Glenville High School - Olympiad Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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THE REFLECTOR will, if properly used, help us to reach that coveted height, called Success? The chances are that most of us never have considered these facts and yet when they are brought to our attention they cannot he consistently denied. There are people about us—people whom we meet every day—who have, by circumstances, been compelled to leave school before they have even completed their elementary education. Let us not look down upon these people because they can’t read Latin classics or do some of the mental stunts we can. They could, probably, if given the opportunities we have, be altogether as good or better than we are. They must work before they have acquired the polish of education which would help them achieve success. Remember that the education which we are now acquiring is only a means of lightening our life work later. Education might well be termed the one-way elevator to the top floor of the building of life. Let us secure as much education as we can, for upon us will rest the rebuilding, in part, of the nations now engaged in the great war. Please don’t skip over Come Across this article just as soon as you have seen the words “school spirit.’’ Those words, which we are eternally bringing to your notice, form a subiect which can never be unworthy of discussion. They stand for the thing which, in previous years, has made Glenville famous whether she had a winning team or a losing one. This year, we are sorry to say, there has not been toward athletics the spirit in the school which has. in previous years, been so dominant. We have not supported the teams as we should. We have not set apart a counle of hours and a few cents a week, with which to see the team play. Those same teams, which we are so lax about supporting, have spent about ten hours a week in practice—ten hours of hard work while you refuse to spend a couple of hours in the enjoyment of watching them plav. If members of our school had been accused of lacking school spirit a couple of years ago, there would, no doubt, have been a fight, but now, the accusation is true and there are no grounds for argument. Freshmen, you have not done the right thing by the school. You have come in here and taken the benefits of the school, but have not, in return, manifested an interest in the welfare of the school or its teams. If you could know what a good feeling it gives you in your Senior year to lie able to say that you have never missed a game since you came, you wouldn’t let anything keep you away from them. Sophomores and Juniors, you have, probably, been giving the best support in the school. You have been loyal. Keep it tip and improve on it. We’re all for you as long as you do it. Seniors, you have been giving the poorest support in the school considering the length of time you have had to learn loyalty. Your batting average for going to the games has been miserable. Try to remedy this. Let’s see you all at the games. And now, upper-classmen and underclassmen, let’s all work together to have bigger crowds in proportion to the size of our school at all school affairs than other schools have. You know how a word of encouragement brightens you up and strengthens your backbone. Support has the same effect on a team. Let’s have practically the entire school at the very next game and let’s adopt as a motto “A hundred spectators behind every man on the team.” The Reflector board Criticism is always glad to receive the thing that paves the way for progress and we are desirous that our magazine be the best school magazine in this section if possible. So, readers, please put your criticisms and suggestions in the Reflector box, the box with the mirror, in Room 8.

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®jje deflector Volume IV. CLEVELAND. O.. JANUARY. 1918. Number 3 Published For And By The Students Of Glenville High Paul Bixler. Business Mgr. Francis Bathrick, ’19 Mary Booth, T8 Mary Black. T9 Harrison Rose. T9 Robert Kline. T8 Editor An-Chief Elmer Ethel Duer, T8 Herbert Florence, T9 Edna Harder, T9 Roma Paehi.ke, T9 Faculty Lindseth, Advertising Mgr. Abram Kaplan, T9 Margaret McNamara, T8 Mildred Damon, T9 Mildred Evans, T9 Miss Pickard Miss Davies Mr. Beman Mr. Little All contributions must be put In the Reflector Itox. Room 8. not later than the twentieth flay of the month EDITORIAL “Live in the present, Our II-A look to the future, but Class leave the past alone.” Thus runs one of our proverts, hut it is our opinion that there will be many Glenville graduates who will prefer, for a while at least, to look back on the past. The graduating class this January contains about fifty members. Many of them have, in their four years at Glenville, been prominent in school affairs. They have helped, to the best of their ability, in the improvement of the school and. in so doing, have tried to do their part in helping to build up for our Glenville an enviable reputation. Doubtless, they are all looking forward to their entrance upon the new and, to them, mysterious ways of life with enthusiasm ; and the sorrow, which the severing of old ties causes, may, for the time, be overwhelmed by the rush of new interests. Nevertheless, in the future, they will look hack upon their high school days as the most care-free in their existence. After their graduation, the class will no longer be united, but will be broken up and its members widely scattered. There will be but one tic which will irrevocably bind them together. That tie is “our school.” It is “our school” now and will always be “our school.” And now, II-A Class, as you leave us, while we, because of our regard for you, a regard which is born of association and friendship, arc sorry to see you depart, we wish to congratulate you on your success in high school and extend to you our hearty desire that life may be good to you and that you may not forget “our school,”— Glenville. Do we ever con-Are We sider, when we feel T houghtless ? about discouraged with the way things arc going, and we can’t, to save our lives, get our lessons—do we ever consider that there arc many people about us who would be more than glad of a chance to secure the education which we think such a nuisance to acquire? Do you consider that nobody ever told us to expect a life of care-free enjoyment when we got into high school, or that we are merely laying up a store of intangible possessions, which 23

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Ethel Duer, Editor AN ADVENTURE IN COWARDICE I HAVE changed my mind; I am neither brave nor strong in the face of threatening circumstances. As in geometry —proof: Early summer saw my mother and me safely stored away in our lake shore cottage. How good it seemed to break away from school books, pavements, high shoes and table cloths ! There the grass grew untamed, and the pebbly beach shone in the morning sun. But at night this same grass was capable of ghostly rustlings and the lake was dark and still. There was only one other family of early migrators on the beach, this being several doors from our cottage. The children told cheerful tales of tramps and other suspicious characters often entering the cottages. Returning home one night from their house, I was startled by a rifle shot prob-?bl fired by some negligent hunter, hut which my imagination readily conceived as from the hands of a prowling tramp who had been infesting the railroad track. However, when I entered the cheerfully lighted living room where mother sat placidly reading, and Patsie, the feline pet of the family, purred in pensive mood, my fears were temporarily dispelled. The natural tact of human nature prompted me to pass on the stirring information I had received. But mother, though easily roused, paid scant heed to my story. After we had sat reading for some time, I found myself nodding over the magazine, perhaps because of the drizzling rain upon the roof. Alas! My lethargy was of short duration. Before ascending the stairs to bed, I went in search of Patsie. She had wandered out onto the front porch, and on approaching her, I was assailed by a low and indignant growl. My mind acting logically, I determined that she must be growling at something—and that something must be in the front yard. There the animal stood peering through the screen, tail in a ridged, bristling line, hack up. As I listened, the rhythmical spat of the rain upon the leaves and grass, the song of the night insects, served but to enhance the lurking fear in me. The atmosphere seemed divided into measures by the drip, drip, drip of the rain, and the chirping of the crickets; each interlude a period of tension, an ominous waiting. Suddenly breaking up the fearful spe'l, I snatched up Patsie and ran gasping into the living room. “Mother!” I cried in dramatic tones, “Patsie just growled at something on the front porch!” Seeing the twinkle in her 25