Classical High School - Caduceus Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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The bus driver holds out his calloused hands, col- lecting green strips of paper called 'ctransfersf' The students file out, dropping books, and slipping on icy patches by the practice field, which not too long ago was a dusty, rubble-lilled lot. They struggle with the heavy doors and disappear. Inside the building no one is quite awake. Home- room 4 is open, and so is 6, but at others they wait. Small queues form. Books, along with lunches in crumpled brown paper bags, are laid on the floor. Some greetings, and a group of three or four talk in the corridor opposite the girls' locker room. Teachers, students . . . an ever-increasing parade. From the front they come, and the cold comes in with them. They come from the side, through the steel doors which never quite close, past a janitor who even now is bringing a towering barrel to the boys' cafeteria. At Classical, a bell always means something. A bell, and you salute the flag and listen to the home- room teacher read the daily bulletin. A bell, and you are quiet, a bell, and you go to your first period class, a bell, and you leave school. A bell and you eat. In the cafeteria laughter, talk, inconclusive arguments.

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Students debate the validity of daily tests, final exams, and proper dress. They discuss the similar- ities between Plato and Rousseau, the differences between adenosine-triphosphate and ribonucleic acid, the last disappointing football game, and the upcoming meetings of the Dramatics Club. All this you remember. Friend meets friend near the messengers, desk . . . behind, a poster advertising the next school dance, an announcement about the Cum Laude stu- dents, and a warning about the hazards of smoking. The mimeograph machine revolves monotonously and in the guidance office a telephone rings, you can hear it all the way down to Room 5R. Outside, the trucks are warming up, and a new machine comes to dig up a new road. The rooms are cold, but some students are fortunate enough to be seated near the radiator, an ancient grimy silver pipe that runs along the side of the room. The day ends. The students gather their books from their lockers, and trudge towards the new Shopper's Mall. They pass by the deserted stores, whose dusty glass windows reveal a view of nothing.