Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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EEEMMKEEENEKKKKKEMEKKKH rec1'eation. The tempting bait of war jobs with high salaries and opportuni- ties for artificial pleasures and excite- ment, is dangled on a shining hook be- fore our eyes. VVhen demobilization day draws near, we shall be among that sea of helpless fish cast back into black crowded waters because we do not measure up to the required standards. And why is it that we have not passed the test? The answer revolves around education. which is becoming 'more and more necessary. After the war employment will call for college and high school graduates. Those lacking one or both will find themselves flounderingi about with the million other fish. Think to the future. Plan accord- ingly for further education. Be one of the lucky ones who will meet all requirements. KATHERINE F. SULLIVAN HIS year Miss Sullivan resigned, and her many former pupils, re- gretting that she could not stay long enough to watch over their grandchil- tlren's education, will pay tribute to her. VVe, who can never forget the days when she was our principal, would like to extend our appreciation also for the years she was with us. When we entered the NVinthrop School as fourth graders, we were dimly conscious of a high, mysterious chamber in the Manning High known EEEKKKKEEEKMKKEKKKIKKKER as Miss Sullivan's office if we did not behave properly. Assemblies and class plays were never complete unless Miss Sullivan were there, snapping a cricket she held ill her hand when the audience was noisy. or smiling approval at some of our antics. lt was more of an occasion then, and our performances were more inspired. ln our last year of grammer school we became better acquainted with Miss Sullivan. We took turns being her of- fice helper, running errands or clean- ing out the closets and cutting out pic- tures from the National Geographic for geography class. NVaiting in the ante-room to her office, we would gaze at the fish in the big bowl in the cor- ner, the posters hanging on the wall do11e by former talented pupils, and feel the old lndian relics in the cabinet. There was something impressive about that room that 11ever failed to interest us - perhaps, the mere knowledge of Miss Sullivan's presence. NVe realize now even more than we did then what a reliable and helpful friend Miss Sullivan had been to us. XVe shall always retain a pleasant memory of the days when we knew her.

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A Editorial TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCE OR four years we have drifted through high school accepting the opportunities for advanced education with little appreciation of their value. NVe preferred to think of ourselves as being incarcerated in school by unrea- sonable teachers. Our homework was always less than we claimed it to be, more than what we actually did. NVe were tardy. absent, or unduly dis- missed without any eompunetion. Vile longed to escape. And now we are escaping. XVe leave our under classmates, teachers, and school rooms with perhaps a senti- mental tear whe11 'tAuld Lang Synem is played and we march out of chapel for the last time. NVe are alumni, the 'world is at our feet just as lpswich is when we climb Town llill. NVe have our freedom - from school. But now we lind ourselves faced with more obligations and with greater problems than the best way to escape coming back in the afternoon in re- sponse to that slip we were given. Vile shall want jobs, and after this war jobs will be at a premium. liateness and absenteeism will spell a brush-off. Vile are warned again and again by Those Who Know that employers will no longer chase after our signature with a promise to work for them, that we shall probably find it hard to get as near a job as the ante-room to the office of a third assistant to the per- sonnel manager. Jobs are only one problemg a slight bit of searching woulc' reveal many others. l do not wish to discourage all elu sory hopes or infer that they have nr possible substance. They can be real ized if we slough olf the skin of irre sponsibility and pretense, of vain illu sions, and shallow grasp of all we shoulc knoxv, a skin worn by most of us il high school. Then we can look forwarf to the bio'e'er things in store for us. PZ' VALUE OF EDUCATION S America was newly developing from 'troeks and rills and tem pled hillsf' in her country side schoo houses, prim school marms were labori ously drilling the tedious three t'r's,y the only requirements, into the head: of farm boys and eobblers' sons, the apprentice to the tailor, and the bakery boy. Young women of necessity foughi beneath the label of NVoman Suf frage to gain freedom in the educai tional world victoriously winning theii position beside men of knowledge reputation, and fame. Is it then just to discard lightly anc carelessly the fruits. of their efforts The answer should be UNO! Yet to day we, the young people, are drifting away from school life, learning. ant 20

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EKMKHMKMKEE! - M-TE!!3941KSGIEEEMMXKEPEMKIEEKEMMREKKEMEEKKKKKERE!!! Literary PENMANSHIP IN THE RAW DONT believe I shall ever master the art of writing - that is, not only composing but simply iuscribing letters on papers so that they will be legible. After years of trial and error I am convinced that my handwriting will continue to be afflicted with bili- ous I's , sloping a's , and 'to's that fold up like accordions. Psychologists, or anyone interested in the ease, would probably trace the intirmity of my handwriting back to the formative years of my education and would probably discover something quite revealing and not very flattering. As far as I can remember, I was taught to write in the generally accepted man-- ner. I copied pages of lettering from charts. I was encouraged to write on a blackboard at home QI suppose I did get some practice during these sessions at the blackboard, but I usually ended up drawing turtles. the only animal I ever could draw, which is probably significantj. I practiced on the school blackboard, the teacher guiding my hand which shook with exertion when I executed the capitals. I have always felt that it wasnlt quite fair to blame her for my lack of success in these etforts, since she could write quite well alone. In the third grade I was introduced to pen and ink, and it was then that I realized that the pen was mightie than the pencil. I can still remembe' Tln supervisor swayed up and down the my first penmanship exercise. aisles singing, Hlip over down. ul over down, swing . . My face was wreathed in inkg I clawed over the paper, my pen scratching loudly. Sud denly a stentorian voice rang out Whose pcn is scratching?,' A tense moment passed before I realized she was referring to mine. I stopped write ing, the class proceeded. and I remained with my pen poised over the iukwell Then the class reached the next page in the copybook, I hastened to catch up with them, my pen sputtering pro- testingly. Every pcnmanship day be- came a life-sized nightmare to me. I always missed the bus trying to get the kinks out of my t'm's and the sag out of my 'tp's . Since then my life has been one long struggle with broken-down pencils, leaky pens, and neurotic points. And still I cannot draw two f's in suc- cession the same size, and still I can- not draw a uw without an untidy permanent wave. I try, to convince myself that with- out these idiosyncrasies .my writing would he characterless. Hbwever. I am resolved not to submit any sample to o11e of those people who presume to read one's character in this way. I