Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

Page 20 text:

18 THE HUTTLESTONIAN S INCE the last issue of “The Huttlestonian”, the Faculty body as such has met only at teachers’ meet¬ ings. Interests have been variously spread over student activities, the Senior play, and dramatics outside of school, and always, of course, by the all-important game of making teaching what they would like to have it. One evening, all the teachers of the town were invited to attend a meeting of the Colonial Club where they were warmly greeted by the members and entertained by a lecture on “Fairhaven Houses” by Mr. Thomas Tripp. Hu¬ morous allusions to famous local char¬ acters, and bits of personal experience made the talk very entertaining. There was opportunity, too, for the teachers to meet many citizens of the town with whom they might otherwise not have become acquainted. Several members of the Faculty, during the fall and winter, have been attending one or both of two courses given weekly in New Bedford under the University Extension system. Both courses were given especially for teachers, by profes¬ sors from the Graduate School of Education at Harvard University. “Methods of Secondary School Education” was given by Professor Beatley, and “Principles of Elementary Education” by Professor Mirick. Occasionally, groups of the Faculty follow other pursuits of a lighter nature,—getting plenty of exercise and black-and-blue spots in hilarious basketball games on certain afternoons in the school gymnasium.

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 17 mangoes, heaps of casaba mellons, bananas of a dozen different va¬ rieties, alligator pears, and many other kinds, for which the English language has no names. The poultry and pigs are sold alive. Men go from house to house carrying on each arm fifteen or twenty chick¬ ens. Cigar and cigarette sellers are very numerous, and it is not out of the ordinary to see one of the native women going about her work smoking a long, black cigar. One of the principal occupations of the inhabitants of the Caba Rojo district is the making of palm hats, some of which equal the finest panamas. Mayaguez is the third largest city and is on the west coast, rank¬ ing first as a place of residence. Well do I remember the “Plaza . The one thing about it that amused me greatly as a child was to see that no black people walked on the side set apart for the whites. In the same family a girl may be white of skin and her sister or brother black or dark of complexion. Before the American occupation, the towns and cities swarmed with beggars. During the Spanish administration there were few schools, whereas today there are seven hundred rural schools includ¬ ing high schools on the island, and a splendidly equipped experimental station at Mayaguez. Throughout the entire year the climate is ideal, northeast trade winds blowing constantly. The temperature at night is at least twelve degrees cooler than the day, making wool blankets necessary. Although a considerable amount of traveling is done on horse back, there has never been a case of a horse being overcome by the heat. Nor do people suffer from sun stroke there. Small as the island is, there are more than a thousand miles of good macadamized roads, covering every section of the island, making automobiling a delightful relaxation. The scenery has been declared by tourists to be more beautiful than that of any other island in the world. This is why Porto Rico is called the “Pearl of the Antilles . In 1918, a few years after I left the island, the west coast was swept by an earthquake followed by a tidal wave which left Mayaguez almost as completely ruined as Yokahama after her recent disaster. The reconstructed city is more up-to-date than the city with which I was familiar. HELEN MAE KIDD, ’24.

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 19 A Memory F ROM out of the somewhere into the glow Of the setting sun, came a memory dear, And I stood enthralled as it faded slow, For the memory to me had brought a tear. A book, a rose, a ring, and then sorrow, The sun sank low in its golden bed, But no promise of a fair tomorrow Came with its rays of purple and red. Alone I gazed far o’er the ocean’s crest, The purple and red reflected there Dimmed, and were lost in its white foamy breast. Ah! deep in those depths lay my memory fair. The evening star from its sunset bed Shone forth with glory and radiant light, Deepening the shadows as the darkness fled, Flooded the earth with God’s love and might. Flooded my heart with a deep peace and love, Lifted my cross,—and no fear I knew As I raised my eyes to that star above, In grateful thanks for that memory true. MURIEL CHAMBERLAIN, ’26.