Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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POETRY CONTEST First Prize CHRISTMAS LANTERNS Crusted with uncounted gems, Those stars so distant, cold and true. Like daisies in the early morn, Through challiced flowers bright with dew. Those lanterns of the evening sky, Shine in the distant lake below, And whisper the wondrous Christmas tale, Ever to those who do not know. And if you ask the white gold stars, That twinkle on the Milky Way, If they remember, they will tell, The ' wondrous story of Christmas Day. ON CHRISTMAS EVE God reste ye, merrie gentlemen, I hark to the old, old hymn As I climb the stairs on Christmas Eve, The candle flick ' ring dim. The carols float on waves of sound, Through the evening clear and still, As the childish voices rise again: Peace on earth, to all, good will. And my heart leaps up at the thought of the morrow, The happiest of days, And I raise my eyes, up to the skies, And whisper words of praise. CHRISTMAS MORN The blue and the white, the silver and gold, What wonderful colors shine, On my window Jack frost paints castles and fields, And many a rare design. The sun is glist ' ning bright and clear, The wind doth sharply blow, Ah, Hark! The caroling, too, I hear, Come in echoes across the snow! My heart is thrilling with gladness and joy, My heart is light and gay, As my voice rises high with a Christmas Hymn, On this wondrous Christmas Day. Betsy Ailing H-7. Second Prize AN ALIEN ' S HYMN Oh, glorious ground of Freedom ' s pride! Thy memories in my heart abide. No land but thee hath homes like thine, In none more ardent faith doth shine. No land with thee doth compare, I long thy glories to declare, America! America! — Telete Lester H-9. Third Prize WINTER Outside a cold and wint ' ry scene; O ' er all the snow, a silv ' ry sheen. The homes and farms are all in white, A splendid silence, calm and bright. No trace of road lies winding there, All in whiteness, cold and bare. The leafless trees all shivering stand, Like sentinels who guard our land. Stern, unbending, stark and straight, Resigned with courage to endure their fate. Their arms outstretched to God above, In silent thanks for His wondrous Love. The rippling lake lies frozen o ' er; Summer breezes waft no more. The ice lies slippery, smooth and still And merry youngsters skate at will. Where lilies used to rise and sink, The pond is now a skating-rink. A belated wind sweeps over all, And gently the snowflakes start to fall. The brightness fades as night draws near; Silence reigns, uncanny queer, All but the wind, that moans and whines With shivering puff ' s among the pines. Elizabeth Barnes H-8. BOOKS I like to read in books of old, Of knights so brave, and pirates bold, Of very rich men, and ladies gay, Why I could sit and read all day, I sit by the fire when the day is done, And read of the works of Stevenson, It matters not whether false or true, I think reading is a wonderful thing, don ' t you? George Fox L-7.

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GARFIELD ' S NEEDS Garfield has much for which to be thank- ful. We have splendid, spacious grounds, a serviceable gymnasium, well-lighted class- rooms and an auditorium which, though incomplete, will seat the entire school. But — a chain is no stronger that its weak- est link. We have two weak links in our school plant. There are more than 500 boys in the school, and the number is increasing, term by term. The only place for all of these boys to take Shop Work (required in 7th and 8th grades and elected by a large number in the 9th grade) is in the bicycle room, in the basement. Think of it, in a modern school like Garfield! We wish that those who think this is not a real need might be compelled to take Shop Work here for one week. Their point of view would be quickly changed . The second weak link is in the science facilities. More than four hundred boys and girls are studying this wonderful and valuable subject, and for all their experi- mental work they have one demonstration table. Picture a t acher trying to make ex- periments clear to a class of forty, grouped about one table! There should be room for at least four tables in each of the science rooms. There should be opportunity for individual work. We have neither. We need — oh, how we need — a detached shop building, similar to the ones at Edison and Burbank. We need, on the second floor of this building, four rooms for science, demonstration rooms, and class-rooms. We need, too, a room where the band and orch- estra can practice. This might be, also, on the second floor. The rooms now used for science in the main building are needed for arithmetic and history. The room used for the shops is needed for bicycles, which lie out in the rain. The band and orchestra must use the auditorium, preventing the other students from using it. A chain is no stronger than its weakest link. D. L. Hennessey. THE CIRCLING OF THE GLOBE Do you remember the day the World Fliers started on their long journey around the world ? Some believed it impossible to accomplish the feat; others were skep- tical. After the planes had left the United States, we were in great suspense as to the fate of our daring countrymen. When the planes reached China, the greatest barriers seemed passed. With great apprehension we learned that England had started a flight in competition with us. Held in suspense, we read everything about the fliers. We even listened-in on the radio to get the latest news. Our sympathies were with those who dropped out of the great race, and yet we were much relieved, for who knew what might have beiai n our airmen, and rendered us incapable of win- u 0 the great victory ? What rejoicing there was when we heard that our fliers had completed the circuit and were safe in the good old U. S. A.! We had been the first again! We have been first in almost everything since our country was born. If you have a good memory you will recall that in 1776 we were the first to break away from Great Britain and stay broke! Therefore, let ' s stay in first place. We are the Dioneers. It is our duty to lead the way and let others follow. We are the openers of paths. Excelsior, is our motto, so Let us then be up and doing, and help to keep our country always in fiist place. Arthur Boles H-9. WORLD PEACE Bang! Ah! one more Yankee bit the dust, said the German sniper as he threw out his shell from the chamber of his gun and resumed his position in his favorite tree. But did that sniper realize how the lov- ing, old, gray-haired mother of that boy felt when she received the news ? Did he stop to think how his mother would feel if he were carried home to her, no longer the happy, mischievous, lively lad or the future man of her dreams, but now gone — and forever ? Yes! you may say it ' s all in the war. But if that ' s all in the war, millions of mothers are pining and sighing their lives away to an earlier grave. How do the young sweethearts feel as they gaze on that gold star that has replaced the blue. How does the young fellow feel when he comes home from the war? His pals of earlier life gone to a better land, he him- self probably never to regain his former health, still horrified by the awful things in war, without a job and in a different world. He has accomplished one great thing, the bringing about of peace. It is surely our duty for the sake of the soldiers who fought and died in the war, to keep world peace. This was their dream, what they died for! Are we, the American peo- ple going to allow their dying hopes to be forgotten? No! For the sake of humanity and in honor of the Prince or Peace, let ' s get world peace and keep it. Then we can feel that they died, not without cause, but leaving a better, safer, more humane world in which their sons and daughters might live. Fred Stripp L-9.

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AFRAID OF WATER (Taken from Life) Shorty was afraid of water. You must understand that. He was chilled to the bone at the sight of that great monster, the ocean, and by the equally terror-inspiring bay. All this was not without reason. When Shorty was two years old, (the time when most fears begin), an assmine uncle think- ing he could teach Shorty to swim, threw him in the water, and he consumed so much of it that he had never forgotten that un- happy incident, even when he had reached the age of seventeen. Shorty was a Scout. A good scout, too, everybody acknowledged it. He had been in the scout movement for five years and held the highest office his troop could give him. Next year his scout master, Mr. Wiseman, recognizing the boy ' s stellar qual- ity of leadership, was to promote him to the coveted position of assistant scout master. But there was one fly in the ointment. There is a test for first class scouts to pass which requires that they shall swim fifty yards. Shorty couldn ' t do this. And yet, it was his one great ambition to become a first class scout before giving up his position as senior patrol leader for that of assistant scout master. Bl diligent practice Shorty had learned to swim, although water still held all its old terrors for him. He was to go over to Sutro Baths with some other scouts to pass the final barrier between himself and the first class badge. Mr. Wiseman and most of the troop were going over to Sutro, partly to swim, but mostly to root for Shorty. On the way over he noticed that the bay was quite rough. This made him loose much of his confidence, he knew not why, but he wisely joined himself to his hilarious com- rades. Ihe trip through the streets of San Fran- cisco seemed ages to Shorty, but in a very short time really, they were at Sutro Baths. Shorty undressed with a beating heart and quivering pulse. He went down stairs to the baths in a trance. It seemed to him that his fellows ' hearty words of encouragement made him feel stronger and more able to overcome his fear. Ah! He was off! Five, ten, twenty, thirty yards passed, and still going strong. But a careless swim- mer passing by gave Shorty a mouthful, and down he went. Up again, with the old fear still strong in his heart. Ten yards more, with aching arms and bursting head. There ' s no turning back now, said Shorty to himself. Only ten yards more. Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, three pre- cious yards passed. There were no outsiders in the tank now, for they had grou ;ed them- selves around the finish line. Two yards more and with a sob and a gasp down went Shorty. With fighting spirit still intact, he rose and continued his efforts. Six strokes more, and Shorty, a victor in spite of his fears, crossed the line! Not a yard further, either, for down he went as he saw the fifty mark flashing by. Get him! shouted Mr. Wiseman. Willing hands rescued Shorty, and hauled him out of the pool. He went to his locker and dressed. Oh, would the fellows never come? Would his head-ache ever stop? He didn ' t know he had so many places in his anatomy for muscles to ache. But he should worry, he was a first class scout. Gee! Think of it! Wouldn ' t mother and dad be proud! Shorty was carried down to the street-car in a triumphal procession by his friends. The return car-ride was one long series of congratulations. When he got on the ferry, he very wisely went below for a cup of coffee to stimulate his jagged nerves. Wow, that was good. Makes me feel like a new man. Guess I ' ll go up on deck. As Shorty was strolling along the lower deck, he heard the stentorian cry, Man Overboard. With one swift, appraising glance, Shorty took in the situation. All the scouts were on the upper deck. Quick, something must be done, for twenty-five yards astern Shorty could see a wisp of white, which he knew must be a baby. It had already gone down once. Throwing off his coat, Shorty dived after the marooned babe. He made twenty yards without mishap for he was swimming head-on against the swell, but about five yards from the object of his efforts he shipped a sea. Would he never learn to close his mouth when he was swimming ? At last he had the baby safe in his grasp and turned around. Horror of horrors, the distance between himself and the boat had been trebled! Shorty was a true scout, and scouts are always prepared. So, grasping the child with one arm, he set out to swim twice as far as he had ever done before. How he made it he scarcely knew, for his water-logged boots hindered him cruelly. He did not know that a life-boat had been sent out after him, he did not know that he was picked up almost drowned and the baby almost as bad, while still a good dis- tance from the ferry. The first thing he remembered was that he was lying on a bench with admiring deck hands attending him and keeping the crowd back, while a tearful mother was smothering him with grateful kisses. And that ' s why the National Council awarded Shorty the gold medal for heroism, which is the highest honor the scouts can receive. And that ' s why Dan .beard called it the bravest thing he had ever heard of a scout doing, for, as he said, you conquered your fear at the time when most other scouts in your position would have said ' Let some one else save her; I almost drowned myself once today. ' I congratulate you. You are a Scout. David Lyon L-9.