Eastern High School - Punch and Judy Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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The Easterner mother? Nay, rather should we sa “What is school without a Junior?” The Junior, who is the personification of wis- dom, intelligence, and brilliance, lives on words like velocipedestrianisticality, We must also remember that many of our foremost citizens were Juniors at college. Theodore Roosevelt was a Junior at Har- vard. President Taft was a Junior at Yale, and Daniel Webster was a Junior at Dartmouth. Why can a Junior be compared to the third principal part of a verb? Because he is perfect. But such a discussion is futile. Everyone ac- knowledges the intellectual and physical 19 Superiority of the Juniors. The Fresh- men are infants, Sophomore means wise fool, and Seniors are but has-beens, so only the Juniors remain to comfort the faculty. The following well known poem illustrates: “Lives of Juniors all remind us That they bunco who they may, And departing, leave behind them All they do not take away. Let us, then, be up and doing, i Every one we find to do; Still declaring, always swearing, Juniors are the chosen few.” F. Strrtine WItson. The Pride of the Seniors There comes a time in the life of man when he can defend himself by giving others his opinion of himself. We are taking this opportunity for so doing, hop- ing its contents will be advantageously used by the undergraduates in their re- maining years at school. Of all graduating classes of Eastern, I can rightfully say that the class of 1910 is without an equal and always will be. It has attained such a degree of excel- lence in all its pursuits, that learned men have taken it as an example in disciplin- ing the younger generation. Its superior- ity over the other classes is undoubted, and, indeed, many of the wiser under- graduates have expressed hopes to be able to fill the vacancy as competently as we have filled that of the former class. Alas, their hopes are in vain, for it takes men of courage and mental ability to up- hold the school as we have done, and in whom can they boast of such genii as Manning, Truitt or Kuhnel. The lower classes are so full of Smiths that their fates are sealed, for whoever heard of a bright Smith. The only one the graduat- ing class ever had was so far behind his class, that instead of bringing dis- grace to it he politely left school, and also many broken hearts. Why, boys, there’s courage for you. Who in your classes would have done it? No one. You all are so slow that before taking your reports home you ask a Senior for the way to make a fair report an excel- lent one. Why, the Junior boys are so slow that the girls took it upon them- selves to give a dance in that class name, and, unlike their former dance, they made seventeen cents. Gravy is the fast- est fellow in your class, but that’s only because he’s on the track team, trying to get rid of his freckles. If that isn’t school spirit—going on the track team to get rid of his freckles! Well, Jim, you’re all right, but, as for the rest of the un- dergraduates, it would take a microscope to find any school spirit in them. Their motto must be, “What’s the use of pay- ing when you can get in free?’ Need- less to say, they have lived up to it, and if their pas would have had to pay a fine every time one of the bunch climbed over the fence at the ball games, many fami- lies would now be leading the simple life, and sending their children to school on charity. I will confess that the lower class boys are more captivating with the girls than the Seniors, but it is beneath their dig- nity to attain that honor, in the manner by which the others have attained it. Maybe it’s because everybody's mother hasn't such beautiful shoes as Payne wore, that others don’t wear them, but

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The Easterner 18 to come to scool, we willingly pee them with any liandy chastiser, be 1 brick, umbrella, or merely ace if the kk belongs to someone else. ee ie Freshman. The Freshman, having just passed the early stage of childhood, is a pitiful embodiment of awkward inexperience. When addressed he starts, and having no excuse for liv- ing, looks as if he had been caught steal- ing sheep. The Freshman is at his best when either asleep or dead. Long live Morpheus! It has lately been rumored that the school board, seeing the need of nursemaids for the Freshman classes in the Washington High Schools, have taken steps to provide for the same. But I will pass over such a painful subject with the appropriate quotation: “Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The Eastern Fresh is peculiar, Which the same I have tried to ex- plain.” Next comes the Sophomore, gruesome thought. The efforts of the most cele- brated scientists have, as yet, been un- successful in discovering a remedy for the Sophomore disease, technically known as “Magnum Caput.” The aver- age Soph is a bone-headed individual whose chief ambition is “G” in English, and offensive ejaculations in foreign languages. He talks Latin in a way that would have made Cicero leave home. Having acquired a green necktie and a copy of “Angry Alfred, the Afghan Avenger, or another Autopsy over Algy’s Anatomy,” he aspires to nothing more harmful than turning the teachers’ hair white, and spoiling the Egyptians’ for- mer neighbors, the Ethiopians. In his own estimation he is fully competent to write a scientific treatise, indexed and beautifully illustrated on “Psychological Instincts of the Dinosaurus,” while in reality he is eligible only for membership in the Honorable Order of Independent I-Am-Its. The Sophomores are the backbone of the school, which accounts for Eastern’s recent case of spinal men- ingitis. [However, T will leave the Soph omore with this well known verse: Company F's drill was slowly ending In the Drill Hall, far below Filling with esctatic joy, | Heart and mind of private— For he excelled in the manual ; Did his work, and did it well. 3ut to our amaze and horror, His sky-piece had begun to swell, Large and larger grew his coco, Till we murmured, all affright, Gazing at the new found marvel; “Sophomore’s head will burst to- night.” Third. I will consider the Senior. This is the saddest case of all, for here we see the result of lost opportunities, the might- have-beens, who have reached their dotage. They wander aimlessly up and down the halls of Eastern, talking to themselves and playing childish jokes on one another. The only way a Senior can make an impression is by stepping on a piece of chewing gum, or a I’reshman’s head. But this subject brings tears to my eyes, and I deplore the lack of old folks retreats. That their jokes are harmless is shown below. “How queer to their minds are the pranks of their young days, When sad reminiscence presents them to view; The studies, the hard work, the deep- tangled book phrase, And other strange fancies their in- fancies knew. The much beloved Latin, with a kind teacher near them; No bridge and no dances, a sad thing to tell, If they flunked in a study, an instructor to queer them; And een their cruel parents, their spirits would quell. The oaken headed Seniors, the old in- firm Seniors, The moss-covered Seniors who splash the ink well.” And now we come to the discussion of the most perfect Junior, the leader of all classes. What is home without a

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The Hasterner 20 they have succeeded in at least getting the brightest socks purchaseable on Seventh Street. Nevertheless, I have heard many girls say that “when the 1910 class leaves, then leave I.” Speaking of girls, who of the “Jesser educated” ones can boast of having served their classes in such a manner as have Luella, Ethel and Genevieve; and did you ever stop to think how much the company’s success depends on Ethel? A mere girl influ- encing such a bunch of “fellers,” using as her means—Herb. Is there a girl in school who couldn't just—give him all the ice cream, cakes and candies he could eat. That isn't what I was going to say, but then you know he looks over all this before it goes to press and would cut out anything that would be liable to A Senior’s Musings When I became an Easternite, 1 longed with such a queer delight To be a Senior. The Seniors of that day to me, Real men and women seemed to be, To me, a I reshman. A look of scorn from one of these, A sign of greatness meant to tease, A little Freshman. And when I reached my second year, To see a Senior filled me with fear, A Sophomore. My longing seemed a point to gain, That over Freshmen now could reign, The Sophomore. And thus through work and ungained fame, I climbed the third round and became A learned Junior. make him blush. But then you know Babcock’s one of the most congenial, generous and hospitable fellows over at Eastern, and even when he lost his voice he took the trouble to write what he wanted to say. That takes energy, and what boy in the lower classes would do it? I might go on giving you examples of what you ought to do and what you ought to be, but you don’t impress me as q bunch capable of taking advantage of it so what's the use? I only hope that some day the responsibility of filling our vacancy will lead you to discard your old manner of doing things, and for your's and the school’s sake, to adopt ours. Mervin F . Fiscrer, ‘10, The Seniors then appeared to be No more than human souls to me, Conceited Junior. Though some respect to them was due, (For much they learned and still more knew ) From me, a Junior. Three years have passed since first T came To share with others, Eastern’s fame— I am a Senior. From here and there and everywhere Are duties sweeping through the air, For me, a Senior. Upon my shoulders all I take, Sealing with a haughty shake, Of a lofty Senior. x How different is the longing dream Than actual seniorh ood does seem! But who of us would willing be To turn the years a minus three, A nd once more be a Freshman? Peart A. Sureve, 7B,