Daycroft School - Milestone Yearbook (Greenwich, CT)

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A Senior's Day The senior day at Daycroft begins at 6:30 A. M. with windows slamming in the adjoining dormitory. Since it is wartime, it is very dark and you cannot see. One by one the boys file out of the dorm up to breakfast. After a rousing breakfast we go to assembly where it is announced that there are some sleds outside and that it will cost the owners five cents to retrieve them. Then you are told not to be late to classes, or you will have to stand on your chair during English class. Next come the classes. The first class is English, a good three minutes of which are taken up in compounding the day's equipment from the arsenal in the back of the room. Why don't you get your books before assembly? Now go, for my aim with this chalk is very good! The room, which has been filled with people suddenly clears, leaving the victims of senior English at the mercy of the professor. lack, open the window! says the professor. The window is opened, and for about two minutes class proceeds on schedule. Then someone says, Does the window have to be open so wide? So the window goes down again. Then someone else says, lt's too hot. The window goes up again, this time not as far. And so it goes from hot to poetry, and from The Skylark to St. Agnes' Eve, ah bitter chill it was. In spite of its ups and downs the English class goes on, with no casualties, until the bell rings. Out of the six in the English class, four file slowly into the next class: History. The first question in this thriving class is When did the Civil War begin? -Silence. All right, we will put it differently: When was Lincoln first elected? 'Silence. All right, we will put it this way: When was Fort Sumter bombarded? - Silence is golden except in History class. You have not read your material, says the professorp I would hate to see you people in an exam. And so we go with questions fabout events which l cannot rememberl until the bell wakens us. Out of the four in History class, two dash down to the Math. room alias the Laboratory. Here we are greeted by the beaming face of the professor and the hum of the fan. Good evening, says the teacher, pull up a chair. So we pull up chairs and industriously start to work. After a little while our attention is attracted to a medium-sized box in one corner of the room, over the edge of which a small brown head looks placidly. Down, Stoopl says the professor firmly to the little dog whose curiosity has become greater than his common sense. Stoop, DCDWNV' says the professor in a much firmer tone of voice. The head disappears, but there is considerable commotion in the box. There are small whining sounds which, when they take no effect, change to growls and much scratching and uncalled-for moving about. At this point the professor goes over to the box and does some severe talking, after which no more noise issues from that direction. But noise does issue 18

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Besides this Dan is teaching Arithmetic, Algebra and the Multiplication Table at M.l.T. and he has also discovered the 93rd Chemical element which he has named Daycrottium. 'Oh yes, l almost forgot to tell you, Dan is the great Einstein's left hand man. Danny goes around and picks up the scratch paper which Einstein throws away. lack Palacios has done awfully well since he graduated from Daycrott. He was graduated with honors from Dale Carnegie's School of Salesmanship. Ever since then he has been selling refrigerators to the Eskimos at the North Pole and hot water heaters to the Ethiopians in Africa for the Sears Roebuck Co. lust between you and me, lack has done so well in his high pressure salesmanship that he has sold the Brooklyn Bridge to Hoot Mon MacGregor and he is working on a little deal to sell the Lincoln Tunnel back to Mayor LaGuardia. By night Iohn Albee, our rhythm master, beats the drum in his own orches- tra, the Down Brats, at the Cotton Club. By day, he grades papers in a nursery school. This lite is slowly impressing upon the public his versatality. Because of -his rhythmic ability, Iohn is being considered for Bill Robinsons part in a 'Broadway revival of the Hot Mikado. And so we leave the Chattanooga Chu Chu pulling out. Iohn Albee 17

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from another direction, in the form of a ringing sound, or the bell. We walk out with the words, You know your assignment, and go to recess. After recess, what there is of it, comes study hall, which is sometimes used as a time in which to study. More often it is used as a time in which to communicate with your neighbor or to throw spitballs at Iohnny across the room tnot stated in the Daycroft Manuali. After two of these interesting classes, the Chemistry class assembles. Before the students have time to discuss how hard the homework was, they hear a loud and clear call which cannot be denied: Take out a nice fresh, clean, glossy, shiny piece of paper: first question: 'What color is red phosphorus?' There is much scrambling, and paper, no matter if it is shiny or glossy or heaven knows what, is carefully ripped out of a book and made ready. Professor: Question two- First Student: Wait a minute, please, sir. Professor: Question three- Second Student: Slow down, please, sir! Professor: We will now correct the papers. The answers are as follows: Number one - red. By this time everyone is thoroughly mixed up, and the professor has compassion on the multitude. He peacefully glares at the class, while it finishes the questions. The answers are as follows: says the professor in a more subdued tone of voice. So it goes until lunch time when all people rush slowly to the cafeteria. After lunch there is the general confusionp then there is Student Council meeting in which the school is praised and everything is found to be all right. Then Chemistry Lab. We have an unusually potent experiment today: that of Hydrogen Sulfide. Everyone goes in with the determination to keep the ill-smelling gas in submission by making an offensive on leaky connec- tions and open generators. All goes quite well for a while, and it seems that the spirits of hydrogen sulfide will not get the better of the lab. session. Then, near the end of the hour, someone leaves the generator open, and the horrible odor of rotten eggs penetrates all corners of the room. The decks are cleared for action, and an all-out defensive is immediately in order. Quick, Henry, the Windows! Turn up the fan! someone shouts. He need not have said it, for everyone is rushing for the Windows. They are open in a jiffy, and the cold winter air blows into the room. At this move, everyone clears out of the lab. and the session is adjourned. After supper we trudge wearily down to the boys' dorm for three hours of solitary CPD confinement. 19