Fairbury Cropsey High School - Crier Yearbook (Fairbury, IL)

Page 33 text:

I’m Not So Pretty Smart Teachers I didn’t read my chapter, Wouldn’t know it if I had. This physics class has got me stumped. My grades are pretty bad. I’m scared to death of current flow, My circuits all go flooey. Electric wires don’t appeal to me After what happened to Uncle Looey. Acids, I hear, burn holes in things, And to spill some would just be ducky. Now what would happen if it got on me? If I live through this class, I’ll be lucky. They tried to explain about motors to me And I tried hard to understand. I just wasn’t built to take motors apart. Oh, for the brain of a man. (I’m kidding) My motto has always been, “Never say die,’’ But I’m so discouraged with D’s, They do give me credit for trying, I guess, And those D’s could well have been E's. Take warning, all you sweet young ferns Who have delicate brains (?) such as mine. Never take physics, bluffing won’t work— Mr. Schneider won’t fall for a line. By Ella (ain’t mechanical) James Breathes there a girl with soul so dead Who never to herself has said, “I think I’ll polish my saddles tonight—” And then forgotten. —Edith Yeagle. Mr. Ricketts: “Sit up straight and put BOTH of your feet on the floor.’’ Miss Kouzmanoff: “And here’s another item about Colonel McCormick.’’ Mr. Staggs: “Now, you, MARGIE, can just take that front seat.” Miss Sharp: “If you don’t stop talking I’ll send you to the office.” Mr. Leatch: “There’ll be a little quiz tomorrow over the last CHAPTERS.” Miss Isebrands: “Take out your Gregg writers.” Mr. Schneider: “You can sell all of the tickets. The people in Fairbury are making money.” Miss Kemple: “Notebooks due at the end of the six weeks.” Miss Whitford: “Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast.” Mr. Bayless: “And these are the stu- dents who haven’t returned their re- port cards.” Miss Kaiser: “That equation is very simple.” —Elizabeth Somerville. December 7, 1941 December Seven! Oh, yellow race. Your sons, their sons, nor all your kind, From memory can now erase The shame this date will call to mind. Long after peace is won and made An' safety comes to land and sea, And present hatreds cool and fade, Remembered still this day will be. —Katharene Roach. Sabotage—(in Spanish, sabataje) Three figures are seen approaching the Spanish room door. There they stand whispering and looking about in a manner as if they know that if they’re caught this may be their finish! Now they’ve quit talking just as Miss Sharp ushers them into her room. Class has started and as these three students sit down together they give each other an assuring smile, and then a slight laugh as if to say, “This may be our last day in here.” When the hands of the clock point to 11:55, the three boys get ready to spring for the door. 11:56, 11:57, 11:58—and sweat begins to pour out on their foreheads. 11:59! At last the time has come! At last these three have gotten their chance for revenge on Miss Sharp for the D and two C’s last six weeks. All the Spanish class has left now, except for these three boys who linger awhile at the door. Then with a look of vengeance on their faces they leap outside of the room and slam the door. Silence. But this is broken by a scream of horror from within the Spanish room. The boys hear the scream from upstairs, and burst into a long laugh. In their pocket is the door-knob of the Spanish room door! JAY MORRIS. MAURICE SUTTER. JOHNNY LORCH. P. S. To Miss Sharp: We are very sorry you were kept in there until 12:30. We just wanted to keep you in there until 1:00. —25—

Page 32 text:

YOUR UNCLE DUDLEY The Senior play, “Your Uncle Dudley,” was given at the Central theatre Friday night, April 30. The action is fast and furious, and centers around Dudley Dixon’s attempts to get his dominating sister, Mabel, out of the house so that he will be free to marry Christine, his Danish girl-friend. His hopes hinge on Ethelyn, Mabel’s daughter, for unless she wins the $5,000 prize in a voice contest, Mabel cannot go to Europe. Charles Hanes plays the part of Dudley, the harassed bachelor, and Ella James is his sister. Ethelyn is portrayed by Helen Steidinger, and Robert, her boy-friend, by Willard Craig. Cyril, Dudley’s teen-age nephew, is played by Jay Morris. Katharine Roach is Christine, and Herbert Wiser plays Charlie Post, Dudley’s friend. And then there is Grandma—lovable and scheming—played by Edith Yeagle. The production angle was handled by Carl Filers, stage manager; Carllene Steidinger, stage properties; I ois Fitzgerald and Dorothy Hen- ning, prompters and properties. The painting of the scenery was under the direction of Carl Filers, Charles Hanes. John Torch, and Jay Morris. Miss Kemple directed the play. —24—

Page 34 text:

Our School Days We all entered F. T. H. S. In the year of 1939. Since that day of entering We’ve all had a grand time. In our Freshman year we were happy And ornery as could be. We never studied very hard nd always rated a C. The next year was 1940, And we were little Sophomores. Just the perfect little angels That all our parents adore. So as the days pass And May rolls around We reach the time for parting Eut happiness we’ve found. So we hope everyone remembers The graduating class of ’43, Who tried to do their part In working for victory. —By Florence Sutter. My Life Is Full of School My life is full of school. It jars upon my system Until my fingers fairly ache To grab some necks and twist ’em. A wise guy laughs aloud Another passes a note, The teacher stamps across to him— I guess he’s got her goat. The principal taps his pencil, We all begin to work. Of course there isn’t time For you nor me to shirk. Outside a robin gaily sings So glad that spring is here. Out side a train goes shrieking past Without a care nor fear. My mind is full of murderous thoughts My nerves aren’t like my buddies’. But through it all—midst it all— I study! study! study! —Elsie Mac Metz. Moths The moth is a very destructive little animal-and peculiar, too. Contrary to sea- sons he lives in fur in summer and in bathing suits in winter. But lately he has had a harder time in winter because rubber has been introduced into bathing suits and, anymore, they are so scanty, that a moth is likely to starve, which is all right with me, because I have never wasted any love on the brutes since I found my best wool skirt would make a better sieve. » To one kind of moth a flame is irresistible. In fact it was a moth who got the lirst and original hot-foot. Nobody knows why moths only bother dead animals—I guess it’s because a dog or similar living animals are the fleas domain and a moth is related to a flea, distantly, and they don’t want trouble in the family. Just the same we owe a great deal to the mo'.h. If it weren’t for him, where would mothball companies be? And besides, we wouldn’t have anything to worry about when we put away our woolies for the summer. —Helen Steidinger. A Heart of Gold Just yesterday it was when someone said to me, “I knew her and she had a heart of gold.” And I believe there lives not one who’d disagree, For surely truer words were never told. She never spoke an unkind word where’er she went; Her friendship wasn’t bought and wasn’t sold. In time of need her helping hand she lent. For deep inside she had a heart of gold. And if she could be here amid this war-torn world. Her smiles the burden of self sacrifice would hold; And through it all her hope and faith would stand unfurled, For she has always had a heart of gold. Men say that in the future after victory, These tyrants and their lands must be paroled. The thought then came to me that this would needless be If there were more of us that had a heart of gold. —Margie Schnetzler. —26—