Lansing Central High School - Oracle Yearbook (Lansing, MI)

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J MISS LOTT RETIRES To hundreds. nay thousands of men and women, who as youths have sat in its classrooms and study rooms, Lansing Central High School means Emma M. Lott. They have worn a broad and deep pathway to her door, for into her ears they have poured their joys and woes. Miss Lott has never failed them. She is sympathetic. sincere. just, and wise. Her counsel, her reproof, her admoni- tion. her approbation, alike these are based on an understanding of the per- sonality of the individual, and on his peculiar problems, and are given with genuine interest in his welfare, and in his moral and spiritual growth. In the earlier years of Miss Lott's service in Central High School, many students had the opportunity of receiving class room instruction from her. They appreciate her as a teacher of supreme ability who adorned her clear and lucid exposition of principles by a rare and winning charm of personality. Today from all corners of the world these former students return to Miss Lott's door. They visit her when they are in town. they write letters and post- cards from distant towns. they bring her photographs of mates and children, and often resume the old habit of their schooldays, as they coniide in her their adult problems. If they continue to live in Lansing they send their children to Central, with the comfortable assurance that the second generation will make a double appeal to her interest and sympathy. We, who are students of Central today deeply appreciate the privilege of our acquaintance with Miss Lott. We unite with those past generations in visualizing for her, future years of activity and service in new fields, as she lays down the exacting details of her school duties. Never can the path to her door become grass-grown from disuse. Never can we loose the bonds of friendship and affection. To the men and women who have been the student body of our school for forty-three years. Central High School means Miss Lott. Page Nine

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Principal of Central High School , sy EMMA M. LOTT, B.L. BEATRICE GIBBS, A.B., A.M Assistant Principal Counselor of Students Pug? Eight

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THE PLAINT OF A CHIEF Oh. Great Spirit, look down on my council Hre and touch my tongue. Give me words to tell my people of the moons that have gone, the moon that is, and the moons to come. Great Father, long ago your children owned this beautiful land of Michigama: but even as the sun rose on the glory of our people, so did it set. The night came. Not a night that was bright with the camp fires before the tepees of the tribes but a night of desolation and despair. You had hidden your face from your people. Our white brothers had come and with their fire-water and thunder-sticks had driven us from our hunting grounds. Our braves and warriors followed the war-path no more. Our old men no longer boasted of their patience and cunning. Our maidens sang no longer at their work. Our squaws and papooses were still. Even our dogs did not bark. You had departed and the pale faces had come. The white men made our forests disappear, They harnessed our streams to make lights for their lodges. They taught our children their tongue and their ways. No more may a brave stalk the deer into the deep woods. No more may he fish in the clear streams, or float on the great lakes in his canoe. Where once were forests, now there are the white man's medicine-lodges. Our streams are foul with filth from the large villages of the pale faces, for our white brothers have increased until they are as many as the leaves in the forests of our fore- fathers. Our trails and paths have gone and in their places are broad road-ways which are traveled not by horses but by soulless creatures of the white man's making. They have built great tepees in which they Worship their God. They have put their wisdom into books and they teach their youths and maidens for many moons until they are wise in the ways of white man's magic. Oh, Great Father, their magic is great and it is good but it is not for the Indian. Your people are not happy. Your people are kept captive in the settlements the pale-faces made for them. Your braves and warriors are made to tend the grains like squaws. Aieel Yes, the glory of the red-man is gone and now the tribes themselves are following their glory to the region of the sunset. ELESE MAE Woop Page Ten