolous pastime as dancing. She wondered if HE danced. So all she said was, ““Oh, Jim, it's too soon, yet. I'm not sure that I'm going.” “Well,” said Jim, as he started upstairs to his own quarters, “just keep it in mind.” (Continued on page 41)

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A, W. 0. L. By VioLa HAMMERSCHLAG Springtime. Balmy air—blue skies. It was one of those days when all nature seems calling. (We are giving this lengthy description in partial defense of the two youthful characters in the story.) Betty's steps lagged as she walked along the cor- ridor. She had managed to endure it for three periods—to sit in class and study, when, with every fibre of her being, she longed to be out in the open air. Betty sighed—how she hated, today of all days, to go to that fourth period Spanish class! Dolefully she began the four flights climb to the upper regions of the building. On the second flight she was joined by Bert. (If this were an allegory instead of a didactic tale we would label him Temptation.) “Hello, Bet,” said Bert. Ba- t “Gosh, I hate like the dickens to go to class.” “Me, too,” assented Betty with more eloquence than grammar. “Let's get a couple of lungfuls of air before we go up, anyway,” Bert suggested. The two stopped at the landing and wistfully peered out of the barred window, which now seemed to take on a new significance. The bell rang out upon the silence. “Holy Mack- erel!” said Bert, “there's the bell.” Then after a moment he added philosophically, “Well, we couldn't go now if we wanted to.” “No,” said Betty, resignedly, “I don't suppose we could.” There was a moment's silence. “I tell you what,” Bert suggested, “let's go to the “Dolly Jefferson’ for a soda.” Betty thrilled. She adored the “Dolly Jefferson” 一 此 was so expensive. “Well”—she faltered, but Bert was already descending the stairway. “Meet you here in two minutes,” he called. But of course it was five minutes before an excited Betty, hatted, coated and powdered, joine d him. It seemed to Betty that two thousand eyes peering from two hundred windows were watching her exit from the halls of learning. Betty felt deliciously wicked. She had deviated from the straight and narrow path. She was a CUT- TER! Unconsciously she pulled her tam further over her face and plunged her hands deeper into long- suffering pockets—she was a desperate character! Awful thought — suppose some watchful eye had really seen her go! Betty glanced admiringly at Bert. That young man was walking nonchalantly along, apparently untroubled by any qualms of con- science as if he were not, at this very moment, due in Junior Spanish. Even at the “Dolly Jefferson,” as she sipped the refreshing soda, Betty cast several wary glances over her shoulder, lest a member of those two vastly im- portant forces, the Family or the Faculty, should appear. An hour later the two delinquents again came in sight of school. Betty was glad to see that the build- ing still appeared the same. Evidently she hadn't been missed and no warrants had as yet been issued for her arrest. She began to feel somewhat relieved and intensely important. She had joined the vast army of the erring and up to now she had “gotten away with it.” No one seemed shocked at her entrance in the lunchroom. Betty began entirely to forget her esca- pade. As for the slip that Mr. Oaura, the Spanish teacher, would require on the morrow— why worry twenty-four hours ahead of time? So much might happen in one day. Mr. Oaura might be absent— Betty remembered that he had a slight cold—and they might even have movies the fourth—all events which would defer the evil hour of reckoning. But—when Betty reported to her home room at the end of the noon period she was presented with an official looking document with which most of us, except the hyper-virtuous, are familiar, in the form of a slip ordering her to appear at Mr. Sanford's office at 1:20. The letters danced in myriads be- fore her eyes. It had come—the summons! So they knew all! With palpitating heart and faltering footsteps, Betty wended her way to the dread office of Mr. Sanford. That gentleman leveled his usual austere gaze upon the culprit. Betty shifted from one foot to the other. It flashed across her mind that “An honest confession is good for the soul.” Better to begin immediately—perhaps. she might appeal to this man’s sense of humor. Perchance he, too, had felt the call of Spring. “一 it was the first time, Mr. Sanford,” she be- gan. “And—well”—Mr, Sanford glanced at Betty piercingly. “And—well—the weather is so beautiful, I just couldn't resist 一 it wasn't so hard, Betty reflected, after you got started. “Hm”—murmured Mr. Sanford. “It was just for one period and”— (Continued on page 46)