Franklin K Lane High School - Senior Echoes Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 14 text:

.faments LAMENT I This business of being a Senior Is making me blue in the face. Each teacher Wants service or money, A doctor will soon have my case. On Monday there's swimming and hygiene On Tuesday it's skating, the dance, On Wednesday thereis violin lessons, On Thursday the f'Les Amisv prance. On Friday it's Latin Club meeting, And each day I could stay until five, A-slavin' for '4Mirror and Year Book And wonderin' why I'm alive. And then there is orchestra practice, And volley ball taking up time, The Arista, tennis, class meetings, Committees that take your last dime. This business of being a Senior Is all very Well, but you see That doing all that and my homework Is making a Wreck out of me. l10l

Page 13 text:

faculty members, for indefinite reasons, to Mildred Rothstein, for her aggravating knock committee, to the visualized new building, for its failure to materialize and to the old one, for its pleasant memories, Thanx. To the first real frosh'7 class, for aspiring To the great height-s of seniority, to the teachers who endured reading my exam papers, to Maurice Hankin, the editor, for winning the Oratorical Contest 5 to the fire drill gong, or any other bell, for ringing at that critical moment when I was to be questioned, and naturally, to the printer, for not having had to be bribed into printing this. Thanks. R. S. PK Pk if Pls 555611 Game C6776 Qlawn When I was young and foolish, I longed to be more wise, So I burned midnight-oil Until the sun should rise, And I spent all day in study Cramming up my brain, But soon I had weakened memiry And nothing did I gain. Slinking through the years at school, Swiftly growing lean and leaner 'Til one day my hardships ended- Ild become a Senior! Rs l9l

Page 15 text:

LAMENT II You ask me how I get this way With my face so wan, no longer gay? You're wrong againg I have no pain, And it's not because I'm leaving Lane. You think perhaps I've flunked my Mathg Or I've wandered from the narrow path? Oh no, great worries cause this look, And it's 'cause I edit your Year Book. G. K. C911 Gfzoosing glffy CUocation Why am I so irascible? Why is my pulse all aflutter and my heart palpitiating on my sleeve? Ah, it is intolerable. I will keep this my darkest secret. I will never, never tell-never! .... But, since you insist .... I am no longer destined to be a child prodigy. Such are the trials and tribulations of age .... In my infancy, I delighted in problems .... But now my Waterloo is met. The old 'teeny meeny miny mov method Won't work anymore. To be or not to bel' is the Shakespearean question confronting me. Shall I give my talent to doctoring and the mighty task of inventing new diseases? I might be a pedagogue carrying the Torch of Learn- ing to warm the chilled brains of humanity. Easily enough I might be a lawyer, or a dentist pulling teeth at random, or an actor playing fortissimo upon your emotions, or even a philosopher delv past and discovering more objectionable and embarrassing the evolutions of man .... I Weep at my magnanimity, but evidently I lack the ing into the facts about strong will necessary to make such a vital decision. My career, if any, depends on my judgment. But then too, I might be an artist, or a poet, or a household mechanic, or a--here I go again. I despair-what shall I do? R. S. l11l