George Washington University - Cherry Tree Yearbook (Washington, DC)

Page 18 text:

When first you entered law school there was registration Those long blue slips, the Nosy things, caused much consternation. To decide just what to take — that was a choice supreme: The election ' s yours, but we advise” — well, you see what I mean. The books you bought were large, the same the drain economic The struggle to carry the bills and them was really patho-comic. You sat in class with pens all poised, strained with rapt attention. What you heard and what you learned — the percentage I won ' t mention. That first year you studied read and briefed each single case And dug and ground throughout the days to keep plugging in the race. You started studying for exams the beginning of the year Read law reviews, and texts; outlined — trembling with fear. When those four-hour iniquities were through You were as limp as yesterday ' s spaghetti, true. But it had been fun to learn of crimes, contracts and torts. Chins up! About those marks — |ust be good sports. You ' re still in school at least and ticking off the laps Pretty blase about it. too — you take less notes, more naps. It seems the same this year, and yet, you know so darn much more That you were unaware you knew and never used before. The Student Bar is much alive — throws a party pretty keen Sponsors lectures, gives a dance — really gets up steam.

Page 17 text:

According to a precedent set in 1939 the tradi- tional speaker is replaced at the University ' s Feb- ruary Convocation by a guest artist. This year, at Constitution Hall, on February 22nd, the mid-year graduates heard the distinguished musician and world-famous violinist, Efiem Zimbalist. At eight o ' clock the academic procession en- tered the hall, led by Dean Elmer Louis Kayser, Left: Bouncing personality — Jerry Sickler in a still life pose — how odd! . . . Center: The Kappa Sigs in a harrowing Hallowe en — note Mason (foreground) in long underwear; he heard it was an (un)dress affair . . . the Glee Club — Dr. Harmon winding up . . . Right: A D Pi Louise Alden voting for the homecoming queen — I wonder who? — and Roy Lever standing by (for Kappa no doubt). University Marshal, and with Dr. Marvin, the fac- ulty, and graduates in line. Following the an- nouncement of the convocation, Mr. Zimbalist played several selections. A short address to the graduates by President Marvin was the only speech of the 209th commemoration of George Washing- ton ' s birthday, as more than three hundred students received degrees or certificates. — . -1 Si

Page 19 text:

• Then things get vital and you begin to THINK, Naps are beside the question — you argue, test each link, You become technical, belligerent in extreme. You glower when the cases disagree, and when they don’t you beam. Those four-hour odes of woe besiege you as is their way; Let your grades be up — so you can stay in school, you pray. The white slips arrive after many weary, dreary months — What’s the score — are you genius or are you dunce? Open the paper — be prepared for the blow. You can always take accounting you know. Wow! What ' s this — Oh. boy? Can it be? Only a real master mind can make 75.3! And so. ere long, the lengthy slips are again filled out As you insert Law Review, you want to shout and shout. This year you puff frantically up those many steps, Plumb your hard-won legal knowledge to its shallow depths. Sit in the library surrounded by books, Talking with friends, collecting dirty looks. You dig around in each dusty tome And gripe and complain and wish you were home. Until all at once you get a colossal idea. That ' s the stuff! No one else ever got near! So you work it all up and are proud of the thing, The Prof just laughs — oh, where is death ' s sting? So you start again — mad and stubborn, Imagine your srprise when you find you were wrong. Then there ' s moot court — full of tribulations and trials To win, joke for the jury — lay them in the aisles. More panting up those dog-goned stairs Each one ' s going to give an elevator he swears. A trial ' s a complicated thing. Make yours good — make it swing. . . . Then the docket spells out your name And in you go to try for fame. Your voice cracks, your throat is dry, You hope they grade on how hard you try. Then it’s over and you lost — don ' t burn, Next semester you’ll win, that second turn. The four-hour demons are old enemies now, They ' re not quite as bad when you think you know how. It ' s over! Your name appears on the board; You ' re going to graduate — thank the Lord! It ' s been hard, it ' s been work, It’s been anger and irk, It ' s been laughter and fun, Stimulation, exasperation — but now it ' s done. You’ve earned the key to your career. Use well and wisely, dear. NANCY KENGLA. I 15 1