Charles W Baker High School - Lyre Yearbook (Baldwinsville, NY)

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JANITORS Left to right: Sidman, Austin, Orr, Hamm These are the janitors. They are the men with dust cloths and brooms. They are the feeders of the iron monster, known casually as a furnace, and they are the ones who run from room to room checking its temperature. One of them is the one who is given a tractor on cold, windy, wild morn- ings and told to go out and push a snowbank around. They labor alj summer mowing lawns, washing windows, polishing desks and then must listen to such inane mutterings as “Wish I had a job like yours with nothing to do all summer without inflicting any injury whatever on the wishful thinker. But, crowning catastrophe of all, after spending all day sweeping the corridors, they must stand by, while a flock of innocent children burst out into the halls at the ringing of a bell and, with nothing for protection but a broom, watch them gaily track their little pile of refuse from the lab” to the library. For their suffering there is just one compensation. Take just one look at these four beaming specimens of humanity and you’ll see what I mean when I say they have a much better time here than even we do.

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CLASS POEM © We've had a good time, and we’ve had lots of fun. Plays and poems — some homework done. Writing the preamble twenty-five times The wonderful way the closing bell chimes. The two vaudeville shows and sports by the score. By the score we weren’t as good as before, But we had fun and cheered just as loud. For a point was a thing of which to be proud. Prize speaking — we practiced in study hall. While Prof dashed around whispering sh-h! to us all. History and English — conjugations and adverbs. The battle of Hastings, the reign of the Hapsburgs History debates — try in’ to get the last word. Movies in assembly, “Life of a Bird, Mid year tests and those final exams, Acting, the last week, like little lambs. And lipstick and dates, a job and a car, (From the looks of those cars some won’t go very far!) It’s surprising, though how fast they can go. When you’re late for a game ’cause the clock was slow. Now we’ve come to the end of this little rhyme, With the words that began it — a wonderful time, And we’re hoping to have a thousand more As we say goodbye and close the door. — Patricia Bloodgood ■