Everett High School - Crimson Tide / Memories Yearbook (Everett, MA)

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1928 E. H. S. MEMORIES 1928 17

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1928 E. H. S. MEMORIES 1928 FRANCES E. HOTT Miss Hoyt came to Everett in 1894, while a young woman, very near the beginning of her teach ' ing. Thirty ' four years, practically her entire life work, have been given to the Everett High School. During those years, she has seen it grow, from a small school, of few students, and limited curri ' culum, to a cosmopolitan institution of sixteen hundred students and eighty teachers, and she has had a vital part in its growth. In her earlier teaching, she conducted classes in French and Science hut, during more recent years, has confined her work to French and German. Thorough mistress of her subjects, she has been as thorough in her teaching, and has given to some thousands of young people a clear insight into the language, life and customs of peoples across the sea. Her interest in her pupils was never confined by the walls of the classroom but followed them out into their life work. Former pupils visiting the old school again frequently inquire earnestly for Miss Hoyt and make their way quickly to her room to renew friendships of other days. So keen is her sense of humor and so quick her repartee that few have been able to cross swords with her in the arena of wit and escape unscathed. She will be missed alike by pupils and teachers who regret her retirement as earnestly as they unite in wishing her every happiness that may come to her in her rest and recreation. Loyal friend, able teacher, earnest worker, one of the builders of the school we love, hail and farewell! 16

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V K ' S f V- W S fV -« V ' ■ - - V V «« ! VV Wi E. H. S. MEMORIES 1928 x CLASS ODE DREAMS Could I but dream this world were mine, Then for each one, I’d build a shrine, Wherein his hopes would always be, Blessed ever with fidelity. I’d rest upon a grassy hill Unbroken in its quiet still. And watch the clouds drift slowly by, Through deepened blue of summer sky. I’d roam through wood and flowered field My soul to Nature’s beauty yield. Each softened breeze would tell a tale From whispering leaf in glen and dale. Of graceful sylphs with fairy tune, Dancing by light of silver moon. Diamonds are brought from meadow’s dew, Their hair to fill and gleam anew. The morning light dispels the charm, For frightened sprites all take alarm. Yet dreams avail the dreamer naught, And he who dreams hath nothing wrought. But fancies playing through his mind Which go as leaves before the wind. 18