Jacksonville High School - Crimson J Yearbook (Jacksonville, IL)

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in class work, you will see your closest rival slyly open his book and copy the answers to the questions. Does he get ahead any faster? Does he gain anything by it? Never! A man who will stoop to such an act is not worthy of your consideration, and, least of all, your respect. Select for your companions those who will assist you in playing your position, and not those who will drag you down. Sacrifices must come, but soon you will be able to make them with a smile and a laugh that will dissipate all the clouds. And when you have come to the end of your High School course and are ready to go out into the world to fight life’s greater battles, there is nothing that you can look back upon which will give you any greater satisfaction and pride than the fact that you have done the very best that could be done in playing the position that you were called upon to fill, and that you played the game square. Keep plugging. THE CONTRIBUTOR'S CLUB SUBSCRIPTION DAY “Good afternoon, Helen; I know you’re busy, but won’t you spare me a little time? Go right ahead with your baking; I won’t bother you. All I wish is just a chance to talk to you. Now, listen: you have never subscribed to our school paper. Out of the goodness of your heart, won’t you hand over the seventy-five cents this time? Remember. you once attended the old High School, and I had hoped that you wrould always be enthusiastic about us. This is the first year 1 have ever tried to get subscriptions, and I never imagined it would be so easy. Why, even old Deacon Alderson paid over his six bits with a condescending smile when I finished my little spiel; likewise Aunt Sallie Meggs. You know she is that quaint little old lady that lives down back of the school. Oh, she was so effusive! She said, ‘Why, my dear Miss Smithson, this is the first year I have been asked to subscribe. I have always wished to take your paper. Some way, I’ve quite an interest in the jolly crowd of girls and boys that have flocked by my little old house year after year.' Honestly, she made me feel ashamed of myself. I promised her that she should have a great deal of attention in the future. And I intend to stick to it, if I have to spend all my evenings down there. She looked so pleased, poor old soul! But I’m clear off my subject. Let’s see, where were we? Oh, I remember! Helen, you were always prominent in all of our student activities, and please be generous. Sure, I know you want it. Remember the four years you spent as a member of the staff. Won’t you give me one tiny ray of hope? Aren’t my dramatics making some kind of an impression? Listen! I’ll whisper this: 4

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POSITIONS AND OTHERWISE BY ANNE OBSERVER “What position do you play?” How often do we hear this question asked and how frequently the answer is, “Why, I’m not on the team.’ Do you have to be on any particular team to play your proper position in life? You may be without a single athletic, literary or musical accomplishment, but nevertheless you are playing just as important a position in life as some of your more highly cultured friends. The point is—HOW are you playing it? Some time ago, my attention was called to the small frail figure of a boy, selling peanuts on a crowded depot platform. He appeared to be about fourteen years of age and despite his frailness and the jostling of the crowd, his whole aspect gave one the idea that he was one who would “never say die” until his last sack of peanuts had been sold. Upon inquiry, I found him to be the oldest son of a family of five, including a crippled mother. Here was a boy who was playing his position with all the courage and strength of his soul. Sunshine or shadow mattered little with him, as day after day he trudged up and down the platform winning the bread for four others beside himself. Can you find an example, in this boy which you ought to follow? Are you playing your position in your school room? Are you making the most of the opportunities that are being given you by your parents your teachers and your country? When your signal is called, are you ready to grasp the opportunity that is placed in your hands? A foot ball game was in progress, and with the score tied and three minutes left to play, a certain signal was called. Knowing that the game depended upon the failure or success of this play, the man called upon responded with all the knowledge and skill at his command. Victory seemed certain, but just before reaching the goal he stumbled, and because he had failed to learn how to carry the ball properly, it bounded from his arms and came into the possession of his opponents. A little thing, but it lost the game. Are you carrying the ball properly, or will you lose your grip just before you complete your task? Again, you may have acquired all the skill possible; you may be trained to the highest standard of efficiency, but how do you use your knowledge? Are you a sneak? Do you attempt to use your knowledge in an underhanded manner? Do you win your victory at the cost of your own self-respect as well as the respect of others? Honor and glory is sweet to every man, but many times this glory is overshadowed by the feeling that you didn’t play the game square. Clean, honest work is the only kind that will win for you in the end. and until you have fully decided upon that course, you are only half a man. In following such a course, you may oft-times become discouraged. Many times, J » f

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r □ c □ c we need the money! Oh, no; we’re not hard up. It isn’t that, but how can we put out four hundred copies on nothing? You say you’ll take it? Oh, bliss! 1 knew you would! You’re a dear. What? You want two subscriptions? My dear, I’m stunned for the moment. I see, you want the other for George. Yes, I knew he was going up to Wesleyan this year. All right; wait a second and I’ll make out your receipts. I thank you so much. Come over this evening and we’ll have some welsh rarebit. Good-bye! THE WAY IT WAS Scene—Rear of Recitation Room. Characters—Pedagogue in deep disgust. Crestfallen Pupil. Irate Father. SCENE I. Deeply Disgusted Ped. (In strident tones.) Oh, thou that sittest there In deep despair, Come from it. Knowest thou that thy behaviour Hast been exceeding bad? Knowest thou that from that hand T hou threwst A small ill-shapen ball that lodged I’ the back of thy defenceless neighbor? . Knowest thou, thou low unheeding one. That in the rules of Discipline Your crime is black indeed? I shall unto thy undeserving name A score of demerits affix, To vex you and to vex your parents. Speak, wicked one, and see if T hou canst find words To clear the blame away. Crestfallen Pupil (with eyes downcast.) Oh, beloved Pedagogue, in the dust am I befroe you. Oh, I beseech thee, think not ill of.me! Heed my youthful years. I beg of you penalize me not too se verely. Here in the dust am I before you. (halls in the crayon dust in the aisle, weeping.) Deeply Disgusted Ped.; Arise, thou lowly one; I leave thee with thy guilty conscience. (She spurns him and leaves the room with an indignant air.) SCENE II. (A room containing Crestfallen Pupil and Irate Father. T he Irate Father shakes aloft a letter from the Deeply Disgusted Ped. No words are necessary. The next action speaks for itself.) And so she did not hurry. Nor sit up late and cram, Nor have the blues and worry, Put—she failed in her exam. THE CEREAL STORY They walked among the Shredded wheat. When grape nuts were in season; He asked her why she seemed so sweet. She answered. ‘-There's a reason.” 5