Clemmons High School - Clemmemories Yearbook (Clemmons, NC)

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CLASSES

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CLASS POEM School days, school days, Good old golden rule days. This chant will long be remembered By the class of ”49; Our hearts will backward be turning To our dear, injnjorta 1 shrine. In the elementary wing we”11 pause And think what brats we ' ve been, And we”ll wonder why we were so loved By our dear teachers then. We ' ll wonder if the kids still play The very same games we did; We’ll wonder if they have yet found The places where we hid. Our hearts will return to the dirt pile, The swings, the bars, and all; And we ' ll wonder why we ' re still healthy After that dreadful fall. Then back our hearts will turn as we Remember our faltering reading; And we know now, as we didn ' t know then. The patience our teacher was needing. We didn ' t want to grow up, of course. But we knew it just had to be done. Since everyone seemed to think we should. We decided to mean while have fun. We abandoned, our pigtails, and lengthened our shirts, Did our hair up in shining curls — Till our dear little boy friends. Now wearing long pants, Started thinking of us girls. Then came that crucial moment. And it comes in all students’ careers, When we were high school freshmen— We were really up into years. Our remembering hearts return as we Hear the naive freshmen) tell Of the half-grown up parties they have— Oh, our own were simply swell! Basketball, football, and baseball- They soon began taking up time. Some of us even were scholars. Which suited our parents just fine. Languages, science, algebra, And essay-writing, too- How do our teachers all think we can Find time for all we do? After all, we ' re high school freshmem; We ' re dating quiet steadily now. A date and homework together— I just can not figure out how. And next we were tenth-graders. We were really on the ball— But we still admired seniors When we passed by them in the hall- Then back we’ll turn and pause As we stood in that dignified place— The Junior class, no less; We were really setting a pace; Our Uunior-Senior Prom, our play. Really quite an eventful year. It looks as if we might impress Some of the people who watch us here. And now, at last, we are seniors; We’re sad, yet joyful, all the time. As we lcok back, we all think that It ' s been a short and happy climb. We; re really quite youthful, ycu know; We have our future in store. But longingly OUI- hearts will turn back And we ' ll remember some more. I suppose it’s a typical story; It happens all the time. But for this class, it! s really special— THE GLASS OF ’49.

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SENIORS CLASS OFFICERS TREASURER—SARAH HOWARD