Christopher Columbus High School - Anchor Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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THE COMPLETE CURRICULUM Or Lessons for seniors by I am far from being mathematic The subject is most problematic With angles and cones My head aches and moans For at figures I'm not acrobatic. In English I speak with a stammer And also I ain't good in grammar I feel just like mangling A participle that's dangling 'Cause participles just ain't got no glamor. In: order that my mind may fatten I study the language of Latin But this I confess I know less and less A zero in Latin I'm battin'. I can't learn a darn thing in French All I'm doing is warming a bench Teacher says See, see, see? I reply Oui, oui, oui! For my teacher is one lovely wench Physics come two of a kind But the Physics in high school you'll find Will tie you in knots The problems are lots Your teeth you'll Find you will grind. a teacher Chemistry's like H25 The smell can be one awful mess With test-tubes and burners We're s'posed to be learners To be future chemists I guess. They call me a student of Biology But I must offer an apology I Hnd no romance In insects or plants Perhaps I should study Zoology. I am a student of Art But I know that I'm not too smart When everyone's drawing My pencil I'm gnawing They're through when I'm ready to start Music, they say, soothes the soul But I prefer jam on a roll It's just as sweet - And it's something to eat And eating is my only goal. The subject that's perfect is Lunch I think it's the best of the bunch r It's always my mood For good drink and food A hundred I'll get is my hunch. I-I. L. MILLER 19

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MY OW LAST WILL As I sit here in my class cell waiting in ecstasy for the hour to dawn, the hour which will free me from these depressive toils of Columbus High and lead me to the unfettered life of the outside world, my conscience demands that I endeavor to ease the pain of the suffering humanity that inevitably will follow me. I therefore have written my last will and testament as follows: I-bequeath these stone walls, bricks, iron and inclusive horror chambers of Columbus High to the new crop of incoming freshmen. To all those who are able to endure the pandemonium, the odors, and the accompanying indigestion, I relinquish our cafeteria. With this bequest goes the chewing gum under the chairs, the elbows jabbing into your ribs, the mad scramble for chairs, the candy wrappers, spilt milk and pretzel bags littering the floor, and finally, the last two minutes you have left to eat the food it took thirty-eight minutes to buy! i To Mr. Goldsmith, our esteemed chemist, whose teachings are the cause of ,many of the indescribable odors and aromas that invade our building, I leave a bottle of Airwick with the hope that his future victims may trespass the halls without holding their noses. A , W To all the patient 'study hall teachers who try so faithfully to control us by repeatedly saying, Please be quiet! this is supposed to be a study hall,', I leave a pair of ear plugs so they too may enjoy that period as do the students, who do everything from nibbling on lunches to! throwing spit balls. I To the courageous Dawn Patrol classes, I hereby leave an order to the cafeteria that they be served hot black coffee to open their eyes before they start the daily marathon around the school block. To Doctor Loughran and all the teaching staff, I leave the memories of the extra fine behavior, the high scholastic standing, the unusual beauty, the outstanding athletic feats and the striking leadership as exemplified by the graduating class of Iune 1946. To the undersized, gullible, shy, unsophisticated freshmen, I leave all the great wisdom, physical prowess, wordliness and sophistication of the seniors. In witness whereof I have here unto subscribed and carved my name indelibly on this desk, this thirtieth day of Iune 1946. IANET SCHMIDT 18

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A SENIOR HAT SPEAKS I am a Senior Hat. For many months now I've been bouncing around on the head of a bright young senior of Christopher Columbus High School. This is the night of the prom and suddenly I'm not needed any more. The bright young head went bare this evening and I have been left at home on the dresser by myself. I can see my own comforting reliection in the mirror. I'm all blue with a silver stripe around me and a silver pompom is my crown. Really though, I'm just a cart full of memories. I See that G.O. button--yes, that's right-the blue one with Spring Term 1943 and the silver ship on it. No, it's not merely a circle of painted metal to the bright young senior. It is a symbol of her first love. It was an exchange for an Arista button and she wore it pinned on her sweater every day, next to her heart. Soon however, it took its place, as I will now, in a drawer with other outgrown things. But she'll always remember that it stood for something special and lovely. And the blue and silver feather perched cockily on my top. It's a remem- brance of the library where she found it. It had been pressed in a dictionary on the page near the definition of adolescence, She had saved it until her last term of school, knowing how well it would look, waving triumphantly over the brim of her senior hat. There's the new original Senior Button looking at itself sideways in the mirror so that its vanity won't be noticed. Its face is painted with caricatures of seniors with their noses in the airg it was once worn proudly, eagerly by those it represented. I myself, am one of the most important souvenirs of high school days. I was decorated with loving care and made my senior conspicuous in crowds. People laughed at me but my beauty was protected and defended. I belong to a senior-Oh, the door is opening. My bright young senior is home from the prom. She's entered the room now, only she isn't wearing the clothes I'm accustomed to. I'm afraid I wouldn't look well with these new ones. She's putting me on her bright young head and-and she seems to agree with me. I'm out of place now. She, opens a drawer and-yes, she's putting me in it-Goodbye-Goodbye-. BARBAKA I. Funsr 20