Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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12 THE SCREECH OWL STUDENT’S PRAYER I pray that I shall never know An alert Prof, like Mister 0. ; A man whose heedful ears are bent Toward the whispered answers sent, A man who at all pupils spies From the corners of his eyes, A man who makes all do their work And will not let a body shirk. Upon whose desk there lies a rod Whose purpose is not just to fraud. This prayer I know’s an old refrain And is, of course, quite, quite in vain. — Sylvia Glickman. INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT INTERESTING PEOPLE Today, contrary to the belief of many people, the Indians no longer ride on galloping steeds in full war regalia emitting lusty war cries from their bronze throats. Instead they live on Indian Reservations, earn their living, and have equal rights with the white-man. Called the “children of nature,” the Indians accepted peacefully the first white settlers. Not until the white- men began breaking treaties and rob- bing the Indians did they plan their savage revenge. Some tribes were warlike ; some trustworthy and peaceful ; others existed by farming and hunting. Indians are renowned for decorat- ing pottery, weaving baskets, and making jewelry. Today Indian chil- dren may be seen on the dusty roads of the West selling handmade charms to bring good luck to the ever-curious tourists. This is done to teach the children to speak better English — besides being a manner in which to earn some mone . In many of the States today are Indian Trading Posts where handmade blankets, jackets, jewelry, and curios may be purchased. In the olden days the Indians had such ceremonies as worshipping the Sun, Rain, and Lightning. They dressed themselves in gaudily deco- rated clothing and would hold festi- vals for gods for as many as three or four days. It is no wonder the Indians were called the most picturesque of the primitive races. Today, although they have become accustomed to the white-man’s way of doing things and his laws, they still hold three or four festivals a year. It is known for a fact that the white-men used their imaginations to such an extent that they created the well-known “Great Spirit” and “Hap- py Hunting Grounds” of the Indians. It is also known that the war cry of the Indians did not originate until the English and the French settled in America. In 1786 the government began to set aside land for the Indians so that they could live together — this land is called Reservations. The government established a Department of Educa- tion for the Indians. Many of them have gone to college and have become doctors and teachers to aid their fel- lowmen in attaining the best of the white-man’s qualities. For one hundred years the popula- tion of the Indians has been rapidly decreasing because they caught all the white-man’s diseases, but lately it has been increasing as they have been adapting themselves to a civilized life. — Dorothy Hansen.

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THE SCREECH OWL 11 mood. I am able to concentrate on one subject much better, but mostly, in listening to these, I think of various people who have ventured in little known parts of the world, of their knowledge of the people, and how the country appeals to me. It makes me feel as if I could learn everything that I would like to know. I’d rather listen to this kind of music, or else to the songs of the Indians or Africans, as they are beaten out on drums, instead of jazz music. I do not mean to say that all jazz music is bad, but at least three- fourths or more is, while three- fourths of classical music is good. Therefore, I’ll take one-quarter jazz and three-quarters classical for my musical program. — Anonymous. WAKE, WAKE, WAKE (with sincerest apologies to Tennyson) Wake, wake, wake From thy stone blank stare, 0 me! And oh would that my pen could scribble The answers that ought to be 1 0 well for the studious boy. Who can write away with great ease! And well for the teacher’s pet Who will never receive any D’s! But the fleeting time goes on And still — still my paper is blank. Oh, if I had only studied well And did not on my eyesight bank ! Wake, wake, wake. For it is over, yes it be — But the mem’ry of that exam I flunked Will ever come back to me. — Sylvia Glickman. ANDY WILSON DOES A GOOD TURN Jake Johnson and I had been pros- pecting to gether for five years and we were clebrating it on the night when all the trouble started. We were drinking Jake’s special brew which was, I think, about eighty-five per cent alcohol, when we started an argu- ment over who was to have the last of what was in the bottle. Jake’s gun went olf, neatly cutting a deep groove in my left arm. My only defense was the bottle, which I threw at him send- ing a shaip piece through his eye and piercing his brain. In a drunken stupor, Jake did not last long and he died about an half hour later. I was just starting to bury him when Sheriff Cowell of Mustang Coun- ty arrived on the scene and quickly snapped handcuffs on me. I was taken to the county prison where I was thrown in a cell to await my trial. Now there is a newcomer in the story in the person of Andy Wilson who, as it was expressed by Tommy Hutchins, was a bit “tetched.” Never- theless, he was well liked around town and was noted for never telling a lie. The day after my arrest, I happened to see him through my cell window and I called him over. I whispered something to him and he nodded his head in agreement. The next day at the trial, I pleaded that it was in self- defense that I killed Jake but the prosecuting attorney asked for a witness. “Call Andy Wilson,” I said and Andy marched up to take the sand. He testified that what I said was true and because of his renown and the bullet wound in my arm as evidence, I was set free. But no one ever knew why I sud- denly was six hundred dollars poorer and Andy Wilson h ad that same amount in the First National Bank. — Donald Lent.

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THE SCREECH OWL 13 FAREWELL MAYNARD HIGH The days have been long and happy That we spent in Maynard High Though graduation is here at last We are sad in saying “GoodBye.” But before we go let us pause awhile And think of the days gone by, Of the books we read, and the poems we said In dear old Maynard High. Here with our many classmates The time too quickly has sped And here our happy school days Like passing dreams have fled. Our teachers have all been patient And willing to help us to learn To them we give our heartfelt thanks That they all so deservingly earn. We must not forget our principal And you all must surely agree He was always willing to help us Whatever our troubles might be. We leave you now dear Maynard High Thy memory in our hearts will dwell We leave you Alma Mater fair. With a last and sad “farewell.’’ — Katherine Ann Sheridan 1938