Louise S McGehee School - Spectator Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

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The Spectator Fifty-five Dormitory Drool LAST year, in fun, I did a poetic take-off on dormitory life, and I felt that I had to get in a last few words to those who know so little of what it is like. In the first place, it's loads of fun, particu- larly the nights you've worked till some unheard of hour and start to climb between the sheets of your inviting bed to find that some kind person has capably fixed it so that your six-foot length and cir- cumference is expected to rearrange itself to a two by four rectangle. Then, of course, there is the one who thinks it's roaringly funny to put a wet kid glove in your bed, which makes you feel that without a doubt something chose your bed to die in. That's a lovely one. One of the oldest, but one that never fails to make someone terribly amused, even though it knocks them out, is that trick of putting a pan of water on top of a door. That's forbidden, now, since someone thought it was so funny last year, she just plain passed out. Then there is that happy little thing called lights out, which is supposed to carry enough weight to shut fourteen rebellious young girls up until the next day. Aside from that, no one sleeps, because the person next door decides she has a lot to tell her roommate that just can't wait. Then the night she decides to quiet down, she blows the roof off because you say Boo! to your roommate. Eventually the whole house is in an uproar, but outside of this nightly proced- ure, we sleep like peaceful babes for unreasonable facsimilesj. Also, Variety is the spice of Life, and if we haven't got variety, we haven't got anything. We run the gamut of emotions yet we get along better than any group of girls living together almost constantly than I have ever seen. We also come in all shapes and sizes, but, sad to say, they seem to increase rather than decrease, with the most excellent food we stuff on. Of course I wouldn't want to leave any doubt in your minds as to the fact that we are perfect angels: so I shall stop a moment on the rules and regulations of our dormitory. We are supposed to be in bed on time, except when we can think up a good excuse or lock ourselves up in some safe place and Wait till it all blows over. We are also required to be at meals on time, and, I am forced to add, dressed, since one or two of us forgot that a certain amount of clothes was required by convention at the table. No hair is to be washed before breakfast or after dinner, unless, of course, we are subtle enough to camouflage our dripping locks and smile beguilingly enough to have it overlooked. Oh, yes, we are definitely the best of children.

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Fifty-four The Spectator Sonnet The summer clouds fill with a host of birds, And frightened thousands take to frightened ilights. Old men with canes, women, little children in the night. Squadrons up! the dauntless allied airman girds A parachute, the farmer leads his grazing herds, To his undercavern work a spy glides, He cheats, he lies, in darkness hides. To every town the Germans hurl these bitter words: These are not birds, but Stukas, wings of steel, Observe the wreckage caused by one big gun, Give up! be glad it's not your only song Your allies are defenseless, and they run, they reel, The summer clouds fill with the fall of war. Will there be a clearing for a peaceful star? The secret of this universe, the night With heaven's space will not unfold to meg But stays a silent, pathless, depthless sea, And rocks one phantom ship beyond all sight, Nor tells my soul an answer to its plight. The house of mortal world gives out no key! Oh, where shall all we mystic creatures be When ghastly ship has sailed a thousand, thousand nights? Cry out to all the realm of time and space, And search in brightest day with brilliant sun. Forever seek in vain of vainest hope, Alas, no leading pathway can you trace. The universe shall cease its course to run When mortal man has realized its scope. M. R. W., '42

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Fifty-six The Spectator There aren't many annoyances around the dormitory aside from a few I'd like to mention, such as the kind person who refuses to wash the ring from the bathtub after she bathes, or the one who never has enough food of her own at the table and tries to take yours skilfully, and if caught wiggles out of it and makes you look the fool, or that lovely person who parks in the tub for full two hours while the rest of the house blows up, or the one who prowls about the house at night slamming doors and emitting ghastly noises. We have them all, and do we love them? Two guesses. Many people outside of the dormitory feel that we are prisoners and never allowed out of the door. That I must vigorously deny. We do get outside of the door. That ought to be obvious enough since everyone sees us at school every so often, or maybe now and then. Our shopping tours can be done absolutely on our own, only the things we turn up with usually ought to be Worn only when we are absolutely alone. It's all quite simple. We are a normal bunch of people, quite willing to be guided along the right path if we receive an explanation every inch of the way for the method and manner employed. We love the dormitory and we love the head of it. We are, on the whole, extremely happy and contented with the privi- leges we have, even though we are always ready to accept additional ones. It's a great life. You ought to try it! As I stare out of my window, my eyes Rest upon the large, and most ugly red House next door. It is a boarding house, And when you look at its massive lumbering You shudder quite impulsively. The boarders are ordinary people, each Living his or her life, regardless of the Joys and sorrows of the other. On the downstairs Front there is a nice, cozy apartment where a Man and his wife live. They have enough money For comfort, and they look it. The only time I See them is at night, when the lights are on And Momma has on her housecoat and curlers, And Poppais without his shirt, and in his slippers. There is a little kitchen off their rooms and Each night it is lighted as they widen their No longer slim waistlines. In the apartment above them Is a young family, and not so long ago the baby had