Jefferson Union High School - Jeffaurean Yearbook (Richmond, OH)

Page 39 text:

CLASS HIST ORY Upon that first, bright September morning, twelve, rather backward, frightened children walked briskly into Miss Gephart's first grade room. This was thebeginn- ing of years of learning, full of warm, understanding friendship, but to this day is felt by every one of them. Those who have been united with that bond are still carrying the customs of Dear Old jefferson . From these twelve babes of jeff , we can remember Betty West, having her pigtails tied together by Fleet-Fingered Bill Owens. There was little Miriam Knox with the big bow in her short, blonde tresses, sitting in front of Dimple- Cheeked Buddy Kemper. Next, we sight the Curly-Tops of the class, Robert Pickett and Edith Mull, and who would have thought that Myron Arnett could have gotten in those tiny seats? Well, he did, and he and jackie Hughes were always gi- ving the class a good show. Two more blondes, Carolyn Brown and Meredith Wesler, followed by cousins, Bob Ray and Richard Nelson had timidly entered, not knowing they would be the venturesome souls to weather twelve years of schooling together. Meeting the second grade, Miss Brazier contended with the same shining faces, and on to the third with Miss Rentz, still growing with more knowledge and friend- ship, In Miss Murray's fourth grade, we were confronted with new faces, those of our little Texas friend jane De Boo and another Curly-Top , Edward Hornsby. Miss Harris opened the fifth grade door for another personality, that of Irish Donna jean McGunnegill. On to the sixth with Miss Holsinger, new faces were again admitted. This time we met quiet, devilish Eugene Roberts, little Chubby Virginia Culbertson, quiet Frank Frech, and in the middle of the term popped in our little farmer-friend Melvin james. With a peek into the eighth grade we saw another tractor-driver, john Stiver and smiling Betty Coddington, being admitted to the Homestead . Through the ninth we were able to endure each other with no new-comers, then in the tenth a big wind blew from across the Indiana State Line and Farmer-girl Marilyn Delk and City-Slicker Allie Smith blew in. By the time we held the title of juniors, we had a feeling of distinction and with hard efforts we presented our class play Campus Quarantine , and then we honored the Seniors of '47' with an ideal banquet. And now for this final year, we are as one. All participating in our activities and our social work. We now stop and think of all those times, some spent in quiet meditation, others in loud, boisterous fun-making. From these experiences we have grown to know each other, not only as an individual, each for his own way, but as one class--each for each other's way. We leave jefferson with our appreciation for these times together, and our thankfulness of the knowledge we have gained and now we pass on hoping our names beneath our pictures will be written not only for the distinction of us, but also will be registered in the heart of jefferson. 17

Page 41 text:

THE SECRET LIFE OF MISS KEMPY OR ' ' SEN ORISM-' ' Miss Kempy was a teacher. Miss Kempy was an unusual teacher, She was a teacher with a smile, a sense of humor that peeped through the iron curtain of re- strain that ordinarily drapes a teacher's face. Miss Kempy was a happy teacher, even carefree was a correct adjective. Perhaps you, readers, have noticed I speak in the past tense, Miss Kempy was a happy and carefree teacher! That was Miss Kempy before the school year 1947-1948. Nowadays, Miss Kempy remembers that year more vividly than any other date in history---and she knows them all. I shall tell you why she remembers. You see, she can't forget it because of dreams. Yes, dreams that began to plague her sleepless nights shortly after September, YI947, and then gradually ceased after May, 1948. It was then that the class of '48' grad- uated from that southwest room. Oh! She remembers that class, but in an odd, strange way--the way dreams drift into sight, startle you, then fade away and leave you face to face with the question, How could I've stood it? There was that first dream, for instance. Blue walls, a white bookcase, aneat teacher's desk and Miss Kempy standing on the globe of the world. Stretched out before her were the members of the class of '48'. King Kemper was watching Dicky Boy Nelson count a stack of gold coins. Yep, we have 'noughf Let's buy something for dear 'ole jefferson that will help us be' heard everywhere. , Oh, I'd rather buy a television system--we could be seen too g this coming from Blonde Miriam slowly stroking the comb through her hair as she gazes a- cross the room. Be sure and - Q a long pause here while he yawnsl - have punch-buttons put on it. I'd hate to have to - Qanother yawnj - work using the thing, Sleepy Rob- erts blinks his eyes as he finishes and is out again. About this time the world turned, and Miss Kempy rolled down the hall to the office. Thus, the Public Address System was ordered. So the first dream ended and Miss Kempy began to realize that Senorism ala' class '48' had set in. That was in November. From then on, dreams were plen- tiful and swirling activities of the class haunted her throughout the nights, as well as the days. To be truthful, it was difficult to distinguish between actual happenings and dream sequences. Confusing as it seems, here is Miss Kempy's memory of the class of '48'. lDreamly speaking, that is.l It was in December when a nightmarish dream presented itself several times. There gliding about the southwest room was stately Betty Lou, her quiet being and .demure smile camouflaged by a terrified look as she mumbled things like Is this a dagger I see before me--or is it Mr. Allen? Tomorrow and tomorrow and to- morrow , or in a hawkish voice question-mark Delk would say, The raven him- self is hoarse that croaks! Allie Smithy fthe delight of Zanny Zur of the South roomj brightly yelled out Who wou1dn't be hoarse with all these lines to remember? And he wants them in order, too! So life was reflected to Miss Kempy when the class of '48' was learning Macbeth. 18